Chapter 20
MYRA
Mynhos's screams still haunted her dreams. They were the only thing that kept Myra returning to that wretched room without fighting the guards who tugged her down the halls.
She would do whatever she had to in order to protect Mynhos, even becoming a person she hated and despised. Because if Myra was being honest with herself, after everything she had already done, she already hated who she had become long ago.
Still, she couldn't get herself to ignore her morals completely.
Every day, Myra made every effort to hinder any progress without raising the king's suspicions. As Dr. Thorne prepared to inject the poison into the man's neck, Myra let her influence fall from the victim. She flinched as the man thrashed and screamed against the gag in his mouth. Myra hated herself every time the stranger blinked up at her, the pain a thin layer over his brown irises. A desperate plea spread across his features, but the man did not understand what he was asking of her.
While Myra could take away his pain, it would only further his demise with whatever horrid concoction resided inside the vial.
Even though she hated watching him in pain, she told herself it was better than the alternative--than becoming one of those horrid creatures.
According to Dr. Thorne, for the medication to be taken, the victim's heart rate had to be even, and their mind had to be willing. During the trial period, if the victims fought, it prevented the poison from infiltrating their bloodstream.
It was why forcing them unconscious with medicinal herbs wasn't a viable option. There had been too many failed experiments with unwilling patients, and King Domitius wasn't taking any more chances.
So Myra delayed as much as possible. And for a while, her delay went unnoticed.
Abilities like Myra's were temperamental at best. To manipulate one's emotions and weave new ones took time and energy. It was why Kallie had struggled to gain control over her powers for so long. Therefore, the king would not expect success right away.
After all, based on the information Myra had gathered, Domitius had been working on this project for decades. He would not rush it if that meant risking its success.
Every day, Myra gritted her teeth as the man's screams ripped through the room like a strike of thunder shaking a stable. They pierced Myra's eardrums and sent her headspinning, causing her hands to tremble at her side.
But no matter how loudly he yelled or how much he fought against the king's experimentation, no one would come for him. No one would save him.
Even the other prisoners in the dungeons would have had a hard time hearing the screams. The secluded room muffled the noise, making it so faint that some would think they were merely losing their minds. Outside the room, the screams were surely no more than a figment of one's imagination.
And yet, Myra still heard the screams every night as she lay her head down to sleep, as the shadows filled her cell and drowned her. She found herself questioning if the cries belonged to Dr. Thorne's victim, her brother, or if they were simply a nightmare she couldn't possibly escape.
Myra had tried her best, but it wasn't enough--it never was.
Because when Kolen came for her late one day, the chains in Kolen's hands told her everything she needed to know.
"Are those really necessary?" Myra asked, her stomach turning.
"King's orders." Kolen motioned for her hands.
Reluctantly, Myra held them up, trembling.
The metal was freezing against her skin. When he released her hands, they fell, the chains a heavy weight on her frail wrists.
"Ankles, too," Kolen said when Myra made to move.
Her mouth fell open to protest, but the guard was already snapping the cuffs in place.
As she walked out of the cell, a short chain ran from one ankle to the other, scraping against the floor.
Holding back tears that began to sprout, Myra turned toward the usual path.
The guard snatched her wrist. "This way," he ordered.
"What? Why? Where are you taking me?" Myra asked, frantically looking over her shoulder in the other direction.
Was she walking to her execution? And if so, why was she not more afraid?
"The king thinks you need a little motivation," Kolen said, tightening his grip around Myra's arm.
The fear settled in her stomach then. Because if this was not her execution, she was terrified of what awaited her.
They took the steps that led to the main floor, the chains rattling with every step. At the top of the staircase, Kolen peered down at her. "Don't bother screaming. No one will hear you. The king has sent everyone out of the castle this evening just for this little visit. Doesn't that make you feel special?" He smiled wickedly.
Myra gulped as the guard pushed open the door. She squinted when a flood of light streamed in from the torches lining the halls. As Kolen dragged her through the side entrance of the throne room, she looked longingly at the moonlit windows. Salvation was so close, and yet so far out of her reach.
The guard flung Myra to the floor in front of the steps leading to the throne. Her knees slammed against the white marble floors, and the heavy chains cut into her ankles.
Domitius lounged on his throne, his chin resting on his propped-up hand as if bored. With a quick snap of his fingers, the main doors creaked open.
As the newcomers entered, a wave of emotions washed over Myra, sending chills down her spine and setting every nerve ablaze.
Myra turned and nearly toppled over as the chains restricted her movements. "Mynhos?" she croaked, gasping for air.
As a guard led him down the walkway, her brother didn't react, his head remaining slumped and his gaze fixed on the ground.
His blond hair was shaggier than before, and greasy, dull strands stuck to his forehead. Wearing an oversized jacket that sagged over his frail body, the sleeves too long for his arms, and ill-fitting pants, Mynhos was no more than a walking pile of bones. A shadow of the brother she once knew.
Myra's brows twisted together as her heart pounded in her chest.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked in horror, turning to the king as tears burned the back of her eyes.
The king rolled his eyes as if her question was an annoying fly he wished would disappear. He looked past her. "Mynhos, your sister wishes to see you. Lift your head," he ordered.
But when Myra returned to look at her brother, Mynhos raised his head.
With a blank, tired expression, his complexion was as white as the marble walls that surrounded them. A near ghost.
Tears burned her eyes. "What--what happened?"
Mynhos's gaze flicked to the king.
"Go ahead. Tell her," King Domitius said.
"You," Mynhos said, his voice low and haunting. "You did this."
Myra gasped, her heart shattering as she looked up at her brother.
"You left me," he whispered.
"No! No, Mynhos. I never wanted to leave you. I--I--" Myra choked on her tears. Her eyes darted to his injured arm, where the jacket's sleeve was draped loosely over it, shielding it from view.
"You forgot about me," he seethed.
"Mynhos, please," Myra begged through her sobs as she crawled forward. Every word that left Mynhos's mouth was another dagger to her heart.
"If you cared about me, you would do as the king says."
Then, the guards were dragging Mynhos away.
"Wait!" Myra shouted, reaching out. "Wait! Mynhos! I'll fix this. I promise I'll fix this."
But Myra wasn't sure if her brother heard her as the guards disappeared through the side doors. She stared after him, the river of tears falling down the contours of her face. Her throat was on fire as she struggled to breathe.
A hand snatched her jaw, tugging her gaze away from the door.
The king snarled, his calm composure melting away and revealing the true anger beneath it. " That is what happens when you waste my time."
This was all her fault.
She had delayed too long.