Nemesis Options

[Jacki Dice]

This is a little something I've been toying with for awhile. I've decided to bring it out to the forums here. This story will include the original version of Kalila Blackstone, from Madness Helps me Save Myself. This version of her has absolutely no ties to the one borrowed in the story.

Speaking of, Madness Helps me Save Myself will continue as planned. Sometimes working on something separate for a while soothes my writer's block.

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1

“That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.�
--Friedrich Nietzsche

In a perfect world, it would have been an assassin. Or maybe a bandit. It would be someone who was out to hurt her, who justifiably deserved to die. However, as Tara Karminova clutched her dagger to her chest, she knew it would be no such person. The world was too imperfect.

She looked around the dark alleys of the Imperial City Market District for someone no one would miss. Guilt weighed in her heart for even thinking that. Did someone’s life have less value just because they had no one to miss them? Of course not. But, she needed someone whose death wouldn’t prompt a thorough investigation. Maybe a skooma addict.

Oh, dear gods, what am I doing? She leaned against the wall of one of the shops. Her heart was no longer fluttering and her stomach no longer churned. Instead, she seemed to simply accept it. That was what scared her. “It’s for Clarissa,� she reminded herself. “It’s for her.� She clenched the grip of her dagger tightly and continued lurking through the alleys.

At first she thought she had blended in quite well with the street urchins in the Imperial City. She simply threw on an old, dirty robe that had torn a little on the bottom. Her brown hair was unbrushed and thrown back in a messy bun. Once she saw the beggars in person, however, she realized how far off she was. Their clothes weren’t just dirty, they were barely intact enough to keep them out of prison for indecent exposure. None of them wore the soft cotton that she was in. They appeared to be stitched together from odd pieces of fabric and sackcloth. Tara was also far too healthy looking. Her cheeks were somewhat plump and the robe hugged her frame tightly, revealing that she didn’t often go hungry. The beggars were nothing but skin and bones. The biggest difference was their eyes. Tara could easily tell who had lived on the street by the hardness or loss of hope in their eyes. There was no way for her to imitate them in that way.

She turned behind the Copious Coinpurse into a small garden. It was empty save for a young woman sleeping on the ground. Tara crept toward her, running her finger over the black soul gem stashed in her pocket. It would have been much easier to cast some sort of spell on her, but Tara thought a stabbing would look far more ordinary than magic.

The girl stirred slightly as Tara approached. Tara straddled her and turned her on her back. She was pretty. She had quite a young face. She was probably no more than nineteen. Tara hesitated for a moment before raising her hand. A violet flash erupted from her fist and washed over the girl. Once that was done she took out the dagger and plunged it into the girl.

The girl opened her eyes wide as blood oozed onto Tara. A scream rose from her throat and Tara quickly covered the girl’s mouth with her free hand, stabbing again and again until the girl stopped moving. She wished she had known where to plunge for a more painless and instant death. That part of her research had been overlooked. Tara took out the soul gem and was satisfied with the glow of the girl’s soul.

She got up and panted, staring at the girl’s body. Did she have parents? A sister? Probably not, since she had been sleeping there alone. Still, Tara was overcome with mixed emotions.

“It’s for Clarissa,� she said to herself.



Tara had to hold in her disgust as she stared upon Clarissa’s corpse.

Three years had passed since Clarissa Blackstone’s murder and time had not been kind. Clarissa’s skin was gone for the most part, only remaining in small patches. On the pieces of skin around her temples, sat dry tufts of her once luxurious black hair, though the slightest brush would turn it to dust. Her bones were not white, like the models shown at the Arcane University. Instead they were a filthy brown. The sockets that once held beautiful grey eyes were now empty and covered by a paper thin layer of skin. The gown she had been buried in had long since been eaten away. Though she went out and bought a new robe, Tara did not look forward to redressing her. Logically that shouldn’t have bothered her any more than digging Clarissa up or even setting her body on the kitchen table.

Tara wanted to pass the time doing something other than staring at Clarissa, but she was unable to take her eyes off of her. She was repulsed but fascinated at the same time. When she finally tore her eyes away, she decided to head into the basement to distract herself.

Just yesterday, the basement was full of alchemical equipment. The shelves had been lined with empty bottles and crates full of filled ones ready to be sent off to the different Mages Guild halls. Jars of ingredients sat along the windows. Now it was empty. The windows were boarded. A metal collar attached to a long chain sat in the center of the room. Tara picked it up and tugged it with all her strength. It held fast to the wall. She sighed deeply and dusted off her hands. Hopefully it would withstand the added strength of the undead.

She took a broom from a corner and started sweeping. Clarissa still deserves cleanliness, she thought. But the basement was usually kept neat and there was nothing much to sweep. She finished in seconds. She looked at the Mages Guild banners still hanging on the walls. Her eyes welled up with tears. How could she still keep those up knowing what she was going to do? How could she ever look at Arch-Mage Traven in the eye again?

With a trembling hand, she took the banners down. She tried telling herself that it was to keep them from getting ruined, but deep down she knew it was because she felt unworthy.

When she returned upstairs she was pleased to see that the hourglass was nearly empty. It was time.

For something so complex, it was strange that it was so simple to accomplish. She had imagined an elaborate ritual involving candles and conjuring. Strangely, the hardest part had been obtaining the soul gem. That and getting the soul. She closed her eyes, forcing away the image of the girl she had killed. She couldn’t afford to think about it. All spells, complex or not, required confidence and concentration.

Her home along the Lake Rumare was close enough to hear the temple bell from the Imperial City. As it rang twelve times, Tara placed the soul gem directly over where Clarissa’s heart had been. She focused on the soul inside, transferring it the way she would to an item.

The soul was stubborn. Even in death, it resisted Tara’s demand, almost as if it knew that it would cease to exist as itself. Tara trembled violently. Her heart pounded hard and she broke into a sweat. The soul would cooperate. It had no choice.

Tara grunted hard when the soul finally entered Clarissa. She panted heavily as the gem crumbled into dust, falling into Clarissa’s bare rib cage.

Clarissa’s eyelids fluttered. She sat up, turning her face toward Tara. Though the sockets were empty, she could feel the intense stare going straight through her. Tara backed up instantly. Would Clarissa remember? Or would she react with hostility? Clarissa opened her mouth, though the only sound that escaped was a dry crackle. Her body wouldn’t return to a normal living being until she received more souls.

“Clarissa,� Tara whispered. “Do you remember me?� She took a step forward. “I’m your sister.�

Clarissa tilted her head back and forth. A chunk of skin plopped on the floor causing a surge of bile to rise in Tara’s throat. She swallowed it back down and forced herself to ignore it.

“Everything is okay now,� she said. “You’re back home now.�

She held out her hand. Clarissa ignored it, seeming to be more confused than anything.

“She’s just in shock,� Tara said to herself. She glanced at the robe. She decided to put it on her when she had more skin as there was nothing really to cover.

She led Clarissa into the basement and locked the collar around her neck. “This is just to keep you safe. When you’re back to normal you can have your old room back. I’ll even get you into the Arcane University like you always wanted.� She sighed, not knowing why she said that. That wouldn’t be possible. Everyone knew that Clarissa had been dead a long time.

Clarissa crackled again, though Tara doubted that she understood anything she had been saying anyway. No need to feel like a liar, right? she wondered. “I’m going to go clean upstairs and then I’ll have to fix up your grave outside. I can’t have it looking like it’s been recently disturbed. I’ll be back soon.�

Once she was back in the living room, she locked the basement door and then placed a plank of wood in front of it. She couldn’t chance Clarissa getting out into the open. She would be killed on sight. Tara couldn’t have that. She refused to lose her twice.

She immediately set out sweeping up the living room and kitchen. There was so much dirt. Too much. Should any guild mates come for a visit, she felt it would cause immediate suspicion. Maybe it was just paranoia, but at the same time, her sudden insistence to work from her home instead of the guild halls already seemed strange. Sure, months had passed since then, the nagging feeling remained stuck in her mind.

Though it had to be done, she couldn’t keep her mind on her task. She felt drained. She sank to her knees staring at the basement door. She could hear Clarissa shuffling faintly, the chain jingling with her every movement. She glanced at the turquoise banner on the wall bearing the Mages Guild symbol. Her life as she knew it was over. She wept.



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:08 AM

[Colonel Mustard]

I've got to say, the sense of creeping dread that this is all going to come crashing down absolutely spectacularly that you've managed to imbue into this chapter here is awe-inspiring (the sense of dread, I mean. Chapter itself isn't awe-inspiring, and I mean that in a good way; it shouldn't be, it's supposed to be tense).

Also, think I worded the Traven thing badly; I meant more Tara perceiving him as creepy than he himself actually being creepy.