Page 1 of Beyond Those Gilded Walls

ChapterOne

Death was inescapable in the kingdom of Veressia.

Brought in on a red mist that now choked the city, death lingered in the dark stains that were permanently etched into the stones that lined the streets. In the perpetual shroud of mourning that hovered over everyone who dared step out of their homes. In the coppery taste of blood coating the back of my throat that no amount of wine could ever chase away.

But above all, Death was in the specks of crimson that covered my mother’s lips and chin, sputtered out during a coughing fit as she tried to expel the blood flooding her lungs.

Noctisanguis Ciuma, so named by the royal doctors, was an affliction of the blood.

We referred to it simply as the blood plague.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that the cursed plague had fallen, a distant memory of a life not caked in blood. A life not cloaked in death and misery. It was far more than a plague or a disease. It was a curse, a putrid curse that flowed through the lands on rivers of blood. The foul miasma swept through like a tide of crimson, left no corner untouched, no soul unscathed. Its origins were shrouded in mystery and its victims were chosen by a seemingly capricious whim.

It cast its shadow over Veressia like a vengeful deity.

But this haphazard curse condemned our families to death, with only days’ notice, and wreaked havoc on the people of Veressia. Perhaps they would live. More likely, they would not. They would die a bloody and gruesome end.

Through the window of my bedroom, the jagged spires of Castle Auretras jutted up into the night sky like fingers clawing through the covering of mist, a deep crimson in the darkness, as if even the stone itself lamented its cursed existence. But in this land of despair, there was no sanctuary, no refuge from the inexorable march of Death's advance. If Veressia were to die choking on its blood, the castle would accompany us.

As the lamplight danced upon the aged stones, a flickering light caught my eye, beckoning from the shadowed recesses of the street below. There, amidst the shifting red mists, a spectral figure began to materialize, its form coalescing from the veiled tendrils of smoke into the semblance of a man—though what remained bore little resemblance to the living.

Wrenching my gaze up, I looked back towards the castle and away from the Soulshade, the lingering spirits who could not pass over to the Beyond and were instead cursed to walk the world they once lived in, never finding peace. Once, they’d merely been stories my mother and others who still believed in the gods and the Beyond had told us to make us behave. But after my own battle with the blood plague and coming so close to Death itself…they were now impossible to deny.

I’d learned quickly that the more attention I gave to them, the harder it was to get them to leave. Better to pretend I did not see them in the first place. Not everyone could see them—that much was obvious from the few times I had seen people walk directly through them. But it was much harder to tell who could see them than who couldn’t. And I didn’t dare ask.

The heavy iron gates that secured Castle Auretras were gaudy, even by the wealthiest citizens’ measure. Inlaid with gold and obsidian and decorative metals that had been crafted to resemble snakes, curling around the straight iron bars and peering out at the city below, they were hardly the first reminder of what the king and his family thought of the rest of their kingdom.

Beyond the opulent facade of Castle Auretras lay a kingdom divided, its gates adorned with lavish embellishments that mocked the suffering of those beyond its walls. Prince Eadric and his ilk basked in their seclusion, insulated from the horrors unfolding in the streets below, their decadent revelries a grotesque testament to their indifference to the plight of their subjects.

It had hardly been a surprise when he locked the castle and shut the rest of the world away. In the face of such callous neglect, the once noble kingdom had descended into chaos, its streets now haunted by the anguished cries of the kingdom the crown had forsaken.

The kingdom of Veressia was dying, but my mother was dying faster.

A wet, rattling cough pulled me out of my rage and had my feet moving before I truly registered the sound. It was as common a sound as anything nowadays, since the blood plague had begun to infect us. In mere months, the entirety of Veressia had become accustomed to the sound of bloody coughs, to the stench of copper and decay in the air. The blood plague pulled our insides out with those coughs, intent on filling either our lungs or our streets with blood.

I picked up the damp rag from the bowl at my mother’s bedside and wiped at the crimson dribbling from the corner of her mouth. I’d burned seven cloths already, too drenched with her blood to get the stains or the stench out. Looking down at the increasingly few clean spots, I knew this one would also need to be burned.

“Shh, Mama, I’m here,” I murmured, pushing her hair back off her sweaty forehead. She was burning with fever, and her body trembled visibly. I knew in my heart that she was not long for this world, no matter what I’d pleaded to the stars.

The splotchy black marks that now decorated my arms were stark against my mother’s almost bloodless skin. The marks that showed I’d outlasted Death—barely—were now permanently etched across my neck, my chest, and my right arm and hand. Swirling, patternless lines of darkness that set me apart as a survivor.

I despised them.

My mother’s eyes fell on the marks and I pulled my sleeve down to cover them as best I could. We both knew she would not be getting the marks on her own skin.

“Odyssa,” she wheezed, barely getting my name out before she fell into another coughing fit. I murmured soothing words as I dabbed away the new blood that she’d coughed up. “You must take care of your brothers. You cannot let your emotions control you. Your brothers are everything now.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I did not want to hear this, to hear her implore me to shove down my anger and rage for the sake of my brothers. I knew the speech by heart now, as if it had been etched into my very bones. She did not need to say it, and I did not want to hear it. It only made it real. But my comfort did not matter here. So I opened my eyes and took my mother’s hands in my own. “Yes, Mama. You know I will. I have and will always put them first.”

She nodded, patting my hand. Her fingers traced over the mottled black whorls etched into my skin. “You can be good, Odyssa. I know you can be, if you try. Touched by Death himself, and yet, you survived. Alyona has blessed you, my child. You are strong. You will keep your brothers safe. Protect them where I cannot. Provide for them where I cannot.”

I didn’t feel strong. And the way she’d uttered my survival, as if it were a blessing from the goddess of life…if anything, I was more cursed than the rest of them. At least they had the sweet reprieve of dying, albeit not peacefully, rather than having to sift through the remains of the dead and pull the shattered pieces of my life back together each time someone passed.

Death was easy for the dead. It was nothing but a burden for the living.

“I will.” I squeezed her hand before standing from her bed. Propping up her pillows, there was no hesitation as I bent and pressed my lips to her forehead. “Rest now, Mama. I will come back in a little while.”

She leaned into my touch, chasing it even as I stood. I was the only one in the house who would care for her, who was willing to touch her. Though it was suspected it wasn’t passed by touch, no one could be certain. There was still so much to discover about the mysterious affliction that had accompanied the reddened mist. No one was willing to take the risk they would be the next to die. Perhaps if the cure was something as simple as avoiding contact with others, it would have been easier to stomach. It certainly would have been easier to combat it.

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