Black Blood

-B2- Chapter 67

The young, impulsive, naive Celeste would have immediately stood up and shouted to inform everyone in the room.

The enemies in the room would have grabbed her, imprisoned her, and in the worst-case scenario, tortured her to achieve their ultimate goal.

Fortunately, I am no longer that version.

Silently, I remain seated, watching Elien being seduced by the nymph. Her slender hands slide over his chest, his black eyes staring in amazement at the beautiful woman before him.

Alisha, too, has fallen prey to the woman beside her. Quietly, she smiles at the woman next to her, who lets a hand stroke her jaw.

Novak's red eyes are also not in a neutral place anymore. His gaze is fixed on the woman's slightly too visible breasts.

Lust, the sin is lust.

I keep my jealousy inside, realizing that Novak's actions are not of his own free will.

With composure and in silence, I pick up my plate from the table and rise from the chair. Observing, I walk behind Alisha and the woman.

By now, the hand has moved from her jaw to her neck, their lips only a few centimeters apart.

Paying no attention, I walk to the roasted pig at the end of the table, placing my plate down on the white wood. I grab the knife next to the pig and immediately feel that this is no ordinary knife. The nymphs aren't foolish; they would never leave a real knife that could harm someone.

Unobtrusively, I cut a piece of the pig, place the piece of meat on my plate with some broccoli, and put the knife back in its place.

'Sorry,' my voice echoes through the room just before the lips of the woman next to Elien touch his neck.

With an irritated glance, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, the women simultaneously look up.

'Is there any red wine? Whiskey, perhaps?' I ask loudly enough for the entire table to hear.

The nymph next to Elien lowers her hands with a fake smile and slowly stands up, swaying her hips into his view.

'Of course, give me a moment,' the woman responds with a falsely friendly look.

Barely a second later, the same white door through which the other woman walked appears.

The nymph exits the room.

Unseen, I slowly take a few steps back toward the door until I'm no more than two meters from the long white corridor.

No one pays attention to it, too busy minding their own business.

Not a second later, the nymph reappears in my sight with an old bottle of red wine.

'Thank you,' I smile kindly, reaching out my hand towards the bottle in an illusion that I'm in this place to take it from her.

However, the moment the nymph walks through the door, I dart past her, through the door, and into the corridor. Another corridor devoid of decoration or doors, one whose end isn't visible due to its length.

Running and running, my feet slide over the cold stones. My heart pounding against my chest, my lungs barely running out of air.

As my bare feet rush over the white stones, I think I'm getting closer to the end of the corridor, but the longer I run, the more I realize that this corridor has no end.

It's only now that I realize no one is following me.

Slowly, I slow my pace until I'm walking at a leisurely pace through the corridor, looking around me amidst the endless white.

An intense feeling of confusion and helplessness rushes over me. The only plan that had any chance of success has failed, and I begin to wonder if this white building has an exit.

In all the pent-up frustration, I focus on the wall to my left and slam my hand against the stones. Pain shoots through my hand, and I immediately regret it.

'Fuck,' I curse, one hand cradling the sore one.

Hopelessly, I lean my back against the wall and let myself sink to the ground via the stones.

There's no point in running; there's no way out, and they'll find me if they really want to.

Leaning my head against the wall behind me, I stare at the wall in front of me.

White, everything here is white, and I'm so fed up with it.

With a sigh, I want to turn my head away from the wall, but the moment I move my head, I keep it still again. The same light blue-white sparkles twinkle against the wall opposite me. They vanish as quickly as they came as long as I keep my head still.

Wide-eyed, I stare at the white stones while tilting my head to the right. Once more, the sparkles appear as if shooting past each other in a rhythm.

Everything is an illusion.

That realization slowly sinks in again as I push myself up from the ground.

The doors don't materialize out of thin air; the corridor isn't endless. There's only magic concealing the truth.

With more hope than I've had in a long time, I approach the seemingly empty wall. I place my hand against the cold white stones, but initially, nothing happens. Only when I move my head do I see the nearly invisible sparkles gliding along the wall.

The door won't appear, but it's there.

That realization prompts me to move my hand to where the doorknob sat on all the other doors. In a pure guess, I reach into nothingness and make the same turning motion I saw all the nymphs make.

For a second, nothing happens, and I'm inclined to let go of the last bit of hope I had. That's until the twinkling eyes become clearer and begin to rotate, forming a light spiral that reveals a dark green door.

I don't know how quickly I place my hands against the door and push it open. Nearly falling through it, my feet land on something wet, startling me at first. My eyes take their time adjusting to the darkness outside the white walls.

Taking a few steps away from the door, my eyes adjust, and I start to realize where I am and what I'm standing in.

A vast dark forest with unnaturally tall trees, their meters-thick roots growing everywhere across the landscape, lies before me. Marked by a wide river filled with large pieces of blue ice running through the middle of the forest. Houses with pointed roofs in various directions line both sides of the river. Small round windows, some lit, cast light into the darkness. The other remarkable sources of light are the glistening pieces of ice in the water, the small blue plants amid the dark green grass, and the peculiar butterflies fluttering here and there.

My feet stand in the wet dark grass, unnaturally cold against my skin.

Slowly, I turn to the building I emerged from after I don't know how long.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I expect the building to be pure white, but everything here is an illusion.

The building is gone.

'Celeste.'