Chapter 22 Rhianelle
Svenn looks at me like he sees me for who I am. An imperfect person with flaws and faults just like everyone else. And he still wants me. He cradles me closer to his chest, bundling me in the blanket. His embrace feels like a sanctuary. Nothing can ever hurt me here.
“I’m here,” he breathes into my hair. I fall asleep to the deep, soothing sound of his voice.
A sudden chill slithers on my skin. I open my eyes to the cold open air in a dark and moonless night.
“Svenn?” I call out. He has disappeared along with our bed and the tent. There’s nothing but trees all around me. I glance heavenward to find my bearings from the stars. Not a single one is visible. I am all alone in a weird land in the middle of a thinning forest.
This is strange.
Am I dreaming? It doesn’t feel like the usual setting for my nightmares. I don’t remember putting back my nightgown and yet here I am, wearing it.
It has to be a dream… a vision.
Distant footfalls resound from behind me. I track them quietly to a road filled with several traveling caravans and wagons.
“Careful with the load or the witch will eat your liver,” one of the uniformed men barks. He glances over in my direction.
I’m ready to run if he calls for my capture, but the guard passes me by without question. The others don’t seem to mind my presence around their precious cargos either. I climb into one of the caravans silently.
There’s barely enough space for me to squeeze in between the covered metallic cages. I lift the canvas tarp to look inside. A little lion cub with feathery wings rumbles softly from its sleep. I take a deep breath at the wondrous creature before me.
A sphinx.
There aren’t many of them left in the human world.
Most have migrated Beyond the Veil to live in Avalon over the fae’s Seelie court.
The sound of beating wings prompts me to check the next wooden container.
A pair of pixies raise their heads to me.
These little guys are tinier than my thumb with dragonfly wings on their backs.
“Hi,” I say to them. Their pointed ears remind me of the fae. One of them motions me with his tiny hand to take an acorn. It’s trying to bribe me to get it out of the cage.
“No need for payment,” I say with a smile. I grip the side of the container to lift it.
It’s heavier than I thought. Perhaps it’s tied with some kind of enchantment.
The rest of the trappings are filled with all kinds of magnificent beasts I have never seen before in my life.
I settle next to the sphinx’s cage until I can find something to knock these locks out.
He purrs happily when I scratch underneath his chin.
The weird convoy stops after a long while. I hear some grunts and jostling sounds as the humans begin loading the boxes from the carriages.
“I’ll come back for you,” I whisper to the new friends I’ve made. My heart feels heavy to leave them whimpering in their cold cages.
I stalk the men silently as they gather over a wide field strewn with decrepit cottages and stables. An old, crumbling keep looms far beyond the barren hill. Nausea creeps up my throat over the metallic smell in the air. Some of these guards must be magic wielders.
“Stop crying!” A guard clad in a black robe shouts at the imprisoned creatures, threatening them to behave. He’s struggling to tame a fierce horse—a Noctral. Its sentient eyes recognize me immediately.
“What are you doing?” I pull the warlock by his cloak.
He doesn’t budge. I don’t think he even heard me.
One stumbles into me, the force sending me fumbling to the ground. I wince at the excruciating pain in my back. I almost apologize to the person beside me on the ground until I see her scaly skin mottled and desiccated.
I back away in horror.
This female is one of the folks from the Isle of Belestis, a siren. The wizard drags her lifeless body towards the pile of dead orcs and trolls.
What in the unholy hell am I seeing?
“Don’t do this. I have a family.” I turn to the familiar language.
An elven knight kneels on the ground with several other male prisoners. I recognize the emblem on his chainmail. It’s from an ancient house with no surviving member, the Kiritengu clan.
I gasp when the warlock slits his throat without warning. They drain his blood into a chalice. The fae does not plead, knowing it will do him no good. Neither does the dwarf lined up behind him. I refuse to look when the blade strikes again and again.
A terrible realization finally sinks in my stomach as I turn my head left and right.
Gods have mercy.
The men are rounding up these unique creatures for slaughter.
I race as fast as I can towards the nearest metallic crates. A rare flower fairy blinks its almond eyes at me. The Fawünans are thought to be long extinct. I offer my finger through the narrow bars to comfort her. The creature takes it warily with a nervous smile.
My eyes scan the surroundings, looking for any weapon to break the container. I release her tiny hand and aim for the pitchfork from the nearby barn. The wooden handle may be rotten, but it will do. I whirl around to see two men are lifting the Fawünan’s container from the wagon.
I chase after them with all my might, swinging my weapon.
“Release her!” My words fall on deaf ears. The strange men remain unharmed even as I stab them. They can’t feel or see me like these beasts can.
“You can’t do this.” I try snatching the box from their hands desperately but it’s useless. It feels as if I have been disembodied, my spirit roaming the land helplessly.
The crates are carried towards the center of the clearing one by one, to the sacrificial stone slab. I hear their cries, full of agony and suffering. I need to get them out of here.
An odd entity with a lithe body made entirely of flames tries to burn down its container. I grab the rods to assist the fiery being.
Help me.
I pray for the strength from the Un to peel the cage so the fire monster can escape.
I’m tampering with one of the arts decreed as forbidden by the Aeonians but I don’t care.
The skin in my palms cracks and bleeds but at least the iron struts are starting to bend a little.
The creature inside stares at me with hope.
Any warmth left in my heart is crushed when a wizard hauls the flame monster by the neck and carries it to the altar. I launch to tackle the sorcerer, biting his hand desperately. My punches and teeth meet nothing but air.
No. No. No.
The mythical creature screams and screams as he raises his knife. Its haunting screech fills the cold night air.
Despair tears through my chest. No matter how I try to protect the prisoners, it’s useless. I don’t know what else to do.
“One, two, pull!” The warlocks heave as they drag a giant black wolf to the butchering block.
This is the last resort I have. I lay my body over the beast, covering him from harm. A pair of shiny blue eyes gazes into mine. The wolf whimpers sadly, telling me to run away.
I shake my head.
The blade descends on us both. I am unharmed, but the wolf is no more.
“No!” My maddening scream pierces the night air.
Several colossal crystalline enclosures are pushed to the center. I know exactly the kind of monsters the salt prisons are meant to keep. I’ve seen a glimpse of them through Kheirall’s gate.
The Fallens.
Even dwellers of the Hollow are not spared from this horrible ritual. I try to help them, but all my attempts are futile. I’ve never felt more like a failure. There’s nothing else to do but follow the men carrying the chalices towards the keep.
Anger fills me as I storm through the door. Why are they doing this? I rush past the dark, stained walls straight into the main hall.
A deep pool at the lies at the center, filled with blood of the sacrifices. Lounging near the edge is a beautiful woman with long blonde hair. Her heavy fur robe falls from her slender shoulders, revealing a dress as scarlet as her lips.
“Is it done?” she asks demurely. I am sure she is speaking no language I know, but somehow I understand her.
The man in black gives her a satisfactory answer.
She claps her hands with delight. “Fantastic. Now bring me my boys.”
The guards shove five men into the room. They are chained over their hands and ankles, their heads covered with a bag. The men are forced to kneel in front of the witch.
Are they lined up to be killed too? I can’t watch this anymore.
The dark-skinned man on the right end seems to struggle the most. A nod from the witch and a guard takes off the drape covering the man’s face.
“I take it back. This is not what I want,” the man says desperately the moment they remove the cloth stuffed in his mouth. Sweat trickles down his beautiful face. The wicked enchantress strides towards him.
“You wanted to know if there is life after death,” she croons, running her finger sensually from his temple to his jaw. “Knowledge comes with a price, Bas.”
“I’ll do anything if you let him go,” the prisoner in the middle says. I know that voice.
Svenn?
I go as still as death the moment they reveal his face. His hair is shorter, but there’s no mistaking the strong, sharp lines that outline his handsome features. He is my Svenn. It’s taking all of my willpower not to run to the man and shield him from her.
I know now that this is something I must witness.
“Do you truly mean that?” She prowls closer to him. Those sharp, wicked eyes roam over him and it sickens me.
“You’ll have my undying loyalty,” Svenn says in a single breath.
Her gaze shifts to the lean young man crying beside Svenn. “You’re right. Maybe Ruth is not cut out for this.”
“Spare my brother. Take me,” he offers again.
She seems to consider his request for a moment.
“But why should I when I can take you both?” She laughs cruelly.
The warlocks force the men to drink some strange concoction from a silver, ornamented goblet.