DEMENTED | Romance | Fantasy | Slight Thriller

Chapter Nineteen: Poisoned Honey

Life was suddenly colder, despite the heat emanating around the room. Beads of sweat formed at Ebony's hairline, and yet she could almost feel her teeth chattering - her sister's heavy gaze sent a horrified chill down her spine.

Crimson looked different from when she'd last seen her. Her features had become older and more defined, the ironically cherubic hue gone from her face. Her hair had seen better days–once voluminous and bright in a color that defined her namesake–it was now stringy and muted in color. But her anger was not so well concealed.

Ebony knew her sister had a hatred toward her that ran as deep as the shards that had been lodged in her head, but seeing her watching her made her think a little differently. Perhaps... She'd been wrong?

Her sister glared harder, and Ebony quickly waved her thoughts away. "How... have you been?"

Crimson didn't respond. Instead, she stood up and opened the blackout drapes. It was night–the Absinthian equivalent of daytime, and Crimson turned back to face her, the informal diadem gleaming upon her hair. "You're not supposed to be here. You should be half-dead, rotting away on that little hill of yours."

"I know, Ebony replied, nervous. "I never meant to come out. I-uh, was brought by–er, someone." She bit her lip at the half-truth, wishing she could be more thorough without putting her life in the Goddess's hands.

Crimson stalked over to her. "You aren't telling me everything." She grabbed Ebony by the collar swiftly, causing her to gag. "So, spill it. What else is it you're not telling me? Who brought you out? I want answers. Now."

Ebony attempted to shake her head, struggling to release herself from Crimson's grip. She had always been stronger than her, but her limbs seemed unnaturally gaunt and lacking muscle. When did her sister get so thin? She regained her focus, muttering the words "I can't tell you who."

Silence.

A weird sort of smile began spreading on Crimson's face like poisoned honey. "If that's how it is, then so be it."

In a whirl of royally tinted robes and the faint scent of smoke, she was gone, leaving Ebony more terrified than relieved.

Slowly, she rose from the odd sensation of how it felt to stand–she had somehow since forgotten. She shuffled around the chamber, opening a wardrobe in the far corner and finding it bursting with rich purples and black fabrics with woven-in gold. She ran her hands through the fabric of an eggplant-purple dress, remembering its familiar patterns and thick feel.

Wait, familiar?

She took the dress out. She knew this dress. She used to wear it for banquets, occasionally in court when she'd cycled through her entire wardrobe and her remaining family decided to include her, just for those few times. Curious, she checked a couple more dresses. They were all hers.

Could that mean–

She stepped away from the wardrobe and squinted at the room. Though everything had been washed in red, she could just barely remember what it had been like before–the walls black, the trim gold, the bed purple–

This had been her room. She'd spent at least twelve years out of her seventeen living in this room. How had she not recognized it sooner?

And how had the rest of the castle changed? Ebony could only imagine the volume of red that had become of the eons old walls. She grimaced at how the perfectly preserved antiquity of them must have been destroyed.

But biting back her disgust, she hesitantly opened her chamber door.

A wave of nausea knocked the wind out of her. It was all the color of blood.

Her room had been painted the color of the Gaean poppies she'd seen on her trip to Lyria cut short. Vibrant, but warm.

This... this was a massacre. As a decoration. A disgusting but impressive display of power.

Ebony didn't doubt the walls were truly painted with blood. She could almost see the thickness of it, smell its horrid coppery tang, hear the screams that had come from the people before the liquid had been taken.

She put a hand to her ear. All this time, she'd been able to hear. There was no crust of dried blood in her ears. No pain. So had her flashbacks all been a dream?

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702 words

Sorry this chapter is shorter, guys! I just thought it would be better to end it here. I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing regularly, as I haven't written a full chapter since AUGUST. So it's definitely been a while. I'm going to try and keep this promise and actually upload consistently this time!

Please vote and comment on the story! Let me know what you think. I love hearing your interpretations and thoughts on everything that's happened so far, and I'm so excited to write and publish the rest for you all!

XOXO,

mavis.

PS: Does anyone else listen to AURORA? This is a song from her album that came out TODAY that I've been listening to nonstop while writing. It's so so good! Absolutely recommend listening to her if you haven't already. She wrote the tiktok-viral song Runaway when she was seventeen. Talent, amirite? Literal goals 🥺🥺