Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Nina
Every word Elise spoke, which was not many at all, was venomous. She seemed built for the palace, all icy cold and quiet, gliding through extravagant corridors lined with mirrors and imposing portraits.
She led me through high-ceilinged halls, past tall arched windows spilling crimson light across the inky-blue tiles. She warned me not to descend the wide staircase leading to the catacombs beneath the palace, but didn’t explain why.
What struck me most was the silence. There were no servants, no guards, and not even the scrape of a shoe in the distance. It was as though the place had been abandoned, except for Elise, perfectly at ease in the stillness.
My skirt and waistcoat did me no favours. Sweat slicked my back, and the fabric clung to my skin as I fought through the heat.
Warm welcome – emphasis on warm.
Elise claimed the palace had over twenty levels, but I could only set foot on the first three.
The uppermost floors were reserved for the souls who’d already surrendered to Temptation.
Elise listed their pleasures with a touch of delight: soirees, unending orgies, public punishments that passed for celebration.
I had no desire to mingle with the damned.
She kept glancing at me, expecting me to pocket one of the many bejewelled vases.
If I breathe too hard, I might start screaming.
With so many treasures gleaming under the crimson light, the thought almost tempted me. But nothing here was worth stealing.
I was dead.
And nothing was valuable unless it could buy me a way back to life.
“Is this your palace?” I asked, my voice breaking the suffocating silence.
Elise stopped, turning just enough to flash a cold smile. Then she laughed, a harsh cackle that grated against my nerves.
“Hardly,” she said, the word dripping with scorn.
I bit back the urge to snap at her and quickened my pace to keep up.
As we rounded a corner, the corridor split into three branching paths, and I nearly collided with someone coming from one of them.
Thank the Mother, there are more souls here than just Elise.
Stumbling back, I faced a man who couldn’t have been older than forty, though it was hard to tell.
His tangled brown hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in weeks, and a scraggly beard framed his face.
His coat appeared to be stitched together from several others, none of which matched.
He blinked at me, wide-eyed, as if I’d startled him.
“Oh,” he said softly. “Are you real?”
I didn’t move. “I think so.”
“Good. Some of them aren’t.” His eyes darted over my shoulder. “Hard to tell these days.”
I nodded as if I understood.
I really didn’t.
“I’m Jules,” he added.
“I’m—”
“Nina. The new Champion.” His faint smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I came to see if you’d remember.”
“Remember what?”
“What you left behind.”
A shiver snaked down my spine. Before I could decide whether to laugh or run, Elise stepped up beside me with a groan.
“Enough of your riddles,” she snapped.
“People say that a lot.” He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Usually just before something terrible happens.”
“Get lost, Jules,” Elise said through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t be walking the hallways.”
“I wanted to meet the Champion. She could bring real change.”
“I doubt she’ll bring any change whatsoever, just like the rest of them.”
“We’ll see.”
Elise’s voice dropped low. “Keep this up, and he’ll hear about it.”
Jules didn’t flinch. He clapped once, the sound cracking through the corridor. “Oh, I hope so.”
Then he turned, whistling a strange, off-key tune, and wandered into the corridor’s shadows like he’d forgotten we were ever there.
Elise turned on her heel and resumed her steady stride. I kept up a steady pace behind her.
We rounded another corner, and came to a dead end. Ahead loomed a set of ornate doors carved from polished wood and inlaid with swirling gold patterns. Elise stopped when we reached them.
“Go ahead,” she said with a bored expression.
“What’s behind the doors?”
Elise gave a small, theatrical roll of her eyes before she pushed them open to reveal an exquisite space. Obsidian walls and decadent oak-panelled floors greeted me.
I crept inside, awe parting my lips.
The high ceiling was studded with dazzling shards of crystal that refracted the crimson light seeping in through the glass doors leading to a balcony. A towering four-poster bed stood against the far-left wall, covered in silk bedding that shone like liquid gold.
“If you want anything,” she said, the words clipped, “it will come to you.”
I looked at Elise, whose angular features and cold attitude were well-suited for this place. “Come to me?” I echoed, my voice hollow. “How does that work?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped back into the corridor, the heavy doors shutting behind her.
By the stars, the souls in Hell are wicked.
I exhaled, taking a hesitant step forward. Finally, alone, I could take a moment to assess. The invisible pressure on my chest eased slightly, granting me a sliver of peace I hadn’t felt since home.
Not since I built a fire with Tobias in our dusty cottage.
That moment now felt a lifetime away.
I looked around the room – a bedroom, but whose was it?
Suddenly, a sickening thought grew in my mind.
Was I here to serve someone? Was I just flesh for someone’s pleasure?
I noticed the velvet chaise longue to my right and a table laden with different delights: fruits, cakes, and cream desserts. The sight made my mouth water and my stomach groan.
But why am I hungry when I’m already dead?
I made a mental note to ask questions later, but I wasn’t sure who I would ask or if I’d like the answers.
Nestled among the plates was a small bowl filled with cream desserts, which I’d loved as a child.
Then my gaze drifted to the stack of golden and flaky pastries.
The smell pulled me back to mornings spent by the river with Tobias, gorging on baked treats.
That was all before we arrived in the village.
I was in Hell, where endless torment and punishment reigned, nothing but vile and eternal damnation (or so the stories told). Did my torment begin later, or were these treats a trick? A lure to pull me in before the real suffering started?
Cute. But I’m not that easy to deceive.
Unease prickled away at the thought of what lay ahead.
Was I going to be tortured? Burned alive for all eternity?
Or would it be something more sinister, where I lose memories and feelings and emotions until nothing was left?
Like a slow corrosion rather than an explosion of pain.
I didn’t know which fate would be worse.
And then there was him. Leander. The man from The Crossing with an infuriating smirk. Was he to be the one in charge of my suffering or just another cog in the machinery of this place? Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Elise were to be my tormentor. She’d be a natural.
I plodded into the bathroom – a cream-walled space with a wide shower and oval tub – and collapsed onto the cool stone floor.
The twinge in my hip had grown to an agonising throb that crawled down my thigh.
I pulled my skirt up, loosened the strap around my leg, and rubbed at the joint.
The pain always settled deep in my bones, but massage offered a sliver of relief.
I heard the main doors creak open, and my eyes widened at the noise.
“Who’s there?” I spluttered.
“We’ve come to serve, Champion.”
I pushed myself off the bathroom floor, the ache in my hip flaring.
I stepped back into the bedchamber, where two strangers had claimed the room.
The man grinned first. He had high cheekbones and smouldering eyes, and a tray of food balanced in his hands.
Beside him stood a woman with hair like spun silver.
Neither wore much clothing. Thin scraps of cloth covered their intimate parts.
The woman’s top barely covered her, and the underside of her breasts was on display.
The man’s wrap hung loose around his waist, and could fall away any second.
There was too much skin and bare muscle gleaming in the light.
I was suddenly very aware of the sweat that had beaded above my brows and dripped into my eyes.
There were, obviously, more people in the palace. I wasn’t alone in this place of torture.
Thank the Mother.
“Whatever you desire, Champion,” the man said, his voice smooth and velvety, “it’s yours.”
“Some answers would be nice,” I said, wiping the back of my palm across my forehead. “For starters, do you know why I’m here?”
“In Temptation?” he cooed.
“Not that – well, yes, that too – but I mean here in this room.”
“These are your chambers, of course,” he said.
That’s unexpected.
“What is it you desire?” the woman purred.
I stepped away, distancing myself from them as my stomach twisted even more.
“My name is Auron,” the man said. “And this is Pernella.”
“Hello.”
That was all I could muster.
“What would you like from us?” Pernella said.
Their presence was overwhelming. I couldn’t deny that magnetic pull. It felt warm yet wrong, like strings tightening around my entire body. I forced myself to look away, focusing on the window instead.
“I don’t want anything. Thank you.”
“Don’t be shy,” she said, coming to stand beside me and holding the goblet up. “We’ve been gifted to you for the night.”
In my book, people are not commodities to be gifted. Period.
“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t want anything.”
They still didn’t leave. They loitered, their eyes bright with something mischievous and knowing.
The man moved closer, and honeyed wine drifted up my nose.
My pulse fluttered, and for a moment, I felt an inexplicable urge to reach for the goblet.
The thought was fleeting, but it sent a jolt of panic through me.
“Don’t be afraid,” Auron said. “We were like you long ago.”
“Like me . . .”