Twisted Fate

A small forlorn figure sat coiled tightly in the corner of the dank, shadowed cell. In such a confined space she felt the expanse of darkness all about her, clouding her mind and closing in to constrict any hope she held onto. She debated calling for Eoin, seeing if his mind would hear her and yet she shut the thought away, knowing such action would only make things worse and likely bring him too harm and she loved him too much to have him embroiled in this also. He had suffered too much in this ghastly place already. Her snowy skin remained stained with earlier tears, but the outpouring of grief had only retreated so far, out of view but eating away at her inside. She stared at the bloodstained flagstone floor but did not see, her black eyes glazed over with a dangerous blue sheen, a hint of the power that was lurking inside her, biding its time and feeding from her anguish like a manipulative parasite.

Visions of Alastair hovered in her mind. His wounded body in a crumpled heap on the floor just as she had been told, murdered and ruined by the foul demons of the keep. Images sent both to taunt and to consume her. And yet it was all lies...intended to lure her in her despair and like a gullible fool she had fallen for their cruel trickery. She buried her face further in her hands at the shame of realisation. When that spiteful letter had reached her hand she had let it fall from her trembling fingers, no time to pause, to think, to consider. Her fury and her despair had driven her to the walls of Daeldrolm and there she had been met by that twisted smug malcontent and led to her doom.

Amidst the darkness her shoulders shuddered, hugging herself tighter as she felt that all too familiar fear creeping through her veins. It had been many hours now since they had let Alastair go, set with a challenge and one that her safety and freedom depended on. She knew what awaited her if he should fail and it only sought to drive her further to despair. And yet even hope of his success still burdened her heart for it would be at the betrayal of her own family. The Dark Lord's challenge had been a double edged sword, truly one of spite and seeded from the deepest crevasses of an evil mind. Her porcelain skin began to prickle as if thousands of tiny needles of ice punctured her skin. She grit her teeth but it only intensified as she felt herself drowning in her own anguish; the perfect breeding ground for her curse to awaken from its dormancy. All it needed was the key...

There was magic on the air, dark magic, twisted arts...she could taste it in the air, feel it tremble in her bones. Yet there was also a rune nearby, somehow even down here in the depths of a seeming hell she could feel its seductive dark pull; the lure of that emerald energy and promises of soothing comfort if she should bask in its eerie glow. She felt her pupils begin to burn with an icy chill, one that had begun to sweep through her body, causing her to cry out in pain. But no one came; she only heard her strangled voice echo about the walls mockingly unanswered. Her mind wavered and jolted from one vision to the next, all bathed in pain and misery. Tipping her head back with a snap her blackened pupils began to dilate as she struggled to hold on to an image of hope. But all too soon it was invaded, polluted and soiled by the creeping green aura in her mind’s eye.

She imagined it seeping beneath the door, coiling upwards in a seductive green mist till it swirled around all around her. Feeling her mind slip away she grasped at the soothing respite it devilishly implied to offer; drug-induced was its nature with nowhere to run and no strong elven arms to pull her free from its web. Slowly as if in a dream she rose to her feet, and walked silently like a ghost to the door of her cell. Like a cat she languished against it. Stretching her arms to feel around its edges where she foolishly imagined the runes energy to be strongest. What she would give to wrench it from its hinges and race to the rune, bask in its energy and shut out all despair.

She opened her eyes that had fallen shut in almost sensual imagery and gasped.....the pale shimmer of her arm had turned a deathly white, beyond even her own usual pale tones. Suddenly afraid knowing all too well where this led she stumbled backwards and at that very moment she heard the echoing steps of others drawing near. Fighting back sudden fresh tears she slumped back to the ground and resumed her vulnerable stance, knees hugged to her chest. But she could feel her heart hammering even with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, too afraid to open them to the horrors that loomed. But her fears were no longer limited to the fate of Alastair, Alexander or any that became embroiled in their story......now they took on a far sinister tone, the doors of terror thrown open to the prospect of her own body and the bursting of that secret life she felt ignite inside her....