ATLANTION - LAYLA BOOK1

Part 53 Layla

Layla and the Duke arrive at the ball doors, which are more elegant and fragile compared to the grandeur of the underground arena gates. The doors are made of gorgeous vitrages with angelic scenes and exquisite handles. Two titan-looking guards stand at the door in white uniforms embroidered with a gold tree emblem. Near them is the blonde guy Layla met at the Noir ball, the one flirting with the siren that didn't give a damn about him.

He has a hostile face, much different from the one he showed the Duke in the undergrounds. The doors behind him are just ready to close after the long train of pink silk the plump women in front of them pulled after her.

''How dare you? You are not welcome here?'' He booms with dismay.

''Get off my way," the Duke pushes him away and stops the doors with both of his hands. A screech of metal and glass follows, and it surprises Layla how such thin colored glass doors would not give up under his pressure, but it seems they were more solid than they looked. Everything in this world was not what it looked after all.

She feels at ease when Terror lets him hold her, and the Duke grabs her arm and pulls her in. Gentleman manners are not for this world for sure. Hundreds of eyes pin her, and time freezes at that moment; she feels the wheels of fate moving; it is a moment that marks her entire existence. Whether she understands this or not, it is so. All her eyes can see is the massive tree that holds the dome of this gigantic construction; its branches support the glass and transform into betel veins that grow and twist around everything. It is like this tree is the end and beginning of everything, the heart of this beast, and now she is breathing with it. Some of the icy blue branches are dark and crumbling like the trees she had seen outside, and it makes her ache for unknown reasons; it is like a part of her is dying, not some unknown reality. The roots of it spread around in the white marble radiant floor in a beautiful laced drawing that sports many creatures, and some of them are darkening as rust attacks them.

An ocean of pain flushes her, cold burning ice pouring under her skin, and a bead of sweat covers her brow. An imaginary force is pulling her towards this tree, like a mother that calls her child. It is calling to her, asking for help in an unknown language; it is crying to her, and somehow she can remember the song that kept her alive in the cells there, an old woman's song, and she hums it. There are no words, just a tremor of voice, that grows inside her; her body is not hers, her skin and flesh peeling off her body, and now it is like her soul is stepping out of the vain shell that covers her light.

As her foot made contact with the intricate design on the floor, a blinding blue light enveloped the entire room, as if thunder had struck the half-dead tree in the center. Layla felt a dying life pulsating under her hands, begging for help. The city, this life, was calling out for aid, and Layla knew there was nothing more tender and beautiful in her life than answering that call. She surrendered herself to the feeling of unshared love and bound her life force to the cause, feeding it to this rotting universe. Though Layla may come to regret it later, for now, it was her sacred mission. She was born for this, and nothing could separate her from it. So she fought against the surrounding darkness, battling the coldness that held her feet until the room vanished, and darkness engulfed her.

Suddenly, Layla found herself walking through a field of neon blue flowers. They clung to her feet and pulled her into a dark mirror under her feet. She was drowning in the flow of beautiful blooms and peace.

Her hands were still reaching for the flickering blue light above her head, but the glassy water was filling her lungs. She didn't fight it until a hot hand grabbed hers. It was on fire, and it hurt her to the bone, but she refused to let go. The hand pulled her towards a fiery figure, a bloody fire that dissolved the darkness and light, and the ballroom came back into focus. People gasped, some women screamed, and the Dark Duke grinned at her.

He pulled her up and patted her back as if she were his best friend, like the tree behind her. The tree was now neon blue, its light so powerful that it gave a blue tint to everything and everyone around it. The figurines on the floor shone, and hot neon veins pulsed through the bark of the monster tree. It was more like a living being than ever before.

The crowd parted, and Layla saw a statuesque woman with blue hair sitting on a white marble chair at the end of the circular ballroom. Layla couldn't read her at all; she seemed like the chair at her back, her dress blending seamlessly with her white skin. Only her icy blue eyes showed any emotion, though Layla couldn't tell whether they were angry, pleased, or surprised. She held a white staff in her right hand, her hawk-like fingers curling around it. She was clearly planning what to say, thinking, and deciding their fate. What would it be? Would they end up in an arena, or worse? They said that the arena was the worst place for undergrounders, so nothing could be worse now. Would the Duke disappear, or would they all be captured? Layla didn't want Fear to be tortured because of her. He was the closest thing to a friend she had in this world, at least for now. All her friends were temporary in this world, and the most painful to lose was Herannuen, who was standing near the base of the tree. She wore intricate metal and silk clothes, as usual, with a weird carcass winged skirt adorned with ribbons and lace. Her top hat and fake eyepatch made her look like a gothic doll upgraded by a mad scientist. Her pink wig was bound into two ponytails and waved around in spiral resorts. She was watching Layla with interest but didn't seem very surprised. Layla wondered if her inner world was so shallow that her feelings for Farrar evaporated so quickly from her mind and heart. Who was she to judge others? People lived, and time was the best forgetting pill, a cure for the soul and a poison for the body.

"You are quite daring to come here and ignore my presence so blatantly," the queen said, her gaze causing an icy chill to run through Layla's bones. The two of them were now standing face to face, and Layla couldn't help but feel dwarfed by the queen's imposing height. Her body and dress seemed to merge with the white floor beneath her, as if she were a part of it.