Threads of the Soul

Chapter 458 - 458: Snake in the grass

Within the Russian Palace, which had been rebuilt after the fall of the capital city like so many of the buildings that existed now, there was a room. This was not surprising, as buildings do tend to have rooms, lots of them in fact. It was one of their main features.What was curious about this room was that it was designed with a semi-circular recess in the wall furthest from the door. Various mirrors and reflective scales torn from beasts had been set up along the semi circular wall of this recess, all of them pointing towards the circular floor of the recess.

The floor in question, which was reflected in all of these surfaces, had a deeply intricate runic circle carved into the stone surface. The stone in question was even one singular piece, so that no lines in the brick work or imperfections in the building process would interrupt this runic carving.

As for the carving itself, it looked like something from a story book, or a book on witchcraft and demon summoning. With perfectly angled geometric lines and other-world runes carved along these lines and around the circumference of the carved circle.

The only light provided in this room was done so by the carving itself, which pulsated gently with a sickly green light that only added to the seemingly evil nature of the carving, as well as a few rustic wall sconces that held bowls of fire.

A pair of men, dressed in simple hemp tunics and mud brown trousers were hunched over in this room. They were currently in the process of dragging a body, or more accurately half of one, to the door. A trail of crimson blood leading from the severed waist of the unfortunate corpse to the base of the runic circle.

Before they reached the door, however a bolt of lightning, the same malevolent green as the carving, struck down from the very top of the semi-circular recess. The wretched lightning crackled wildly, arcing in different directions only to strike the reflective surfaces and be directed into the runic circle at the base.

The circle drank in the lightning then, with one final blinding flash of light, the figure of a man replaced the lightning as he stumbled off the carving.

His thick, military boots splashed through the trail of blood, ruining its perfect lines but thankfully, as he collapsed to his knees, he was kind enough to add some of his own to the mixture to make up for it.

The men raised their head in shock at the appearance of their Grand Captain as he let out a yell of pain and frustration.

Kneeling in the growing pool of blood, the Captain raised a trembling hand to his shoulder, where his other arm had been replaced by a ragged, mangled stump of torn flesh and broken bones. Blood poured from the stump as his entire arm had been torn off, and not in the clean painless way either.

But the pain of his ruined arm was nothing to the pain he felt inside. Agonising, hellish tore through his guts as his soul was falling apart at the seams. He could still feel that bastards wretched flames eating away at the essence of his being, and with every lap of those flames came a new wave of torment and misery.

Another hellish scream tore itself from his lips as the men dropped the corpse of his former companion and rushed over to help them. Their clumsy, nervous hands fumbled around as they helped him to his feet and started to carry him from the room.

"Don't worry Sir, we will get you to the medic and they will fix your arm. You will survive, just hold on and-"

"NO! Not the Medic!"

A gust of wind erupted from the Captain's body as he shoved the plebeians away from him. One of them slammed against the wall, his head cracking against the stone, while the other was thrown further down the corridor.

The Captain didn't so much as glance at either of them, his face twisted in hatred, pain and disgust as he stumbled away from them on trembling legs. The man in the tunic, the one who was still conscious, watched the Captain leave with worry painting his face before hurrying over to his friend.

He pulled his friends unconscious body up, ignoring the blood gushing from the back of his head, and hurriedly rushed to the medic with his friend.

The Captain's broken body twisted in agony, driving him down to his knees every few minutes, but he continued. Staggering through the corridors of his grand palace, passing by countless people, but he ignored all of them and violently refused their help, as he hurried like a man possessed to his destination, as it was all that filled his mind.

When he finally stopped and collapsed to his knees for the last time, he did so at the feet of a grand altar. It was a new addition, yet even still it was decorated with offerings, however it was unclear to many who saw it which god it was made for.

There were no decorations they recognised, no crosses nor stars. Only a dead snake, draped across the Altar's surface.

"Heal me! I beg you... Heal me! He did something... something to my soul. I can feel it... I don't are about my arm! I just... please stop this pain! I can't take it anymore!"

The Captain spat through gritted teeth, his eyes full of desperation as he pleaded at the base of this Altar. As if to prove his point, a new wave of pain coursed through his body, even worse than the one's before.

His insides were tearing themselves apart and he could feel himself unravelling.

His pleas went unanswered and the Altar room remained dreadfully silent for what felt like an eternity. Until finally, a voice slithered into his mind and hiss into his ear.

'What do you offer?'

The Captain winced, the next wave of pain sending him completely to the ground. He writhed, his face pressing into the cold stone as he begged.

"A...Anything... I just.. Don't let me die..."

The voice paused for another agonising second, before replying once more

'If I heal your sssoul, I wisssh to own it. You will have Eternal life in my ssservice.'

It felt more like a demand than an offer, something he couldn't refuse even if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. He nodded gently, his strength leaving him, and the next moment a refreshing warmth spread through him.

It revitalised him, giving back his strength to rise to his knees, but it didn't heal him. He could still feel the pain just waiting to come back, like a coiled python biding its time to strike.

On the Altar before him, the snake contorted and writhed before its skin peeled itself from its body. The skin lifted from the Altar as words started to write themselves onto the skin, giving it the appearance of an ancient scroll... or a contract.

The contract landed in front of the Captain and the voice spoke once more.

'Ssssign it. Ssssign and your sssoul will live eternally.'

The Captain gulped softly, raising his hand to his bloody stump. He jammed his thumb into the stump, wincing in pain, before bringing his blood covered thumb down to the contract and pressing it firmly against the dotted line.