39. Lina
Lina
I stare out at blackness, knowing it’s an open void filled with lizard beasts. I don’t know how deep it is. I don’t know how wide. I only know that if I fall in, I’ll never come out.
A roar shakes the stone beneath my feet, and I crumple to the ground, clinging to the wall at the opening. The last torch is several feet back, flickering in gusts of air.
Where could wind be coming from down here?
Unless… it’s not wind, it’s breath. I swallow.
When I’d first come through the gates and into the mountain, I was brought past the pit filled with drakai. It felt different than this. Smaller. But maybe that was just my perception at the time.
We walked across a stone platform that had some lighting and guards. So, I don’t believe this is the same location. Is it a different pit? Is it near that walkway?
A grating sound builds. Screeching. The rumbling of a creature growling.
How many are there?
There’s a pressure on my chest. There is a tingle on the back of my neck.
It’s the feeling of being watched.
I should be horrified. Terrified beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. And while I am certainly afraid, I am not lost. My mind sharpens.
If I’ve made it here, it means I could make it out.
I rush back into the hall to steal the torch from the wall and reenter the opening above the drakai pit.
What do you seek? The voice causes me to stumble a step, and I barely catch my balance on the uneven stone wall before tumbling forward.
A deep feeling of ancient magic swirls around. It is restless. Eager.
Freedom , the voice whispers over my skin.
I shiver at the uneasy feeling. Is it just in my mind? Fear can make you think strange things. Am I hallucinating now? Is any of this even real?
I force my body straight and inch forward again, allowing the light from the flickering flame to illuminate the area around me.
Find me.
Light reflects off uneven black stone several feet ahead, so, the pit is not particularly wide. A shadow shifts below, slithering.
Skin so soft. Just a taste.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Surely that’s just my imagination…right?
I don’t see a path across the pit, but beside it, the wall extends to the right, along with a ledge that is several inches wide.
Wide enough to walk on. Not wide enough to feel comfortable on.
I press tightly to the stone, but even then, I am dangerously close to the edge.
Only a few feet forward and I have to stop, panting. Spots line my vision. My fingers tingle.
If I pass out here… I won’t survive.
I force another few steps before stopping. Three breaths, then three more steps. Three breaths, three steps. My foot slips, and I whimper, eyes pressed tightly closed.
When I open them, though, I find an opening up ahead. It’s dim, but there is something there. With trembling breath, I take the final few steps until I reach the wider platform.
I slide down to solid ground, panting desperately. I made it. I don’t know where I am, but I made it across that platform.
A brave one.
A foolish one.
The voices continue, but I ignore them. If I dwell on the possibilities—including that I am going mad—I will never make it out of here.
There are no torches on this side of the pit, but there is a set of stairs.
Will this lead down into the drakai pit or a new area? I take one careful step at a time in case I am met with claws and teeth. But while the chill air remains, the uneasy pressure of swirling magic dissipates and finally I can breathe.
That strange feeling must have come from the drakai, then—or some kind of protection spell.
I am almost tempted to turn back and count my blessings when I hear a cough in the distance. Adrenaline spikes, but I realize quickly it was neither a beast nor a guard. The voice was too soft. Too weak.
Another cough.
A low moan.
I continue forward carefully. The stone softens, shifting into squishy mud that sinks between my toes. I cringe and consider turning back a second time. The smell, still sharp and unpleasant, has changed. I try not to breathe out of my nose to avoid the scent, but it doesn’t help.
My stomach sours with the realization that the muck between my toes is not just mud.
“Hello?” someone whispers. I suck in a breath, eyes searching in the darkness. The voice is soft and feminine. My first thought is Astella.
For one fleeting second, my heart soars at the prospect of finding my lost friend, but terror quickly fills me, and I pray it is not her. If she were here—I shake my head. She’s not. She can’t be. She is off in the mountains somewhere, alone and scared but on her way to true freedom.
The scream from my dream echoes in my mind.
No. She’ll find her family and be happy.
I take in a deep breath, and with it, hope for my friend fills my bones.
Astella will live. She will thrive.
I force my feet into the sinking muck, careful I don’t sink too deep to become stuck. I slip and slide a few feet down until I’m met with rusted metal bars.
I slip my torch between the bars, examining what lies beyond the cell walls but I find more mud, nothing else. No one speaks. But I had certainly heard someone.
I curl my fingers around the cool metal and tug slightly. Firm. A wall of bars, blocking me from whatever is beyond. Is it the route out of here and these bars are blocking me from my escape?
Or did I happen upon the dungeons?
I flinch at another cough, this time closer. “Hello?” I whisper.
Stillness stretches through the emptiness.
I wait. And wait. Unable to conjure the courage to speak a second time.
I release the bar and take a step back when finally, I receive my answer.
“Who—” The voice is weak. “Who are you?” they force out.
“I—I am Lina. Who are you?”
My heart is pounding hard. There’s a shuffling sound and the shifting of something in the shadows. Part of me expects a monster. A drakai. A warrior tricking me. A scelp. Anything but the young woman with pale skin and stringy hair, dragging her body through mud to come closer.
Her eyes are dark. Faded. No light left. Her cheeks are sallow. Her arms are so thin I feel they could break at any moment. Is this what I looked like days ago?
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes meet mine and grow large as she takes me in. She rests her cheek in the space between the bars.
“What is this place?” I ask instead of answering the question.
She looks me up and down. “Where you will end up if anyone finds you here.”
I swallow. “The dungeons?”
She nods, eyes fluttering closed. She coughs again.
“Are you… sick?”
“Starvation does that to a person.”
My stomach twists. Is this the girl who stole the milk?
“I remember you,” she says weakly, looking again at my eyes. “At the bonfire. You refused to dance.”
My eyes widen. She was—she was with me at the bonfire? Is this what happened to the rest who were not immediately killed or deemed useful enough?
“And you became one of them?” She shakes her head. “The irony.”
“What happened to you? Why…” Was she simply not chosen? Is this what happens to those who don’t find a place in the community?
“I was selected as a servant,” she tells me. “My mother was too, but she was taken to a different part of the city. I delivered foods to Drahkita, like you.”
“Then, how did you end up here?”
“I was hungry,” she says, voice shaking. “I just wanted a taste of?—”
“The milk?” I whisper.
Her lips tremble as she nods.
I reach for her hand through the bars and cling to her tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
Looking at her state now, she must have been starved before coming here. It was only a day or two ago she was sent to the dungeons based on what the Drahkita said.
I let the silence linger for a while because I don’t know what else to say. “How many of you are in there?” I peer farther into the open pit of mud, but I don’t see anyone else.
“A dozen or so. A girl in here told me there were thirty or more not long ago. She said we only have a few days before…”
“Before what?”
“The ritual. She said the water will run red.”
I flinch. I want to ask if that means they will kill all of the people in the dungeon at once, but it feels too harsh to voice the thought.
I grit my teeth. “I’m sorry,” I force out. “I don’t know how to?—”
“Nothing to be done, Drahkita. You cannot save me any more than you can save yourself if you are caught.” Her eyes flutter closed.
“Tell me who you are,” I say quickly. I’m not ready to run. I can’t just leave her here.
“I am Alliana,” she says, not bothering to open her eyes. Her lips are chapped. She could have been beautiful too, couldn’t she? If she got care the way I did.
“Where do you come from?”
“I came with my family, seeking aid after the loss of Ruthend. My sister was chosen as a Drahkita like you. My mother and I were chosen as servants. They’ll never know what happened to me.”
“What was your sister and your mother’s name? Maybe I can find them and tell them.”
“No,” she says harshly, eyes flying open. “Don’t tell them. I don’t want them to know. Let them live. Let them believe.”
My heart aches. I think I would say the same.
“If you are here, you are in danger too. Don’t become like me. Like us.”
“But—” Suddenly, my reason for wanting to escape feels hollow. If this is the other option, what I’ve been given is indeed a blessing.
I shake my head. No. Captivity is not justified just because they feed you. They make the alternative so terrible you’re thankful to be caged. They did this to us, both of us.
“Unless you escape,” she whispers. “Get out before he tires of you.”
I blink rapidly. “Before he… what?”
“I’ve heard stories. Many Drahkita come here, to the dungeons, once their…”
“Once their Drak is tired of them.” Does my Drak even want me at all?
“Pleasure him. Make him desire you. That is the only way to save yourself. He’ll do anything for his Drahkita.”
“My Drak doesn’t seem to want me that way,” I utter the words for the first time aloud. My cheeks warm. It is a blessing to be ignored.
But it is also dangerous, I’ve come to learn.
Her eyes fly open. “Then, you must run.”
“How?” I rush out. “How will I find my way out?”
She blinks slowly. “He has a key. Get it from him in anyway necessary. You can use it to get to me, and I’ll show you the way out.”
“Key? I haven’t seen a key.”
“He has one. They all do. You can convince him to give it to you, you can make him want you—but if not…”
I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling very helpless.
“Use the knife you hide. Slit his throat and steal it.”
My mouth drops open. I pat my thigh where my knife is concealed. How did she even know about it? “You want me to… kill my Drak?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “You are connected. He will find you, and he will betray you. Remember, you are nothing more than an object to him. You are quickly becoming more trouble than you are worth; he does not see you as human.”
My stomach sinks. I don’t want to harm him.
Is it my kindness and compassion? Parts of myself I am proud of—or is it na?vety?
His actions have shown that he is not out to harm me, but he is still one of them. He has blood on his hands.
“You cannot trust him. Please do not make that mistake. I can help you get out of here—if you help me. I know the way. We just need the key, and your Drak must be dead!”
My stomach roils with indecision.
Do I trust a girl like me, desperate for escape. Or do I trust the man who owns me?