Page 73 of The Cerulean Sister
By the time the last days of the conjunction begin and I am meant to meet up with them in the safe house, will I already be dead?
I wait for my eyes to adjust and my mind to sober, squinting without being able to move forward.
Past the bars, there is a walkway of some sort and another cell with eyes watching me. I jump as a man gawks back, dressed in rags with a long, unkempt beard showing his duration of imprisonment.
Next to him is another cell, one I can only see a sliver of, enough to notice the bars are glowing. The light is low and pulsates slightly, like it's breathing.
Some sort of ward. Why would they need a ward in a dungeon? Are the thick metal bars not enough to hold whoever is in there?
The moment that thought crosses my mind, I can't think of anything else. I stare hard at the radiant light illuminating around each pillar of iron, an intense need calling out to me to see what is kept within them.
"Hello?" I stretch my neck from the invisible, strong hold I am in, but my muscles are frozen.
The man in the cell across from mine glances in the same direction but is unfazed, like he already knows the other prisoner won't answer.
I thrash, trying to scoot myself closer, overcome with a curiosity that wipes away all other emotions.
When that doesn't work, I move my shoulders side to side, swaying in rhythm until the growing momentum lifts the chair legs.
With one final extension, the chair leans on one set of legs instead of scooting, now slanted past the point of returning to a stable position.
The world tilts as I fall to the side and the light in the warded cell flickers, illuminating more of the space within the bars.
My gasp echoes off the stone walls as I realize I am about to hit the hard floor, the sound making the occupant turn and look over their shoulder at me.
As I am falling to the side, I catch a distorted glimpse.
It's not a person at all.
Reflective pupils watch me, like tiny, round lights floating within black sockets.
It's monstrous, a pale blue in complexion, only the size of a child with the features of a woman.
I slam into the floor, knocking myself out of the horror of seeing that creature.
The finger I wrapped around the armrest crunches, now pinned between both surfaces.
The pain is so sharp I have to scrunch my face in a feral scream then see little dancing speckles in the blackness behind my lids.
When I try to breathe through the sharp throbbing in my hand and look across the hallway again, the creature has moved. Whatever it is, I am glad it is behind that ward.
Even if I could move my hand, any tiny change in pressure would be excruciating. I cry out as a second wave of pain throbs in tune with my heaving breath.
The other prisoner across from me holds out his hand, counting his fingertips dramatically. His laugh is from someone who has been alone for a very long time, kept in company with something inhuman.
I glance down at my hand, hoping I still have all my fingers attached. The skin is already swollen and an angry shade of red.
The sound of footsteps approaching sends me into a panic as someone grips my chair, tilting me in a rough shove back into place.
An Estate guard comes to my front, bends down to wiggle the chair, and tests the balance. "Don’t try that again," he whispers and smiles at my mangled hand.
"Has she been neutralized?" a whisper says behind me. It's not distinctly anyone, just . . . a voice.
"A precaution." The second voice is Lord Hollis’s, smug and with a nasal hum.
The echoing click of well-made temple shoes sends a chill down my spine. The air in the cell turns thicker and harder to breathe in. My body prepares me, sending a wave of adrenaline in an icy blast of relief to my fingers, forcing me to pay attention to a much greater threat.
The sounds of their slow, intentional footsteps stop just behind me, the shape of the person's shadow dancing on the wall from the flickering flames.
