Within the Walls [NEW VERSION]

Chapter 35

I wake up to dry air gazing at my arms and cheeks. Darkness, shadows, and stone surround me like a blanket from the depths of the God of Souls realm. My limbs and ribs are covered in bruises and sores from laying on the stone floor for Gods know how long. I mutter curses as I sit up and peer into the gloom. Something, or someone scratches and shuffles against the stone, coughing and spluttering. The stench of vomit, urine, and blood permeates the otherwise stagnant air. My stomach churns as bile surges up my throat and I clamp a hand over my mouth, swallowing it back down. A single candle shoots bravely towards the ceiling from its mount on the wall opposite my cell. Fragments of fiery light glint and gleam against the achromatic puddles and stone.

As I peer through the gloom, I realise there's someone's skeleton propped up against the wall of the cell across from mine. A knife buried in his dried ribs. His jaw bone nothing more than crushed chips, pebbles, and dust beside his decay-stained pelvis.

That's when a scorching flame stretches across my abdomen and into my chest, down my arms. I hiss, reeling back. Whimpers dribble from my quivering lips as I take in the old and new blood staining my tunic. I lift it and my heart sinks. A deep wound is carved into my stomach like I'm little more than game waiting to be skinned. Fresh, inky scarlet leaks out, streaking towards the lining of my pants, making me shudder and curse as the fiery needles cascade in all directions of my stomach.

Where did this come from?

Why am I here?

"Ruben?" I mumble, pressure swelling in my chest.

Is he in the dungeon, too? Has King Talin tossed him down here to starve, to serve punishment for helping the girl who ignited a rebellion against his crown?

I bite my lip and tear the sleeve from my shirt. My torso shudders and trembles, my stomach muscles bouncing up and down as I gently, slowly, place the grimy fabric over the wound. Fangs plunge into me, drawing sharp winces and groans from my cracked, dehydrated lips. My hands shake like a lonely leaf clinging to a tree branch, holding on for dear life before it falls to the snow. I wrap the fabric around my waist with feeble, pitiful energy. The tears dribbling over my lips taste of salt and copper.

Finally, I knot the fabric next to my hip. I reach out for the iron bars of the cell door, grateful for the frigid splinters pressing into my palms, distracting me from the pain. I pull myself closer, inch by inch. My breath falls ragged. Blood pools in my cheeks. Sweat promenades with my tears.

"Is there anyone there?" I call out, cringing at the croak in my voice.

"Elle?" Aston's voice, so small and distant, chiming from the depths of the charcoal.

"Where are you?" I tug at the collar of my tunic. Air. I need air. My throat dries and the breath catches into a fissure in my throat.

"They locked us all up," he calls, his voice both distant and near, ricocheting against the cobweb-covered walls and my aching ribs. "Are you hurt?"

My whimper is his answer. But of course, there is nothing he can do. There isn't much a prisoner can do. I shift myself back, muttering curses and yielding grunts as I lean against the wall, biting back the primal urge to scream. "It's only a... scratch."

There is a pause and for a gut-wrenching moment, I wonder if he has passed out. "Are you dying?"

I startle at the bluntness of his question. "I'm fine."

"Let's agree to not lie to each other. We've been through too much for half-truths." He grunts, and I wonder if he, too, is riddled with bruises and a wound leaking the life out of him.

I suck in the air, licking my cracked lips as I swallow a wad of spit, desperate for it to coat my throat. "I'm... bleeding. Someone stabbed me. My stomach." My eyes scrunch shut as a tingly feeling creeps throughout my body, snuffling out the pain.