TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 39 (RAW)

Chapter 39 - The Messenger of the Gods Even if a snake is not poisonous, it should pretend to be venomous. - Chanakya. Hughes was still puzz

Chapter 39 - The Messenger of the Gods

Even if a snake is not poisonous, it should pretend to be venomous.

- Chanakya.

Hughes was still puzzling over what he’d witnessed in the gardens—a vulnerable moment between Lady Seraphina and the de Laney girl. The puzzle had gnawed at him from mid-afternoon straight into these dark hours of the night. Love, the young man realized, was no gentle emotion but a shadow war, a clandestine hunt for the secrets held in another’s deck while shrouding one’s own. He chastised himself for couching something so delicate in such antagonistic terms. He was not Seraphina’s enemy.

Now he balanced on the steep, tiled ridge of the Robert de Chastille roof, overlooking the dormitory where the woman he revered above all others slept. Night air carried the scent of damp slate and night blossoms from the gardens; silently, he wished her only the kindest dreams.

A scarcely audible whisper disrupted the stillness—no louder than a moth’s flutter—just before three shapes settled beside him. Their attire was a study in midnight: tight-layered cloth that drank moonlight, hoods shadowing their eyes, masks veiling every hint of flesh. Even their weapons had been stained black to drink in the dark.

“Veil, your reports arrive later with each cycle. The Elders grow … restless,” said the tallest, voice flat as a freshly whetted blade.

Lee. Hughes recognized him at once—Lee, a common name for a common, most ordinary man. He had always wondered if his origins had always been the source of his pettiness and spite. A wry smile touched Hughes’s lips.

“I am but one man living two lives,” he answered, words drifting like ash over the roof tiles. “There are only so many hours in the day… and in the night.”

The trio hissed, low and venomous.

“Insolence to the tower is not forgiven,” warned the figure to Lee’s right, her pitch needling like nails on slate. It was a voice that he had always found annoying.

Hughes tugged down his own mask, letting moonlight sculpt his plain features. “To the Tower? Perhaps. To the you, Lee?” He shrugged, foregoing Lee’s Tower name, Shadowclaw. “Because, to you, Lee, I owe nothing.”

“We are the Tower,” Lee replied, silencing his comrade with a raised hand. “Slight us, and you slight the Elders. As you know, their patience thins.”

“As does mine. A path to the throne was promised to me, yet nothing has come of it. And now, I find myself with no desire left to squander my time obeying the tremulous decrees of withered old men,” Hughes said, voice low but carrying. “I think I will make my own path, free of the Tower.”

Lee recoiled half a step, as though the word treachery were a blade at his throat. “Explain yourself, Xuzu. This is treachery!”

Hughes’s gaze flicked, so swiftly it might have gone unnoticed, to the narrow sheen of oil he’d spread across the tiles of the roof earlier. The young man had prepared well for this encounter.

He smiled, all teeth in the silver light. “I’ve long wondered how you clawed your way to Triad leader, Lee, when your sole gift and talent is stating the obvious.”

“Alive or dead?” muttered the second subordinate, eyes never leaving Hughes.

“Alive,” Lee commanded, drawing a short straight sword from the sheath strapped across his back. Moonlight kissed the razor edge for a heartbeat before the dark-stained steel swallowed it. “We must know who turned one of our own. And, an example made of the traitor. I will enjoy this”

Predictable to the last, Hughes thought, sneer widening. They wanted him breathing—tilting the odds, beautifully, in his favor.

Hughes shifted subtly, his weight poised and ready. He watched, tense as wire, as the trio moved to surround him in practiced unison. But discipline couldn’t guard against what they couldn’t see.

The woman to Lee's right lunged forward first, her footing confident until her black-shrouded foot slid on the carefully concealed oil, scattering droplets that glittered briefly in the moonlight. In that fractured heartbeat of vulnerability, Hughes surged forward, his blade whispering free of its scabbard in a lethal arc. He buried his sword deep into her side, feeling the muted vibration through the hilt as steel met flesh.

Even grievously wounded, her face betrayed no pain—only a cold, mechanical focus. Tower-trained to the last breath, she bit back the instinct to scream, clutching at the blade lodged within her abdomen. She crumpled soundlessly to her knees, eyes blazing hatred as her blood seeped silently onto the tiles.

Lee snarled and flicked his hand; dark glints flashed through the air as throwing knives flew towards Hughes. He spun, dancing between the blades or deflecting with his own, a deadly ballet of agility and instinct. His own hands moved with fluid precision, returning their deadly volleys. Knives hissed and whined, scoring shallow lines across clothing, sparking off tiles, and vanishing into darkness.

The third Triad member closed the gap, darting low, aiming to flank him. Hughes pivoted swiftly, countering with savage elegance, and met him blade to blade. Black steel sang its muted song, a deadly chorus punctuated only by breaths drawn through clenched teeth. Hughes sidestepped a slashing blow, exploiting a gap in the assassin’s guard, and thrust his sword into the boy’s chest.

Yet triumph swiftly soured—his blade caught firmly in bone. Desperately, Hughes twisted and tugged, but the steel was trapped, unyielding as stone. Lee, Shadowclaw, seized upon the moment, driving forward with a brutal thrust of his own aimed squarely at Hughes’s heart.

Hughes’s pulse quickened; death was a heartbeat away. He thought only of regret that he could not spend more time with…

A blur of alabaster erupted from the shadows, startlingly swift—a massive white serpent, sleek scales radiant beneath the moon. Cornelia. Her ivory fangs plunged deep into Lee's thigh, injecting a venom potent enough to halt a bull in mid-charge. Lee’s muscles froze instantly, a look of shock etched permanently upon his face, blade halted mere inches from Hughes’s chest as his body froze.

Lee collapsed rigidly to the tiles, staring in furious disbelief at the traitor, paralyzed and helpless. 

With a heave, Hughes freed his weapon, breathing harshly through clenched teeth. Blood now decorated his black clothes, cooling slowly in the night. He met Cornelia’s unblinking gaze, nodding in silent gratitude, even as confusion gnawed at him. But only for a moment, for it was, he was sure, the Divine’s way of telling him that his was the right choice.

In the pale glow of the moonlight, Hughes surveyed the aftermath—three dark-clad bodies strewn across the blood-slick tiles, their silence more unnerving than any scream. But something in the air shifted. The white serpent beside him, already quite large, began to grow.

Its body expanded, coils thickening, length multiplying until the beast loomed like some ancient serpent god, large enough now to swallow a grown man whole.

And then, to Hughes’s dark astonishment, it did.

First, the wounded woman—the one who had tried to crawl away, her fingers scraping uselessly at the tiled surface. Cornelia struck before she could even scream, fangs sinking in, jaws unhinging impossibly wide to consume her struggling form in a single, sinuous motion.

Then came the boy Hughes had stabbed, his body limp and lifeless. The serpent coiled around him with disturbing tenderness, lifting the corpse into the air before swallowing it whole.

And finally, the last. Lee. Still paralyzed, eyes wide with impotent rage and terror. Cornelia slithered forward, tongue flicking as if savoring his fear. Hughes watched, transfixed and vaguely horrified, as her jaws opened once more. She took him slowly, almost reverently, gulping him down segment by segment until nothing remained but the quiet lashing of her tail.

When it was done, Cornelia regarded Hughes with cold, reptilian eyes.

Trembling, awed, and grateful, Hughes bowed deeply to the divine beast. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, voice barely rising above the wind.

He did not look back as he descended from the roof, boots slick with blood and oil. Sleep would not come easily, if at all, for the rest of the night.

***

Attended by her diligent maid, Seraphina partook leisurely of an early breakfast, elegantly spreading Valny fruit jam upon her toast while Eloise delicately sipped tea opposite her. The morning sun filtered gently through embroidered curtains, bathing the common room with its glow and casting intricate patterns upon the polished surface of the mahogany table.

Her thoughts drifted momentarily towards Cornelia. She distinctly remembered sleeping with the serpent nestled closely by her side, its comforting weight and cool, supple scales pressed reassuringly against her skin; yet upon awakening, the creature had inexplicably vanished, no doubt slithering off somewhere.

A faint sigh escaped her lips, betraying mild vexation—not solely at Cornelia's absence, but also at an elusive memory, some indistinct longing from her previous life that hovered just beyond grasp, like a fragment of an almost-forgotten dream.

Resolutely setting aside her silver knife, Seraphina addressed her maid with a practiced nonchalance. "Milly, if you would be so good as to locate Cornelia for me, I would be most grateful."

"At once, milady," Miriam answered promptly, bowing deeply before quietly slipping from the room.

Seraphina stirred restlessly, absently swirling her freshly poured Kariconi juice, feeling vaguely incomplete without her recently acquired morning indulgence—the invigorating dash of venom milked from her beloved serpent, a daring substitute for the the stimulation of coffee. The added thrill and bite it afforded to her refined palate were most satisfyingly novel.

Eloise, after a hesitant pause, broke the silence with gentle concern. "Lady Seraphina, are you quite certain it is prudent to include Cornelia’s venom in your morning beverage? The tests I conducted resulted invariably in fatalities among the test animals."

Seraphina regarded Eloise thoughtfully, taking in the doll-like delicacy of her lady-in-waiting’s porcelain features. Features that had been brightened considerably by a night of restful slumber. Eloise, she determined, was made of sterner stuff.

She offered a reassuring smile. "Should Cornelia ever inadvertently bite me, I would find myself in a troublesome predicament indeed. Better, perhaps, to build up some small resistance."

"I confess I am not entirely certain that is how venom works. But perhaps you have the right of it” Eloise conceded reluctantly, her brow gently furrowing. “Yet, is it not still somewhat perilous?"

Seraphina’s smile broadened mischievously. "A little peril, measured and controlled, is far preferable to a sudden and overwhelming calamity."

Eloise’s lips curled into a gentle laugh as she replaced her cup carefully upon its saucer. "That may be so, though I sincerely doubt there exists any danger or peril you could not easily overcome, Lady Seraphina." The brunette was learning day by day that flattery, more often than not, worked wonders on her.

Opening the doors to the common room with a bang, their exchange was abruptly halted by Miriam's sudden return, her face flushed and breathing laboured. The manner of her intrusion stirred immediate displeasure in Seraphina.

"Whatever is the matter, Milly?" she inquired sharply, her tone betraying her irritation.

"You must come quickly! It concerns Cornelia—something extraordinary has happened!" the maid exclaimed, visibly alarmed.

Though a pang of concern fluttered within her, Seraphina preserved an outward tranquility. She concluded her morning repast with deliberate, slow elegance—delicately dabbing her lips with a lace-edged napkin, and cleansing her fingertips in a bowl scented lightly with lemon.

"My dear Milly, you must not startle me so at this early hour," she gently reproached, rising gracefully. "You are aware how greatly I detest unnecessary excitement before my morning classes."

With Eloise following dutifully, Seraphina swept regally from the room, guided hurriedly by Miriam into the flower gardens. There they abruptly halted, confronted by an astonishing spectacle.

Around the venerable oak tree at the garden's centre, Cornelia lay coiled, basking luxuriantly in dappled sunlight, her shimmering white scales reflecting a radiant glow. Remarkably increased in size, she now resembled a creature of almost legendary proportions. More astonishing still was the presence of a second head, elegantly poised a quarter-length down her serpentine form.

"Lady Seraphina," Eloise began hesitantly, eyes wide in wonderment, "I am scarcely knowledgeable in these matters, her growth spurt aside, but surely it is not natural for a serpent to acquire an additional head overnight?"

Seraphina gazed fondly upon Cornelia, her eyes shining with pride and secret triumph. "Indeed, Eloise, such a phenomenon would hardly be typical of an ordinary serpent. But as is plainly evident, Cornelia is quite extraordinary."

Miriam, nervously adjusting her spectacles, ventured cautiously, "Then, if I may be so bold, milady… what precisely is she?"

Seraphina moved gracefully forward, the breeze playfully catching at the loose strands of her golden hair. With fearless, unbridled curiosity and confident serenity, she reached out to stroke the serpent's magnificent scales.

"Oh Milly," she said softly, her voice brimming with delight and anticipation, "Cornelia is just wonderfully beautiful!"