Chapter 28: I Love This Life
Markus Ravenna, seated under the pavilion, frowned slightly. He had not expected this. He had thought Daemon would beg, cry, and kneel. But he remained standing, head held high.
Next to Markus, his younger sister Katelyn Ravenna held a fan in front of her face. She had long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and green eyes that shone with a mischievous glint. She looked more refined than a fighter, wearing a white dress embroidered with silver threads. But appearances could sometimes be deceiving, and those who knew Katelyn understood that she might be more dangerous than her brother.
"It seems Lord Daemon has become brave, ~" she said to her brother while turning her fan.
Markus clicked his tongue. "We will see after he has received ten lashes."
Katelyn smiled behind her fan. "I bet he will hold on until the end."
"You always bet on the wrong horses."
"We shall see..."
Dorian raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Two men stepped forward. They were tall, muscular, and dressed in black tunics. Each held a thick whip.
The first man raised his whip.
The lash came down on Daemon’s back. The sound echoed through the courtyard. A deathly silence fell over the assembly.
Daemon did not move.
Second blow. The flesh opened. Blood beaded on the white tunic, forming small red spots that slowly spread.
Third blow. Blood now flowed in streams down his back, soaking his tunic and dripping onto the paved ground.
Daemon clenched his teeth. His face was tense, his jaw tight. The pain was searing with every strike. But he did not scream.
The blows continued with the two men alternating.
At twenty lashes, Daemon’s back was nothing but an open wound. The white tunic had turned red, stuck to the flesh, impossible to remove without tearing the skin.
’If I had known it would hurt this much,’ thought Daemon while gritting his teeth, ’maybe I would have said two hundred instead of five hundred.’
He sketched a slight smile. An almost imperceptible smile that only those watching him closely could see.
At fifty lashes, the ground around him was covered in blood. A small puddle widened under his feet, flowing between the paving stones and forming red rivulets.
Daemon wavered. He placed one knee on the ground, then stood back up immediately. He would not kneel. He would not fall. He would remain standing until the end.
At one hundred lashes, Mallory was crying. The old steward was on her knees, hands clasped, her face streaming with tears. She could not look away.
At two hundred lashes, even the most cynical notables had stopped whispering. They watched in silence, some with respect, others with horror.
At three hundred lashes, the whips of the two men were soaked with blood. Pieces of skin and flesh stuck to the lashes. Daemon was now nothing but a red mass.
The only intact place on his body was his right arm, which seemed unaffected by the whip blows.
Dorian raised his hand.
"I think Daemon has understood his misdeeds. There is no need to—"
"Please continue," said Daemon. His voice was weak.
"Someone once told me that what does not kill us makes us stronger." He raised his head. His eyes were red from the blood flowing from his forehead. "A patriarch cannot go back on his word. There are still ninety-seven lashes left." He spat some blood. "And I would like the Patriarch to give me the last one."
Dorian clenched his fists.
The blows continued.
The two men were exhausted, but they kept going. The lashes fell on Daemon’s back, opening the flesh, breaking bones, and tearing muscles. Daemon still did not scream. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, on the blue sky, on the clouds drifting slowly.
Four hundred and ninety-nine.
Dorian raised his hand. The two men stopped.
Daemon’s body was covered in so much blood that one could have thought he was sweating red. Blood flowed from his nose, his ears, and his lips. Blood flowed from every pore of his skin. His tunic no longer existed, only scraps of fabric remained stuck to the flesh. His black hair was plastered to his skull by blood.
He slowly raised his head toward the patriarch.
Dorian clenched his teeth. He pushed the two men aside, took a nine-tailed whip, and advanced to the center of the courtyard.
"Inflexible, just like Lancelot," he murmured.
He infused his chi into the whip. The lashes began to glow with a silver light. Dorian’s chi had been forged by decades of training and battles.
He raised the whip.
*Slash*
The blow struck Daemon’s back. It was not an ordinary strike. Dorian’s chi had passed through the lashes, penetrated the flesh, and exploded inside. The damage to the internal organs was far greater than to the back. Ribs broke and his heart skipped a beat.
Daemon spat a mouthful of blood.
His eyes rolled back. His legs gave out. He fell to the ground, face against the pavement, body motionless.
"No!" Luna screamed.
She tried to run toward him, but Kristian held her back.
A silence...
Then Daemon moved.
He placed his hands on the ground. His arms were shaking. His whole body was shaking. Blood cascaded from his back, forming a puddle around him.
He slowly got back up.
"You’re all trying to get me down, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s all up to me."
He looked at Luna. He looked at Kristian. He looked at Dorian. He looked at Markus and Katelyn. He looked at all the faces staring at him.
Then he looked up at the sky.
A slight smile appeared on his lips. His teeth were red with blood. His gums were bleeding. But he was smiling.
"Having become a Chi User... From now on..." he said in a barely audible voice. "The head of the Winter House, Daemon Shaytan Dagon... will reside at the Winter Domain."
His nose was bleeding. Blood flowed over his smile. Down his chin. Down his neck.
"I love this life."
Then his eyes closed.
He collapsed.
Luna broke free from Kristian’s grip and ran toward him. She fell to her knees beside his body, placed her hands on his bloodied face, and searched for his pulse.
Dorian looked at his nephew for a long moment. Then he turned to the crowd.
"Take him to the infirmary," he said.
He threw the whip to the ground and walked away without a word.
Under the pavilion, Katelyn Ravenna closed her fan. She looked at Daemon, covered in blood, unconscious in the arms of his servant. Her green eyes shone strangely.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Markus looked at her. "Do not even think about doing anything."
"Me?" Katelyn smiled. "I am only watching, big brother."
"Shut up!"
She stood up and walked away.