Page 19 of Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)
His father's senior advisor knelt on the floor beside him so that he could inspect Styxx's damaged mouth and swollen tongue. "Majesty, it's the bakkheia." A type of insanity caused by Dionysus that was said to infect those who had offended the god of wine. "I think he's possessed."
No! Styxx tried his best to say the word.
Nothing came out.
His father knelt down on his other side. "What do we do?"
"We must get him to the Dionysion and let the priests tend him."
Styxx shook his head, trying to stop them. While working at the temples, he'd heard too many stories about what befell those deemed mad. Or anyone who was believed to have offended a god.
But no one listened. They couldn't understand him. Nor did they try.
Before he could stop them, his father called for his guards and had him carried to the Dionysian temple in the middle of the city.
Helpless against his inexplicable pain, Styxx listened as his father explained to the high priest how he'd been stricken for no reason. How he had a history of headaches, vomiting, and "imagined" ailments. That he seldom slept. And that his mother had gone mad shortly after his birth, and succumbed to her cups, that in a fit of rage last year, she'd stabbed Styxx and then tried to kill herself in front of him.
"It's a good thing you brought him here, Majesty. You are right. He is possessed and we can definitely make him better for you."
Styxx shook his head as terror held him tight to her bosom. "F-f-f-fa-fer?"
"Shh, boy. The priests will help you."
Styxx clutched at his father's palla, desperate to go home, but his father pried his hands off his clothes while the priests came forward and put chains on him.
The last words he heard from his father before they dragged him away sickened him the most.
"I grant you and your priests full immunity. Do whatever you must to heal him."
June 21, 9535 BC
Styxx choked as the priests forced a gag into his mouth. They'd already stripped him naked and hung him in the center of the temple so that they could begin "treating" him.
One of the priests drew symbols in lamb's blood over his body while another brought out a pair of shears and a ceremonial dagger. They lit incense and candles while they chanted for the god's forgiveness for whatever sin Styxx had committed against him. Then to his complete horror, they started cutting off pieces of his hair and then burning the locks in a gold bowl.
Screaming around the gag, he tried to stop them, but with his arms spread out and chained, there was nothing he could do.
"Don't fight us, Highness. We're not the ones possessing you, and causing you this trouble and agony. We're only trying to help you."
The oldest priest nodded as he painfully sawed off a handful of Styxx's hair. "We have to make you less appealing for the demons who inhabit your body. They have no need for an ugly host and they will flee you once you no longer attract them."
Dear gods ... what are you planning to do to me?
Piece by piece, they removed all the hair from his head then shaved his scalp before painting more symbols there. The scent of burning hair made him ill.
Look on the bright side.... You won't have to worry about your father pulling at your hair now.
Or any more women coming on to him.
"Should we bleed him first?"
Styxx tried to shrink away from the priest who asked that question.
"No. His case is too extreme. Light the rods. We'll have to scorch the demons from him."
Scorch? What the Hades was that?
Two massively huge priests unlocked his hands. Styxx fought against them, doing everything he could to break free. But they held him fast and dragged him to a smaller room where he was placed on a cold stone table. His hands were stretched out and chained so that he couldn't move them at all. Next they locked cuffs around his ankles then spread his legs so wide that it felt as if they were breaking his hipbones.
The oldest priest came forward and placed a hand to Styxx's head. "Shh, Highness. Stop fighting us. Accept what's being done. This is for your own good, after all."
Styxx's eyes widened as he saw them wheel in a cauldron of coals that had a dozen pokers in it. Please gods, no! He didn't even want to know where they intended to put those.
A younger priest stepped forward with a long piece of white cloth.
"Bind him tight," the oldest priest said. "We don't want to geld him by accident."
Geld? Geld!
"While the king has given us immunity to treat him, he is our prince, we can't leave any marks that will show when he's dressed."
"If we leave no visible marks, how will that keep the demons from possessing him again?"
"They see all marks. Even with them hidden beneath clothing, the demons won't want a scarred host."
In spite of the fact that it made his head pound more, Styxx screamed for them to stop this insanity. But the gag and his swollen tongue kept his words from being intelligible, which only made the priests believe all the more that evil daemons had control of him.
Please! I'm not possessed. It was Acheron's pain he'd felt. And it hurt bad enough. He didn't need this added to it.
They paid him no attention as the young priest used his cloth to tie Styxx's cock flush to his body.
"There," the old priest said, moving the younger one aside. "We need access to the tenderest parts of his body, where it'll hurt most. Demons hate pain."
Well, there you go then.... He had enough that no demon should ever bother him.
The priest went to the cauldron and pulled a thick leather glove onto his left hand. He stirred the coals with the tip of a poker before bringing it over. Whispering a prayer, the priest placed his hand against Styxx's scrotum, moving it aside before he laid the rod down on the uppermost inner part of Styxx's thigh.
Styxx screamed so hard from the pain that it caused a vocal fold hemorrhage. Tears streamed down his face as the searing burn drove all other pain from his attention. It was the most excruciating thing he'd ever felt. The smell of his burning flesh made him heave as the priest pulled the poker off his leg.
"That's it. Fetch me another rod."
Styxx tried to fight, but it was no use. All he could do was lie here and take whatever they did. And with every poker placed on him, he hated his father. But most of all, he hated the gods who had done this to him.
And deep in his heart, he hated Acheron. If not for his brother, none of this would be happening. It was Acheron's silver eyes that betrayed their origins. Acheron who couldn't hide among people.
