Princess of Nothing — Chapter 6
A fantasy tale of magic, struggle and survival — Draft 1
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CHAPTER 6
My face slams into the bars of my cell with a resounding thud. The force of the impact breaks my nose. Pain shoots into my sinus cavities as I let out a groan. Touching the leaden bars, even for a moment, weakens me further. My knees wobble as I nearly fall over. The mimic, still in dire wolf form, gets up from where he is lying and lets out a small whine.
I stagger back, cupping my bleeding nose. I’m still wearing the bracelets, noting how they are visible once more — Rec must have lengthened my ‘leash’ moments before shoving me through the portal. Or perhaps the magic is wearing off. I desperately hope that’s true and I am not stuck in them indefinitely.
The familiar taste of copper blooms on my tongue and trickles down my throat. “I’m alright,” I tell the mimic in a nasal voice, even though I’m anything but. His eyes study me through the bars, missing nothing.
I’m surprised by the noise — the display of concern — or perhaps I am reading it wrong. Why would he care? He’s seen me in worse states than this more times than I care to count.
In less than a minute the bleeding stops, my nose rights itself and the puffiness disappears. Suddenly, I realize this is the first time I am in my cell unbound.
Another glance at my wrists.
I suppose these bracelets are more than enough.
Restless, I walk to the far corners — all the areas I normally cannot reach. The mimic silently tracks my every move.
I can’t stop thinking about the vampire who seemed to know me.
Perhaps Rec will be too late. My chest tightens like there is an elastic band wrapped around my lungs. Perhaps that vampire will outrun him — though I have no idea how quickly a serpent demon descendant like Rec can move. Can the vampire win if it comes down to a fight? Normally I would say yes. A vampire’s resilience is a major advantage.
Then I think about how solid Rec’s arm felt under his suit. I push down the skittering feeling that wants nothing more than to send me into hysterics. Who was that male!? Was he a friend? Was he family?
Your father told everyone you were dead.
The vampire’s voice resounds in my mind.
A new thought emerges: I have a father. He thinks I’m dead.
Why would he think that? How long had he searched for me after I was taken? My first memory is waking in my cell. I’m not even sure how long ago that was. Less than a year, maybe?
I can’t stand the idea of a father that I am unable to remember but somehow, already love, mourning my loss — while meanwhile, I am here, trapped in a living Hellias.
Eventually, exhaustion takes me, and I fall onto my cot, but I can’t block out the image of kind hazel eyes as mine flutter closed.
Nxyalia, is that you?
The name strikes a chord in me, playing on repeat as I drift away. It is both a question and a chant.
Nyxalia?
Nyxalia.
Nyxalia.
The air in my cell turns bitter-cold and I jolt awake. The mimic, in dire wolf form, grows still as the area between our cells shimmers. A dark void tears open and out of it steps Rec. Already on my feet, my eyes widen at the sight of him. He is splattered in blood. Blood that smells of teakwood and clove.
Rec turns his ring, the portal shrinks into a pinprick of black before ceasing to exist altogether. He turns to face my cell, his eyes finding mine. There’s something alarming in them as he stalks forward with purpose. His fingers are stained red. Dried blood is caked under his fingernails. He raises his arm and unlocks my cell door. For every step forward Rec takes, I move one step back until I have nowhere left to go.
Rec grabs my wrist, his grip is like a vice. I wince as he forces my fingers to splay open, palm up. “I’ve brought you a souvenir, Faeling,” Rec sneers, dropping a silver ring into my palm. It’s covered in blood but I can still make out the insignia. Even if I couldn’t see the details, I know whose ring it is. “Something to remember him by.”
Something inside my chest splinters. “You didn’t have to kill him!” I snarl, feeling that the vampire matters to me but not knowing why — my hands balling into fists.
Rec smiles, and his viper’s fangs glint in the low light — a mix of blood and venom still coats them. He bit him. I heard whispers of what Rec’s venom can do from the guards. Some say it paralyzes you. Others say worse.
“You’re right. I didn’t have to kill him. He put up quite a fight, in case you are wondering. I could have used someone like him in the pit if he wasn’t so wiley.”
Rec lurches forward.
With a hand on my sternum, he shoves me back against the wall with so much force my teeth rattle and the stone behind me fissures. I feel the sharp, shooting pain as a rib breaks, but almost instantly, it mends. The ring falls from my hand and rolls across my cell. The wind is already gone from my lungs when he wraps his bloody fingers around my neck and raises me off the ground.
His pupils are fully dilated. What sliver remains of his green irises glows brightly. He’s so close, it’s impossible to miss the way his viper’s fangs hook back, ending in needle-sharp points. He smiles in a feral way as I gasp and scrabble at his unforgiving fingers, kicking and flailing in an attempt to pry them from my throat.
Rec is always cruel, but when it comes to me his cruelty has rules. It’s measured and plotted. Right now, he is unhinged and it’s directed at me in a way I’ve never experienced before. The fight with the vampire stoked something in him, and he’s yet to have his fill.
The dire wolf growls behind us — loud enough to vibrate my cell bars.
Suddenly, Rec’s glowing irises fade to their usual acid green as he angles his head to the side — a warning glare.
He finally releases his hold on me. I take in large gulps of air as my blood rushes back to my head.
It’s a short reprieve.
Rec goes for me a second time — the wolf snarls even louder.
Rec stops. When he turns to stare down the wolf — he finds himself looking into the eyes of an identical version of himself.
No. He should not have done that.
Everything looks the same — the clothes — even the dried blood. The only thing the mimic is missing is Rec’s scarlet armband.
It’s eerie, seeing two of him. My stomach flips.
Lightening fast, Rec reaches for my manacle. His pupils have narrowed back to slits. I don’t resist when he fastens it around my ankle, leaving very little give — but I should have — because he marches out of my cell, heading straight for the mimic’s.
My pulse skyrockets. I run after him on instinct but am yanked back by my ankle, falling over. My knees slam against the stone floor as my cell door closes. Locks. “No! Rec, please!!!”
The mimic doesn’t look at Rec as he nears. Instead, his eyes lock with mine. Somehow even in Rec’s form, something about his eyes — I still see him there.
We both know the ward on his cell makes it impossible for him to fight back.
In a blink, he transforms into a different creature. One covered head to toe in hard plate-like scales. Something crumples in my chest as I realize he selects this form for the protection it provides — as Rec lays into him again and again with precise, powerful blows.
I don’t even realize I’m screaming.
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