Threads of Emerald

Ropes of Fate: Chapter 33

"You were lucky, Seraphina", a bitter drawl cut through the merciless pounding in my head and the wicked sting of the skin across my neck. My eyes parted slightly, revealing the cavernous walls of the cell, the trickle of rainwater down the muddy brown stones and the brutal steel bars imprisoning me.

The voice was one I recognised. The harshness that rang through every syllable, every note as it clawed against my icy skin.

Commander Lowell. As if the name had stirred me further into consciousness, his fuzzy edges sharpened into eyes that were depthless chasms of the pain and suffering he delivered through his callused hands, his broad shoulders that tensed when he delivered blow after blow. Now, his hands remained lax at his sides, those dark eyes roving over the blood stained silver nightgown that reminded me of how the moon was swallowed by the blood-red sky on the Bleeding. Every ten years, the sky would bleed red. Some said it was merely the sky's response to some change in the weather and the atmosphere. The more superstitious said it was a reminder from the ancients and the Gods of the blood that had soaked the lands in times of war. A reminder from the ancients to the Unconquerable not to plunge the lands into war from their desire for power. A reminder from the Gods of the reason why they vanished, because the world had become a place of corruptness and greed.

Father held favour with the former. But, I was inclined to sway towards the latter, as the path of my life had woven and twined with the Gods or those who twisted the ropes of fate.

A memory flitted through my mind of an elder woman at a market stall who talked about the threads of fate. The phrase had stuck with me. But the phrase didn't feel strong enough, they were the ropes of fate, not threads, that seemed to choke off the air in my lungs, that strangled me and had pulled me into Rupert's and Nefta's path.

As if the masters of fate wished to punish me by dragging me, kicking and screaming, into the path of all those who wished to do me harm.

Rupert. My body shook with the intensity of the sob that escaped my lips, shocking Commander Lowell as he strode to break the distance between us, to break me.

Rupert, who I'd loved. And Ash, who had given me to him. I knew she didn't push Rupert into doing anything, but she had given my name willingly over to him and hadn't even warned me.

Perhaps that was why I hadn't seen her often, seeing her only a handful of times since I got her released from Cupraem. Was she ashamed? Or did she just not care to visit me?

The tears that slid down my face as unyielding hands gripped my forearms and dragged me to my feet reminded me why I'd fallen over that precipice, why I'd sliced my throat. But my hands had shook so much that I hadn't been able to cut the thread of life still inside of me.

I didn't know why I was still alive, and I didn't want to be.

Perhaps that was why I didn't protest as Commander Lowell shoved me against the rocks that jutted out of the jagged walls of the cell, as they sliced into the swath of nightgown that barely covered my body and crushed into my spine. My knees thudded against the rocky floor at the impact of it. My nose pooled with blood as it crushed into the cool stone.

Still, I didn't feel it as I found that place deep in my torn and shredded soul and allowed the darkness to embrace me as it's own.

The blows still landed, the blood slithered down my skin, the tears rushed down my creamy skin.

Still, I did not feel them.

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Hands grasped the tender skin of my forearms, still stinging from the bruises that Commander Lowell had left. But these were not his hands, the skin was softer and the fingers were thinner as they attempted to push me to my feet.