The Rise Of The Morningstar (Eng. Version)

Chapter 61 - When Dreams Mix With Reality

Chapter 61 – When Dreams Mix With Reality

The Gard's prison had little to do with human dignity. That part of the building – dark and cold – reminded me more of the Silent City, with the sparsely spaced witch-light torches and the long corridors lined with closed doors. An impression that was reinforced by the increased presence of runes and other symbols. The Nephilim had made it a habit to distribute their runes throughout Alicante; for protection, happiness, health and dozens of other reasons. However, not comparable to the extent that the runes took here.

The construction of this part of the Gard must have been intended from the beginning to keep the creatures inside rather than outside. While the rest of the building was constructed on the level of a hill, there was only a single staircase leading from the ground floor into the mountain here. The cells were almost entirely underground, except for a single small window at the top of the square room secured with bars. It was the only source of light here and the only opportunity to catch a glimpse of the part of the city that lay in the valley, if one was lucky enough to inhabit a cell on the south side. And if one were tall enough to look out or strong enough to pull oneself up on the bars; if one were indeed reckless enough to touch them at all.

I for one wish they had just left out the windows, because without the insulation of glass, the temperature of the room was constantly tied to that of the outside. With my cell facing the valley, a never-ending wind whistled in, which, thanks to the season, brought me closer to death from freezing with every breath. Probably not really, but at least it felt like it. The fact that Jace had left me his winter coat in front of the Ashdown country house had me almost ecstatic. Even with the thick jacket on, I sat slumped on the small bed, which, apart from a toilet and a sink, was the only equipment in this cell. The blanket, whose fabric was thinner than my pinky, did nothing to protect my body heat from the shivering cold of nature.

My only consolation was knowing that Blake's surviving friends were no better. Although I couldn't hear them shaking through the walls, I was sure they were suffering just as much as I was. That was almost worth it. But only almost and only until the next gust of wind blew through the window and I could ignore the trembling in my own muscles. Outside, the sun was leaning south. It was already casting long shadows in my small room. It wouldn't be long before it would sink, taking with it any warmth that day had provided.

Slowly, I let my eyes move over the walls – a feeble attempt to divert my attention to something that would make me forget about the cold. Like the corridors, everything here was covered in runes and other cultural symbols. For each creature a unique torment to keep them from breaking out: The bars in the windows made of silver, Stars of David and crosses embedded in the walls, phrases in one of the demonic languages inscribed on door and window frames, uttering spells.

We would have to wait in here until the Inquisitor decided what to do with us. She had spoken of a trial. Hopefully not like my last one. I believed that few things angered me as much as the fact that Jonathan and my father had stolen the Angel's Sword; every doubt about the truth now justified and clearing the way for new, more torturous methods.

By the time Imogen's guards had brought me here, I had managed to push the weight of the past few hours away quite well. So many things had happened, so many things had piled up on top of each other that I was literally running from one catastrophe to the next. It had left my attention divided and unable to process anything realistically. But slowly the images seeped into my brain; I slowly realized what had happened and what I had contributed to it all in the rush of emotions.

First the kidnapping by Malachi, waking up in Blake Ashdown's secret armory, my father's monologue about my future and his plans, being shipped off to the Ashdown's country house ... And despite all the fanatic madness, my emotions only began to unravel from this point onwards. As if everything had been fine up to this point; as if nothing serious had happened up to this point. Had I already gotten used to so much malevolence? Followed by ... the torture ... the escape attempt ... the many deaths ... the fight with Blake ... Adam ... Blake ... death ... his mother.