Lucrys' Story, In the Name of the King
Executing Plans
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Skaarin picked up the package inside the first door set and unwrapped it. He pulled out the serum and injected it into his right iris. He rubbed his eye as the concoction slowly took effect. After it did, Skaarin walked to the metal door and entered the room.
“Skaarin!” Lucrys exclaimed. “I’ve been thinking about that grate. What if the place below was built before the kingdom?”
“We don’t have time for that, Lucrys. Come with me to the back room. I need to talk to you about some very serious matters.”
“I don’t want to get mutilated,” Lucrys said, glaring at Skaarin. “Can’t we do some stories today, instead?”
“Lucrys,” Skaarin began, but he was cut off. The burning sensation in his eye caused him to reel. He winced and pushed his palm into his right eye. “What in the fuck?” he cursed. He leaned against his office door and pulled his eye out. After a moment, a new one regenerated in its place. “Damn you, Temorra!” he spat.
“Skaarin, what’s going on?” Lucrys stepped off his makeshift bed and walked cautiously toward him.
“Fuck off,” Skaarin said. “Someone messed with my sight serum. Someone who actually knows my ass, too. My right eye’s completely shot, Lucrys.” Skaarin took a moment to calm himself down. He threw the syringe to Lucrys. “Inject this into your eye, got it? It’ll let you see in the darkness. Your regeneration is better than mine, and I made it a bit differently. You should be able to heal against the shit they added to that. I need to find the slaught who’s trying to screw me. But first, Lucrys, I have a lot to tell you about.”
“I’m allowed to see?” Lucrys asked.
“You’re the only one allowed to live,” Skaarin laughed. “Come on, dammit. We’re running out of time.”
Skaarin and Lucrys entered the room. Skaarin used magnius to move the furniture around, pulling the table and his chair to the center. “Sit down somewhere,” he said, as he cleared the objects from the table.
Lucrys injected the serum into his eye. After it settled, he was blinded for a moment, but his body fixed itself. He sat on the table as Skaarin pulled up another chair.
“First thing’s first,” Skaarin said. He walked around Lucrys and pulled his shirt from him. “That Scopha’s the foremost problem.”
Lucrys’ shivered as Skaarin’s cold hand ran down the back of his neck. Skaarin’s fingers pierced into his flesh. He felt Skaarin grip a solid hunk within and tear it from his skin. His body began regenerating to its original state.
“What was that?” Lucrys asked.
Skaarin circled back around the table. He lifted the blue droplet in front of Lucrys. “That, my friend, is Scopha. Some god named Staara wants to eat it.” He dropped the hunk onto the table. “Latrus thinks he can use a god. He’s a damn good friend, Lucrys, damn good. But his trust in some shit god is far too misplaced. I’m starting to get a little unnerved, honestly.” He smiled. “Lucrys,” he said. “I need to use you to complete a goal. What would you give to get Amillara back?”
Lucrys swooned at the possibility. His mind fracturing as the thoughts assailed him, sending him deeper and deeper into his past. “Amillara?” he mumbled.
◊ ◊ ◊
He fluttered into consciousness from the crack of Skaarin’s palm against his cheek. “Keep around,” Skaarin said.
As Lucrys looked around the room, the first thing he remembered was the locked room directly beneath him. “Skaarin, I wanted to ask you about that grate,” he said. “There’s a sewer system below it, right? What the hell’s down there?”
“Corpses,” Skaarin replied. “And it connects to the crypt where Staara is. You’ve talked about a hulking figure you dreamt about down there, right? Maybe Staara was fucking with you because you had the Scopha.”
“Maybe,” Lucrys said. “What about that body I found?”
“Don’t know, Lucrys. Like I said, there’s a crypt down there, so it’s probably nothing special. It’d be best not to worry about it. It’s not like you’d actually be able to get through that grate anyway. And a useless corpse is better left to rot than to reminisce.”
“Skaarin, what’s your opinion on gods?”
Skaarin was taken back a bit. He studied Lucrys for a moment and plopped into his chair. “Gods are shit, Lucrys. Mortals with a title, no different from a king or Lord.” He tore himself away from his thoughts, and glowered at his friend. He had been with him for a little over a year now, and he felt like Lucrys knew him better than anyone. He was surely the closest person to Lucrys. A year of torture and stories, with random concoctions tested and failed on an undying body that could regenerate better than his own. Skaarin laughed at the thought of giving Latrus the concoction. “Lucrys,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s time I told you about my wife.”
◊ ◊ ◊
“And that’s why you want to kill Latrus?” Lucrys asked.
Skaarin looked up at Lucrys, his eyes red and tearstained. He held back the tears. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s exactly why I wanna kill Latrus.” He chuckled, erupting into a short fit of laughter. “Lucrys, you’re the final piece I’ve needed to complete the game.”
“What does any of this have to do with Amillara?” Lucrys asked.
“Well that’s just the thing, Lucrys,” Skaarin exclaimed. “Alucin fucked my family and ate them half way. He knew who I was the whole damn time. And the rot croaked before I could fuck him back. But he only ate them half way, Lucrys. That necklace around Latrus’s neck holds the souls of anyone who’s fully consumed while it’s worn. He may have consumed my family in a way that they’d be dead for good. But your dear Amillara?” Skaarin rushed Lucrys and gripped his throat, his nails playing against Lucrys’ skin. “You’re lucky enough to be able to get her soul back. Provide for her a new carcass and I’m sure we can learn how to bind them together. All you have to do is break that necklace. The easiest way to get it from young Latrus is to take it from his head. You’re immortal, after all. You can do it, can’t you? You can get Amillara back.” Skaarin ripped a hole into Lucrys’ throat.
The hole regenerated, and Lucrys looked back at him. “You never were stable.” He forced a smile. “What if Latrus gets away from me?”
“We’ll see how it all plays out. No one will be running. They’ll be quite surprised when you stand back up and twist your slaught fucking head back on.” Skaarin pulled a small, crystalline chain from a pocket within his coat. “But I’m not done with my bribe, my friend. I need to show you one more thing.”
“What do you mean? Twist my head back on? I won’t go crazy, Skaarin. I’m doing well now.”
“That’s right,” Skaarin chuckled. “I almost forgot an important detail, Lucrys. You’re due to be executed in the name of Staara whenever the fuck the young king wants your pathetic soul thrown to the lying bastard.”
“What about his righteousness and never killing anyone?”
“He only executed one other person since he’s held to his ways. It wasn’t public. And the poor bastard hated himself for days on end after he killed the wretch. You will be a sacrifice for the fake god. I’m already more of a god than that mortal stain. I’m more of a god than Alucin ever was. They act like fear makes you a god. I can live forever. You’re more of a god than them. No one’s expecting you to survive this bullshit execution. But you can’t kill an undying creature. You can’t murder a true god. Gods are shit, Lucrys. Look at the two of us. Look at the two examples of gods we have. Even the Four Lords of Creation are better than these gods. You’ll stand and freakin’ kill Latrus. The Lords don’t need his ass coming after them. They suffered already. I glimpsed their Hell.”
“Is Latrus a good king, Skaarin?” Lucrys lay back on the table. He looked at his hand for the first time in months. He was a bit thicker than he had been before coming to the cell. Had Skaarin taken better care of him than he did himself? He looked at Skaarin, realizing he’d never taken in his features.
Skaarin had light stress lines on his face. His body was slim and slightly toned, hiding within his over-excessive attire. His hair was flipped over his head and dyed scarlet with brown, curly locks draping down from within until they nipped at his waist. His light grey eyes matched his feminine form, especially his face. He wore a cyan earring on his left ear that danced as he hummed and swayed flamboyantly the way he always did. His coat revealed his thin frame, tracing a V upon his torso. A large collar expanded from his shoulders, keeping him refined within its walls the way he tried desperately to keep himself contained within his mind. He reached out and pet Lucrys with a smooth, gentle hand.
“Latrus is a great king,” Skaarin replied. “He has a strong sense of who he is and what he wants – which is an extravagant feature for a king to have. Most kings, especially young ones, aren’t good at caring for their people. Yet he does so, all the while burdening himself with endless tasks and still finding time for himself. But he acts very much like his age.”
“Do you care about him, Skaarin?”
“Lucrys,” Skaarin sighed. “Get ready to enter Latrus’s head.”
“What?” Lucrys felt the touch of cold crystal slice into his skin.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Come on, young king,” Skaarin said.
I opened my eyes. He was shirtless, with his hair tied back into a ponytail. He wore strange shorts with a purple fade.
I was shirtless, as well. Looking down, I noticed the features of this body were far different from my own. Blond hair tapped at the sides of my eyes as a light wind blew past. Skaarin’s ponytail whipped violently.
“Ready?” he asked. He lifted me from my spot on the ground.
“Let go, Skaarin!” I yelled. I wasn’t in control of my voice. He let go of me and I dropped into water. I swam to the edge and clambered out.
Skaarin laughed in front of me. “Latrus,” he said. “You’re damn lucky I woke you up first.”
“You know,” I said. “Maybe I shouldn’t show you that new Magnius Art I learned, after all. You seemed so interested earlier, but I’m not so sure now.”
“My, my,” Skaarin said. “Getting a bit cocky aren’t we? And here I almost had a promise to keep.”
“You dare talk down to your king, Skaarin?” I folded my arms. I wasn’t in control of my actions. I didn’t think of my movements. Though I had my own thoughts and opinions, I could do nothing but watch and feel from within Latrus’s body. This was his memory.
We laughed. “C’mon, then,” I said. “I’ll show you what I learned.”
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