Beneath the pines

That manic, frenzied gleam in Ravana’s eyes. The way she lunged into the fray, unwilling to bend in the face of fear, enthralled by the delight of bloodshed and gore. Sephiran would never admit it aloud, but her display of violence, her yearning to satisfy and indulge…. It made him… proud? He’d never felt this emotion before, not to this degree. But he was also spiting the universe for making her a female- it had condemned her to a life of injustice. Even at her young age, she was showing signs of promise- her traits aligning with those of a merciless, and successful Saxe Sultan.

Sephiran could only hope that his two sons would follow in her paw steps soon. Or they might see the rise of a Sultana- the first in several generations.

These thoughts are racing through his mind as he watches her, savoring the scent of fresh blood in the air. She’s almost dancing with it, taking her time and savoring each and every blow. The morbid fascination in her eyes is on par with his- his gaze alit with twisted delight. This is a moment of perverse joy for him, a perverse indulgence in the suffering of others. Even if his daughter is the one inflicting the pain.

"Sephiran Saxe"