CHAPTER 1
"Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, you realize you're standing on another trapdoor."~ Marisha Pessl, "Night Film"
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Prisoner 112 was 25 years old when she was forced to bear a child for the Kral of the Qaranliq Empire, Laquis Hām the Third. What Kral did not know was that he had paved the path to his own terrible demise.
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PRESENT
"Keep moving," the creature accompanying her hissed. "Do not falter."
A shudder ran through the procession, and the prisoners picked up the pace, trying not to disobey or annoy the creature.
Prisoner 112 kept her head down as it led her through the narrow labyrinth. Glancing around, she observed the grim assembly of fellow prisoners forming two long rows behind and beside her.
Shoulder to shoulder, countless women, spanning various ages and builds, stood shackled with the same azure manacles to the horrifying creatures, one of which had led her out of her cell a few minutes ago. This did nothing to ease the sense of panic inside her chest.
Prisoner 112 trudged forward in silence, her strength waning with each step. She felt weak and worn out.
Despite her efforts to maintain composure, fatigue weighed heavily on her as she moved. Familiar hisses and cackles emanated from the walls, reminding her of the haunting whispers she endured within her kənara.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the unsettling sounds. But the voices persisted, invading her consciousness like unwelcome guests.
She tried to focus on the rhythm of her heartbeat, an unsteady thud-thud-thud that filled her ears like a relentless drumbeat.
"Hey PSST. Hey."
Prisoner 112 looked to her left. A girl with bright blue eyes was trying to catch her attention. Prisoner 112 raised her eyebrows inquiringly in response.
"Aye, I'm talking to ye." The girl was oddly upbeat considering their situation.
With a feral air about her, she seemed to be in her late-twenties. Her hair, a faded blend of green and silver, was haphazardly cropped short to accentuate her aquiline features.
She could be a Highlander, judging by her accent. Prisoner 112 shrugged inquisitively but lowered her head, not wanting to be caught in an unauthorized talk with a fellow prisoner.
She was yearning for a normal conversation after more than a year of solitary confinement but scared of it at the same time.
"Me name is Aria. What's yers?"
"I don't remember..." Prisoner 112 whispered after a moment of hesitation.
"Oh? Where're ye from?" Aria asked.
"I...I don't know." She replied.
"Me, I'm from Daakin. The south of Qaranliq."
Prisoner 112 frowned in confusion.
"Qaranliq Empire, ye ken?? The Kral's empire. Well, most of the Zoneplex is his now that he has done away with Dragonite," she said knowledgeably.
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WHISPERED SINS 👑❤️🔥
Romance"I used your blood to bind you to me. There's no escape. You're chained to me until your last breath." She hated him so much that she wanted to poison him, rip the mask off his cruel face, and stare into his eyes as she plunged the dagger repeatedly...
