Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 38 Not What They Seem

Massia's time at this prison drastically changed since that conversation with that strange woman. It was curious, but she barely remembers anything about what occurred that day or anything that she said. When she took part in that feast, the world seems to become skewed and unclear. She almost thought of the strange woman in black as a friend, or at least someone she could talk to. She felt wrong when her senses came back, and she woke up in a completely different cell than before. Her lips and mouth felt numb like she had eaten something with terribly too much spice. At the very least she can be appreciative of the fact that she did not wake up on the cold moist ground next to the skeleton. She did not feel safer, looking at her surroundings, but she appreciated all of the small things afforded to her. Even that felt wrong.

She took a quick survey of her surroundings. She had woken up in a huge bed, twice the size of even her parents. The cushions were fluffy and filled with down. The sheets and blankets are made of the finest and smoothest of clothes and silk. She smelled them, and they caught some faint floral scent as well. Most definitely a luxury item they put in to placate her. She did not like that. She hated this. She threw the covers away, leaving the bed bare except for her. She was wearing a dress, nicer than hers by far and made of more fine things she could never have dreamed of finding in Liontari. If she had any better option, she would have torn the dress apart with her bare hands. The room around her was filled with nice things: books, stacks of parchments. Lanterns blazed in a dull yellow flame that blanketed the white painted walls and floor tiles. A small table was beside her bed, another handheld lamp and a tray of fresh tarts, heat still rising from the assortments as if fresh out of the oven. She threw it against the door, scattering the pastries all over the floor. Her fear had subsided, somewhat. It was still bubbling anger that had yet subsided. She was not going to accept this pampering. She was not going to take their niceties. It's obvious that they were going to do something that requires her to be complacent and cooperatives. If she was going to have to stay here and wait for Lyse to rescue her, it will be on her own time.

She walked to the door and kicked it several times. "You mute dunghills of men. I'm going to rip you all a new one."

The threats were empty and impossible to enforce, but it felt good nonetheless. The thought that Lyse had to save her mortified her enough. She sat in the room, silent and looking around her waiting for someone or something to happen. She tied to use her limited ability with zoi, but that proved to be pointless. She couldn't see the sigils, but they were still there, most likely scrawled between the walls themselves. Her circumstances have not really changed, after all. Even the "door" turned out to be another section of the wall with a frame around it. No seems no way for her to open it from this side unless she suddenly learned to use magic and the such. Magic felt outlandish to think of. But here it was. Here she was trying to figure out how to stop it. She clung to hope that Lyse would save her, that her mother and father were still alive trying to find her desperately. They must. From what she remembers, they had been in the thick of some fight, the house burning with them in it, and she sometimes dreamt about it in nightmares, her continuously running from the scene but never getting any further away. Always, over her shoulder, she was staring as her mother transformed into a lion and leaping into the fray to destroy those who threatened to hurt her, proclaiming in the old tongue: Yol timir al si. Cul Firas al echoie. You will die for this. My daughter, you must go. But she never could get away. She was always caught. She was always captured. The eyes of those soulless creatures stuffing her in a chest, too small for her comfort. The bare fangs of a bear ready to tear her throat out into the darkness. And worst of all, the return of that tall, boney figure that would grab her, Massia too afraid to even act. Her soul being pulled from her body, and then thrust back in. The phantom pain haunted her. She would not even dare to think of what had occurred that day. The time she used to think about it made her stomach twirl and spin.