XXXII | FROM ASHES
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YOU FAILED.
It was the first and heaviest thought to enter Celvene's mind when she awoke.
Trying not to dwell on it, she jumped to her feet.
She felt bristly rope hugging her ankles.
She was able to move and not fall over, though, which was a promising sign.
But Zelphar promised she'd be dying soon.
Was she already in a holding cell for her execution?
So his servant hadn't been as hasty as he had hoped.
That was good for Celvene, she supposed.
But she'd been moved to a cell far less luxurious than the first—her eyesight adjusted to the darkness surrounding her, and all she could see outside of the cell were a few burlap bags spotted with mysterious stains and a hearty collection of dust covering the broken furniture.
Inside of the cell was an animal pelt, a bucket, and a shriveled lump Celvene didn't want to know the origin of. Paired with the musty odor clinging to the air that invaded all of her senses, she had a feeling it would be difficult to get out of here without a miracle.
Even her bonds were less luxurious. It made Celvene want to slap Zelphar for thinking she was so weak she couldn't escape rope bonds. Given her current situation, she couldn't, but still.
It didn't matter, anyway. Unless a miracle freed her, she would be dead by sunrise.
She clenched her hands into fists, fingers brushing against the rope binding them together. She looked around the cell for anything sharp to use to cut the rope, but it truly was empty save for the sad furniture—if she could call it that—and dustings of cobwebs.
If she could break the bucket, she could've had sharp enough pieces of wood to get through the rope.
That would be difficult without immense strength and two free hands.
Besides, if she had to guess, the rope was enchanted to be unbreakable.
Zelphar wouldn't change her bindings from metal to rope without good reason—aside from metaphorically spitting in Celvene's face—and there was the faintest blue sheen shimmering on the rope.
Head swimming, she stepped back with what space she was allowed, resting her head against the cool brick wall. Her body was aching, her legs were weak, and her heart had twisted itself dry.
Too many revelations had been revealed to her, and she wasn't prepared for any of them: Melantha had killed her king, Zelphar was a vampire, and now, Celvene wasn't sure it was possible for Aizasea to win against Noriya.
Not to mention, she was apparently Virion's daughter.
One of the very few. How was she supposed to make sense of that?
From the few stories she'd heard about vampires and their spawn, they were immortal unless you could strike them in the heart or use sun magic against them. Zelphar could continue to make spawn—and how many of his citizens had he already affected?
The guards were his spawns, or at the very least, mind controlled by his corruption magic.
Even if she was unsure whether it was by choice or it was forced on the guards by Zelphar, she knew he wouldn't stop at his soldiers.
He wouldn't stop until he had an unbeatable army.
And what if every vampire, spawn or not, could use corruption magic?
They'd be a more effective battalion army than anything Fellstride had ever seen.
If she was somehow feeling more defeated than she already was, she'd allow herself to break down on the dirty floor and cry out all her sorrows. But for now, she needed to focus on escaping, and preferably alive. Sobbing could wait.
She didn't have much leeway with her rope's length; as she moved to walk towards the cell door, she had to stop in her tracks to avoid falling flat on her face. Biting back a sigh, she lowered her head. She had no runespowder, she had no ideas, and she had no weapons.
She had no way to escape.
Then footsteps. Silent, but somehow Celvene felt each step through the vibrations in the floor. She couldn't tell if they were above her, below, or to the side. Weren't prison floors supposed to be thick to deter people from trying to dig their way out? Someone must've been above.
The vibrations stopped, but now she could sense someone's presence.
Her head snapped up, and relief flooded her tired body as her gaze settled on Melantha.
Lit by a small flame, red streaked her golden hair, wild and tousled, and blood smeared over her skin.
A gash sliced open her forehead, her nose was at a painfully crooked angle, and dark bruises already decorated her skin.
But she was alive. By the gods, she was alive.
"Melantha," she whispered. She moved to rush to the door, but her legs were met by a taut tug. "How are you alive?"
"My name sounds like a melody on your tongue," Melantha said, a weak smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes were soft, her voice softer. "Leave, Celvene. Escape. Do what I won't be able to."
Celvene was silent for a moment before the meaning of Melantha's words settled in. "No. You're not dying. Not here. Not yet."
A key sprang to life in Melantha's fingertips, and she slid it into the cell's lock.
Her movements were slow. Her voice was pained, choked, like she was fighting off tears.
"Grishka bea, don't be foolish. Zelphar wasn't going to recondition me.
Like he said, I'm replaceable. He could find another soldier exactly like me, if not better, on the streets in a day.
He just said that to placate the guards. "
A click indicated she'd unlocked the cell, but Celvene was more focused on Melantha's injuries and how they were going to escape alive. "How did you escape?"
"Don't worry about that. Now," Melantha shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled out three pieces of paper, "I managed to get my hands on some scrolls. Invisibility for you, and a shapeshifting one for me. I don't know how long you have."
"You don't know how long we have," Celvene corrected. "I'm not leaving without you."
Melantha's eyes met Celvene's. "Do you remember when you helped me with that wind gust spell in school?
How I spent hours poring over tomes, just to mess it up again?
Then you came in and fixed everything for me.
It's still the only advanced spell I can cast, despite not being on the elemental magic track. "
"How is that relevant?"
"Well, I'm paying back the favor now." Melantha opened the cell door, slipping inside and bending down next to Celvene. "Zelphar controls this castle, but I have connections of my own. Not everyone is as eager to serve Zelphar as he believes they are."
"How many people did you..."
"Not a lot. I went to the people I had a feeling didn't trust him. I was blind to it then, but I realized their distrustful eyes and words were far more justified than I'd believed."
"What if they betray you? What if they tell him?" What if you're not telling me the truth?
She shook off the thoughts. It was clear Melantha went through hell to get to her. She wouldn't do that for someone she was trying to get killed.
"That's an issue for me in the future," Melantha replied, and the pressure around Celvene's feet loosened as the rope fell free. So Melantha had nabbed an enchanted weapon that could cut through magic-bound rope.
"How long has it been? How were you able to get all of this? Last I saw, you were unc—"
"Celvene, you're cute, but stop with the questions. They're a waste of breath, and we're going to need all the air we can get."
"Okay. One more question: how do you expect us to escape? There have to be thousands of guards here." Celvene paused, studying Melantha's face as she stood up and cut the rope around Celvene's ankles. "You're not a vampire spawn, are you?"
"What?" Melantha's shock was palpable. Her eyebrows drew near.
"No. At least, I don't think so. Zelphar never turned any of his higher soldiers into spawn.
He... He said he'd figured out a way to make us genuine vampires, like him and his children.
I never wanted to be one. By the way, that was two questions. "
"Well, now you don't have to," Celvene said. When Melantha didn't respond, she frowned. "You're getting out of here, Melantha. None of this is going to be worth it if you're not by my side."
Melantha's response was placing a tiny glowing gem into the palm of Celvene's hand. She then placed one of the scrolls on top of it. Finally, she rested a small dagger on the top; the blade glowed a dark blue.
"I'm getting you out of here, just like you tried to help me in that alleyway in Aizasea, even though you had no reason to not just leave me for death," Melantha said. "You'll know when to use this gem. You'll get outside and it'll be waiting for you. He'll be waiting for you."
"Mel, why can't you just be straight with me? Explain what's going to happen!"
A flurry of footsteps from above told Celvene people were coming, and Melantha knew that as well.
She grabbed the scroll in Celvene's hand, unraveled it, and slapped Celvene's hand onto the faded parchment.
The illusion rune scribbled onto the paper lit up with hues of blues.
In an instant, Celvene's hand became translucent, as did the rest of her body.
"I don't want you to try to be a hero again.
My hero. I can see you. I kept my hand on the scroll when it activated.
So I can tell if you don't run. I don't know if you know how to fight, but avoid it at all costs.
And for your sake, you'd better get out of here, or I'll kill you myself," Melantha said, a small grin on her face.
Perhaps if the situation was different, Celvene would have laughed. Instead, she frowned.
"I'm not leaving you behind," Celvene repeated. "I'll fight you myself if I have to. I've trained for sword fighting." Sort of. "So I don't care how many times you make me say I won't leave you. It's not happening."
The footsteps grew closer. Melantha's hold on her sword tightened, and with her other hand, she fished out a bag of runespowder. "You don't have a choice."
"Dammit, Mel," Celvene hissed, swiping her hand out to grab at Melantha's sleeve. Melantha dodged with ease, scowling at Celvene. "Your life matters too. Why can't you see that? Why can't you leave with me?"
"Don't rupture the spell. I only grabbed one scroll."
"By the gods, you're impossible."
"I know." The footsteps slowed, and as Celvene walked out of the cell, Melantha's eyes grew remorseful, glittering with sadness. There was a door on either side of them; Celvene must not have been thrown into the deepest depths of the prison.
She opened her mouth to beg Melantha to follow her, but she clamped it shut without the word. Melantha wouldn't listen. She never had.
But if Celvene was going to escape, she didn't want to be alone. She wanted Melantha to be by her side.
"Get out of here, little sun," Melantha said before five guards flooded into the room. Celvene scampered back to avoid them, glancing at Melantha, who was in the process of constructing a rune.
Realization settled in. Grishka bea meant little sun. Melantha had been calling her their childhood nickname all this time.
"Where is the prisoner?" the guard asked, looking around with her mouth agape. Her eyes, wide and panicked, tore right through Melantha. She then angled her attention on her comrades. "You're going to make Zelphar kill us. Get her!"
"Not if you fall by my hand first." Before the guards could reach her, Melantha cast her rune, and a sharp gust of air was sent out.
The guards were lifted off their feet, flying through the air and slamming into the wall.
Celvene herself had no control over her body as the wind picked her up, tossing her like a ragdoll through the open door.
A cry escaped her lips, and she grabbed at the air with desperation, trying to find something to slow herself.
And all she could see before she lost sight of Melantha completely was the sight of her body being surrounded by a green glow and the grizzly sight of her transforming into a bear.
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