Darkness— a curtain of black, that enveloped the lone woman. She sat there in a daze, her eyes unfocused; unfazed by the world around her. She was tired, extremely so. Of this life, and this cruelty. Water trickled down onto the cold stone floor from a crack in the brick ceiling that loomed over her. Drop after drop akin to an endless glacial melt. In the beginning it was torturous; like the droning buzz of a demonic insect that nested in her head. Yet now— it was the single most comforting thing that filled her day; something alive.
A solitary ray of light shone through; piercing through the smallest of gap within the thick brick wall that ensnared her. It fell upon her face; illuminating a single icy blue eye. Within its depths a defiant will stirred, filled with unwillingness and fury. It remained hidden deep, but was destined to erupt. Like an insignificant ember buried in the ash. Easy to miss, yet dangerous once carried by the wind onto greener pastures. Her arms and legs were shackled tightly, confining her into the corner of the room where she knelt. She was powerless to escape, helpless to do anything, and hopeless to begin with Yet despite it all; she was holding on. In a situation where countless people would’ve given up; she remained steady. Perhaps it was because she knew her time was running out. They’d never give her a path at life now, not after everything they’ve done. But that made her stubborn and defiant. She had to keep her head held up high, how else would they regret what they’ve put her through?
She was furious, she didn’t dare show it, for their torment would only increase. But she couldn’t let go, the feeling swelled inside her. They dared to frame her, to deceive the world, and betray her trust. Her ‘father’ who had given her hope, after her mother’s passing. Or those ‘people’ if one could even call them that, who feigned their affections daily. She hated them all, absolutely loathed their treacherous existence, she wanted nothing more than to prove their rumors right, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Wishful thinking— perhaps. But in this prison, she had enough time to spend on wishful thinking.
As her thoughts wandered, swirling in the room like a leaf dancing in the wind, the sound of metallic steps could be heard. As the sound entered her ears, she winced— an unfortunate effect of the torture and abuse that followed in those footsteps. She closed her eyes, slowing down her breathing to a crawl. The steps continued, the dull thud of metal and stone echoed, sending shivers through her body. It came to her cell and stopped, a momentary silence reminiscent of a beast eyeing its prey. The metal plated door screeched against the stones, as the men pried it open. It was an excessive display, for a seventeen year old girl; but in reality, what part of her imprisonment wasn’t excessive? As the door came to a halt, its confining embrace loosened at last, the light of the external corridor erupted into the cell, it flooded the room with its scalding brightness, a volcanic beast of carnage personified, that craved nothing but destruction. Thus was why Priscilla shut her eyes in advance. A lesson she had to learn the hard way, as her body acclimated to the darkness, the brightness of the world became a blight instead of a remedy.
‘‘Little Miss, wakey wakey. You’re not dead, are you?’’ one of the men scoffed, prodding her shackled thigh with his metal boot. He paused for mere moments before the impatience kicked in, he kicked her leg, forcing out a cry from the girl.
'‘Ah, she’s still a lively one, isn’t she? You owe me 5 gild, Davies.’’ the man laughed happily while gloating to his companion.
The girl couldn’t help but glare at the men, her unkempt hair fell flat onto her face. She resembled a beggar; an unruly mess of dirt and grime, yet her instincts still kicked in. She wasn’t frightening, not in the slightest. She couldn’t intimidate the men, nor escape their clutches, but despite that she glared, her unwillingness evident. The guard laughed at her display, kicking her some more. The sound of chains rattling and her whimpering cries filled the cell with every kick. His metal boots stained with her blood— again. The other man stood by the door, his arms crossed in front as he stood watch. He sniggered on the outside, but in reality he wanted no part of the woman’s torment. He maintained a distance, watching carefully, the woman seemed so pitiful to him, but the rumours about her… kept him conflicted and at bay.
It was a frequent affair, where they’d come down to torment her. Laughing at her suffering and beating her senseless. Were they sick and perverted? Or had someone requested it of them? If there was, it could only be her loving father showcasing his affections.
‘‘Since you’ve already lost your money, why not have some extra fun for once, Davies?’’ the guard asked his companion while wiping the blood off his boot onto Priscilla’s gown. The blatant provocative lust in his words was compelling. Davies looked at Elrick and laughed, but inside he cursed the bastard’s depravity.
‘‘Let’s not overindulge ourselves, El.’’ the man replied casually, waving his hand at his colleague. He paused briefly before adding, ‘‘Even if the rumours are likely to be hearsay, I wouldn’t want to risk doing anything with this wench.’’
‘‘Don’t be so gloomy, Davi. She’s just an abandoned Miss, that no longer serves a purpose. You don’t truly believe she’s really some all-powerful witch? If she was, would she be trapped in here with us?’’ the man chuckled.
Priscilla gazed at them, their voices were hushed and inaudible to her. Her head buzzed with pain from the kicks that peppered her legs. However she knew, she could instinctively feel what they were talking about, ‘‘are you getting scared?’’ she asked with a smile, revealing her blood covered teeth. ‘‘Worried that I'll put a curse on you? Why are you both so confident that you haven’t doomed yourselves already?’’ she wanted to laugh, to make them tremble with fear, but spitting out those words was the most she could do. As the pain pressed down on her and forced her quiet.
‘‘You’re one venomous wench, aren’t you? Still have the strength to talk?’’ Elrick snorted as he kneeled down besides her. He placed his hand on the side of her face as he drew in close, whispering into her ear. ‘‘Your execution’s been decided, so talk while you still can, it won’t be long until you can’t talk anymore.’’ he playfully slapped her face, before adding. ‘‘I’ll tell you another thing. Lord Valentine and Lady Nightshade have committed to their bonds in holy matrimony. Soon a new heir to Valentine will be named, and you will be nothing more than a stain to be removed.’’
‘‘You never should’ve had the name of Valentine, you’re just an unworthy street urchin.’’ he patted her face as if she were some meager cat or dog. ‘‘Fortunately, you won’t have that name for much longer now.’’
The girl trembled, lowering her head instinctively. ‘So it finally happened,’ she thought. ‘I wish I was half the witch they thought I was…’ she felt so helpless, she wanted to live, but how? She was just a girl, shackled and alone— utterly powerless.
‘‘Serves you right.’’ Elrick laughed. He wanted to kick her some more, but truthfully he really was scared of the rumours surrounding her. He had to follow orders and humiliate her— torment her until she begs for death, but praise the Star if the rumours about her weren’t bone-chilling. He didn’t want to suffer, nor have his family suffer because of it.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
After a few more moments of verbal abuse the men left, sealing the cell door behind them as they walked off. Once more she was left to her own thoughts. ‘Priscilla, oh Priscilla… what dark star were you born under. Mother... I miss you.’ Tears rolled down her face, warm against her skin, yet cold in her heart.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile in a large chamber, a large stoic man sat rigidly in a regal armchair of carved walnut. He rapped his fingers against the mahogany desk, a clear display of contemplation. A soft knock resounded against his office door, the man gave only a single command. ''Enter.'' his voice flat and emotionless.
‘‘Yes, Your Grace!’’ the men outside exclaimed. Davies and Elrick entered the office chamber, giving a kneeling salute to the man— Lord Valentine himself.
‘‘We have visited Lady— the prisoner Priscilla, Lord Valentine.’’ Davies stumbled on his words, quickly correcting himself.
‘‘She’s still quite persistent— we tried to show her some affection, but she dared to glare at us, Your Grace!’’ Elrick added.
Lord Valentine stared flatly at the two men, with his cold black eyes, devoid of warmth. ‘‘Very well.’’ he uttered. ‘‘As long as she’s getting the attention she deserves, she is my child after all.’’
‘‘You have a few more days to spend time with her, it will be time, after the unification ceremony next week.’’ he said, before gesturing towards the door. ‘‘Begone now.’’
‘‘Yes, Your Grace!’’ they replied in unison, before scurrying off. After they left the man gazed into the distance, his cold gaze unbothered. ‘‘My child deserves all of the best.’’ he muttered under his breath.
As he was lost in thought, the door of his office creaked open, uninvited, a woman entered. Her rose-like lips playfully puffed as she walked barefoot towards the man, her crimson gown flowed delicately around her, the fine silk dancing like soft moonlight around her figure. The dress clung to her body, accentuating her curves as she swayed towards the man's desk. Her every motion, every step— playful and light. She twirled and sat on the desk opposite of the man with her back facing him. She rotated her body, her bare feet settling on the man’s thighs, as her long blonde hair shifted behind her. ‘‘Husband...’’ she said affectionately, as she rested her face in her hands. ‘‘I’ve missed you…’’ she nudged herself closer, leaping into his embrace like only a lover would.
Lord Valentine embraced her, his cold exterior seemingly warming up. He felt her hands caressing him, her fingers running through his hair. There was a comfort to it, an unexplainable magnetism that bonded them. The woman leaned in, pressing her lips against the man's. He closed his eyes, absorbing himself into the moment. He surrendered himself to that sensation, a forbidden dance of passion and desire.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Outside confusion and uncertainty filled the air— day after day, the only thing that remained preserved was the passage of time. The fateful day arrived at last, Lord Valentine and Lady Nightshade had completed the Grand Unification ceremony, as ordained by Imperial Edict. With Emperor Kyrian Ellis IV as witness, House Valentine and House Nightshade had become one. For the two houses, it was a day of celebration and joy. An ironic display, considering it was also the day the abandoned heiress of House Valentine was to be executed.
In the inner courtyard a large platform had been setup. A grand pyre, of blackened wooden rot. A blight to the eyes as it sat there, surrounded by manicured shrubbery and a carefully maintained garden. Wrought iron benches were placed in layers at the front of the platform. Crescent moons of encirclement as men and women crowded in, eager to claim a good spot to watch the show. Noble Lords and Ladies, merchants, and even mercenaries filled the seats. They were of mixed origins, yet all individuals of status. At the forefront sat a larger marbled bench, sat upon it was Lord Valentine with Lady Nightshade and Emperor Ellis to his right and left. None thought it strange, for the Empire knew, none were closer than the brothers, Kyrian and Karthus.
Lady Nightshade— now Lady Valentine, sat drinking her wine with relish. Her lipstick stained the glass red as it pressed against her lips. Meanwhile Lord Valentine sat in silence. A rumble echoed from the backside of the courtyard, as the sound of chains scraping against stone could be heard. A contingent of guards pushed and pulled on Priscilla, nearly dragging the poor girl instead of letting her walk on her own. One look at her and it was apparent— compared to the fully armored men, she was ever so weak and small, exceedingly so.
They brought Priscilla to the platform, binding her, shackles and all, to a large wooden beam. The people in the crowd muttered between themselves, gossiping and laughing. To Priscilla they were nothing more than creatures that found solace in the suffering of others, their inaudible whispers a venomous poison that crept into her ears. The guards hauled the beam up, placing it at the central point of the pyre. The men saluted the crowd, and walked off to the side, before facing the Valentine’s as they knelt awaiting further orders.
Lady Valentine giggled, giving the Lord a kiss. The man stood up after, and walked towards the platform, he looked at Priscilla for a moment before turning towards the crowd.
‘‘Priscilla, deposed daughter of Valentine. With no claim to title nor land. You have been accused of witchcraft, murder, and rebellion against blood and Empire.’’ the man spoke each word with a harsh finality to them. ‘‘Do you plead your guilt, child?’’
Priscilla looked at him with unfamiliarity, she bit down on her lip. ‘‘I. Am. Innocent. Father.’’ she spoke each word with conviction— however meager it was. ‘‘I have only ever done right by House Valentine and the Empire! Every request I dutifully fulfilled. I have never betrayed, father!’’ the words she uttered rekindled her hope. The thoughts she buried inside of her all poured out at once, it made her believe— for just a moment. Until she saw the contemptuous gazes of the crowd, eyeing her like they would a beggar on the street. Her father gazed down at her unburdened and silent. She felt something snap— something inside of her. She wanted to huddle up into herself, to curl up into a ball and escape— but she could not.
‘‘Disgraceful foolishness. The mind of a demon, unsullied by virtue and morality. It desires not to admit fault, no guilt to be spoken of. My daughter is dead, replaced by a foul creature wearing her flesh. This witch... must die!’’ Lord Valentine emotionlessly said before raising his hands towards the sky.
‘‘As Lord of House Valentine I beseech thee. As you sit and gaze at the sinner, offer up your condemnation. For we shall light the fires of judgement, in the name of the Eternal Star. The sinner shall burn, and we shall rid the Empire of its evil. Rebellion is forbidden! Betrayal is forbidden! Witchcraft is forbidden! BURN THE WITCH! FOR JUSTICE! FOR THE EMPIRE! FOR THE EMPEROR!’’ his voice crescendoed, the audible passion igniting like a wildfire as his voice surged across the spectators.
Silence— followed by uproarious cheers. The chanting of the crowd filled the courtyard, condemnation akin to a knife digging deep. An elderly man with a hobbled step rolled in a cart with a small lit brazier and torches. The guards picked the torches up and lit them, they marched in file towards the platform and spread out. Circling the pyre as they lifted the torch overhead.
''DEATH TO THE WITCH!'' Lord Valentine ordered. As the words came out, the men lowered the torches, igniting the blackrot wood and setting the pyre ablaze.
The flames gradually consumed her body, it was a slow, terrifying, and excruciating process. Her hopes, and her dreams— they went up in flames, just like her flesh. She screamed and thrashed, as the rugged wood and scalding metal dug into her skin. She couldn't think quickly enough to even begin to describe the sensation, the pain consumed her thoughts— a gluttonous beast with no bottom-line, but within it she found a thread of comfort. A single thought that gave her solace from the pain, and cooled down her burning body. 'I am... free.'