Chapter 11
MYRA
Myra choked on her tears as she looked at her parents kneeling on the ground of the throne room. Mynhos leaned against her, her little brother's sobs shaking them as they sat helplessly with the king's guards at their backs.
Mynhos hadn't stopped crying since the guards, clad in armor, had kicked down their front door that very morning. When their father had spotted the men heading for their house, their mother immediately peeled open the hidden door beneath the pantry, urging Myra and Mynhos to hide in the hole in the floor.
Afraid of what was to come, the children had begged their mother to stay with them. But the space was too small and could only fit the two children.
With a quick kiss to each of their cheeks, their mother shut them inside, and darkness swept over them, whispering of the coming danger. The siblings gripped each other as boots pounded atop them and shouts filled the humble bungalow.
Somewhere, porcelain shattered, and Myra could imagine the men throwing her mother's beautiful pottery across the dining room.
As the guards ransacked the home, Myra tried to reach out and shift the guards' emotions, but her brother's fear and her own consumed her. To keep his tears at bay and his sobs silenced, she poured all her energy into settling Mynhos's emotions. She tried so hard to keep them both silent. Sweat dripped from her forehead, mixing with her sweat. Her arms ached as she tugged Mynhos close.
But despite her efforts, the guards had still found them.
All the way to the castle, as their hands were tied behind their backs, their mouths gagged and eyes covered, Myra could only think one thing: if she was stronger, she could have saved them all.
But her well of power had long since dried up. Not an ounce of the gift granted to her by the gods--a gift that was quickly becoming a curse--remained.
Even still, Myra refused to give up.
As Mynhos and Myra were forced to sit and watch their parents be interrogated, Myra mustered all the strength she could. She reached out to her parents, to the guards, to the king, but they were all too far to reach.
When she pulled onto the fading threads floating in the air that connected to her brother beside her, Myra's own fear and anguish caused the thread to slip from her grasp. She yearned to hold onto him--to do something. But with her hands bound, she could only scoot as close as possible.
"We must give credit where it is due," the king said to her parents, kneeling shoulder to shoulder in front of him. "Your ability to escape the Crown's notice for so long is commendable."
Her father tipped his chin up, his blond curls soiled with dirt and blood, but it was her mother who spoke. "Do whatever you want to us, but please, leave them alone. They're just children."
King Domitius smiled, but the twisting of his mouth only unsettled Myra even more.
"You are traitors to the Crown. Your fates are sealed."
He raised his gaze, his brown eyes falling upon Myra and her brother, cowering at the guards' feet.
Myra, unable to help herself, latched onto the invisible thread before her. It thrashed with an untamable darkness that burned at the touch. Still, she tried to coax the king's emotions, to bend them to her will.
But when Domitius cocked his head to the side and chuckled, she knew it was useless.
She was helpless. Too weak to save her family.
"On second thought..." The king spun the sword in his grasp, his eyes locked on Myra for a moment before returning his attention to her parents. "I can offer you this. I was going to take the one child, but I suppose I can make use of both."
"Please!" her father begged. "They're only children!"
"You're a monster!" her mother said, spitting on the floor.
"Enough!" King Domitius shouted. He looked at two of the nearby guards and nodded his head. "Turn them around. Let them get one last look at their precious children. Because if I am anything, I am considerate."
The guards stepped forward and yanked Myra's parents around. Her parents immediately met Myra's and Mynhos's gazes.
"We're sorry," her father croaked, his eyes glistening with tears.
"Take care of him," her mother whispered.
Myra bit down on her trembling lip as a tear slipped down her mother's cheek. Her mother never cried, and Myra knew then that there was no stopping the king.
The king shifted, and metal caught the fading light spilling across the floors from the windows. Myra immediately turned to Mynhos, pressing her head against his.
The sword slashed through the air, followed by a thud, then a strangled cry from her mother and a scream from Mynhos.
"Don't look!" Myra urged her brother, her eyes springing open for a second before she squeezed them shut as the blade whipped through the air again.
Yet even with her eyes closed, Myra could still see her mother's head fall to the floor, landing beside her father's.
The king's orders were no more than a distant buzz in Myra's ears as her ears rang. She kept her head pressed against Mynhos, her cheeks soaked with tears and throat raw from her screams. At some point, a guard yanked Myra and Mynhos up. Myra forced herself to look away from her parents' crumpled bodies as the guards dragged her away.
Down, down they went.
Mynhos screamed and shouted, his limbs flailing. Before long, a guard grabbed him, throwing the four-year-old over his shoulder and storming away.
Myra desperately yelled after them, trying to go after her brother. She had to be with him. She needed to be with him. She promised she would take care of him. Yet the other guard merely snatched her wrist and tossed her over his shoulder as well, carrying her through the dark, damp halls beneath the castle.
They passed cell after cell before the guard finally stopped in front of one. Keys jingled in his hand. He ripped open the door. Then Myra was flying in the air, the cell door slamming shut behind her as she crashed onto the ground.
A click ripped through the room, a piercing echo that solidified her fate.
Wiping her tears away, Myra hurried toward the cell door, her heart pounding. She slammed her fists against the door, shouting for her brother.
For hours, she screamed for Mynhos. Her throat was ripped to shreds, but she did not care.
Soon, though, her voice gave out. She pressed her forehead against the cold, grimy door, and her tears fell into her lap.
In the damp cell of the marble castle that dripped with anguish, Myra was completely and utterly alone with only her thoughts to entertain herself as time ticked by.
Her home had been destroyed, her parents were dead, and her brother had been taken from her.
Why was she still alive?
Why had the king not ordered her death, too?
Myra didn't know how much time had gone by.
For the first few days, she could barely manage to push away the grief from her limbs to stand, letting the day's rations go to waste. Soon, her ribcage poked through her stomach, her limbs grew feeble, her body became frail.
Myra tried to have hope. She tried to recall happier days: playing with Mynhos in their garden while their mother sat on a bench embroidering and their father chopped wood for the fire.
But as each day passed, those memories became harder and harder to dredge up.
She dreamed of escaping, clawing through the ground and digging her way out.
She latched onto the single strand of hope that she would see her brother again. She had heard the king saying he would keep both of them alive.
Yet if Mynhos was alive, where was he?
As the last ounce of hope she clung to began to slip through her fingers, the door creaked open, blinding light pooling across the floor of her decrepit prison.
Myra lifted a frail, shaking hand to block the bright flame as a guard shifted, making room for another to enter.
Every muscle in her body tensed as the stench of the individual's emotions draped over her. Myra knew who the man was before her vision steadied.
King Domitius crouched in front of her. The king's blond hair shone bright white in the flickering flames. Half of his face was cast in shadow. When Myra met his gaze, he quirked a brow in befuddled amusement.
She knew she was supposed to drop her gaze; it was what her mother had always told her when the king's guards patrolled the streets. It was a sign of respect--but more than that, it was to deter the crown's attention.
Yet she had no energy to move. She had already failed to avoid the king discovering her, so what was the point of hiding anymore?
"Do you wish to see your brother?" he asked.
"Mynhos?" The first word she had spoken in months left her lips on a gasp. "Where--where is he?"
Myra's heart hammered in her chest. As the king tipped his head to the side, she was sure he could hear it pounding, too.
The corners of Domitius's lips tipped up, but his smile brought her no comfort as darkness swirled within his irises. "What would you do to ensure his survival?"
"Anything."
Boots pounded against the ground, pulling Myra from her slumber. She blinked her eyes open, but darkness blanketed the cell. As the guards neared, the usual clatter of keys did not ring at her cell door or any other.
Fear flooded Myra's body, but the emotion didn't belong to her. This fear was tainted with pain and was bitter on her tongue.
A chain scraped against the floor, metal scratching against the stone outside her cell. But the guards didn't stop; instead, the guard and whichever prisoner they led kept walking, the manacle continuing to screech.
The fear that slipped through the tiny cracks around the door filled Myra's cell until she felt like she was drowning in it.
Her hand flew to her throat as it lodged itself there and overwhelmed her senses. She gasped for air, for a reprieve. Pressing her palm against the wall, she begged the cool temperature to soothe the agony consuming her.
But no reprieve came.
The fear strangled her, like thick black smoke filling a room. It wrapped its tendrils around her body and yanked her to the ground.
Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled to regain her breath.
On her hands and knees, Myra heaved.
Only once the sound of the grating chains and footsteps vanished further and further into the depths of the dungeon was Myra at last released from the torment.
Her limbs shook beneath her as her breathing slowly returned to normal. When she tried to push herself up, her arms and legs collapsed beneath her weight. She fell onto the stone floor, her cheek smacking against the ground with a hard thump . Pain spiked her jaw. As her ears rang, nausea twisted at her stomach until the pain was too much to handle, and Myra retched the little nutrients she had been given.
She knew she should get up but couldn't force herself to.
So instead, she curled on her side, her body trembling and tears streaming down her cheeks as she heard the faint whisper of screams rip through the halls.
As darkness swallowed her, she could no longer tell whom the screams belonged to.