A bright light is pouring over my body. Its warmth slowly scatters across my skin, waking me up from the safety of my dreams. A coldness soon overpowers the warmth in me as the darkness of Aeolus clutters my thoughts. Those awful, almost glowing eyes of his, his bastardly grin, and that wretched arrow.
I swallow hard and open my eyes to see that I'm sitting in what looks to be a bed framed by large, thick roots, wrapped in flowery vines. It's a sight that should evoke awe, but no emotion of appreciation is brought on, only a dreadful feeling of terror that continues to crawl into my heart.
I'm definitely not in the manor anymore. The usual Victorian decoration I'm met with in my waking moments has been traded in for nature-esque decor. Dark green vines, dotted with the occasional purple and white speckled flowers, run across the ceiling and hang down the walls like drapery. The vines meet together in the middle of the ceiling to surround a circular window that takes in the rays of the day's sun.
I sweep my eyes away from the window and look across the rest of the room. There are multiple windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. Their frames are not of metal but the woven roots of trees.
It's mesmerizing how nature flows throughout the whole room. Even the floor has found a way to connect itself with nature. Bits of spring flowers and thin lines of grass stretch through the cracks in the light brown wood spanning the bottom of the room. These little splashes of nature come to an end when the floorboards reach my bed. In their place are unsettling splotches of deep maroon. I'm not going to try to fool myself into thinking that those stains are from a clumsy elf that dropped their wine. Although I truly do wish I could, I know the scars left in the midst of this beautiful nature are from blood.
And I'm definitely not up for adding my own blood to the floor. I toss the woven blanket from my body and haul myself out of bed. As I stand, I find that the familiar weight of my dagger is no longer there. My eyes widen, breath hitching as I pat myself down, frantically searching for the dagger in the folds of my clothes. There is no dagger, not in my waistband, pocket, or anywhere else.
"Oh, shit," I mutter under my breath, feeling more defenseless than ever.
I'm in the territory of Dryadale, and I'm without any form of protection other than my own fists and feet. Even I know that my flimsy punches and kicks can't do much to deter any elves that may wish to harm me. At least with a dagger, I could have brought on some sort of second thought into their minds. Now, all I can do is either surrender myself to those that attack me or vainly try to fight back. Neither option settles the pounding of my heart against my ribcage.
I press my palm flat on my chest as I tread across the floorboards. My feet come to a slow when I'm before one of the large windows. Little rainbow-colored cracks are littered across the glass here and there. I run my finger over one crack. A little bit of the heat from the glass transfers into me, settling my nerves.
That feeling of comfort that's enveloping me only increases when I decide to press both of my palms flat on the window. It seems as if this window is pulling out every scrap of negativity within me. This sensation almost rivals the numbing qualities of alcohol.
These windows would've been helpful when I discovered my ex cheating on me. Instead of drowning myself in pity and crying my eyes out, I could have simply just pressed my palms to this window, taken a deep breath, and let all of those horrid emotions pour out from my heart.
The sound of a cracking noise meets my ears, finally bringing the newly formed splits in the window to my attention. These fresh cracks trail from my hands, winding themselves toward the edges of the window. I watch in fascination as more cracks begin to form until horror engulfs me at the entire window shattering. My arms raise upward to shield myself from the shards of glass. As the glass hits the ground, a voice sounds through the air, one that sounds strangely similar to mine.
"I wish I never met that sorry son of a bitch."
"I thought he loved me. Just the day before I caught him cheating, he told me he did."
"He talked about marrying me. Was that a lie? Was everything a lie?"
"What did I ever do wrong to him? All I did was please him. Every. Single. Day. Yet, he still went behind my back with another girl."
"How could he do this to me? To us? How..."
The last piece of broken glass silences. I sigh out of relief, dragging my shaky hands across my face. Never again do I want to hear my thoughts in any place but my mind.
I disdainfully gaze down at the glass littering the ground. Some of the light pours in from the circular window above, hitting the glass and splaying little rainbows across the room. It almost feels therapeutic to know that beautiful colors can still be created by the glass that had once held my own vile thoughts.
My attention switches away from the broken glass and to the striking view provided by the glassless window. I dare to stick my head out of the window and look down, only to be met with a terrifying drop into a watery pit that's filled by the various waterfalls flowing from the mountains.
One wrong move and I'll be sent falling to my death. I shudder, and a single step is taken away from the window. My other foot, which is still kissing the edge of death's door, goes to retreat, but I halt upon the sound of a floorboard creaking not too far from me. I turn myself to face my visitor. My gaze falls onto Aeolus before it begins to tilt to the roof. At the uncanny feeling of nothingness greeting the pads of my feet, I come to realize that I have fallen past death's door.
Loud, howling wind pushes my hair into my face, blinding me as I scream, desperately stretching my hands outward for any hopes of grasping onto something that may save me. My hand brushes against something that feels like silk before my plummeting ceases.
A hard grip encases my wrist, making me open my eyes to see Aeolus hovering above me. He's held upward by a bundle of wind centered beneath his feet while I'm left with just his hand to keep me from falling.
"Do you wish to be left to the krakens lying in wait for you in the deep waters or do you wish to continue living your pathetic life?"
Yet another one of his annoying questions greets me in a life-or-death situation. Honestly, I don't believe I'll ever choose the death route. I mean, I'm only twenty-two, and I still have a whole life ahead of me. There's no way I'll let it end because of some stupid elf.
I stare up into his blue eyes teeming with mockery, answering him, "Let me live my pathetic life!"
A moment of thought passes over him before he looks from my fear-stricken face to the drop below. For a moment, I almost think he might pull me up. What a foolish thought that was.
The absence of a hand around my wrist rips a scream from my throat as I return to my former plummet. My body twists and turns in the monstrous winds beating me around in every which way. Only when I feel the tips of my toes dip into burning cold water, am I suddenly brought upward.
Arms hook beneath my legs and back, and fingers lightly press into my goose-bump-littered skin. The sickening touch that has saved me from my death belongs to none other than Aeolus. No expression of gratitude comes from me, instead, I chose something much more fitting for the twisted elf smiling down at me.
"You're a complete psycho and a damn bastard! I've done nothing to deserve this shitty treatment!" I yell at him, glaring into his eyes that practically mirror the sky above.
"Most certainly not," He surprisingly agrees with me as we ascend back to the room I had fallen from. "Even so, I find your screams to be unlike any other." His grip on my body tightens, making me squirm in his arms. "Let that be what you blame for what just happened and what is to come."
His obsession with my screams most definitely means that more near-death experiences lie in wait for me. That is nothing short of comforting. My skin crawls as I look away from Aeolus and toward the distant peaks of the mountains.
"Suppose you start to hate my screams. Will you not torment me?" I ask him, almost fearful of his answer.
"I'll add your blood to the floorboards then," He concludes, invoking the memory of the stained floorboards in my mind. "And I'll give your awful head to the precious king-to-be."
I'm abruptly dropped back into the room. I stumble, struggling to catch my balance and, eventually, I fall. If not for Aeolus' strange obsession with my screams, I might've let out a small yelp or a curse-filled scream, instead, I just keep my mouth shut as I hit the floor. I lift myself with my hands, just barely getting my hips off the ground when a heavy force smashes into my shoulders, sending me back down.
A smiling Aeolus looks down at me with his shining black boot snug to my shoulder. He adds more pressure, forcing me to press my face flush with the patch of flowers below me.
"Try to attack, deceive, or escape me and I'll make it so that you cannot seal those screams behind your putrid lips."
"I do hope you are a fool and don't heed my instructions though," He admits to himself before dipping his hand into a pocket located on the front side of his gold-crested black shirt. "Please, provide me some entertainment and fail to use this."
My dagger lands just centimeters from my hand. Its point is dug deep into the floorboard, hilt tilted up toward Aeolus. I see the reflection of my wide, almost angered eyes in the blade. My hand rises, just begging to grab the dagger and drive it toward the one who has lit such a fiery rage inside of me.
The handle meets my palm as I pull it from the floor, rising when Aeolus finally lifts his boot off of me. I wield the dagger before me, hardened eyes trained on Aeolus who's patiently awaiting me to make the first move. His eyes crinkle in the wake of a smile on his face as I charge toward him, only to drop the knife to my side and stop just when I'm about to crash into him. He stares down at me, confusion and disappointment covering his fallen expression. I lift my hand, resting it upon his high shoulder to stabilize myself as I go on my tippy-toes to level myself with him.
"You want to make me submit to you oh, so badly," I tell him in a quiet whisper that brings a deep swallow from him. "But, let me tell you something," My head careens into the crook of his neck, and the cold breath fanning my face halts, "I only ever will submit to men that can submit themselves to me."
I abruptly place my palms on his chest, shoving him backward. Thoroughly caught off guard, he continues to struggle to catch his balance. A momentary passage of fear strikes his face when his back foot meets nothing but air. I watch in pure joy as he falls through the glassless window with a pathetic, high-pitched scream.
When his glaring eyes pierce through mine, I smile. "The only man who has ever done such a thing for me is Dorian. No other man will be able to do the same as him, not even you. Because...I will never allow it to happen."
His response is only another scream that is lost in his winds that will, unfortunately, save him from his death. I toss the dagger from one hand to another, sighing with disappointment. If I had been more experienced with the dagger, I might have stabbed Aeolus out of spite, but I was far too afraid of failing or even being overpowered.
That was why I went with the second-best option: the divine power of a woman. It's a nice thing to be able to harness when dealing with men like Aeolus, though it's not a method that will make those men leave you alone. They'll come back, and, sometimes, they'll win instead of losing as they had before.
I slice the dagger through a vine hanging down from the ceiling, watching as it falls to the ground at my feet. By the time Aeolus attempts to force me to be at his mercy, I can only hope I'll be ready.
____
My waking days and sleepless nights are spent in that room where I pass my time doing one simple thing: training. I hack away at the innocent vines with the vision of Aeolus before me, and sometimes, I take the liberty to curse at the imaginary Aeolus as well.
When my hand begins cramping and a dull pain nestles into my bicep, I slip the dagger into its resting place between my hip and the waistband of my dirtied bottoms. Then, I bring myself to death's door, sitting down so that my legs dangle above the endless drop below. My hands always situate themselves behind me to provide extra assurance that I won't accidentally fall.
As of right now, I've come to the point in my day where I'm sitting at death's door, gazing at the pretty colors warming the sky. Emptiness sinks into my heart. This is almost the sixth sunset I have seen in the land of Dryadale, yet there has been no sign of any rescue.
It almost seems as if Dorian might not even come to save me. Maybe, just maybe, he feels relieved at my absence. Finally, the human he didn't want in the first place is gone. Is that what he thought on the day he found out I was missing? Or did he frantically search every crevice of the land of Lamias?
It hurts to think that he didn't care enough to look for me, but it hurts just as terribly to think he did. I swipe away at the tear running down my face, streaking a bit of dirt across the back of my hand. Ever since I was taken by Aeolus, I have not been given the luxury of being able to clean myself. All he has allowed me to do is eat the food and water he brings. Whenever he comes to drop those things off, he stays longer each time, but it's only ever to belittle me or go on about how Dorian is unfit to become the King of Bestias.
My wary eyes watch the sun begin to fall beneath the curtain of the horizon to make way for the moon. In only a matter of time, a gust of wind will blow through the room to reveal Aeolus. I sigh, already dreading his arrival as I move away from death's door.
Now, I know better than to leave myself sitting there when Aeolus is in the room. The first time I did that, he took it upon himself to send a burst of wind against my back, pushing me from the safety of the room.
I cringe at the recollection of the memory before a scowl falls over my face at the sight of my dirty clothes sticking to my skin. I have been desperately trying to put up with this inconvenience, but I seriously can't deal with it any longer.
The smell of dirtiness, the clinging of clothes to my skin, and the grease that has taken home on my body are all driving me insane! Without thinking, I lodge my dagger into the bed frame and then begin ripping my clothes off.
A content sigh of relief leaves me when all of my clothes are on the ground. Sure, I may be standing stark naked in a room full of windows, but I don't give a single shit. I finally feel free and somewhat cleaner. Smiling contently, I bend over to snatch up my dagger, and, much to my horror, a slight coldness brushes past my bare skin.
Before I can right myself, a low voice cuts into my reddened ears. "If this is your way of trying to swoon me, I must say it is quite pathetic."
My previous task of retrieving the dagger is forgotten. I reach over and snag a blanket off the bed and pull it around my shoulders to hide myself from the prying eyes of Aeolus. Slowly, I right myself and then face him, tightly gripping the blanket with embarrassment riddling me.
"Your body is absolutely filthy, like that of a troll," He ridicules me, advancing toward me with a tray of steaming meat and a cup of water. "Elves are far too pure to sully themselves with a human, or, in this case, a troll."
Anger swells within me, just as it always does whenever Aeolus chooses to taint this room with his presence. I foolishly let that anger corrode my thoughts and snatch the tray away from Aeolus. The neglected side of the blanket falls, revealing half of my body to Aeolus once more. His eyes scornfully dip down from my gaze and to where my right breast lay exposed.
I scoff, "Hypocrite."
Although he may say he's not attracted to a "troll" human like me, his almost hungry blue eyes definitely say otherwise. I open my hand that is still holding the other side of the blanket up. The last of my cover leaves me. Though, no form of embarrassment finds me. All I feel is a surge of power, as the elf that relentlessly insults me has finally grown quiet. I bask in this silence as I sit down on my bed.
While I eat my dinner, I sense his eyes following me, tracing my curves and dips that are all laid out for him to see, and the best part is, that is all he'll ever be able to do. Never in a million damn years will I ever let a single finger of his touch me.
My eyes flicker to the dagger as I stuff a big chunk of meat into my mouth. But, if he attempts to rest his hands upon me, I will take his puny dick and hack it off, then feed it to the krakens in the watery pit.
Despite this strong vow, a bit of fear nestles in my chest, drying my throat. I reach for the full cup of water and press the rim to my lips, desperately gulping down the cold liquid. When I go to lift it away from my mouth, I struggle. My eyes open to take in the view of Aeolus standing before me, hand pressed to the bottom of the cup. The fear in my chest rises as his other hand winds around me to rest on the back of my head. He forces my head back and tilts the cup above me.
I'm unable to swallow the water quickly enough. It fills my mouth to the brim before spilling over. The coolness of the water streaks down my chin, dripping onto my chest. After the cup is completely empty, he releases me. I double over, coughing violently with tears pricking my eyes, unable to whack his hand away as he roughly runs it through my tangled hair.
"Not even water can clean the filth engraved upon your skin," He snickers with that smile I have grown to hate more than anything in this damn fantasy land.
Once I gather myself, I snap back, "Obviously, a cup of water can't clean me! Hell, it can't even clean the filth from you!"
"What exactly compels you to tie the word 'filth' to me?" He draws himself closer to me, bending down so that I cannot escape his cold, blue gaze.
I make an act of scanning over his face, taking in the perfect crest of his gray eyebrows and the strong bridge of his pointed nose. Then, I look down at his bent body which is void of any of the muscles that Dorian possesses. At the thought of the comparison, a laugh comes from my mouth. Aeolus stiffens as his eyes narrow into a glare.
"It is not your body that is filthy but your soul," I answered him with a smile full of fake sweetness. "A man that vyes to push a woman beneath him, just to satisfy his own fragile masculinity, has a soul full of every bit of the filth this world has to offer up."
His strong hand curls around my jaw, squeezing my face ever so lightly. "Then..." He forcibly yanks my face toward his infuriated one, smiling, "...let us purify ourselves together."
I have no time to be allowed to entertain him with any questions. An arm is wrapped against my back, pulling me from the bed and to him, and then, the familiar sound of loud wind wraps around us.
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Also...sorry for the late release! I got a bit caught up yesterday, and I wasn't able to properly edit/review this chapter in time! 🫠