AGRONA KNEW HER FATHER WAS CAPABLE OF CRUEL THINGS AND YET, SHE STOOD IN SHOCK.  Chained to a cart that held her up, she found her throat to be dry, unable to mutter a single insult or protest. She should’ve known how depraved he could be. She knew that and yet, she came expecting a slightly less than civil conversation with the man she wanted to kill for over a decade. She was foolish to think so. However, she knew somewhere deep down, she had hoped for something that was never there. A civil portion of the man who kicked her out. The man who swore to strip her of everything she once had. 

There was only one thing he could never take. He, himself, resented that as well. 

The chains cut deep into her wrists and ankles. She could feel the blood seep from her veins. She ignored it in favor of wondering just what the hell she got put into. She was wheeled further along a dimly lit hallway. She felt a chill across her already cold body. She probably would’ve wondered what nerves didn’t feel it if she wasn’t stuck on the sight ahead of her. 

Her father, a golden shadow in the barely lit pathway, walked ahead of her. He spared no other glance than the fake niceties predating her current imprisonment. She had known something was afoot. She knew he couldn’t have not done something heinous, so then why did she allow herself to be captured? The question lingers in her head as her motion is not her own. She knew the answer but wanted to deny it. 

‘I’m not so foolish. I’m no child’, she thought. 

She was oh so foolish. So foolish to think her father would do anything but scheme against her. Every word and action was devoted towards a detriment of the raven-haired girl. Never a dull moment between the two in the years of her childhood. Only bitterness filled those memories in her battered head. 

Her golden iris’ was now a shallow pool of decaying yellow. Less lively than her father’s shining strands they were. She wonders if that was his goal, to take away that life within her eyes, if not within her blood. After so many attempts, maybe he had achieved it. Such a rebellious child bleeds the resistance that angered her captor. 

    Even in her trance, she notices the sudden stop of the cart. The cross that supported, or rather held, her body stumbled upon such a quick stop of motion. Her eyes fluttered to see the intricate door ahead of her. It’s royal blue and amber hue reminded her a lot of Caeso’s own colors. 

    Caeso was no stranger to deep colors to represent their reign. While not the biggest country, it had it’s merits as an oppressive force. The muted blue and grey was something Agrona wished to forget. The halls of her nightmares were lined with those decorations of grey snow & hues of blue for the halls. 

    Her spine gets chills at the sight of the complicated door. She wonders if she’ll hate it as much as she does Caeso. Blood covers part of it’s golden contraption. The torches that line the wall barely illuminate her father’s now bleeding hand as gears move. Two humongous eyes turn at the acceptance of, what she assumes to be, Caesoan blood. The liquid flows upwards them, their position doing a 180 degrees turn to reveal an almost blinding jewel at the very top. It’s sparkle makes her squint as if she were in a desert. 

    The swoosh of wind alerts her senses to the abyss hiding beneath. The doors open with an audible creak. They reveal the darkness that quickly settles between her and the space ahead. No torch could light up the void that brings dread to any living thing. Agrona’s eyes open wide. Her heart stops while even more color fades from her face. She couldn’t look forward, casting her eyes downward towards her bloody ankles. 

    The chill spreads throughout the silent guards. They dare not utter a single word in the presence of what may as well be the devil. They expectantly look towards the emperor for any instruction. Beads of sweat cover them all, even the sun-like man. 

    “Throw her in.” Those calculated words make her snap her gaze to the man she once called ‘father’. She hadn’t the slightest idea of what he’d been scheming until this moment. Her blood felt cold at his insistence to stare ahead. She thought of every insult to berate the older man with. Every curse she ever learned coursed through her mind. She felt every fiber of hatred flow throughout her veins. It had been so long since she was so riled up. That resentment bubbled up the surface, making her feel hot all over. 

    But it didn’t come out. Even without a dry throat, she wouldn’t say it. Futile was the name of this game and she had been playing it too long to forget what would’ve followed. She huffs and tries to stifle a laugh that ripped out of her. Her throat stings at the action but she doesn’t care. She painfully laughs at the reality of the end. Through and through, he discarded her life just as easily he did rotten bread. 

    ‘How fitting’, she thought to herself. 

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    She soon felt the loosening of the metal bindings. They simply led to more bleeding and a change of motion. Her body suddenly moved spots, from the wooden cross and now to the dark, gravel floor. It was cold and rough on the patches of her exposed skin. Her black turtleneck was ripped in the abdomen area and the left sleeve was essentially shredded to bits. Her brown pants had scratches that went to her scarred flesh. 

    Sweat covered her body as the doors closed with much gusto as before. She laughs once more. It was so on brand of the man known as the golden traitor. It was so funny, so entertainingly tragic. Agrona couldn’t believe she didn’t see it coming. Hell, she didn’t know just what she could see in the present moment. 

    Darkness surrounded her. The only bits her eyes could gather were the bodies of her men, those who had accompanied her to her old abode. She had felt a pang of pain in her heart at the sight. While not deep, she shoved it aside. She saw a sword next to one of the bloodied corpses. 

    His head was twisted backwards while a hole was made poignant in his chest. Blood decorated his body. She didn’t recognize him. She didn’t recognize the grizzly features of a single one. All may as well have been the same. All their use ended at a spare but now dull sword. 

    Agrona debated the options she had. The dread throughout the room gave her the option of accepting whatever happens. The dull and bloodied sword gave her a path to resistance. She could feel the presence of evil in that room with her. It’s shadows were it’s coattail and it’s lack of noise was it’s signature. 

    Rebellion and acceptance were the road paths ahead of her. They were always there and she had always made the harder choice. The last ten years were a testament to her choice. And those ten years led to this. Inside a room with a monster she can’t slay. Thrown away like trash. Dishonored from birth. Delivered to death. 

    A faraway voice causes her head to snap up. She can’t understand it’s words, at least not entirely. It mutters phrases too long to understand. Red eyes, assumingly it’s, creep into her view. They’re faint but visible nonetheless. They strike fear into Agrona’s body. It’s nerves aren’t too long from fading entirely. 

    “I’m fucking tired.” She mutters underneath her breath. She stumbles to get on her knees. She stares ahead at the cloud of a beast. His form is nothing but a fog of darkness. She can feel the end draw nearer. She huffs, her throat desperately needing new air. 

    “What is it...you...in...this...fe?” It asks, or says. She’s confused but doesn’t pay mind to what the fuck it tried saying. 

    It slowly moves toward her, it’s presence becoming more and more dreadful. She can’t possibly outrun a shadow. She wonders if she wants to. 

    She hangs her head. The darkness is all she sees.

 ‘What if this is the end? I lived.’ She can’t help but think to herself. She lived an alright decade out of Caeso. She breathed and gained scars. She ate and laughed. She didn’t die, so what’s the big deal? She can accept a fate given to her since a dishonorable birth. Right? 

‘Fuck this.’ She snaps her head back to the sword two feet away. Her feet have little to no feeling as she launches off her feet, albeit horribly, towards the weapon. Her feet skid against the gravel. She’s sure the pricks of pain will leave marks later but she grits her teeth as her numb hands grab the hilt of the used sword. 

She gasps for more air, pointing the tip towards the shadowy figure. She can barely lift it. Her entire body aches for rest but she denies it such a luxury. She lowers the tip and begrudgingly runs underneath a blast of darkness that would’ve lobbed off her head. Her legs nearly buckle under the pressure of movement as she reaches what could be called it’s legs. 

She puts her energy into a strike that would’ve barely reached what someone could call an abdomen. It reaches, much to her surprise, creating a rift of it’s body. However, it’s shadowy form fills that space with a darkness, ultimately meaning nothing to her effort. 

She squats to allow herself power into her hind legs to launch a jump. She gains that bit of momentum, planning to strike it’s neck but she feels a prick in her own middle part. Looking down, about halfway in the air, she sees it’s dark tendril penetrating her chest. The other side sticks out her back. 

She coughs up blood, suspended in the air by it’s supposed forearm. Her vision becomes blurry as her senses slowly dissipate. The sword drops from her grasp, clanging beneath her. Her head angles upwards, towards what she would think is it’s eyes. Blood drips from her mouth. Energy fades from her body, just as her consciousness does. She wonders how much longer until her body finally gives out. 

She doesn’t feel any gust of immediate pain. It’s simply in small bursts all around her nerves. Then again, as those fade, so does the pain. 

“Agrona…” A voice calls out to her. She can barely recognize it with her fading sense of hearing. She can’t even look to it’s source. It simply repeats it’s call. She soon can’t hear it. She wonders if the initial call is her mother, the devil who brought her into this world. She throws the concern away. She won’t need it in the darkness called death. 

With one last struggling breath, she feels a cold embrace. 

“Thank you.”