Chapter 36 Azahara #2
“Stop speaking of them that way.” Her jaw clenched as she leaned toward him. “What do you want?” She emphasized each word, ensuring there would be no misinterpretation that she was over this game. It was now clear that he knew much more about her than she originally thought.
Jaakobai moved away from her then, and she felt free. “Have you heard of the Four Points of Rah’s Star?” He began pacing the room.
“Yes—” She had learned about them through her sisters schooling but didn’t understand why he was asking her.
The story of Rah was nearly reaching seven thousand years old, dating back before the Conquering of Parádeisos and the rule of the Fae.
These Four Points were merely a construct representing how the realm viewed itself.
“Good.” As if he had instantly teleported to her, he was once again in her face.
She gasped, and he let out a low laugh. “You know that the Four Points were granted to Rah in the recreation of this realm and all the realms we know today.” His fingertip pressed against her left cheek.
“Power.” His nail traced to her nose. “Deviltry.” Slowly, he moved it down her lips to her chin.
“Light.” Then up to her right cheek. “Magic.” Finally, he finished at her forehead. “Rah.”
He pushed her forehead, causing her head to thump against the wall. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with the legend, then.”
Azahara was growing tired of hearing his voice. She would edge closer to the door each time he looked away, even if it were just by an inch. “Minor details.” Her tone was flat, unamused by his history lesson.
“A new host for the Four Points will emerge to reshape a broken reality. And Azahara, our reality is quite broken.” He turned away from her and walked toward the window.
She looked at the door handle, knowing it was likely locked, but moved towards it anyway.
“You have two of the four.” It gave her pause.
“Light and now Deviltry.” Her chest felt tight as her fingers wrapped around the brass hardware of the door and pushed it downward; to her surprise, it opened.
As quickly as she opened it, the door slammed in her face.
“I told you not to run, Azahara. I’m not done talking. ”
It was as if her body was being pulled by a rope as she was thrown across the room. She crashed through the armoire and sent several vases with roses crashing to the floor. She crumpled into a heap of broken wood and glass with a groan.
“You are only missing Magic and Power.” He walked across the room to her as though nothing had happened. “I’m here to provide one of them.” The only way someone could take the Magic from a Fae was to consume their wings. The thought of doing that not only disgusted her but also angered her.
Through gritted teeth, she said, “And you’d willingly give me your Magic, hmm?” Not that she would accept it. This entire story was brought about by delusion.
As she pushed a piece of oak off herself, Jaakobai crouched in front of her. “Absolutely not. First, you would need to give me something, and only then would I provide the wings of an Elder to you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and concern furrowed her eyebrows.
“Become mine and yield your powers to me.” It would have been a joke if he didn’t look so serious. “I will teach you how to use them, make you the strongest being this world has ever seen. Fix, reshape, and make it better than it has ever been in history. Ruled by the Fae.”
“You’re delusional,” she said, laughing without humor and looking down at her hand in pain, a shard of glass sticking out of it.
“You only say that because you are blinded by lies. You hid behind your wards; you haven’t seen what this world is.”
“I see plenty,” she spat, pulling the glass from her palm with a groan, “and even so, you forget that Power, represented by Dragons long gone after the War of Ilkiz, is no more.”
Jaakobai moved his hand to her throat, rubbing his thumb against the vital spot. His nail scraped, and she felt him cut into her skin. “Or so you think.”
She needed to keep this ridiculous conversation moving. “Whose?”
“Whose… what?”
“Whose magic?” she pressed.
He took that as a sign she was intrigued, judging by the smile that played on his lips. He couldn’t have been more wrong. “My father’s.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You would give me your father’s wings?” She felt her heart racing, her nervousness evident in its increased rhythm as she played the cat and mouse game with a Fae.
His hand grasped hers and pulled her to her feet. He placed his hand under her chin, and it wasn’t gentle. “If you did as I commanded, I would give you everything, including that god’s head on a spike.”
Her eye twitched, confirming that he knew everything about her. He was aware of everything that had been said or done in her home.
“Would you fear me?” As she stepped closer to him, she could feel that he was becoming excited.
The prospect of her obeying his commands was arousing him, which disgusted her to no end.
“Your theory of me would make me more powerful than you. Who’s to say I wouldn’t turn on you after you’ve given me what I wanted? ”
Jaakobai didn’t waver as she had hoped he would.
His arm snaked around her, pulling her close to him.
“You wouldn’t, because I’d kill your little lover boy, Illyan, and the Vaeragi female.
Anyone you care about, honestly.” Her hands began to tremble with such intensity that her teeth chattered.
“I can use them as leverage now to make you mine, but I’d rather you make the smart decision and do it yourself. ”
You can protect them. Protect them.
“Ask me again, then.” Her hands balled into fists to steady herself. “Ask me to be yours.”
His hand roughly gripped her throat, but she kept her eyes on him. He brought their lips mere inches apart, and she could feel his words brush against her tongue. “Become mine, princess, and let us restore this world to its former glory, ruled by the Fae, with order and total control over Magic.”
A graceful smile crossed her lips as she took a deep breath through her nose. The air felt thin again as clarity set in. “No.”
Genuine surprise registered on his face just as her fist met his chin. Chattering teeth sounded as he cried out in pain. Her knee then slammed up and against his groin, causing him to release his grip on her.
She stepped back and, with a rounding kick, sent Jaakobai crashing into the wall beside them. He quickly got up, blood trailing down his nose and lips. The pure rage that stared back at her was unnerving, but she didn’t falter. It was then that he noticed her dress had been hiked up over her knees.
“Like I said”—he wiped the back of his hand over his lips—“it was a courtesy to ask.”
He lunged at her, and she quickly delivered a punch straight through his open arms, slamming her fist into his nose. As he tumbled forward, she turned and used her shoulder to shove him up and over, flipping him, with some effort, onto his back with a loud crack.
She lifted her leg and slammed it straight towards his head. Fortunately for him, he rolled away and used his momentum to counterattack.
He tackled her, taking them both down with his full force, straddling her and taking her throat into his hands.
Recognizing a familiar position, she remembered the training she had received from Zhal during their weeks in the desert.
Her mind flashed back to that moment, recalling exactly how to escape.
Kicking her legs up, she hooked the back of her calf around Jaakobai’s neck and pulled him backward. He struggled, but her legs were stronger. One of his hands released her neck, and she used that opportunity to slam both of her fists down onto his forearm.
He gritted his teeth and suppressed a scream, allowing her to throw him off her and roll to her knees.
“Enough of this.” As she prepared to charge again, a pulsating feeling of lightning surged through her.
There was no holding back the screams of pain as every part of her vibrated and convulsed. Her voice filled the room and echoed out the window. The Magic coursing through her was nearly as agonizing as it had been in So’ol.
Falling to her hands and knees, she clenched her jaw.
“I like it when you’re on your knees for me.”
Suddenly, a feeling of weightlessness enveloped her body.
A point of clarity in her mind urged her to approach, and she did.
The pain slowly dissipated the closer she got, and a strange sensation of warmth tingled in her fingertips.
When she was close enough to touch it, like a flame meeting oil, her body absorbed the blaze.
Her eyes shot open, and the numbing electricity dissipated around her. A soft glow emanated from her skin as she stood and gazed at a terrified Jaakobai.
A single step closed the distance between them, and she delivered a forceful blow to the side of his face, sending him flying into the window frame. The glass shattered on impact and scattered across the floor below him. His eyes dilated as a rage-filled grin spread across his lips.
The light around her body began to dim, and a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She swallowed but didn’t budge, her foot sliding towards him. Without thinking, she charged at him; he would fall from this window. Whether he died or not was not her concern.
“Ah, ah, ahhh—” A disapproving voice came from over her shoulder, surprising her and causing her to stumble.
“Fuck—” She stopped and turned quickly, seeing the Fae female from earlier who had brought her food, and Anthurium in the doorway.
“Down, girl.” He lifted his fingers, and immediate pressure forced her flat to the floor. There was no moving with the weight pressing down on her, and she cursed under her breath.
“I had it,” Jaakobai ground through his teeth, moving to kneel before her.
“Why is she here, Jaak?” Anthurium was angry, and it seemed like he was spitting while he spoke. “Are you a fool? She wouldn’t hesitate to use her black Magic on you, and here you are, lusting and being blinded.”
It became apparent that they were on opposite sides of the table when it came to her.
“My apologies, Father,” Jaakobai said as his hand caressed her cheek.
“And on the night of the Rite? Foolish.” She tried to look at the angered Fae, but she could barely shift her eyes from gazing at Jaakobai’s feet. “Take her back before I send you both down there.”
“W-Wait…” Azahara called out when she felt hair tickling against her cheek.
Jaakobai whispered, “Speak of what we discussed, and I will kill the Elf without hesitation.” He placed a hand on her back, and the pressure released.
She could move, but it did little to ease the severe pain in her heart.
They were taking her back downstairs, and her one chance of escape had vanished.
He wasn’t gentle when he lifted her off the ground and tossed her over his shoulder. The air was quickly knocked out of her, causing her to cough and take unsteady breaths.
Her energy was depleted, and she felt even weaker than when she had arrived, which seemed impossible.
She wanted to vomit, even contemplating doing so all over his back for a moment. But for her own sake, she held back and swallowed roughly. Who knew when she would get food again. Her stomach needed to stay full for as long as possible.
Don’t give up. If you do, all your suffering will have been for nothing. Don’t give up.
Before she knew it, the smell of her prison filled her nose, and darkness enveloped her. Jaakobai had one hand between her thighs as he opened the first door of the circular dungeon.
“Think about it, princess.” The next door swung open, and he pulled her down from over his shoulder, letting her fall to the damp stone floor.
“Your suffering could be minimal if you just do as I command.” He stepped over her and dragged her a few feet into the cell before walking out and closing the door behind him.
He said nothing more and slammed the gate to the hallway. The sound of his footsteps slowly faded into the background.
Azahara lay there, gazing into the darkness of the room. Tears streamed from her eyes. Her body ached, but mentally, she was shattered. The physical pain would inevitably subside, but piecing back together her fractured mind would be too much.
“Sunshine?” The monotone voice called out to her, and she turned her head towards its direction. She wished she could see the speaker, but the darkness was even more oppressive than before. “Oh... Sunshine...”
She shifted slowly, extending her hand through the bars toward the voice. She didn’t mind that her cheek pressed against the damp floor.
“I can’t,” the voice replied.
“Please.” Her voice cracked as she sobbed. “Please.”
“What happened, Sunshine?” It was puzzling how such a flat voice could convey concern, but it did.
“He lost,” she said, pushing against the bars, her fingers spread as if reaching out for the voice as though it were a tangible presence.
At first, there was silence and no movement. Her palm faced upward, a silent plea for him to take it. The cold bars dug into her shoulder, and the sharp bolts pressed into her chest, cutting into the frail fabric of her dress.
After a few more seconds, a hand appeared through the bars. The gray color and wrinkled fingers surprised her, but she didn’t pull away. They were frail, and she knew they would crumble to ash with too much pressure.
He placed the tips of his fingers into hers, as that was all they could manage.
“That’s my girl...” Tears continued to fall from her eyes as she smiled into the darkness. “I am going to get you out of here, Sunshine.”
“What is your name?” She ignored him. That is a fantasy he tells. A story for children to hope and dream.
There was no response; his fingers remained unmoving.
“Sam. You feel like a Sam.” She answered her own question.
“Sunshine.” There was a break in the monotone voice, and she could swear the voice had emotion. Her vision blurred as her lips curled into a smile. “Sunshine, stay awake.”
“That name is growing on me.” Her voice was a soft huff of air.
“Don’t go, please; stay with me.” The voice was more human now, no longer devoid of emotion.
“Thanks for trying, Sam.”
“I promise...”—it was so quiet then—“...to save you this time—”