I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife.
~)(~
I could taste blood. Not my blood, but still, it wasn't a good taste. Blood mixed with dirt and sweat, an odd flavor that I didn't think I'd ever be able to describe.
A soldier split my bow in half with his blade, so I stabbed him in the neck with one of the sharp points. I threw the other and it hit in the stomach of the soldier coming up the stairs to the balcony.
It was so loud—so much louder than I thought it would be. Something happened when the fighting started this morning, an unplanned advantage the enemy used to drive our men back against the mountain.
I picked up a bloodied bow someone dropped when fleeing and pulled the arrow out of a dead soldier behind me, nocking it as quickly as I could while the sound of movement grew louder.
Someone ran up the stairs and started towards me with his sword raised. I loosed the arrow and watched it cut right through his throat and into the skull of his companion behind, sending them both down the stairs into an ever-growing pile of bodies.
I whistled a breath and then dropped behind the balcony edge as the sound of arrows fired overhead, raining down. Some landed in already dead bodies around me, others bounced off the stone floor and splashed in blood.
As soon as I knew it was safe, I twisted over the ledge and fired an arrow in the direction of the commander. I dropped back down, nocked another arrow, and lifted to fire again, but he was down, so I shot at one of the archers who moved to check his body. Getting their commander down meant fewer volleys.
I took the chance and ran through the door, tripping and tumbling down the set of stairs I didn't know were there. My fall wasn't as hard as it should've been—because I landed on a cold, dead body. I forced down bile and slid off the male, wiping my mouth, though it only smeared the blood around.
My shoes slid around the puddles of thickening blood as I turned the corners. I swung the bow over a shoulder and picked up a sword, having to pull it from the tight grip of a corpse.
The candles above bodies laid against walls dripped their wax onto heads and shoulders, hardened into mounds atop dried blood. Some halls were pitch black, others without a single shadow.
I ran down a few more flights of stairs until I knew I was in the lower levels. Most of the fighting happened at the mouth of the cave and in more open areas. There was no telling how many of them got down here, how many were going door-to-door in search of prey.
It was dangerous to hunt these halls, especially when they were so thin and had such sharp corners with difficult vantage points. I had to rely on my hearing to get me through it.
So far, there was nothing but the sound of my own footsteps through the halls. That was good—I wasn't going ever complain about that. But it did make me a little suspicious. Shouldn't there be more soldiers down here?
When this is over, I can think about the morbidity of it all. I'm sure my younger self would've never been able to believe where I was now. She wouldn't recognize me, I'm sure. There wasn't a single thing the same anymore, and though I should be afraid of that fact—I wasn't. It was about time, actually, for me to grow up and realize this world was cruel and I had to change to keep a step ahead of it.
Something made me stop walking and press my back against the wall. The sound of breathing from the turn a few feet ahead. Someone was there—and I think they were waiting for me.
I could only hear one heartbeat, which meant an easier fight. If I could move fast enough, I could hit them before they had a chance to react. So far, they didn't know I could sense them.
I stepped slowly and carefully forward, sword raised slightly and held in both hands. The person's breathing paused a second—just a second. A second for me to know they realized I was there.
It happened quickly. I swung my sword around the corner, the sound of sharp metal ringing in my ears as the blade met with another and I was forcefully pushed around and slammed into the wall.
Their blade pressed mine towards me, so I forced my arms up enough to get a hand free and use it to grab the dagger attached to my belt. I lifted it to their throat as the cold of metal dug into my side.
The moment I realized who it was I let out the breath I was holding. "Let me go."
"What are you doing down here?" Azriel asked, pressing his blade against mine harder, pushing my hand into the wall above my head. The handles of the two swords were locked together, making it impossible for my hand to free itself unless he did first.
I sucked in much-needed air. "What does it look like I'm doing?" his scent enveloped me, rich and coated in the smell of mud, sweat, and blood.
His eyes danced between mine, emerald bright within the brown and gold. "You're being reckless. You shouldn't be down here."
I huffed a laugh, my dagger rubbing against his throat and drawing a line of red. I didn't realize how sharp the blade was when Jurian gave it to me that morning. "Oh, so you're the reason I haven't run into a single person. Cat's catching himself some mice down here?"
"Princess," he warned, removing his blade from my side and unhooking our swords from above my head.
I bent forward and shoved my foot into his knee, making him stumble back. Before I could turn around the corner and get out of there, his shadows lashed out and wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against the opposite wall. Traitors.
"Still angry?" He asked with a grainy tone to his voice as he stood straight again.
I huffed a laugh. "You locked me in a room with no other exit and simply said to wait. Yeah, I'm a little angry."
He raised a brow and shook his head, making my face red with fury. I forced myself out of the shadows hold and started running down the hallway. I just needed to get away from him and all those confusingly intense feelings I had when around him. Like the thrumming in my veins, the aching in my bones. Feelings I didn't want to have.
I skipped up the steps, sensing he was close behind me. He was lucky I didn't think enough to check the door and slammed face-first into the wood that didn't budge when I tried the handle. I stumbled back from how hard I hit my face and would've fallen down the stairs if he hadn't stopped and caught me before I fell.
I knew from the pop and tickling sensation that blood was dripping from my nose. Letting out a string of curses, I tipped my head back and pressed my palm to my nose.
"You are the worst," I said, breathing from my mouth.
Azriel was smirking. "How have you survived this long?"
"I was fine before you showed up."
He removed my hand from my face and said, "Let me help with that."
"You can heal?"
He shook his head. "Didn't get that lucky. Your body should heal it fast enough, I'm just getting this off your face."
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed it around my nose, turning the white fabric red. I couldn't help but smile. "The frightening shadowsinger carries a hankie?"
"Miryam managed to stuff it in my pocket. Said I could use it to clean my face and hands when I'm finished gutting someone so she doesn't have to worry about vomiting lunch." He was smiling as he spoke, eyes fixed on where his hands touched my face.
"She said that?"
"To an extent."
I let him wipe away the blood and then swatted him away when it got too warm. I rubbed my nose and felt that it had fully healed, so stopped keeping my head tipped up.
"Where are you even going?" Azriel asked, crossing his arms.
I tried the door handle again—nothing. "I wanted to find Jurian, help him out. I was out on the balcony earlier—got a little too crowded."
His eyes widened. "You were outside?"
"Someone had to shoot the ones in charge—you know they stick out so much it's funny."
I bent down, pulled one of the bobby pins holding my braided hair up, and folded it into an odd shape before sticking it into the keyhole. I could feel Azriel watching me, but tried to focus on the sounds from within the lock. His gaze on my back was like fire, lingering with a sting against my bones.
"The princess knows how to pick a lock," Azriel said when I got the door open. He smiled when I looked back at him. "Why would a princess ever need to learn that?"
"I had to get out of that stuffy fortress somehow," I replied, walking through the door behind him.
It was eerily quiet. I didn't like how it made me feel like something was waiting—holding its breath—preparing to strike. Why was it that, during a war, silence was always the last thing you wanted?
I tried to spark conversation. "So, I'm surprised Amarantha hasn't come after you... since you beat her last time."
"I think she was told to go after Jurian," Azriel said. "They're letting the two chaotic ones go head-to-head."
"Not a good mix," I added under my breath.
The hallway was familiar, and I realized we were walking down the hallway my room connected to. Perhaps I could check on Nalia while I'm there, though she'll probably faint when she sees the blood on me.
We turned the corner and stopped. I felt the blood rush from my face and pool at my feet, making me shiver. The dripping sound echoed like the ringing in my ears—constant, and much too loud.
There was blood all over the hallway. The walls were painted in red, the ceiling was darkened by its color. There were stakes in the walls, and impaled by those stakes were bodies slowly draining all their blood. Covering the floor were the... insides of those soldiers, their stomachs blacked and hollow.
No one was alive, there was too much blood for anyone to be alive. Four men were draining from the walls, and one soldier had fallen from his spot and was slumped against the wall with a broken stake in his chest.
I knew who did this, and I hated that I knew. But I had heard all the stories people brought back from their time spent with the general. She loved turning bodies hollow and dry, loved making a scene of things. Like a wicked artist set on making her victims lose their minds.
Clythia.
But that was impossible. She wasn't supposed to be here—why was she here? And why was she in this hallway—near this room?
I could feel one of Azriel's shadows on my arm, but didn't acknowledge it. All of this—it had all gone wrong. How did it go wrong—what did we do wrong?
"Princess," Azriel started, trying to get me to blink—to move—to do anything.
I didn't hear him. Couldn't over the sound of my head beating. I was wrong. I was so wrong. Wasn't I? How—how could this be so wrong?
It hurt to breathe, to think. My heart pounded and my lungs stopped stretching with air. Clythia was here, and that was the most terrifying fact. Because she knew me. She knew who I was, what I was, and she knew how to hurt me. If she was here—it was for a reason.
Clythia made a scene of this hallway—and the door to my room was open.
The door to my room was open.
-Authors Note-
hehehe i'm not sorry. we're here and i'm so darn excited. i'm gonna make it a priority to get next chapter out tomorrow for your christmas present so don't panic just yet.
i've been writing like it's the end of the world trying to finish act 1 before the end of the year so my other story went on the backburner for a bit. it also has a lot of work to be done cause i decided not to touch it until i needed to—like an idiot.
i have like two chapters before act 1 is done, so i think it'll be done before the end of the year! grab tissues, take a deep breath--get water too i'm not paying the hospital bills.
i hope you enjoyed this chapter, this and the next are so far the wildest things i've written and i'm very proud of them. let me know your thoughts cause i love comments and y'all are so hilarious i love it. i'm so excited and hope you are too.
happy Christmas, happy Hanukkah, blessed be on this Yule, and if it's snowing get warm cause the cold's nice but not nice enough to freeze.
i'll see you next chapter, have a great rest of your day/week! byeeeeeeeeee