Wake

I.

 Chapter 1

I stared into the eyes of the witch, seething at the spark of glee that emanated from her white irises.

She tied me up the moment she saw me walking around her dominion. 

We were in the bridge between realms, which meant I died somehow. The thing was, I couldn't even remember how I got here.

“Amaranta, that name becomes you,” She continued stabbing everywhere she could, not leaving me any room to recover the damage she inflicted. “How ironic you would end up here of all places?”

She wielded her scythe.

“Kill me now, that is what this place is designed for, isn’t it? To torture the souls of the lost?” If only my limbs were free, I would not hesitate to tear her to pieces. My claws ached for her blood.

“Ah, ah, ah,” She wagged her finger in front of my face. “I only brought you to the Eternal Prison for a measly chat.”

I laughed, spitting blood out of my mouth, “You really expect me to believe that, witch? I may have died a fool’s death, but that doesn't make me an idiot. I wasn't born yesterday.” I snarled, struggling against the vines that held me to her magic.

“Yes, but do you truly remember your death, Amaranta, the Unfading One?”

My face fell, and then contorted into pain.

Another stab.

“Y-you expect me to believe that?”

“Of course, I was the one who took away your soul.” She smiled, though it didn't meet her eyes.

My eyebrows scrunched together, canines elongating; I was going to kill her one way another. I wouldn’t mind dying again just to bring her down with me. I struggled against the ropes holding me back from ripping her throat out.

Growls and profanities came out of my mouth, cursing the witch to hell. Ironically, in some way, we were already here.

“There’s no need to get all pissy, young demon,” she sneered. “It was inevitable that I would get my hands on your soul. I am Idoya, the witch, after all.” She clucked her tongue, false pity resonating in her eyes. ”You made it way too easy for me, dying like that.” She extended out her hand, a light orb rested beneath her palm.

My soul.

It was faint, but I could smell my scent on it.

I felt the ropes dig into my skin as I struggled to break free, but I didn't care. “Give it back! Or, so help me I’ll…” My words fell short for the witch was in my face, glaring into my eyes. She didn’t hesitate to stab me again with that damned scythe of hers --- her sadistic way of attaining pleasure. 

I hissed, the pain was noticeable this time. The wench stabbed it deeper in my body, making sure I felt it.

I tried to look away, but I was glued to watch what she was envisioning inside my mind. Her other way of tormenting her game.

Warmth was transmitted. I felt at peace, but it felt so very wrong at the same time -- like I was accepting her infiltrating my personal space. After she finished, she looked away from me; whatever she did couldn’t break through my mind barrier. I smirked, confident, but my face fell as her magic was working. My head slumped, clouded with a vision of my demise. I tried to fight it, but my head throbbed every time I resisted.

My eyes fell to the floor, a mini-movie playing inside my head.

A human toddler came into view. The boy wasn’t more than a few years old, bright hazel eyes shone with curiosity at everything he saw. I could see bits and pieces of him walking around in denim overalls, holding on to objects to stay upright. He was just learning to walk, I assumed.