Chapter 32

188 22 6
                                    

I yanked up the hag on the floor by the hair. "Explain yourself!" I roared. "What is this plot of which you speak? What do you know of the cult?"

"I'm going to go explore the rest of this place," Yra muttered. "Make sure there aren't any more witches about."

Yra slunk off up the stairs and Astrid fainted. Unfortunately, my hands were full of witch. Urien rushed to her side and lifted her head, making sure she was still well.

The old hag spit out blood. "One of my daughters still lives."

"Answer the question!" I demanded.

"What better way of keeping Starkovian commoners off our scent than by giving them the perfect target? A Dark Prince for them to hunt. We wanted you out of our way, distracted by your own disease until you succumbed to it or they killed you."

I resisted hitting her. I vibrated with fury, my head still filled with Clara's voice. "And the cult?"

"It was only time before mortals began to worship you. They're always looking for some dark force to pray to. It's good to have some organizations around, keeps wars interesting."

"So... s-so all of this... for what?"

"Souls," the hag muttered as she licked her lips. She lifted a leather bag at her waist and shook it. "Souls for the taking."

"You murdered hundreds, thousands, just for souls?"

"Souls give us power. The more conflict, the more souls. We were hoping you'd dash across the countryside, sucking people dry, but you..." She puckered her lips, talking to me as you would a child. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You got sad and scared and lonely and you hid away in your tower like a child."

My eyes welled up. I had been tricked and tortured for hundreds of years, all to be used as some murder mill for witches. "What is this other one of which you speak? Tell me!"

"You'll find out in time, Darius..." she sighed. She looked quite tired, and I could feel her life fading from her. "In time..."

She died then. Her old body gave out.

"Guys!" Yra yelled from upstairs. "We have a problem!"

Yra came back down the stairs, only halfway to avoid the puddle of sunlight, with two children in tow. I remembered the children at the horror house. It seemed so long ago. These children, however, were definitely alive and definitely real. And disconcertingly well fed.

"Great," Urien muttered. "Astrid. Astrid, wake up."

"Downstairs, the potions," I remarked. "I'm sure one of them smells awful. We can waft it under her nose."

"That's a terrible idea." Urien took a deep breath and pinched Astrid hard on the arm. "Astrid!"

Her eyes fluttered open as she awoke, confused for only a moment. She sat up abruptly and looked around, eyes wide. "What happened?"

"You fainted. You're all right."

Astrid looked to the stairs and upon seeing the children rose to her feet. She stumbled, but caught her balance. "Oh, gods, are they all right?"

"They're alive, at least, but they won't talk." Yra sent them down the stairs and then jumped away from the patch of light. The two children stood awkwardly in the room and Astrid knelt to look them in the eye.

"Hi there," Astrid began, her voice soft and comforting. "My name's Astrid. What's yours?"

"I'm Ecaterina..." the little girl said. She wiped her eyes and crumbs lingered around her mouth. "This is my brother Iacob."

King of DustWhere stories live. Discover now