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Aug 29

Here is mine! Short teaser:

““Your crimes,” Gorvyn continued, “include aiding that thief and using forbidden magic. Do you disagree?”
Cyrus lifted his head with a quiet defiance that sent a shiver through me. “The only crime here is your lie– calling Josiah a thief. Your kind are the ones stealing from our people.”
Gorvyn’s face twisted into a snarl. “What the fuck am I stealing from you? You have nothing of value to me.”
Cyrus met his eyes, glaring, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Our lives and our freedom,” he growled.
Gorvyn’s eyes flashed with fury as he raised the whip high. “Your punishment is fifty lashes.”
Cyrus looked forward again, determination on his face. “Then, go ahead. Do your ‘duty’.”

My eyes met his as I ran up. I had to save him from this. I couldn’t sit back and watch as he was beaten into submission.
But, I stopped in my tracks.
Cyrus's eyes stared at mine with sadness and determination, and he shook his head slowly, telling me not to intervene. The realization hit me like a meteor strike. I wanted to intervene, to shield him from the cruelty being inflicted, but his gaze held me back.
I took a retreating step, my body weak with defeat. I watched, every muscle in my body tensed, as the first lash struck Cyrus’s back. His body jolted with the impact, but he remained silent, teeth gritting against the pain. The crowd flinched with every crack of the whip, yet no one moved to stop it.
“You’re insane, you know that?” I whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear.
The lashes continued, each one ripping through his flesh and tearing at the seams of his shirt– and my composure. Mister Cuthbert and I let out a whimper with every blow, and I could see the tears pooling in his eyes from watching the pain inflicted on his son. Blood was staining the wood beneath Cyrus, a grim reminder of the cost of defiance. Still, Cyrus refused to cry out. His silence was louder to the crowd than any scream.
Whispers of unrest rippled through the onlookers, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror and something else– something that tasted like rebellion.
“Do you see this?” Grovyn shouted, his voice hoarse from the exertion. His body was clearly tired and he staggered to the left, loosely holding the whip. “This is what happens when you defy the King! Remember this well!”
The crowd’s murmurs only grew louder. They weren’t cowering– if anything, Grovyn’s brutality ignited a spark. The look on Mister Cuthbert’s face told me he noticed it too. This was the catalyst we needed, though none of us had wanted it to be Cyrus who suffered for it.
As the final lash landed, Cyrus slumped against the post, his body trembling but unbroken. Gorvyn stepped back, breathing heavily, his face flushed with exhaustion and anger. The Captain wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the crowd as if daring anyone to speak out.
“Take this as a warning,” Gorvyn spat on the ground next to Cyrus, tossing the whip aside.

Cyrus wanted everyone to see it– a symbol of the King’s tyranny”

Check out The Secrets We Keep on Tapas. https://tapas.io/series/The-Secrets-We-Keep

Currently the only drawing i've made of Therese George, which is not canon, but she still rocks this fit lol


POV: You say "Hey mom, let me style you" thinking it will be funny, but you forgot that your mother has immortal beauty and will be able to pull off every look better than you forever.