A Quest for Sweet Suffering: Chapter 3 – Protecting the Unworthy

Chapter 3 – Protecting the Unworthy

A young woman with fresh wounds on her body, dirt, and dressed in rags runs from her two kidnappers who are blood-crazed and possessed by their vices. She dashes through the dark, moonlit forest with no destination in mind other than being anywhere other than here. Even as she manages to find a place to temporally hide in a field of tall grass, she has a feeling that she’ll be caught not only because her captors have found her in her hiding spots before, but also because they took her from a home that she thought she would be safe in and never leave. The two kidnappers sniff around the area and whisper to themselves both in their voices and voices not their own. One such voice was the voice of her deceased grandmother, which was the one they used to lure her into a dark alley at night where ratmen kidnapped her.

That’s another thing she must bring up to the authorities if she manages to get back home. She’s heard of the ratmen but thought they were only legends like the beastmen and the kingdom of Onocrotalus just to name a couple. Now that she’s caught her breath, the woman slowly but hastily makes her way away from her predators. Once she feels that she’s gained enough distance from them, she begins to sprint, however, the kidnappers suddenly leap in front of her, which makes her stop in her tracks and fall down in fear. It’s at this point that she feels like she’s done for with her kidnapper's hands almost upon her. In her mind, she silently prays to God for forgiveness and the safety of her loved ones.

A crimson mist creeps into the forest and stops the kidnappers from touching the woman. They go over to investigate the mist and disappear into it. The woman watches from the ground as she fearfully waits for the result and is startled by the sound of flesh exploding and the heads, limbs, bodies, and blood of her kidnappers that fly toward her. A figure walking out of the mist makes her crawl backward until her back is up against a tree and the figure reveals herself to be a man in a doll-like mask who is wearing light armor, has white hair, a crimson crown of thorns, and cuts all over his right arm. As the crimson mist recedes, the woman sees the man more clearly and is slightly comforted and on edge by his inaction and staring at her.

“Are you okay?” the man asks.

“No,” the woman honestly says. “Who are you?”

“My name is Astorath. What is yours? What do you need me to do for you?”

“Myrtle and I need you to get me out of here. Did you get here on horseback?”

“No, I was transported here through the crimson mist.”

Looking behind Astorath, Myrtle sees that the crimson mist has completely disappeared.

“It’s gone! Can you call it back?”

“No, it’s controlled by the will of God. It’s brought me here to you for a reason.”

“Well, if it wasn’t to bring me back home, what do you think it could be?”

“I’m assuming you were kidnapped?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Could you take me to where they kept you?”

“What? Are you crazy? I just escaped there by the skin of my teeth!”

“Can’t you hear the silent voice of God asking you to go back? Oh, that’s right. Not everyone in pain can hear the voice of God like my people and I can. Here, let me help you with that.”

“What are you-”

Astorath takes Myrtle’s hand with her cutup right hand and she feels a sudden surge of unbearable pain, and yet, in the pain, she feels a peace that she’s never felt before. She also feels and hears the sounds of people crying out for someone’s crucifixion and her hands and feet feel as if they’re being impaled by a large nail. After that brief moment passes, her ears feel the vibrations of a sound, a voice, and a soothing one at that. Even though she can’t make out what it’s saying, she knows that it calls her to go back to where she and others were kept and tortured to free them. Astorath then lets go of Myrtle’s hand and the pain she once felt is now gone.

“What was that?” Myrtle asks.

“You felt what every person from Onocrotalus feels on a daily basis and heard the voice of God because of it,” Astorath explains. “So, what will you do?”

Myrtle thinks to herself of another legend coming to life after Astorath mentions Onocrotalus and assumes that he is from it since he fits the description of a person from it. From his voice, she can hear that he’s a young man and must be around the same age as she is despite having the white hair of an elder. She puts off the thought since almost every legend she’s heard about has appeared in front of her and only thinks about doing what is being asked of her.

“But why me? Why do I need to take you there? Can’t God do it? He transported you here and guides your people to where you need to be.”

“He took me here to you for a reason so you must play some important part in His plan. Perhaps, I can do it on my own with my blood magic, but on the other hand, I lack my mace since I left it at home and felt that God told me to leave it there, so it would be difficult to do so. Also, I doubt that God would change His mind based on your decision and would make me stay by you until you changed your mind.”

Seeing that she has no other option, Myrtle scoffs and then says, “Okay, fine, but I don’t exactly know the way back so we’ll be wandering around for a bit.”

“That’s fine by me. I’m sure we’ll eventually find our way there.”

Astorath offers Myrtle his hand to help her up, she takes it, stands up, and the two head off. While Myrtle walks in the direction of where she thinks she came from, she can feel the phantom pain of what she was feeling before. It feels like it’s silently guiding her in the direction where she needs to go.

“So, uh, how old are you?” Myrtle asks to distract herself from what she’s feeling.

“I forgot. I only remember when hit milestones like twenty so let’s say I’m around twenty,” Astorath says.

“Me too. I have that same problem.”

It’s then that Myrtle remembers the legends that everyone in Onocrotalus is born with stigmata and the pain she was trying to distract herself from begins to slowly reawaken.

“How do you deal with all that pain you’re in?” Myrtle asks.

“I offer it to God, everyone in the world, and the holy souls in Purgatory. It’s easier to deal with pain when you know you’re suffering for people you love.”

“I guess. That’s probably what my family and friends have to think to deal with me, especially since they must be worried sick about my disappearance.”

“I’m sure they do. To suffer is to love, after all. That’s the saying that my people go by.”

Myrtle grunts in response and isn’t sure what to think to herself or talk about to Astorath since it seems to keep coming back to pain and suffering.

Finally, after thinking it over, she says, “Can we talk about something else that doesn’t involve pain or suffering? It’s like your entire life revolves around it.”

“Well, it does, as does every life.”

“Are you being smart with me?”

“I am only stating the fact.”

“State some other fact then.”

“It’s dark outside.”

“Something less obvious.”

“You’re annoyed with me and the situation.”

“That’s even more obvious. I never thought that talking to a living legend would be so annoying.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Having enough of Astorath’s blunt way of talking, Myrtle turns around and slaps him in the face, hitting his mask and only slightly hurting her hand. “Did that make you feel better?”

Astorath’s response makes Myrtle want to slap him again. Still, she restrains herself not only because he’d probably say something to a similar effect again, but also because it wouldn’t make her feel any better.

“No.”

“Let’s continue on then. The faster we get this done, the more lives we can save, and the faster you can get back home.”

“Oh, that’s right. I don’t even want to think about what vile experiments and tortures those people are going through,” Myrtle says as she continues walking. “But then again, I’d also rather not think about my worried loved ones.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve disappointed them by avoiding my duties, lying to them, and falling short on things like schoolwork and working with my mom at her tailor shop.”

“I can relate.”

“Really? You don’t seem like the kind of person that makes mistakes or even sins, especially since I’ve heard that the people of Onocrotalus weren’t capable of it.”

“I, just like the people of Onocrotalus, can sin like the rest of humanity until the day we die.”

“But aren’t you people basically already dead? It’s said that you’re unkillable.”

“We only die when God allows just like everyone else.”

“In a certain sense, I guess you’re right. So, you’ve gone against your parent’s authority and the Church?”

“In a way, I have. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay. Does your kingdom have kings, queens, and generals?”

“We don’t have any authorities like you do besides the very basics such as parents and clergy who are just teachers, caretakers, spiritual support, and, in the special case of the clergy, givers of the sacraments.”

“Interesting. I’m jealous that your kingdom isn’t involved in politics since it’s a typical topic at my family’s table, especially since my brothers are governors and bishops. Do you have any siblings?”

“Four brothers and three sisters.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of siblings.”

“Families in Onocrotalus usually have three or seven or more children.”

“I’m surprised to hear that because it must be a tough choice to have a child who is born with the pain of stigmata.”

“Like I said before, to suffer is to love. Life is full of unavoidable suffering so there’s no reason to let that hinder us. Instead, we only worry about dealing with it, making it a weapon, and an offering of love.”

Again, the topic of the conversation came back to suffering, which annoyed Myrtle, but she wouldn’t say that Astorath’s insight into it didn’t enlighten her in some way and made her own pain easier to bear. She starts to offer her pain up as penance for herself and others. Eventually, the two make it to where Myrtle was kept. It’s a camp with barbed-wired wooded walls that protect a series of tents and buildings made of wood and the stench of death could be sensed even before they arrived. The screams of victims and the laughing of torturers can be heard and give Myrtle goosebumps and make her regret coming back here.

“Now, that my part is done, I’ll be leaving,” Myrtle says.

Astorath grabs her arm.

“No, you have to go in there with me,” Astorath says. “You’re going to help me free these people.”

“What?! Are you insane?”

Before Myrtle can say anything else, she can feel the blood within her sting as she feels called to do what Astorath says.

“Alright, alright! I’ll do what I can,” Myrtle half-reluctantly says.

Even as the sting of pain subsides in her, Myrtle still feels its presence and the residuals of the silent voice she heard. She leads Astorath over to the hole in the barbed-wired gates that she escaped out of and the two head in. They are immediately met with three possessioned sinners who jump at Myrtle, but Astorath immediately gets in front of her and uses his blood magic against the ambushers. The resulting exchange splatters the bodies of both parties involved as the body parts and blood of Astorath spray all over Myrtle pushing her to the ground with Astorath’s head on her lap.

“Astorath!” Myrtle says while shaking his dismembered head. “Why did you save me?! Huh? Answer me! I’ve heard that your people can live through being blown to bits.”

“Give me a second,” Astorath’s head says.

Startled by his head speaking, Myrtle throws Astorath’s head aside just as it is forming back together. Even the blood on her goes back into the seemingly unkillable man’s body.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I was questioning you?!”

“Like I said, it takes a second for me to reform. Besides, your yelling wasn’t helping.”

Myrtle slaps Astorath’s face.

“And that’s for scaring me as a talking head.”

“Sure, let’s get moving. We probably stirred up attention because of all the commotion.”

While sneakily making their way through the camp, Myrtle feels the painful tingling in her skin grow more, and it doesn’t feel like it’s just because Astorath’s blood was on her though it does feel like it’s part of the reason. She can feel the presence of holes in her hands and feet and something tight wrapped around her head despite there being nothing there. Further inside the camp, Astorath witnesses the horrors within that Myrtle had to deal with. He sees men and women being eaten alive by ratmen and possessed humans alike. In the more protected areas, he sees disemboweled women with rats coming out of their stomachs and other people contorted in painful ways to look at with arms, legs, and their heads bent in unnatural ways, and yet, both of these test subjects are still living.

Seeing all the horrors pushes Myrtle and Astorath into action as they free the prisoners of the camp where they can and direct them to the hole they came through. After freeing several of them, the two are caught and immediately restrained by ratmen and possessed cultists along with a few of the prisoners some of which were scared into telling the ratmen who freed them and where they were.

“I’ve always wanted to experiment on a human from Onocrotalus. One such experiment involves how much pain you can take and how many times you can die until you cease to regenerate,” a ratmen clothed in metal and who has multiple arms and hands with needles, saws, and cleavers in them.

“Then do your experiments, but leave the girl alone,” Astorath says.

“Astorath!” Myrtle says.

“It’s okay. I can handle it for you.”

“Let’s see if you can,” the ratman says before chopping off Astorath’s limbs one by one before cutting off his head.

Astorath’s body reforms itself and the ratman dismembers, crushes, and cuts him up in different ways each time and during every time, Myrtle feels pain within her that feels as if it is trying to reach out to help him despite Astorath appearing not to be bothered by what’s happening to him. Even the ratman finds Astorath’s lack of screaming and noise bothering in his own way.

“Don’t you feel pain? Isn’t this bothering you at all?” the ratman asks.

“It does. I can feel every cut and bludgeon, however, I will endure because the greater the pain, the greater the offering of love I can give to God,” Astorath says.

The cultists and ratmen seem to have their conscience reawakened in their eyes for a second as they look at each other and whisper about this great example of sacrifice and humility.

“Then I’ll gladly keep giving you more and greater pain to offer your God,” the ratman says as he continues his torture.

As Astorath’s torture continues so does Myrtle’s desire to take his place, but in her mind, the temptation to not bother arises. Knowing that can only offer her own pain and silent prayers to help him, Myrtle does this and the want for her own safety fades away.

Eventually, in her mind, Myrtle prays, “Please, I beg You to let me suffer for Astorath instead. I offer my body and blood in his place.”

At her word, Myrtle feels the nailing of her hands and feet, the tightening of a crown around her head, and the echoing of the words “I offer myself for their sake” from the silent voice her ears have been picking up on. Despite the crushing pain, she doesn’t take back her words. As she embraces it, real wounds appear out of nowhere on her hands and feet, and a crimson crown of thorns forms from her hardening blood. It is only when her captors feel the blood dripping from her do they begin to pay attention to her.

“What is happening?!” the ratman torturing Astorath says before turning to him. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Astorath bluntly admits.

Myrtle’s captors let go of her as the blood from her and Astorath are quickly brought up into the sky and then just as quickly brought down in a hail of blood that impales every ratman and unrepentant sinner and then drowns the camp in blood that heals the innocent people in it to full health. Once the flood of blood subsides and goes back into Myrtle and Astorath, they rise up to see the results of what happened.

Looking at her pierced hands and feet and feeling the crown on her head, she asks, “Am I like you now?”

“Yes,” Astorath says, “You are now blessed with the suffering of stigmata and a member of Onocrotalus.”

“Heh, I’m really going to get it now when my parents see this, but shouldn’t I go back to your kingdom?”

“If God wills it. What is He telling you now?”

“To help these people.”

“Then do so.”

A crimson fog suddenly descends upon the camp and Astorath walks to it.

“What? Are you just going to walk away?”

“You know that I have somewhere else I need to be.”

“Then I look forward to seeing you again because I ought to slap you again for your smart tone.”

“I look forward to seeing you again as well. Not for the slapping part though.”

After Astorath disappears into the crimson mist, Myrtle goes to help the people of the camp. Even though those who were tortured and experimented on are back to full health, they still have mental scars from the pain they experienced. Myrtle takes their pain onto herself, which helps them enough to get them up and walking. She then leads the people out of the camp while carrying their pain so they can walk to the nearest town all the while feeling a renewed sense of purpose for her life not despite the pain but because of it.