Beyond the Glow

Chapter 2

Cynthia came to get me as soon as the last guest walked out the door. "Asra! Asra you come out of that lamp right this minute!" She yelled, my pleasure at hearing the anger in her voice soiled by the sudden shaking sensation, knocking everything off the walls, spilling the glass of water near my bed. Of course, the lamp had a protection spell on it, meant to keep it from shaking around everything when I walked, but that only subdued the shakes. Made them less extreme. It didn't work when someone is trying to recreate the earthquake that ended the world in my room. 

With a sigh, I waited till Cynthia tired her arms, creating a lull in the shaking as she gasped for breath. Her slight frame could only handle so much before she needed to stop for air. It was all those corsets she wore, I'm sure of it. She might be able to punish me herself if she didn't want a bigger waist and smaller stomach. I took my time in rearranging the pillows on my bed, and smoothing the silks on the wall, reluctant to go out and face her wrath. Already, the pull to obey her command and leave is almost too much to bear. But I still drag my feet on the walk to the wall.

Maybe today I will break the curse, the one that binds me to her. Maybe my will is finally strong enough. I think hopefully, but in the back of my head, I know that the only way out of this is for the family line to end. The Crawdoves have held onto me for generations, and they might tighten that hold for generations more. I'll probably never be free. 

And then my hand is through the tissue barrier, and I am facing the wrath of Cynthia Crawdove. I didn't get a good look at her earlier, and now I take the time to admire Cynthia's outfit. If I don't get a beating tonight, she will be expecting me to rain compliments on her head instead. 

Her bright blond hair reaches down in natural curls around her shoulders, her full lips are covered in a bright red lipstick, her petite nose sits above it, wrinkled in disgust at the sight of me, still in the sari. Her ice blue eyes complete the look of a dangerously beautiful woman.

Tonight she wears a long evening gown, the bodice fitted to show off her curves in what some of the more elegant older women would call scandalous. The full skirt flows around her legs, and the deep red color of the whole dress compliments the tanned bronzed skin of a goddess she was gifted with. The lacy sleeves of her summer dress only reach her elbows and is so low cut on the front, that I am sure she has no shortage of suitors vying for her affections. 

Maybe even that strange man. 

I push the thought away, focusing on Cynthia. She's the problem right now, why do I keep thinking about him? 

"-nd just what did you think you were doing!?" She screeches, her face turning the color of a tomato, not her most flattering color. "I told you not to, to..." She struggled, trying to find something I did wrong. My face remained passive, only succeeding in infuriating her further. "You didn't come when I called!" She smiles triumphantly, finding a reason to justify my sure to come punishment. 

I hold back a sigh, And I thought I might get out of this with a few compliments. 

I remain silent. But fear flares to life like a wildfire in my stomach. Show no emotion, it only make her more happy to see me afraid. To think that she can intimidate a magical creature such as myself. But the fire sears my insides, giving my legs a quiver I try to hide. 

"Fine then. We shall go straight to your punishment. For disobeying me." Cynthia reaches behind me, and smiles when I flinch, expecting a harsh slap. Her grin doesn't leave her face as she grabs my lamp, and walks down the hall. A sharp tug pulls at my insides, forcing me to follow her. 

No, not her, the lamp. I am not a slave, and I force myself to hold my head high as I follow her into the darker parts of the house. 

"Darling? What are you doing down here?" Cynthia let out a startled shriek, then laughed forcibly. Almost immediately, Hangar seemingly materializes from the wall to protect her from whoever it was. I peer around her shoulder, only able to see a small bit of blond hair in the shadows. 

"I apologize, I was looking for a bathroom." Says a voice, and I recognize the man from dinner. Of course Cynthia would do what she could to keep him around. Her annoyance at him discovering us right next to the basement is evident though, and he hands the lamp to Hangar. 

"Why don't you get started without me? I'll be there after I show Mr. Addington back to the room. I'll be there when I can." Hangar nods, and Cynthia ushers the man away while he turns to the basement, leading me down the stairs.  I surpress a shudder as a wave of cold, musty air reaches me. Hangar let's me in first, staying behind to make sure we aren't followed. I walk down the stairs stiffly, fear making adrenaline flood my system. 

Deeming the coast to be clear, he shuts the door behind us with a final click, and lights a candle; illuminating the tiny stairwell. The stairs are old, and creak under our feet; despite being replaced multiple times in the time I'd lived in the house. Like me, it had been with the Crawdoves for generations. 

The darkness is suffocating, despite the small candle. The only reason it's lit anyways is because Cynthia hates the dark almost as much as I do. It is perhaps the only thing we ever have, or ever will have in common. The candle flickers in Hangar's meaty fist, and my breath catches as the stairs stop turning and we face what's at the bottom.

The smell reaches my nose before I can even see the room properly. The metallic tang of blood, my blood, and the dank heavy air of the underground room. When we round the corner, the dark space is flooded with light, and I cringe. It looks even more horrible than I remember. 

A wooden beam stands in the center of the room, with leather cuffs nailed to the top. The stone floor, though recently cleaned to hide the horrors of the room, still stinks of blood. The walls are inlaid with stone blocks, but dirt still bursts from between each stone, no windows mean no witnesses and the layers of dirt between air and basement is enough to keep sounds safely tucked inside. 

The room itself is round, and the shadows jump with Hangar's candle, creating demons on the walls that dance at the fear coiling in my stomach. Hangar sets down the candle, coming around to face me, and silently points to the wooden structure in the middle of the room. 

The candle light gleams off his bald head, and the muscles in his bare arms show the array of black tattoos he has twisting all over his body. His skin is dark, and my guess is he was a former slave, promised eternal freedom if he only worked for Cynthia instead. Now that he was eating large meals daily, and did heavy labor for pay, he was strong and able to do almost anything he wanted. All if he just came in every day to punish me, and pay his dept to Cynthia. 

He pulls the whip from his belt, unwinding the hard leather with loving affection. I freeze, This is my chance, I can run faster than him, I'm sure. I take a step back, only bumping into Cynthia. "Are we ready to begin then?" She says in a bored voice, examining her nails. "I have places to be, a guest to meet." 

"We will begin as soon as we can, Miss." Hangar says, grabbing my wrist. He drags me towards the center of the room, then kicks the back of my legs, forcing me to my knees. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the command. 

The tapping of Cynthia's heeled shoes sound on the floor, and she comes around to face me, looking me in the eyes. "Stay." She says, and I feel my muscles lock up, obeying her command. 

Hangar moves my hair to the side, exposing my back to the cold air, Cynthia moves to the side, holding her skirt up off the ground as if to avoid getting invisible bloodstains on the red fabric. Hangar lets the whip slide across his fingers, and I flinch as I hear the leather slap the ground. But I will not break. I grit my teeth, waiting for the first hit.