Book 2: Chapter 39 - The Messenger of the Gods [Part 2]

  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 case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  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 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 at this so early an 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 a wonderfully beautiful creature!"