Reversal

Night after night beneath the subterranean depths of the Suburra could no longer be measured by the light or darkness of Rome's sky, but rather by the viscous thickness of fresh blood and the pungent bitterness of beast-fat torches.

The cold seeped deep into every damp, black-mossy stone wall, yet it could not freeze the demonic atmosphere slowly consuming Claudia's soul. The dark grey servant's tunic of coarse fabric chafed against old bruises that had faded to a pale yellow, mingling with fresh, still-seeping wounds across her thighs and hips. The physical injuries from Servius's depraved lust seemed to have become a familiar part of her body—an exorbitant price she chose to pay every night to maintain her right to exist beneath this cell.

Servius Tullo still sat there, enthroned upon the sheepskin-upholstered wicker chair placed outside the dungeon gates. With a goblet of sour wine in one hand and a gem-inlaid silver staff twirling in the other, his bloodshot, dazed, squinting eyes swept over her slender yet mentally shattered form. The crude savagery he had just inflicted upon her body had not satisfied him; he wished to savor a far more vicious "mental feast".

He wanted to see his noble wife tear into the flesh of the southern captive with her own hands.

"Begin, my little doll," Servius sneered, his voice rasping like two grindstones rubbing together at the bottom of a dry well. "I promised not to rip open this Kavanu beast's belly tonight, provided you personally administer a full ten lashes. Do not let me see your hands shake, Claudia. You know the consequences if he doesn't bleed enough, don't you?"

Claudia stood desolate in the center of the dungeon. Extending her slender hand, she slowly tightened her grip around the leather-wrapped handle of the triple-thonged oxhide whip. The tiny iron links embedded at the tips of the lashes clicked together with an icy, metallic clatter that pierced straight through her eardrums.

She no longer cried, nor did she tremble as she had on the first night.

Her long hands, once accustomed only to weaving silk and plucking the lyre, were now familiar with the weight of the leather-wrapped handle and the merciless rebound of metal tearing through flesh. She lashed out rhythmically, with cold, lethal precision. The fragile, pathetic shell of the innocent noblewoman had completely peeled away, exposing a hardened, grey core of steel beneath.

Yet the one truly steering that cruelty was not her.

Step by step, she walked toward the stone ledge. There, Jabari was chained with his arms stretched wide against the freezing stone wall. His broad back, rippling with bronzed muscle, was laid completely bare. Layer upon layer of gangrenous wounds overlapped, fresh blood welling over old, black scabs, dripping onto the wet stone beneath his feet.

Yet the southern general did not collapse.

As Claudia’s footsteps halted behind him, Jabari slowly turned his head. The iron chains wrapped around his shoulders and wrists rattled fiercely. His blood-soaked back strained rigidly, unshakable like an unyielding stone wall. His deep, dark eyes, blazing with the ruthless lethality of the Kavanu, pinned her down—devoid of pain or pleading, bearing instead the terrifying initiative of active dissection.

"What are you staring at? Strike!" Servius slammed his wine goblet against the chair, roaring with sadistic glee from outside. "Are you hesitating out of pity for that carcass?"

Claudia raised the whip higher, channeling strength into her wrist. But right before her arm could descend, Jabari abruptly pivoted half his body toward her.

His massive, muscular frame cast a dark shadow over her. The distance between them closed until Claudia could see individual beads of cold sweat mingling with fresh blood sliding down the chiseled lines of his nose, feeling the scorching breath reeking of iron and unyielding life burning within his rugged chest.

He did not evade the whip. Instead, Jabari took a deliberate step forward within the permitted span of his iron chains, locking his gaze onto her composed yet utterly exhausted brown eyes.

"Your lashes are precise, matron," Jabari murmured. His raspy, muffled whisper remained low enough for only the two of them and the oil-soaked torch to hear. "Yet within your eyes, there is no cruelty of an executioner. You are merely bracing yourself so you do not collapse before your old husband."

Claudia froze. Her whip-bearing arm trembled for a fraction of a second.

"I am fulfilling my duty to keep you alive," she lowered her voice, replying through clenched teeth. "Do not forget your place in this dungeon, Jabari."

A brutal, mocking half-smile curved across the general's blood-crusted lips. He had not buckled under his gangrenous wounds, nor yielded to Servius's perverted power, let alone been manipulated by her dangerous "pity". On the contrary, his terrifying composure was steadily chipping away at her mind.

"You lie poorly, Claudia," Jabari lowered his voice further, uttering her name in deep, clipped Latin. "He thinks he is using you to torture me. But in truth... who is truly the one being tortured every night down in this cell? I endure physical pain, while you... you endure rot from within."

Claudia's throat choked up. His words swept across her eardrums like a thin blade, severing the final shreds of defense left within her mind.

Indeed. With every strike of the whip, Jabari suffered physical harm, yet his spirit remained intact, proud, and blazing with lethal intent. Meanwhile, every night she tore into his flesh with her own hands, staining herself with this man's blood, she felt herself sinking deeper into Servius's filthy mire. She no longer recognized who she was.

"STRIKE HARDER! STOP WHISPERING TO IT!" Servius roared angrily from outside, his silver staff hurled violently against the stone floor with a jarring crash.

Jabari tilted his head, exhaling a scorching, merciless breath right against her ear. "Close your eyes and swing the whip, matron. If you cannot become the most ruthless wielder of blades, you will forever remain a doll crushed beneath his boots."

Claudia shut her eyes tightly. A drop of exhausted teardrop welled at the corner of her eye, refusing to fall. Channeling all her inner turmoil, hatred, and utter desperation into her arm, she delivered the subsequent lashes!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Fresh blood splattered across her pale cheek. The rattling of iron chains against the stone wall thundered aloud. Jabari braced his chest tightly, accepting every blow in proud silence.

With each stroke, Jabari's flesh was torn anew. The heavy, metallic reek of fresh blood mingled with his sharp scent of sweat, threatening to make her vomit. Yet in every fleeting moment between lashes, as the whip rose and fell, the two engaged in a brutal, wordless dialogue.

By the tenth lash, Claudia's arm was completely spent.

WHACK!

Clang!

The chains on Jabari's wrists slammed violently against the stone wall. His back was shredded, blood splattering everywhere. The general's muscular frame sagged for a heartbeat, but instantly, he flexed his core and slowly forced his spine straight once more.

The oxhide whip slipped from Claudia's trembling fingers, dropping heavily into the puddle of gore at her feet. She stood paralyzed, gasping for breath, staring blankly at the sticky blood smeared across her fingers.

"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent, Claudia!" Servius rose, highly satisfied, tossing back his sour wine. Brandishing his silver-inlaid staff, he turned to the jailer: "Lock the gate! Let this beast ruminate on her ladyship's 'mercy' tonight!"

Servius's heavy footsteps and perverted, wheezing laughter faded away behind the solid cast-iron gate.

In the corner of the cell, Jabari did not collapse.

Despite his shredded, blood-drenched back oozing heavy trails down onto the stone, the southern general slowly stepped toward the edge of the ledge within the permitted length of his chain. His powerful, lethally charged frame loomed downward, casting a shadow over her frail, huddled form.

Jabari brought his chiseled, sweat- and blood-streaked face right beside Claudia's ear. His scorching breath, reeking thick of blood and fierce vitality, enveloped her pale skin.

He smirked, murmuring in a deep voice that pierced straight to her core:

"Strike harder..."

Claudia froze. Slowly lifting her head, her tear-blurred brown eyes met his bloodied yet blazing gaze in the dark.

Jabari exhaled a breath hot with fresh blood, continuing to whisper in a tone as merciless as a curse:

"...I want to see where your true limits lie."