The tribe members trembled. Horror was etched in their hearts alongside disbelief. They watched their chief kneeling, blood slowly flowing from him. No, he wasn't dead, but he probably would have considered death preferable. Olekir didn't hesitate in castrating this vile dog. Most of his concerns centered on whether to leave him alive or kill him after prolonged torture, but before he decided, Sirka crept up to him trembling.
"Master."
"What?"
"Please, don't kill..."
"Why?"
"I. I will give everything: my body, soul, heart and future. Everything you desire. Just don't kill."
To him this didn't seem like anything remarkable: he already had her body anyway, and her soul and heart interested him little; he wasn't planning to become anything more with her than master and slave or, perhaps, lover. However, her words about the future awakened perverted inclinations in him. What she was offering wasn't just devotion, it was literally an eternal guarantee that she and her descendants would faithfully serve him and his descendants forever.
Olekir remained silent, allowing the oppressive silence to hang while others joined Sirka: from her sisters and mother, friends and tribeswomen he already possessed, to several women who had come with the tribe.
"Very well. He will live. And for his sin he has paid in full."
"And what..."
"The deal stands. Just finish everything as quickly as possible. Are you satisfied, Myrolana?"
Myrolana knew perfectly well when to stop, and understood Olekir's words no less perfectly. So she simply nodded, stepping back a few paces.
"Now that everything is settled, we can peacefully attend to our affairs. Sirka, follow me."
He turned sharply and walked away, while the girl hurriedly rushed after him. They lingered by the dolls that continued working on the rough processing of the mountain of bodies. Skin was stripped from corpses, piling it in heaps. Bones were checked for strength: most were collected to be ground; some could be processed for weapons; and from the long ones they assembled tent frames. Sinews were gathered by similarity and braided into ropes. Organs were divided by value, but most were only good for fertilizer. Meat was also sorted, cutting out the tastiest parts, while the rest was roughly thrown into a pile. Olekir took several wolf pelts with white fur, selected several hearts and gave them to Sirka.
"You can consider this a gift for your bravery. Let's move on."
They passed unprocessed bodies, walked past filled wagons. Behind them stood a magical wooden house of shaped wood on wheels. It was two wagons wide and almost six long. In the middle between the wheels were sturdy doors. Olekir wasted no time, opened the doors and dragged the hesitant Sirka inside.
"Elikoria, are you done sleeping?"
"Who do you take me for? I'm already full of strength and ready to work. So what do you need, my dear?"
"I want to subjugate her soul."
"But she already swore loyalty."
"Loyalty must be proven. And you know perfectly well why."
Sirka froze by the door, afraid to utter a word. She was so frightened that she paid no attention to the topic of their conversation, reacting weakly to her own name, until they turned back to her.
"Well, can you do it?"
"Of course. I'm no longer as helpless as I once was, and I've learned to control the entire process wonderfully without needing special places."
And to confirm her words, she straightened her arm and without any ceremony thrust it into his chest. For a few moments Sirka stopped thinking, Olekir looked at her, then turned his head to Elikoria in confusion. And she pulled a small clump of light from his chest. This was a soul fragment, and what was even more amazing, it didn't take as long as he expected. Of course, exhaustion quickly overcame him, but it was a small price.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"Alright, then let's do it."
She gently brought the soul fragment to Sirka's chest. Light flashed: power wrapped around her body, repelling the fragment, but Elikoria skillfully tore through the protection. Sirka began to writhe, arching her chest, trying to tear at it with her hands, but Olekir quickly stopped her.
Sirka didn't stop struggling immediately. Her body continued to convulse for several more minutes, her chest rising heavily, and her fingers clawing the wooden floor until they bled. Olekir held her by the shoulders, not allowing her to tear her own skin, while Elikoria calmly observed from the side. The light had long since faded, and the girl was still trembling.
"How long will this continue?"
"For her? I don't know, but the soul is putting up strong resistance. That's good."
"Good?"
"If she had accepted the fragment too easily, it would be cause for concern."
Olekir looked at Elikoria with displeasure, but she only shrugged. Several more minutes passed before Sirka finally weakened. Her body went limp in his arms, her breathing became more even, though weak convulsions still occasionally passed through it.
"Is everything alright?"
Elikoria leaned closer, ran her fingers over the girl's neck and nodded.
"Yes. She's just asleep while her soul adjusts."
"That doesn't sound very reassuring."
"I wasn't trying to reassure you."
They spent some time in silence, but Olekir's mind wandered. Watching the girl, he didn't notice at all how his mouth began to speak the words that troubled him.
"Will it really be like this every time? Did Yaroslava really go through something similar?"
"No, of course not. She, like the others, voluntarily and gradually absorbed fragments of your soul, accepting the marriage vow, though they didn't understand it."
"Vow?"
"Ah, right, you weren't married and don't know how all this happens."
"There was no such opportunity, and then unexpected circumstances arose."
"Of course, of course. Well listen: usually young people of noble families exchange soul fragments. Today this is an almost forgotten ritual."
"Elikoria, why are you only telling me this today, and not immediately?!"
"Because this is completely different! In their case there's an excess of your soul, as there is now in this girl! And in you there's almost none of theirs. This is a different situation, this is an ancient contract of slave and master."
"But I never heard..."
"Of course you didn't hear, because this was during the golden times of the empire."
Olekir froze, for a few moments he stared into emptiness, but quickly dismissed unnecessary thoughts. He didn't have the luxury of morality for his methods - certainly not now, when war was about to begin, when he needed unquestionably loyal people. Though thoughts of Yaroslava and Myroslava broke through to the surface and tormented his soul, he constantly drove them deeper.
"So if I accept their souls..."
"No, it's already too late. Their souls have completely merged with the fragment, but with her," she pointed to the unconscious Sirka, "everything can still be corrected, if you want..."
"No. If that's the case, then no."
Olekir shook his head, and his thoughts cleared, though unbearable regret filled part of his soul. He approached Sirka and took her in his arms; she tensed, her animal ears and tail straightening. For a few moments she subconsciously caught sounds before sinking deeper into his embrace. For the first time he fully appreciated her delicate figure. Elikoria embraced him from behind.
"Do you want to do this with everyone?"
"No. Not with everyone."
Elikoria nodded without looking into his face, before completely dissolving into his body. Olekir embraced the girl in his arms more tightly and went to the bedroom. It was a simple room, decorated with various patterns, and the wooden furniture merged with the floor and walls, forming a single picture. However, the bed stood out most: instead of a silk feather bed or magical carpet of living flowers there were roughly processed hides, piled in several layers. He carefully placed the girl on it before lying down on the other side and quietly falling into sleep.
When Sirka came to, it was already getting dark outside the window. For the first few moments she just stared ahead with a glassy gaze, not fully understanding where she was. Then memory returned. Her breathing became labored. She sat up sharply, but her body was immediately pierced with weakness, and the girl almost fell back. Olekir sat nearby, having been silently watching her for some time. Sirka looked at him - and felt something strange. Warm. Familiar. Her heart clenched with horror faster than her mind could understand why.
"Sleep well?"
"What did you do to me?"
"Nothing special. Just confirmed that your promise will definitely be fulfilled."
Sirka remained silent; she simply couldn't believe the words, they seemed so bizarre to her, but more than that they frightened her. Olekir smiled before bringing his hand close to her face. The girl initially pulled back, but he didn't stop and still touched her. This wasn't the first time, and so she realized with horror what wave of pleasure spread from the place where he touched.
"Do you like it?"
Sirka couldn't answer anything, melting in pleasure. He ran his thumb over her lips before inviting her to a kiss. The girl leaned in without hesitation, though her mind tried to stop her. The kiss was long. Olekir pulled back to look at the girl. She sat slightly leaning back, and a gentle blush flooded her cheeks like the reflection of hidden fire. Her half-open mouth revealed breath that hadn't yet recovered, and short fangs, and in her eyes, wide open, confusion and insatiable desire for continuation battled.
"You want more, don't you?"
Olekir continued without waiting for an answer. A new kiss marked the end of the day, igniting the fire of passion between them. And though he felt guilt for this one-sided act of absolute passion, he enjoyed it fully. He filled her with power until the full moon that illuminated the dim room through the window.
"You'd better stop. She can't take any more."
"Myroslava?"
"Son, I know our relationship has changed, but first and foremost I'm your mother."
"Alright. And what do you want, mother?"
"To save my beloved son from a mistake he'll regret for a long time. If you don't stop, you'll break her completely."
Only after her words did Olekir realize that Sirka lay beneath him like a lifeless doll. This cooled his desire, but didn't make it disappear. However, he hastily pulled away, using magic to restore the girl.
"Don't. Yaroslava is already filling the bath, and the girls will take care of her."
"Alright."
Olekir shrugged and got off the bed. Myroslava gave a signal, and several girls hurriedly entered the room; these were Sirka's half-sisters, who were horrified and enchanted by this spectacle. They hastily picked her up and carried her out of the room.
"Will you call Myrolana?"
"What for?"
"I need to somehow calm this matter down."
"Son, can't such an outstanding warrior as you control his own body?"
"I can, but why? If I can do something interesting."
"What have I raised. You were such a proper little boy, and became..." She sighed. "But I'm not such a good mother either." Myroslava entered the room, closing the door. "And I too have desires I can't fight."
Locked in each other's arms, they met the morning. And before the sun had fully risen, they greeted its first light. He went about his business, while she trained the girls and women; whispers echoed all around, and curious glances fell upon Olekir as he passed by. Even Sirka lingered her gaze on him, but quickly returned to the training.
Yaroslava worried about Sirka's condition, and when she woke up, answered all her questions. They looked at each other, filled with conflicting emotions.
"It's truly terrifying. My feelings are no longer my own. And these sensations, these desires—will they get stronger?"
Sirka looked down, but she couldn't hide her emotions. The fear within her hadn't gone anywhere. Yet alongside it lived another feeling—an almost bashful pride. A stronger man had chosen her. Subdued her. Kept her by his side. And the most terrible thing was that a part of her was actually glad of it.