Page 116 of Poisoned Kingdom
He lifted me as I took a breath, still dazed after regaining my life, and carried me along a dark corridor to a massive door, its frame carved with countless runes. The entrance stood open, but all I could see were shadows surrounding a huge stone block with heavy, metallic manacles fused to its surface.
Atavistic fear boiled to the surface. As soon as the mage put me back on my feet, I turned, seeking a way to escape, but the only exit was blocked by Ciesko, who nodded towards the door.
‘Enter, my dear, that’s our price for your life,’ he said, and with a shuddering breath, I turned to face my fears.
1.Manticore (s.)/manticores (pl.)— beasts with a lion’s body, human head, and scorpion tail that love to eat their victims whole after paralysing them with their scorpion’s venom.
2.Harpy (s.)/harpies (pl.)— Rapacious monsters described as having a woman’s head and body and a bird’s wings and claws; depicted as birds of prey with women’s faces.
3.Annika Diavellar— a conduit mage whose efforts won the Second Necromancer’s War for Dagome. After the death of her first Anchors, the council planned to force her into a new Anchor bond, but she faked her death and ran away.
Chapter 41
Roksana
Iwalked into the Geas Hall, wondering at the grand name for such an obscure cave. The stone block was stained the colour of old blood, and the shudder that travelled down my spine left me feeling vulnerable.
Two men emerged from the shadows, looking at me with unsettling indifference. The older male drew a sigil in the air, the symbol flickering briefly before the runes on the doorframe lit up as if struck by lightning.
‘Should I come closer?’ I stalled, the severity of the situation catching up to me. I knew it was inevitable, but I couldn’t stop shaking. I wiped my sweaty hands on my kirtle, trying to controlmy breathing, but I couldn’t even manage that. The fear of the unknown, of the pain I expected, got the better of me.
‘What must I do?’ I whispered, wishing I were brave enough to face it with dignity.
‘Just survive.’ Ciesko patted my cheek in a fatherly gesture, concern and sadness mixed in his expression. ‘The man on your left is a geas custodian. He will witness and record the words that define you. Don’t worry, he will never speak it—both of them are mute. The man on your right is your judgment, a broken mage who won’t stop until you reveal the secret of your soul. The rock behind you, the Veil Stone, will unveil your past, revealing who you truly are. Humans are rarely prepared to see the reflection of their soul, but still, try not to resist if you can,’ he said before he gestured to the men. ‘I leave her in your hands.’
That was the only explanation I received before he walked away as I stood frozen in place, at the mercy of the stone’s guardians. I observed them warily, clenching my jaw so they couldn’t see my teeth clattering. The geas trial was a mystery. No one talked about it because the survivors preferred not to remember the scars left on their souls, while those who performed it were made mute to protect the mages. Ciesko’s words were the first bit of genuine information I’d been given, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
The hollow thud of the door sounded like the slamming of a coffin lid, and the surrounding symbols flashed brighter, blinding me. When my sight returned, the door was replaced by a smooth rock wall.
‘How?’ I asked, releasing the breath I’d been holding, but there was no answer.
The older man touched my shoulder before gesturing for me to undress. His touch was gentle, his eyes kind, but I had no illusion that if I didn’t comply, I would be forcibly stripped.
So I did, removing the layers of clothing until I stood in nothing but a thin chemise, the contours of my body clearly visible beneath the thin linen. When I reached to take it off, the older man stopped me, then motioned to the rock. I followed him, my heart beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.
He positioned me next to the stone, and my shivers intensified when my back touched the cold, moist surface that looked like a strange vertical altar.
Like a lamb to the slaughter,I thought when he fastened a collar around my neck, forcing me to lean back. The manacles followed, and as the heavy metal settled against my skin, the other man came over. Both mages began casting an elaborate aethereal design, weaving the threads in intricate symbols. Once complete, the energy alighted over me and sank into the stone.
The Veil Stone awakened—its hungry consciousness probing my mind, seeking answers, as if I was an enigma to be unravelled. Its magic burrowed into my brain, parasitic and hungry, while I panted hard under its merciless touch that threatened to strip me of my sanity. The manacles rattled as I jerked in pain, but despite doing my best to calm my breathing and not resist the invasion, my body didn’t want to listen.
You survived the steppe, the beatings in the Brotherhood, and the times Jagon forced you to drink poison just to see how it worked. It can’t be worse than that. It just can’t . . .
The broken mage approached me then, his cloudy blue eyes seeing through me. Not with hate or compassion, but with the cruel gaze of a child who wondered how many legs they could pull from a bug before it finally died.
I looked on in horror as he took a small blade from his belt and drew a thin line on my skin. It was so sharp it barely registered at first, but the stinging sensation soon followed. His gaze met mine, and he pressed his hand to the wound.
A curse died on on my lips, as power flooded through me, and I screamed.
I was wrong, so very wrong.
It was so much worse than any beating, any poison I’d ever ingested. The pain was . . . I struggled to form a coherent thought. It felt as if my soul was being forced into the stone, and what returned was . . . ohgods. Every memory, every hidden feeling and thought—the stone fed upon them, gaining strength, forcing me to relive every moment.
The broken mage carved my skin over and over, each cut an ice flame spearing me to the stone. But it didn’t matter how much I screamed—there was no respite or hope, only endless darkness filled with memories and torment. The worst moments of my life assaulted me one after another.
My mind shattered, shredded by the eager power of the stone while my body thrashed, harried by the broken mage’s corrupted aether. Blood flowed from my flesh, weakening me, but I fought back, my raw, hoarse voice declaring my defiance.
It was futile. I fled from the torment, protecting the small child I had been—the innocent, beautiful core that was untainted by the killings and the desire for survival. But the broken mage was relentless. His voice rang clear as a bell in my mind as he promised that the pain and torment would end if I only told him who I truly was.
