The ethereal figure's gaze focused back to the present, emanating a contemplative sensation as the void thrummed around it.
''Misfortunes lined up— a curse of darkness pinned upon a black star, it strikes a balance with the blessings granted upon you. Born to be fortunate, yet cursed into endless trials of despair... what cruel fate, for such a young soul.'' the figure said softly, speaking out to the patch of void it called home. ''Truly... pitiful. What did they want to make of her? Will she turn out like me— I wonder.''
''Your trials shall start soon... none can escape purgatory's grasp.'' the voice sighed. ''Endure this, child. Stay strong and maintain your hope— if you can... I shall help you fulfill your promises.''
'The Ellis Empire, was it?' the figure scoffed inside. 'So those traitorous descendants of Kyriel still proliferate. They spread their influence like beasts with no morality or loyalty. Have they no shame— from the past to the present, their schemes run so deep.' a tinge of anger emanated from the figure, as a small crack formed in the void behind it, before it quickly closed up.
The figure restrained its aura— a thought festering in its mind. 'Endure this, child. You must endure, I promise to help you— and you... shall help me.' it watched over the girl— eager for what was to come. If one could open their eyes in that pitch black abyss, they would see— her. Raven hair flowed endlessly around her, spiraling across the void as if each hair could cross through past and future. Her crystal-like eyes shimmered with a verdant glow, swirling with an ethereal mist that could discern truth from lie. The mysterious woman's presence was inscrutable— both eternal, and a falsity.
Meanwhile Priscilla sifted through the void, her mind and thoughts blurred into a muddled state. The world seemed to finally stir itself awake— pillars of crimson light illuminated her body like daybreak. It revealed her physical form— charred and shriveled, hollow sunken eyes and alienated tufts of hair that patched across her once luscious head. Her previous thoughts seemed entirely disconnected from the reality of her physical body— she was certain, her body felt fine— the pain, the burns— they were all gone. Was it the space she was in— or her mind itself? She had no idea what happened, but as she saw her hands, she felt all her emotions rile up once more. The scarred flesh proved that reality was far crueler than she thought— she wasn't in a dream, her body hadn't magically healed, and worst of all— she truly did... burn. Despondency hit her hard as she sunk into her thoughts.
'I'm... really dead, huh? But where am I then? This place... doesn't feel like heaven nor hell. Not even the beyond is described like this— so what then is it?' she thought as she gazed towards the pillars that illuminated the world around her.
They burned with a fiery wrath— it illuminated the four corners of the void, an entrapment that formed a cubed barrier around the area Priscilla habitated. It seethed with fiery passion that singed the eyes. Priscilla found herself trembling— her subconscious mind triggering at the sight of it. The painful memories of the execution pyre flooding into her mind, sending a chill down her spine as her physical form froze in place. Terror struck swiftly, she could feel a crawling sensation spreading across her limbs and up her back, her instincts screamed— run. But she found herself confined, her body floated there motionlessly, she wanted to struggle, but its grasp was too powerful, too— incomprehensible.
Something flared inside of her as pain stabbed at her body— unseen spikes dug deep into her flesh, writhing like gluttonous worms eager for a feast. Priscilla's face numbed, pale with fright, burdened with pain. She bit down on her lip, pushing her body to struggle— to fight. She mustered what little strength she could to force her head— her eyes, to look around her. It may have been a mistake to do, as she glimpsed her body lifting higher, a mound of blackened bones jutted out of the ground like the remains of a mountainous giant, long buried in history. From it, bony tendrils confined her body— piercing her flesh, not unlike the shackles that bound her in life. It was ironic, it was death, it was— purgatory. The world beyond life that she had never envisioned, an eternal funeral pyre made just for her. The flames swam around her, drowning her in helplessness and utter devastation— a never-ending sadness that consumed her.
From afar, the woman's verdant gaze watched hopingly. This— was just the start. One's worst demons would emerge one after the other, they served to slice off one's attachments to the world, cull them of their emotions and free their soul of taint. The laws of creation were cruel, but just— they deemed it necessary and thus the laws were made, an eternal constant for the damned, but in them— there also lay hope. The woman needed to know— will the girl break free? Or will she break down and lose the will to fight? She wanted to see— to send her eyes into the distant tomorrow and find out, but even she was powerless to do so to someone trapped here. She couldn't intervene, she could only wait and see. This place— it could not be cheated so easily, even for someone with her powers, it was futile to try— if the girl herself couldn't do it, everything else was meaningless.
Just as the woman had said, the crisis for Priscilla was merely starting, it continued to develop as only nature could. The pillars flared in that confined space, sizzling with a vicious heat that enveloped every atom of that crippling void. The blackened mound beneath her served as the only contrast to that excessive display of brightness that blinded her sight. Bony creatures emerged from it, their faces plastered with sinister grimaces as they dragged their sharpened limbs towards the girl, edging them ever so close to her. They grasped and clawed at her with frenzied strikes, and Priscilla found herself forced to endure. She was powerless and confined by the tendrils that latched onto her, she had to take their punishment as their limbs and fangs pierced into her flesh, tearing at her very being. She grit her teeth as she screamed, it was maddening— a soul-rending pain that latched onto her like a parasite. The creatures were relentless, devoid of sentience and pity, mere machinations of law birthed to torment the souls of purgatory. Buried beneath the pain, her soul hummed an unheard song— one of peace and of bravery, it encircled her like a mother's embrace— keeping her muddled mind in one piece.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
''You're one foul-mouthed wench, you damned wicked creature!'' a shout echoed, Pricilla felt the sting of pain against her cheek as she blinked in confusion. A large hand collided with her face, leaving her stunned, she sat on the floor keeled over, holding her hand to her face as the painful sensation set against her fingertips.
''You're not going to reply? Did I raise a damned mute! Who are you to sit there and be useless? Why, why, why? Why can't you be useful to the family?'' the man continued shouting at her, like a demon possessed.
''Why didn't you just die on the street, like your damned whore mother! You disgusting slumrat, why have I wasted these years on you, when you can't do anything useful? You're nothing more than a pretender!'' he raised his hand to slap her again, but a crimson-robed woman grabbed his arm softly.
''Now now, my Lord... don't be so cruel to the pitiful child.'' she giggled seductively as her breath tickled his earlobe. ''It isn't the child's fault that she's an incompetent street urchin, that's just how she was raised to be. Don't stress and worry yourself over it... it isn't your fault either.''
The man breathed in as he released his hand, letting it drop down and settle around the woman's narrow waist. He pulled her in close, embracing her lovingly. ''I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Maxine. I don't know why... when I see her lately, I feel such uncontrollable anger.'' he said, while frowning as he looked down upon the young girl.
She closed her eyes, before jolting them open again.
''She's a witch! The Varun Marquisate's been cursed into the ground, all because of her schemes!'' a gruff voice echoed in a brightly illuminated chamber. Men and women surrounded a large marble table as they sat and discussed.
''That foolish boy fancied her, he tried to court her so— and look now what happened! Mere days later the boy's staring into the back of his lifeless skull, as his whole house falls into ruin!'' another voice added. ''She's a monster, a devil in human skin— a whole family brought to ruin in days... all because of her!''
Lord Valentine sat comfortably in the largest chair, rapping his fingers against the desk. ''It's true.'' he said flatly before adding. ''The boy courted her in my presence, he was dignified and noble. I was about to approve of their pairing— only for this to happen.'' he shook his head helplessly. ''It's quite unfortunate, my daughter... seems to have been misguided lately. I do not know what foul abomination is influencing her, but I will find out. You have my word! For the sake of the Empire no evil shall remain! Evil. Must. Be. Exterminated.'' he looked at the opposite side of the table, where the young girl sat pincered between two fully armored guardians.
Priscilla jolted once more, her internal struggle intensified as the visions encompassed her soul— piercing into the tiny cracks that covered her vulnerable psyche. They stirred her memories, and her fears. It felt so real, so genuine. Her traumas slammed down onto her one after the other, forcing her to relive them while that cruel pain burrowed into her.
It was a day much like any other, her mother came home and Priscilla was overjoyed, but no— it was not like the other days. It may have seemed similar, to the young girl. The nuance of her mother's body language flew over the young girl's head as the girl smiled happily. Mother just wanted to play— she always loved to play with Priscilla. ''Hide, my child. We'll play a game! Be silent— no matter what mommy says... you have to hide! You can only come out after mommy says the magic word.'' she said with a smile, setting the girl down into a small crawlspace.
The girl huddled there in silence, she hid and waited. In the outer room her mother was alone as men stormed in, angry and forceful. They demanded payment— they needed their money back, and they needed it now. The woman knew better than to borrow from the bastards in the slums, but— what could she do? She was alone, it was difficult enough just to get by for a normal person, and she had a child to take care of as well. But these men weren't ones to care for the sob stories of those who borrowed from them. They repeatedly shortened the deadline for repayment— they were parasites that tried to suck the blood of everyone they could get their hands on. It was the Empire that created these scumbags who leeched into every crevice of society. They beat on the woman relentlessly, bruising her face and body, so much so that her whimpers reached the little girl's ears in the other room. She was just a child, she was curious, innocent, even a bit pampered. The girl came out, forgetting the game and her promise, to her mother's dismay. One of the men grabbed her roughly, lifting her up with one hand as she dangled there scared. The men sniggered with satisfaction as they held the girl up in front of her mother. Soon after... the threats they spewed and the violence they unleashed— was extreme. And the efforts... Priscilla's mother had to go through, to get rid of them— was heartbreaking. The woman sat there after, she held her daughter in her embrace as she cried softly. The girl poked at her mother, she didn't know why she was crying, she wanted to help, but... it was too late. The long repressed memory had remained buried in her mind for years, yet now it revealed itself.
Priscilla heaved and retched— it hurt so much. Her flesh and soul disconnected from one another as the torment plagued them independently— forcing her to relive those moments while the creatures gnawed at her flesh. Part of her wanted it to end— she wanted to crumble into dust and fly off with the wind. She prayed that the time would pass and with it so too would her pain. But in this timeless place with no concept of the passage of time, there was no easement to the pain, no end to the suffering, only an inevitable eternity. Had Priscilla known this— she truly may have long since given up.