Chapter 34: Sevan's Story (Part 2)
"After that, I wanted a child."
She said it simply. I sat up straighter, sensing that this was where everything had begun to unravel.
"Humans and Serqathi cannot produce offspring together. It's a biological fact. But I wanted one anyway."
"I found a practitioner who claimed to specialize in bodily modification. I paid the price he demanded and underwent the procedure. The modification process took several days. Two months after it was complete, I became pregnant."
She paused here.
"The child was wrong from birth."
"The moment Serqathi held it in his arms, it bit into his throat. I had just given birth and was too weak to do anything."
"It killed him with Serqathi's own venom."
I had been about to take another sip of wine, but after hearing that last sentence, I set the glass down immediately. Her description was so simple, so swift, yet it crashed into me with unbearable weight. After she stopped speaking, the entire atmosphere of the dining room seemed to sink, and even the fire began to dim. I remained silent as well, giving her time to process her emotions, not pressing for more details.
"Where is the child now?" I finally asked.
She glanced at me, then returned her attention to her wine glass.
"Locked away," she said.
"It's still alive."
"Yes."
She took a long drink and set the glass down.
"It only obeys me. Every so often, I go to see it and feed it snakes."
Another sound came from below.
This time it was heavier than the first. The entire floor of the dining room trembled, and the wine in our glasses rippled. The wooden servant turned its head and looked down at the floor.
Sevan stood up immediately after the sound passed. Her posture had become tense, no longer as relaxed as before.
"I have something I need to handle," she said.
"Where are you going?"
She was already walking toward the door and didn't answer my question.
"You should sleep tonight," she said. "Tomorrow I'll provide you with water and food and make sure you leave safely."
She said something to the wooden servant. It turned and began walking toward me.
"Madam," it creaked, "I will show you to the guest room."
The wooden servant led me up two flights of stairs in silence, its joints producing soft clicking sounds that echoed in the quiet corridor. At the end of the hallway, a heavy wooden door was pushed open, revealing a room furnished almost to perfection. A single bed stood quietly, its bedding folded with meticulous precision, and on the wooden table beside it, a small lamp flickered with dim yellow light. The window faced the garden outside, where moonlight fell precisely on the ground.
"If Madam requires anything, you may pull the rope by the bed," the wooden servant said in its perpetually flat tone. "I will come."
"Thank you."
"Good night."
It turned and departed, and the door closed gently, shutting out the corridor's only light source.
I placed my cloth bundle on the table and sat on the edge of the bed. But I didn't lie down immediately. I knew I was just a lost traveler and she was just a kind witch. I shouldn't meddle in other people's private affairs.
Yet something felt wrong.
Among all the legitimate magic I knew of, bodily modification had never been included.
And there was that creature in the basement that she called her "child," imprisoned by her for fifteen years—she couldn't end it, could only maintain its existence.
Things were definitely not as simple as she'd made them sound.
I lay down, closed my eyes, and tried to force myself to sleep and deal with it tomorrow. But that strange feeling followed me like a shadow, and I simply couldn't let it go.
I sat up again, picked up my cloth bundle and slung it over my shoulder, then gently opened the door.
The corridor was silent as death. I mimicked the way I used to sneak out of the palace, keeping my footsteps close to the wall, walking like a thief.
I descended one flight of stairs to the second floor. Several tightly closed doors stood like silent guards. I didn't linger and continued downward to the first floor.
The first floor was slightly brighter than the second, the light source coming from the living room.
The fire in the fireplace was still burning, its leaping flames casting enormous, distorted shadows on the walls.
I glanced in that direction from the staircase.
Sevan was in the chair before the fireplace.
She was sleeping.
Her posture was extremely uncomfortable, her entire body sunk into the chair, her head tilted awkwardly against the armrest, one hand hanging at her side and the other resting limply on her knee. The firelight danced across her face, making her complexion appear ghastly pale and eerie.
That abnormal pallor—I had seen it on Cade after he was injured.
I walked over, my footsteps extremely light. I approached her chair and crouched down.
Her left wrist was exposed from beneath her sleeve.
A black marking was clearly visible.
The marking began at the inside of her wrist and followed the path of her veins, winding toward her elbow. It was the trace of dark magic infection.
I crouched there, staring for about a minute, thinking through my options.
"What are you doing?"
The voice came from above.
Her eyes were open. When had she woken? I hadn't noticed. She was still sunk in the chair, but those eyes pierced straight through me.
I didn't stand up, remaining crouched in the lower position, then spoke: "How did this happen?"
"Another good question," she said, lifting her hand to look at the black markings on it. "This has been here since I became pregnant."
"The person who modified your body—there was something wrong with them."
"Yes."
"You know that, don't you?"
She remained characteristically frank, not denying it.
"A dark sorcerer."
She sat up slightly straighter in the chair, and this movement made the black marking more clearly visible in the firelight.
"I had no other choice back then," she said. "Ordinary practitioners couldn't achieve the modification I wanted. The only people who specialized in bodily modification were dark sorcerers. I knew who I was dealing with. I thought I had paid all the necessary prices."
"You paid more than just your husband's life."
"Indeed, more than that," she repeated, her voice carrying a trace of bitterness. "I only realized that later."
"I can help you," I said.
She looked at me, and this time I saw surprise. I slowly stood up and pulled out the bone talisman with blackened edges from my pack.
"I'm cursed," I said. "Those people have been chasing me all this way. If you're willing to tell me what substance that modification specialist used on you, I might be able to figure out the antidote."
She was silent for a moment, looking at the bone talisman in my hand and the various herbal bottles in my pack.
"You are an interesting person."
Then she stood up.
"Follow me," she said.