It was as if Asteria’s memory played out on a screen in front of me. I’m a captive audience, cordoned off in a far off corner of my mind. Separated from my body but still aware of what is happening. The scene from Theia’s point of view also playing out, oddly disconnected from me, padded feet to forest floor the smell of earth and water. The dirt flecked in her fur and her nose pressed to the earth inhaling its aroma. Asteria’s trauma unfolds before me, almost happening to me, although the screams are not my own. The hunger in his eyes. The manic rage. His whip. My feelings are not entirely my own, it is as if I am Asteria in this experience. “Prince Aares.” I say in a voice that is not my own. A memory of an event I never experienced, yet vividly recall. This isn’t real, yet, I can feel his whip biting and tearing my skin. I can feel the blood snaking down the back of my thighs. The warm ooze somehow soothing the stinging pain. My back flayed open. His scent coats my skin like an
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