Reborn From the Cosmos

ARC 7-Cursed Fates-76

“Punish? You wish to cause them pain?”

“If pain’s what it takes.” The problem is, I don’t think it will matter. The worst I can imagine might amuse the succubus at best. Geneva can feel pain. She can suffer. But she has existed for who knows how long. I can’t imagine how much pain she’s endured in that time. Saints, she might not even experience pain the same way people do.

I do hold one trump card. I have complete control over her and, through her, every other succubus in Harvest. They can’t raise a hand to harm me. Not even if I order them to drag their summoners before me and watch as I sever their connection to this realm. They couldn’t do anything even if I ordered them all to kill each other.

But that isn’t a punishment or a solution. It’s a last-ditch effort to save myself if I’m cornered. As treacherous as they are, the succubi are a powerful resource. It would pain me to part with them. Literally and figuratively. My quality of life would take a rapid and noticeable plunge.

There has to be an answer between the two extremes of doing nothing and evicting the influence of Burning Earth from my life entirely.

“Hm.”

“What?”

She closes her eyes. “Geneva is a remarkable creature. She has complete control over both her body and mind. Nothing is out of her control. Her every breath is intentional. That means there is meaning behind every action. The question is, why would a creature with complete control of herself and a vested interest in staying in your good graces purposely anger you?”

A question I’ve asked myself many times. “I can only imagine it’s her pride.” She’s told me many times that she and her kind are not infallible. That the strong have their own weaknesses. “She was upset that her plan fell apart and took it out on me.”

And why wouldn’t she? The damn creature thinks she’s untouchable. Or at least that she can take whatever punishment I can hand out. Saints’ blessed asses, she might not think I have it in me to punish her. With all that’s going on, the loss of the succubi would be incredibly detrimental.

Worse, it would put the weakest members of my household at risk. The only reason I am so comfortable challenging the top powers of the kingdom is because I know between her and Kierra, it would take an act of the saints to kill any of us. That kind of security is hard to let go of.

“Pride. Perhaps…but she has already swallowed her pride. She had to swallow it entirely to become your servant and suppresses it every day as she does menial chores to keep you happy. She has successfully kept her pride under control but, for no discernible reason, that impeccable control is broken and so drastically?”

When she says it like that… “What do you think?”

“I will not claim to know her. A being such as her is unknowable, her mind a labyrinth. But I do believe she is a creature of intention, always. She intended to anger you and that anger serves another intention. What were you talking about before she purposefully ignited your temper?”

I swallow heavily. “The death of my father.”

A hand gently caresses my cheek. “What were you about to do? About the death of your father, in regard to the succubi specifically?”

“I was going to question them about the idiotic independent summoners that roped my father into summoning a drakkon. And about whatever they’re doing in the capital…that consumed so much of their attention they couldn’t protect him.” My eyes widen as realization dawns, my thoughts mirroring Talia’s next words.

“Are you thinking about that now?”

“No.” I’m so busy grappling with the impossible task of bringing a succubus to heel that I haven’t spared a thought for my many questions. Would I have forgotten completely? It’s not impossible to think, given the storm of circumstances raging around us.

Haha, it all makes sense. What does Geneva care if I torture her or imprison her? So long as her plans continue unimpeded. Her schemes mean more to her than that fake body crafted to deceive and please me. Did she plan to make a good show of it? Cry and beg and plead as I did my best to make her understand horror? Or maybe she’d cackle at my attempts to be menacing, riling me up until my anger is all I can think about.

“I’m such an idiot.”

“No. You are young and inexperienced.” The hand caressing my cheek moves down to my neck, gently massaging.

It seems so obvious now. “The best way to hurt Geneva is to hurt her plans.”

“I do not think so.”

“What?” I thought that was the whole point of the conversation we just had.

“Geneva cannot act against you. Her schemes are not harmful to you or your interests. Rather, they may benefit or safeguard them. Destroying those plans will annoy her but she will make new ones. Over and over, for eternity. That is not victory.”

“Then how?” I ask, frustration seeping into my tone despite the comforting touch of my flower.

“…when I was small, I wanted to hurt the other children who bullied me. We were all trapped in same terrible circumstances. They spoke of sticking together, of looking out for one another as no one else would. Instead, they took advantage of the weak, taking what little we did have. There were nights when I went to bed hungry that I wanted to carve out their stomachs to make them sleep with the same void in their guts.”

“Talia…”

“There’s no need to get angry for me,” she whispers soothingly. “Even as a girl, I realized that violence against them was pointless. Assuming I could somehow overpower several children that were both older and stronger than myself, despite my lack of sight, my victory would have given me nothing. The orphanage could have kicked me out, declaring me a danger to the other children. Then I would be on the streets with nothing instead of very little and no roof over my head. The evil of children is cruel, but the evil of adults is far worse. I wouldn’t have survived a week. Maybe not even a day.”

“…I’m sorry you had to live through that.”

“We all have our trials. I don’t think of it anymore. I have never heard of any of those children. They grew up, if they grew up, to live common lives in common places. They are nothing. Had I retaliated in anger, I would have ruined my life over nothing.

“Geneva can hardly be compared to cruel children but the pain you wish to inflict on her is similarly worth nothing. It will do nothing for you and nothing to her, not really. Your distraction is likely what she wants.

“Or perhaps her thoughts go much deeper, too deep for us to grasp but the vaguest sense of them. What I do know is that the only true victory is success. You have asked for my opinion. Do not punish her for tricking you. Instead, become strong and wise so she can never trick you again. That is your victory, Lou.”

…she’s right.

What is all of Geneva’s work for? Her contract with me and her schemes? She isn’t doing it for Harvest. Or the world, though I imagine she will take both if she can wrap her dainty hands around them.

All of this is for me. To impress me. To control me. To devour me. Keeping myself out of her hands is the only victory that truly matters.

My father…he deserves answers. Perhaps retribution. At the very least he deserves my attention. But I can’t let thinking of him doom me. I have a long life ahead of me. I don’t want to spend it dancing to the whims of an elemental. And the only way to beat Geneva, truly, is to be better. To become untouchable. Not to destroy her schemes, but to ensure they amount to nothing. She has everything. Believes she can have anything, given enough time to chase it.

Denial. That is the only thing that can hurt her.

I softly take Talia’s chin in one hand and tilt her head back. Her eyes remain closed and her expression placid. I can’t even detect a change in the steady pounding of her heart. She must know how vulnerable she is, yet she is completely confident. So sure of herself. Her surrender gives her power, just like Geneva. Is that why her advice rings true? Because their minds are the same?

Will I one day pull another aside to discuss how to overcome my scheming flower?

No. Because I will be stronger. I will be better. I will be…

“There are a few hours until the sun rises,” I say suggestively. She takes note of my tone and her free hand slides up my stomach. I catch her wrist as said hand rests on one of my breasts and guide her to stand.

“There would be no point taking such care with the lock if we make a mess of the room anyway.” And Alana wouldn’t be happy to learn I denied her the chance to watch.