A sharp pain throbbing in my side woke me, my mind fogged as my eyes shifted while I scanned my surroundings. Flashbacks of the battle flooded through my mind as fear spiked deep within me. I could make out dark bricks around me, my eyes adjusting to the lack of light, a growing chill fueled by darkness setting in and I knew… I’d been captured.
A whimper fell from my lips as I struggled to push my body up, yet was unable to. My hands were tied roughly behind my back, the rope digging into my skin, cutting off any feeling in my hands. I looked down, trying to make out my injuries in the darkness. I could feel the piercing throb in my upper arm and a fresh pain radiating from my side, every muscle in my body protesting even the slightest movement.
My clothes were stained with dried blood. My blood. I forced myself not to vomit as I glanced down at my legs, noting the gashes and cuts from the mountainside. I knew I was in bad shape—the constant haze of pain threatening my vision told me that. Tears sprung from my eyes as I attempted to move once again, agony igniting in new areas from my efforts.
I made out a metal barricade on one side of the grimy cell, the dull drip of water in the distance, a chill already sunken into my body. I forced myself to breathe, regulating each breath with a steady in and out, knowing that I couldn’t let my fear catch fire and spread. I needed a focused and logical mind to get myself out of this. A haunting clang from further down the darkness rang through the hall, a flicker of light approaching as I tried to crawl to the shadows. My teeth gritted in pained determination. If I could just blend into the shadows—
“Good. You’re awake,” a dark voice said from the other side of the rusted metal bars, his figure dimly visible.
“What do you want with me?” I spat.
“Aren’t you a feisty one?” He chuckled sinisterly. “Get her out. He will want to see her.”
“Who? Who will want to see me?” I forced out through clenched teeth as the door scratched open.
“You’d best just shut up, girl,” he spat as he turned around, leaving the two younger men towering in front of the entrance of the cell, a malicious glint in their eyes.
I turned to the two men in front of me. They couldn’t be much younger than me, yet angry scars marred their skin, their hardened faces looking me over with wrathful disdain.
“This is a mistake,” I pleaded with them, tears welling in my eyes and threatening to spill over as the one to my left yanked my hair, jerking my head upward as he spit down at me in disgust.
“Get up,” he snarled. His fist yanked my hair again, and a cry filled the room as I struggled to my feet, wounds opening at the forced motion, my body begging to stay still.
“Where are you taking me?” I cried as his hand clenched around my injured upper arm, his thumb digging into the laceration. My body nearly buckled under the harsh grip, fresh blood cascading from the wound in my arm as black spots danced in my line of vision.
His grasp tightened as he began to move. “Shut it, whore, and get moving.”
I missed a step as I was pulled forward, not trusting my body to keep me up. The pain raged and my mind numbed with each step I took toward an uncertain future. The grimy halls and poorly lit corridors were a blur as I walked up a final set of stairs and found myself outside, the night air filled with bawdy shouts and lewd jokes from men in gray armor.
I tried to force the pain out, numbing myself inside, breathing in and out, as I took in my surroundings, looking for any way out. I realized this must have been the village that Sébastien and his men stormed. Wooden buildings lined the sides and the two guards tugged me roughly into the small square in the center of the village.
A sob built inside me as I witnessed the massacre in front of my eyes. I could spot the shadowed outlines of wolvyn scattered on the ground. Wolvyn who had fought and given their lives for my pendant. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air coming from the large bonfire roaring in the center of the square, as it lapped viciously at its victims. Fur pelts hung to dry close to the flames, dark liquid dripping from the hides. Bile rose as I realized the Nordak were skinning the wolvyn, tossing their remains with no care or burial.
We came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the buildings, my mind struggling to shut out the pain as I was brutally shoved through the doorway, exhaustion causing me to stumble, unable to break my fall as I crashed to the rough floor. My shoulders screamed in agony as I tried to push myself upright, my hands still bound behind me.
“You’re dismissed,” a cold voice said from across the room. The two men who led me here fled from the entrance, shutting me in an unknown room. “Come,” the voice spoke again.
My body was hardly able to obey the command as I slowly limped across the room toward the voice. I stopped by the fireplace, lifting my gaze to meet the man before me. I studied the towering male in the dim light of the room. Long blond hair fell from his shoulders in an unkempt fashion, one side in tight braids against his skull. Tattoos crept up the side of his face. A long silver scar, a stark contrast against his cheek, met harsh green eyes aimed maliciously toward me.
“What do you want with me?” I bit out as the fire crackled beside us.
A slap burned across my cheek; his hand retracted before I could process the movement. A fresh twinge of pain was added to the other reminders of my living hell.
“Silence,” he said as he toyed with a curved knife in his hands. “I will do the talking. You will only answer when asked a question. Do I make myself clear?”
I nodded, my cheek stinging as I glared at him.
“Good. Now. Who gave you the artifact?”
I looked at him in shock, refusing to open my mouth. If they had discovered the pendant first, that meant they needed me alive to use it, which meant he couldn’t kill me.
His chuckle snaked its way through the room over my body. “We might need you alive to harness the powers bonded to the pendant, but that doesn’t mean I need you in one piece. I just need you breathing.” He looked over at me with a pointed stare, his eyes glinting at the threat. “So, I would start speaking if I were you.”
“I found it in a fountain back home,” I lied with a forced smile. It’s not as if he would know the truth. I laughed in my mind. He walked up to me then, his foreboding presence towering over my body, and he grinned down at me.
“Perhaps.” He paused. “I will start with a little introduction for you. My name is Lux Eldritch. I come from a long line of Eldritch, all in service to the King of Nordak. Do you know why that might be, hmmm?” he prompted.
“No,” I spat, not giving a damn.
“I thought not. For generations, those of Eldritch blood have possessed a special power. The ability to pry into the minds of others, to probe and search, to grab the answers withheld from us.”
My blood froze, my mind racing as I tried to push any thoughts out, emptying my brain. “How?” I whispered.
He smiled as his cold hands forced my chin up, my gaze holding his. “Would you like to answer the question the easy way? Or will I need to break you first?”
I took a shaky breath, trying to control my memories and thoughts. “Not sure why that matters to you. It was years ago,” I pushed out, not giving him what he wanted to know.
“I asked you who gave you the artifact,” he snarled.
My body shook at the fury in his voice, my limbs struggling to hold my weight. Yet I remained silent.
“Very well.” He growled. “Have it your way.” An invisible blast hit my skull, crushing me to the ground as the pressure built. His jaded eyes watched me with a sinful grin as I cried out. My brain felt like it was being held by frozen talons. My eyes squeezed shut as I struggled to empty my brain and the clack of claws scraped against the inside of my head. The pressure built as my brain felt like it would shatter, my thoughts moving in slow motion as he pried his way inside my mind. Tears streamed down my face as my scream of unparalleled terror filled the room.
The pressure was relieved for a moment. “Perhaps you would like to try that again?”
I mumbled an answer through a sob as the pressure diminished. The talons were still there, tracing their points along my brain. A reminder and a threat of who dominated who.
“I was given the artifact in Verastarr years ago by an elderly lady,” my lips forced out through a body-wrenching sob.
“When did you first use the power within the pendant?” he interrogated, his breath crawling over my skin, my body begging to break away from his hold on me.
My mouth opened, then closed. I hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”
“I believe I made it clear I would be doing the questioning tonight. Not you,” he said, the fire crackling and popping as he waited. The claws sank further into my mind, forcing the information that he wanted out.
“When I was younger, it protected me in an attack,” I forced out.
“Hmmm.” He pondered as I realized that the Nordak didn’t have as much knowledge regarding the hidden artifacts as they seemed to. My realization was confirmed as he spoke again. “And now you harness the power at will?”
I remained silent, knowing this was an answer I didn’t want them knowing. A question that I myself wasn’t sure of the answer to. My mouth formed a tight, unyielding line, my gaze meeting his with fierce determination.
An increased pain built on my injured arm as Eldritch gripped it right below the cut. The blade of his curved knife pressed in on the reopened wound, widening the gap as he twisted in with venom. Tears slipped down my face as I held my ground, my arm gushing as I lost blood.
“I. Won’t,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Tell. You. You can’t break me.” Searing pain radiated from my arm as his invisible talons gripped my mind in a vicious grip. His power tightened around my mind, my vision going dark around the edges as I willingly welcomed the darkness. The escape.
* * *
My eyes began to crack open, groggily fluttering. My heart sank as I realized I was back in the grimy, dimly lit cell. I must have been laid on the floor after I passed out from the pain. Straw scratched at my face, my body stiff and pain ridden, as a wave of despair sunk into claws into me, threatening to reach the very depths of my soul. I fought against it, knowing I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t give in. I wouldn’t fail my sister; I would get us home. I had to.
I ripped the battered hem of my torn up shirt, taking the strip of fabric and wrapping it around my upper arm that still trickled slowly, tightening it to stop the flow. Pushing myself up, thankful my hands had been unbound, my breath came in stuttered gasps and heaves. I tried to stand, grabbing the bricks and digging my worn nails in to pull my weight up, blood caked on my skin as I leaned against the cool wall.
I took a step forward, then another, forcing myself to move, to let my muscles acclimate; aware that if I stayed still, my body would give in. I was too close to breaking, so I took another step, and then another, shutting out the pain, the fear, the emotions that all bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to rush out.
The creaking of a door drew my attention, the loud scraping of metal against the floors, and I froze, praying that they weren’t here for me. The click of boots halted a few steps before my cell door, my body releasing a breath as I sagged to the floor in relief.
The day faded into nightfall, repeating itself over again, with no one coming to visit. I could feel the energy draining from my soul, slowly, with each passing day. My body weakened as I starved for food, my lips cracking from dehydration. My injuries began to set in. The gash on my arm burned as I felt a fever creeping its way through me, hazing my mind so I couldn’t tell the passing of time. I felt myself drifting in and out of fitful episodes of sleep, my body fighting to heal itself as I laid in an unmoving heap on the cool floor.
“Harder, Cassandra,” my father urged as I picked myself off the ground, my body aching from the last blow he had delivered. It went like this every morning as the sun rose over our house. I met with Father in our backyard, picking up a training weapon and sparring with him. The first few weeks I had fallen and collected more bruises than I had ever imagined possible. Mum had refused to let me out of the house for a week after I walked back inside for breakfast one morning speckled black and blue. Each week was a new skill, a new weapon, or a new stance. And each week I built up my strength, my determination, my resilience, as I sparred.
Pushing myself off the grass, I circled Father, watching his every step, the placement of his foot as he approached me. I studied him like a hawk, until I could memorize the moment before a person struck, the split second it took for the opposition to pounce. Today, however, my guard had been off, my attention straying to the upcoming dance at school later that night. Father got another jab in; my ribs protested the blunt end of the sword in his hand. We had been on swords for four weeks already, my arms trembling each time I used the sword, as I slowly built muscle to wield it better. “You’ve got to push, Cassandra. Swing the blade with all you have,” Father reprimanded as we circled, swing, duck, and block on repeat in my mind. “Do you think your attacker will pause when you feel weak?”
“No,” I gritted out as I struck again, my arms shaking as he blocked my advance.
“No. They won’t. A predator will stop for nothing once they spot their prey. You can’t let them see weakness. You can’t stop, you can’t give in because the moment you do, you’ve lost it all.”
I surprised my father then, spinning around as I got a jab in, knocking him off his feet. “Like that, Father?” I giggled.
“Yes, just like that, Cassandra. Just like that,” he finished as Mum called us in for breakfast.
* * *
A key turning in the rusty lock that kept me trapped in this hell stirred me from a fevered dream. My mind struggled to separate reality from my dreams as a guard entered the cell. He grabbed my arm and harshly pulled me up. My limbs were unable to support my weight as we moved through the metal doorway. My mind drifted to my sister, praying she was safe and out of harm’s way. I wondered what had happened to Sébastien and Dravyn as I entered a new building, my mind unable to process where I was being hauled to. The moment my arms were released, I sank like a weight to the floor, my surroundings a blur as I struggled to hold myself up.
The boots in my line of vision prompted me to tilt my head, and a sigh heaved from within me as I recognized the familiar blond hair of my nightmare reincarnated, Eldritch. He squatted down beside me, his calloused, bloodstained hand reaching out, forcing my gaze up to meet his gaze. “Perhaps our feisty little she-wolf would like to try this again?” he spat as he watched me struggle for each breath.
Fever chills coursed through my body as he looked at me. His left hand opened in front of me, a red item falling from its grasps, before swinging in the air in front of me. A feeble gasp slipped out as I recognized the item in his hand. It would seem that the Nordak had indeed found my pendant. “How do you harness the power from the pendant, hmmm?” he prompted, his fingers tightening around my neck, crushing my windpipe.
“The necklace,” I forced out, my voice rasping from a lack of water and oxygen as I attempted to answer. “I have to be wearing the necklace in order for it to work.” I had no idea if that was remotely true. But after what King Adrastan had told me about me being able to use the magic in the necklace, I hoped that if I had it, I could heal the wound on my arm, otherwise I would die soon. This fever was rapidly dragging me under. And if I healed myself, I would better my chances of escaping this hellhole.
“You don’t truly believe we would let you have the necklace, do you?” Eldritch mocked as he stood up, pacing the floor in front of me. His boots thudded in time on the wooden floor. A harrowing tune, counting the moments until I faced death's doorstep.
“If you want to access the powers tied within that pendant. Then yes. I will have to wear the necklace,” I sarcastically forced out.
His hand shot out, his grip tightening around my neck, bound to leave nasty bruises should I ever make it out. The circulation to my brain was abruptly cut off. I gasped for air like a floundering fish, his fingers crushing my throat, holding me off the floor by my throat alone. “Do not take that tone with me, girl. Do you understand?” he questioned as I glared at him, my body fighting for air. His fingers loosened to a warning squeeze. “Do. You. Understand?”
I nodded as he released me from his grasp, my body collapsing back onto the floor, my lungs screaming for air as I drew a gulp in. My hand shakily rose to massage my neck.
“Foolish girl to believe that we would allow you to wear that necklace. That we would grant you access to the power inside. You are nothing. You will never get a taste of the power within this pendant,” he said, his eyes gleaming in admiration at the stone in his hand.
I looked at him, wondering what he thought they could do. If King Adrastan was correct when he told me the history, only I was able to release the magic from inside that necklace. If they didn’t let me use it, I failed to understand how they thought they could harness the power inside.
A harsh knock on the door interrupted my fever-induced pondering. “Enter,” Eldritch commanded as he walked further from me. Hushed tones met my ear as the men who entered chatted. Unable to make out the conversation, I remained immobile on the floor, my body sinking inside itself even as I refused to give in. The footsteps began to retreat as the commander's voice cut through the air, chasing them. “Inform the men to pack up. We move out at dawn.”
“Yes, sir,” they quickly replied, their footsteps scurrying further away from their fearsome commander.
“And take her back to her cell. She’s no use to us until we are in front of him,” he bit out. A guard hurried toward my body, hauling me up and out of the room as my legs collapsed underneath me, refusing to work.
“Move it.” A harsh command sounded from my left as I was shoved forward out into the rain. I stumbled and failed to catch myself, vaguely feeling my body go down. Muddy water seeped into my battered clothing as I tried pushing myself up, tears slipping down my dirt-stained cheeks. A hand yanked me up by the hair, my scalp protesting the abuse as I was hauled unceremoniously to my feet.
The night air chilled my dampened clothes, and shivers shaking through my body used up all my remaining energy. The door locked behind me as I collapsed to the floor of the cell, straw sticking to my shirt as my body gave up.
Darkness crept in as dry sobs racked through me, my father’s words echoing in the depths of my mind, encouraging me to continue pushing, to keep fighting, to not become prey.
Yet I allowed the darkness creeping its way in to swallow me whole, washing away the pain surrounding me as it lulled me away. I could feel my soul drifting away from me. Even the bond on my wrist, unwanted as it was, was fading off into the abyss, tendrils of ink slowly seeping away. I gave in to the darkness as the fever took over, apologizing to Kateya that I wasn’t strong enough.
* * *
A growl sounded through the darkness; the snarls called to me from the depths, reaching out. My body felt as though it was floating through the waves, being tossed around in tranquility. “Cass!” a voice called out through the waves. “Cassandra, please.” I heard the voice more clearly this time. “Cassandra! I need you to wake up, princesse. We need to get moving.”
“Go away,” I muttered to the blackness of my mind. “The nickname is annoying enough in real life,” I whispered. I heard metal scraping in the distance, and urgent whispered tones. Even as my mind chased the empty void that called me, a promise of escape from the pain was within my grasp; all I had to do was grab hold.
The smell of spice and pine flooded my fading senses as I felt myself floating through the air, a firm pressure securing me, the tight grasp shaking me slightly from my stupor. Panic coursed through my system as I struggled feebly against the hold on me, unable to even thrash, much less protect myself from my captor.
“Cassandra, stop,” a vaguely familiar voice sounded quietly from above me. “I need you to relax, princesse. We will get you out of here.” My body responded to the soothing voice breaking through the darkness of my mind, relaxing in the grip that carried me, while I retreated back to The Void calling my name.
* * *
I heard voices around me as movement jostled my battered form. “We need to get her out of here. She needs to get to the healer immediately.”
A hard voice spoke above me, “Ry. Get her out of here and don’t you dare lose her or it will be your life you forfeit. Kode and I will finish this.”
I felt myself float through the air, another set of hands grasping my body tightly, but with gentleness. “Glad to see you, darling.” I heard a voice whisper above me. My mind tried to grasp at straws of reality, wondering if I was truly being rescued, attempting to claw my way out of the darkness wrapped tightly around my fading soul.
“Necklace,” I forced out, expending the diminished energy found in my body.
“One step ahead of you, princesse,” Sébastien’s voice sounded out in rushed, pained tones. “Go, Ry. Get her out of here and get her to the healer first. She won’t make it much longer in that shape.”
The hold on my body shifted as a low rumble came from behind me. “Embers and Ash,” came the voice.
“Even The Void won’t hold…” the far off voices called back with resolve.
I felt Ryker push off, then heard the fading voice of Kode growling, “Let’s give them hell,” as we left. The wind wrapped around my shivering body as we made our way from the Nordak camp, my mind drifting in and out of consciousness. I struggled to discern whether I was in a fever-induced dream back in the dingy cell or if I was truly escaping the grasp of that commander. Faint whispers sounded in the wind as we moved further away from the dark village that held me captive. “Stay with us, darling. Keep fighting the edge. Don’t give up yet.”