Thorns Spread

“I love you, Sis… but you’re always so naughty.” Song Yan’s fingertips traced the bruises beneath her shackles, his voice as gentle as if he were soothing a willful child. “So you have to be punished… right?”

Song Man’s world had long since collapsed into this ornate cage. Every breath came steeped in the stench of blood and sandalwood; every struggle earned her an even sweeter torment. In her dying eyes, her little brother’s smile was reflected. On the face she had once thought nearly perfect, a fanatical devotion was emerging.

“Look how beautiful the flowers blooming from your wounds are…” Song Yan kissed her trembling throat, his fingertips digging deep into old, scabbed-over wounds. Pain was love’s truest measure, and blood its brightest proof. He would write an ode to his sister with chains and use his tears to set her heartbeat right. After all, this possession taken to its most twisted extreme was the most perfect way for them to love each other.