Chapter 15
“I
‘ve come to terms with my sentencing,” her voice was hollow, “he has been right all along.” Azahara lay in a few inches of water in the middle of the darkened room that she had come to miss.
Death was crying for the first time, and she wondered if the water was from their tears. This beautiful creature shouldn’t be sobbing, not because of her.
Death approached her, knelt, and placed their warm and inviting skeletal fingers against her face. “You have to fight,” the sun in their eyes, fading as though it were setting over the horizon. “Please.”
“I tried.” Her tone was as lifeless as she was.
“You must try harder,” Death leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Take all of my power, break through his hold on you. Do it, you must.”
Azahara’s own eyes were hazed over, the blues and reds muted. No vibrancy radiated from them now. “Do you know what he did to me when I fought back?”
Death leaned back; the pain on their face should have hurt her, but she felt nothing. “I tried to run. I tried to escape, but I couldn’t see. I saw nothing. Then—” They grabbed her and tore her from the ground, placing her between them and the cloak that took hold. “He showed me.”
The scream that erupted from Death was both powerful and enraged. It shook the void around them, and she knew that the underworld cried out in harmony with Death’s pain.
“He showed me what he had done to me. The bruises, the cuts, the markings; he showed me just how weak I am. Then, he made me feel how powerless I was.”
Around Death, she could see the sun’s soft glow, and she reached out for it. The beautiful aura of its radiance was something she desired beyond life itself. She gently brushed the contours of her dearest friend’s face with shaky fingers. “Light… It was your power that I thought was from the gods.”
Death looked down at her, a face filled with sorrow and pain.
“Death is never the end, which is why we provide the light. The light at the beginning of a new life. You are their light, and now I wish I had never given you a choice.” Tears of gold streamed down their face.
“I should have taken you when I had the chance. My love, my light.”
“You gave me what no one ever did,” feeling a soft tug on her heart, she knew she was being dragged back to her version of hell. “I thank you for it.”
Another cry bellowed from Death as Azahara was torn away from the warmth of Purgatory and brought back to her reality.
“Fight, please. He is looking for you. The Fae. Fight for me, fight for him, if not for yourself.” Death’s final goodbye lingered in her ears as her eyes opened to darkness. Instead of the warm and inviting Purgatory welcoming her, it was her cold and desolate prison.
“Did you sleep well?” The bed shifted beneath her, and she attempted to swallow, but her mouth was too dry to complete such a simple action.
She lay there, motionless, feeling the sheets wrapped around one of her legs while the other hung limply off the edge. Lying on her stomach, she could smell the salt in the pillow, and she was surprised that she had enough liquid left in her body to even cry.
The bed moved again, and she heard footsteps. He circled around to the other side of her and knelt at the bed’s edge. A sinister smile adorned his face as he spoke, “I’m talking to you.”
Finding the strength, she shifted her gaze to his, “Yes.”
Feeling a sting in her leg, she hissed through her teeth, “Yes, Deus Meus.”
He visibly quivered joyfully as the knife he pressed into her leg slowly withdrew.
Her disgust grew as he leaned over and licked the blood, leaving a trail down her leg that made her feel nauseated.
The problem was she had nothing left to project.
He hadn’t fed or given her anything to drink since she arrived.
Death’s words lingered in her mind, “Deus Meus…”
Goddrick moaned, “Yes?”
“I need to eat, please.” Begging had never been in her plans. She had accepted that even if he fed her or gave her water, no power in the world could free her. But she knew Death would never give her false hope.
He ran his hand across her cheek, brushing her hair over her ear. “What do I get in return?”
Piece of shit— She stifled her comment to a thought before answering, “Anything.” Her stomach turned, but there was nothing worse he could do to her that he hadn’t already done.
The speed at which he turned her made her dizzy, and she had to close her eyes to avoid dry heaving. He was straddling her, his hand lifting her head up off the bed. Even before she began to wither, his body overpowered hers. Nearly twice her size, she felt like an ant under a boot.
“Anything?” She could only nod weakly, and he began with a small laugh that grew louder.
Her jaw trembled.
“How humiliating for you.” His lips were on hers then, roughly breaking through the layers of her.
She hated the way he was beginning to taste normal.
How she could smell and taste herself on him.
She didn’t fight, allowing him to have his moment before he pulled away and dropped her head. “Let’s see if that holds true.”
She released a shattered breath and sobbed a tearless cry.
Day 45
He still hadn’t fed her, and after getting nothing in return for her sacrifice, she shut down. It had pleased him enough to leave her alone to suffer in silence.
She wasn’t healing, which was all she had ever asked for. Her exterior mirrored the broken, battered, and beaten state she had struggled with for the past five centuries.
Looking up into the endless darkness, she searched for the hope Death had given her. She yearned to hear Sam reach out in her mind, or Illyan, whichever Fae Death had spoken of. She needed to hear them, for them to remind her she wasn’t utterly alone in this world.
She thought of Jayce on numerous occasions.
How she remembered every single detail from the night before she was taken, only playing dumb to see if he would lie to her.
She thought about how much he cared for her and how, in time, she might have been able to let him in.
Allow the missing piece of her to have him because it called out for it.
Even if her heart still called to Kaed, he would have been okay with that.
Reaching weakly out towards the darkness, she begged for anyone to grab hold and pull her to safety. The sight of the wounds, bruises, and scars he had inflicted upon her shattered every fragment of her that had managed to hold on.
She should never have gotten off the ship.
She should have never accepted coming back when Death offered her the choice.
She should have never fallen in love with Kaed.
She should never have taken her sisters to that temple.
She should never have been brought into this world in the first place.
Sam...
Please...
I beg of you, save me…
Day 47
“Dikos Mou,” the scent of bread made her open her eyes, and the confirmation that it wasn’t a trick of her senses filled her with unfiltered joy. Although she was physically too weak to show it, her eyes widened, and a broken laugh escaped her lips.
A tray of bread, fruits, cheese, and meats sat before her. Next to it, a glass of water.
Pathetic was the only word that she could think of to describe herself in that moment. It repeated in her head as she stared at the food, too afraid to reach for it, fearing that he would immediately toss it to the floor when she extended her hand to grab any part of it.
“What do you say?” Hate was not a strong enough word for how she felt toward him.
“Thank you, Deus Meus.” He forced her to call him ‘her god’ and dragged her through hell to pull out the accent she had disregarded hundreds of years ago.
He stood, and she looked at him as if seeking confirmation.
“Eat.” Pathetic.
Summoning the strength to sit up, she steadied her breathing and ate slowly. Everything tasted better than anything she had ever experienced before. The grapes were juicier, the bread was softer, and the cheese was fresh, nearly straight from the source.
When she took the water, it was challenging not to down the entire glass in a single gulp. She found the restraint and took sip after sip, putting it down to savor what would likely be her last meal and drink for another, however many days.
Time had no concept here, with no light source to determine day and night. Everything was one long, drawn-out day. She knew it had been weeks, with how she began to deteriorate.
Unable to heal, it had even caused her body to change.
Her stomach was sunken, and her ordinarily full face felt like a skeleton.
The bones in her wrists and collarbone were nearly protruding, and she wondered how Goddrick even found her attractive.
She could think the only reason behind it was that he could heal her back anytime he wanted.
That was the next part of her plan, if she could even call it that. At this point, food was all she thought about. Even as he violated her, the thought of eating something filtered out his moans and her cries.
Halfway through the platter, she began to feel slightly better and was able to look at him. He watched her the entire time, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.
“Yes?” He asked, and her back straightened.
Resolved in the knowledge that she had no other choice and that if she ever wanted to be free, she would need to endure further suffering, she uttered, “I’m sorry.” Given how feeble and painful her voice sounded, she would have believed herself if she didn’t know that she was lying.
He also seemed to feel the same, “Oh, and what for? Please, do tell.”
“Everything,” she took a quick drink of water, feeling the nausea rearing its head, “for not seeing that I was truly yours from the beginning.”
“If you think I’m removing your restraints, you are wrong, Little Mouse.” The shackles had never come off, but he had unclasped them from the bed. He complained that fucking her in the same place wouldn’t do him justice.
Shaking her head, she dropped her gaze, “I don’t want to leave.”