The Story of a Sadist

“So he is dead?” Krienet Demarcus turned from his post at the south watchtower and faced his messenger. The view afforded him left much to be desired and for a fleeting moment he considered turning his back on the currier.

The wish to return his eyes to the lush landscape of Sundera held him until the iron control honed over years in command kicked in. The boy looked like he was barely fifteen. Mousy brown hair combined with a bad skin condition kept the boy from looking even remotely comely. Krienet’s vibrant green eyes watched as the young man started fidgeting with his tunic.

‘They just keep finding younger and younger faces.’ Krienet waited as the young teen hastened to pull out the package of evidence. A small pouch was handed to the captain; he grimaced as he felt the congealed blood seeping through the thin leather. He quickly inspected the contents and nodded at the boy to leave.

“This is all that is left.” His long fingers tightened around the bag and an unpleasant squishing sound could be heard. “Now nothing remains of my brother.” Krienet threw the pouch into one of the wall torches and retreated before the oily smoke could reach his nose.

The sound of his footsteps preceded him far into the castle, past any who were awake enough to hear them. Finally the door to his chambers came in sight and he was able to relax the tight hold on his facial muscles.

His mouth twisted into a frown of deep pain as his heart broke for the third time in his life. The last of his family was gone, killed for no reason that he could see. The horrible curse that had plagued his family weeded out those who dared fight against the code. Krienet’s eyes closed as he imagined the faces of his parents and younger siblings.

“I vow if I ever find you Sadist…I will make sure your death is the most painful of all.” Numbly he unbuckled his sword belt and knelt by the comforting fire. “I hope that your life will be cursed until I find you and release you from life’s embrace.” Flames reflected down the trail of a single tear.

A scratching sound heralded the arrival of his nightly visitor. She waited on the balcony railing as always until he opened the door to the platform. The wynder brushed past him, leaving her leafy scent behind.

Once again the fire revealed a sight he would have given anything to avoid. The lithe form of his torment stood before him clad only in a robe of the finest silk. He averted his eyes as she dropped the garment to the ground and advanced on him.

Her silver skin shone brightly as her arms wound around his neck pulling his face towards her. Krienet had to suppress a shudder at her cold embrace froze him to the very bone. Ice cold lips descended on his. Slowly she sucked the warmth from his mouth, feeding off of his breath.

She guided him to the bed and watched with her colorless eyes as he stripped off his clothing. Strong lines of muscle made shadows dance across his skin as he seated himself upon the coverlet.

Krienet still refused to look upon the face of his midnight lover. Her delicate shoulders squared into a fierce determination as she took his body for her own. No thought was given to the pain of being in her frozen grip or to the emotional damage lying beneath hooded eyes.

She finished quickly as always and left him trembling on his bed. His skin was pale and the beginnings of frostbite could be seen from wherever her skin touched his. The wynder departed as quickly as she came, strolling out on the moonbeams of her world.

Morning dawned and the warm light of the first sun shone through the window and made a valiant attempt to warm the man on his dark bed. His green eyes shifted to watch the dust dance in the bright beams. A soft sigh could be heard.

‘Perhaps I should join the rest of them. I do not know how much longer I can take her advances. I can always seek the Killer and force her to deal me a killing blow as I destroy her own life.’

A knock resounded through his rooms followed shortly by the bustle of his servant. The thin man gave an exasperated sigh at the sight of his lord lounging in bed at this late hour.

“Sir, it is almost ten in the morning. You should be out inspecting the defenses before the men become restless and start drinking.” The gray haired man collected the outfit he had planned for his lord’s day.

His warm brown eyes fell on the figure lounging on the bed. As he had expected light gray patches graced the skin patterns in the shape of hands roamed over Krienet marring the light golden hue. Luckily Grinal could tell that no healer would be necessary from this visit.

He went to the chest of drawers beside the door and took out a jar of balm. The bed sunk under his weight and gained him the attention of its occupant. Lifeless green eyes watched as his old fingers spread the orange cream over all the affected skin. Color returned to it instantly as the warming herbs returned life to the dying skin.

“Are you feeling better now?” As usual the eyes broke of contact and followed the suns rays outside. Silently he placed his master’s clothes at the foot of the bed and exited the grand bedroom.

He intercepted the maid with a cold breakfast and told her to return to the kitchen and let the servants have the prepared meal. She nodded in understanding and swiftly returned to the kitchens to tell the rest of the household that their lord had been graced by the wynder again and would not be seen for the rest of the day.


Sundera: The land controlled by the Demarcus family. It borders the deserts and the landing place of the moon.

The Pouch: When a member of the Demarcus family is killed as proof the messenger must bring with them the eyes of the dead one. The Demarcus clan has a distinctive green iris not found in any other family.

Wynder: A being made of moonlight. They are a very cold colorless race with a strong need to take warmth from humans. The Demarcus family has been under a bond to please the wynders whenever they journey to earth. This bond causes immortality until an outside hand kills the one bonded.