Chapter 41
Ashuddered breath came in response to his request, and for a moment, Dominic thought Adara would make him sit in silence, focused only on the ache of her stitching him back together.
On the sharp sting of the cuts. On the bruises that had begun to turn black and blue.
On the nausea that curdled in his stomach, his blurred vision, and the throbbing in his head.
On the icy claws of his powers scraping along the inside of his skin and bones.
As if it could claw its way out of the dark, empty void inside his chest—where it resided in place of his heart—and return to the light.
The pain was becoming so unbearable he thought he might fall unconscious again.
But as sweet and painless as that oblivion would be, Dominic worried he wouldn’t wake from it.
He needed her to distract him, and her stories always piqued his interest. She’d tell of a faraway world he’d never known, of unheard-of gods and powers and kingdoms—all of which she claimed to be true, yet he’d never heard anything like it.
Her eyes met his, full of grief and longing.
“In a land long since forgotten,” Adara began. Her nimble fingers worked expertly to mend his wounds. He sighed and closed his eyes, lying his cheek against the couch. “There lived a princess, whose only dream was to light up the world.”
Another piercing stab of a needle had Dominic wincing, but it soon faded as he focused on Adara’s melodic voice.
“Her kingdom was beautiful. A stone castle set high up on a verdant hill, turrets so tall they grazed the stars. A mote of lava flowed around the castle, though the rulers kept the drawbridge down, arms open and welcoming to those that dwelled in the city below.”
Dominic imagined the glorious land. A palace of stone lit by the firelight at the darkest hours, starlight raining down on the castle, leaves rustling in the breeze, and city lights twinkling in the town set at the bottom of the hill.
“They’d made peace with the other kingdoms . . . all except one. The one they’d thought had been constrained centuries ago.”
Dominic drew in a sharp breath, lips pressed together as the needle continued to weave through his back.
“A seer told of a prophecy that claimed the princess would be the savior or the destruction of their continent. The kingdom did their best to keep the princess in hiding, afraid of what others would do with the prophecy’s information, but it was no use.
Their heir was stolen by the shadows, no trace of her left behind.
“The ruler of Zenura had discovered the prophecy and planned to take matters into his own hands, determined to be sure the princess would be everyone’s destruction.”
Dominic remembered the Kingdom of Zenura from Adara’s other story—the one about the goddess she was named after—and how tyrannical the ruler was.
He recalled that Adara said the goddess left the kingdom in ruin and disappeared into the mountains, leaving the other five of her friends to build their own kingdoms. Perhaps, an heir of Zenura had survived and rebuilt the empire.
Adara finished stitching one of the lacerations, applied a healing salve, and began the painful process all over again. He looked at her expectantly, patiently waiting for her to continue.
She bit her lip and glanced at his wounds before speaking again.
“She was more powerful than they imagined, her magic running deep and strong. They intended to break her down, yet what they didn’t know was that the years of torture she endured only made her stronger.
There was not a single part of her that had not been destroyed in some way, but she chose to take those broken pieces and make herself into something to fear.
She let the innocent princess she’d been born die, and became the monster they turned her into. ”
Suddenly, this story wasn’t merely about some young princess in a faraway land, Dominic thought. When he imagined the story playing out in his head, all he could see was Adara in her place. Cut and torn into ribbons, bones shattered into pieces, skin marred with scars.
Those jagged scars on her back flashed in his mind.
“Eventually, Zenura captured the heirs of the other four kingdoms along with a rebel leader they rooted out of their own empire. They used the heirs against each other, tormenting them in different ways. Sometimes, they made the others watch. Sometimes, they’d have to sit in their rusty, dank cell as one was dragged away by a guard.
They’d hear the screams and the crunch of bones, smelling the blood all through the night while wondering if their friend would return alive.
” Adara shuddered, drawing in a deep breath from her nose, taking in the musty air.
Dominic wanted to reach out a hand to caress her cheeks that were flushed with fervent emotion. But the callousness in her eyes had him straining to stay away, worrying that she’d use that needle for something other than his sutures.
“Somehow, they’d found a way to get inside the heirs’ minds—the shadows.
“They’d made the princess believe she had slaughtered her friends, burned all the kingdoms to ash.
Little did the heirs know, it was all some sort of sick experiment to build the ultimate weapon.
Why destroy a continent when you could enslave one for your taking?
All their physical suffering had been a way to make them invincible.
“The Shadow Empire would cut them open, break their bones, inject them with poison, all to see how they reacted, how quickly they’d heal and discover a way to heal them faster.
They were tortured and experimented on to make them into some kind of invincible soldiers.
Their will was broken down to nothing, making it easier for them to succumb to the emperor’s brainwashing. ”
Adara took a moment to herself, turning away from him.
Her hands trembled, and she curled her fingers into tight fists.
She drew in a long, wavering breath and bit her quivering lip as she returned her gaze to his wounds.
Dominic rested a reassuring hand on her thigh—muscles aching in protest at the movement—as she kneeled over him, still working on his injuries.
He prayed that maybe this was just the story of someone she knew, that all her scars were not the product of this gruesome, twisted story.
But he saw the way she relived every word she said.
“You don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want to,” he reassured her. His thumb lazily rubbed circles over her leg, the fabric still damp with his own blood. “It doesn’t hurt so badly anymore,” he lied.
Adara merely shook her head and went on.
“After being held by Zenura for years, the heirs finally came up with a plan to escape. They’d been captive long enough to figure out the ways of the empire, the paths to exits.
They’d built their strength by sharing their rations.
Little did they know, all of them had already succumbed to the reign of darkness.
They were under the empire’s control without even knowing. ” Adara finished another suture.
His hand fell away from her thigh as she stood to gather more bandages and he suddenly felt cold.
“They escaped successfully . . . Or so they thought. It had all been a trick. They’d been allowed to escape. Hope settled back into them after years of absence.
“And when they thought they were in the clear, Zenura struck. The heirs tried to fight back, but they were taken control of, a mental hold they couldn’t fight.
Except for the princess. She’d been strong enough to resist the control, blood boiling in her skin, igniting the shadows.
Her magic destroyed it. The princess fought back and was able to help some of the others recognize that their thoughts weren’t their own . . . only to watch them die anyway.
“Only three of them remained: the princess, her lover, and her best friend.” Something dark shifted in Adara’s eyes.
“Her lover turned on her, attempting to kill her with every last bit of strength he had. She didn’t recognize the feral rage in his eyes, but she knew he was still in there.
She couldn't fight him, and would die before she hurt him.” Her face had gone pallid, her tone indifferent, her eyes glazed over as she returned with more bandages to clean his wound.
Although her features portrayed no sign of emotion, heat emanated from her skin in simmering waves.
“As he attacked, she only defended.”
Dominic hissed as Adara pressed a damp cloth to his back, wiping away the dried blood. She lifted her gaze to meet his, and he set his jaw in a determined nod, indicating for her to continue.
“The princess ended up in the dirt, her lover hovering over her, with a knife in his hand and a murderous expression on his face. ‘It’s all your fault!’ he screamed, pushing the dagger closer to her chest. Her hands shoved against his, her pleas of mercy filling the air, desperately trying to bring back the boy she fell in love with.
“And she did. As the haze from his eyes cleared and the light began to show through again, she found him able to resist the Shadow Empire’s power.
The princess could see it then—the three of them escaping, returning to their kingdoms after years of being thought dead, returning to fulfill the prophecy and save all their kingdoms—”
The flat, hollow tone of her voice was a stark contrast to the hateful, depraved story she told.
Exhausted, as if all the anger toward the empire had been leached out of her, leaving nothing but this lifeless shell, all emotions lost to the ones she lost along the way, no feelings left to be spared.