The Infernal King | 1 ✓

CHAPTER XIII | INFINITESIMALLY

       AFTER HE LEFT, Maarit was more determined than ever to escape. The taste of vomit lingered in her mouth and the smell overpowered the miasma of rot, causing her gag if she dared to inhale through her nose. Through her tears of fury, grief and disgust, she tried to pull the Sorcerer's Tenebrium bracelet off of her wrist until her skin was raw. She attempted to use a spell—any spell—to combat its repressive power.

Nothing worked—so she sobbed harder, thinking of Keion's death, of Helios losing his bother, of her own inevitably harrowing fate.

She had all the time in the world to mourn, and that was the problem. Alone with her thoughts, she had hours and hours on end, during which she tortured herself by reliving jovial memories that seemed to live and breathe and flourish all on their own.

She could live off of nothing but memories. She was fine with doing so; just about anything was better than her present situation.

Perhaps life was better for those who lived infinitesimally in the past.

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       SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD Maarit Pheraios felt as though her world was crumbling to dust. Her parents' bed was stripped of all of the linens and their clothes, along with all of their possessions, were gone. They had gone without so much as telling her they were leaving. They had not even faced their daughter and been forced to look into her deep brown eyes to tell her that they were abandoning her.

Had they ever truly loved her? Had they ever actually cared for her, their only child? They were allowing something as trivial as her soothsaying abilities destroy sixteen years worth of affection. They feared her, for she was accursed and terribly flawed—a pure blasphemy.

She stumbled down the stairs without knowing that she would never climb them again, for she could not bear to see the bed she had once crawled into after having a nightmare as a child.

Collapsing on the floor, Maarit felt empty.

Two hours later, that was just how Keion Valence found her—curled up on the stone floor with her knees tucked underneath her chin. The door was unlocked because Maarit had been too preoccupied to even bother locking it.

For a fraction of a second, as she watched the doorknob turn, she thought that it must have been her mother and father returning to tell her that they had made a mistake and that they loved her regardless of what she was.

She could not help the pang of disappointment in the pit of her stomach at the fact that it was only Keion. His eyes swept the room until he realized that she was on the floor. In an instant, he was kneeling down beside her.

"Maarit," he whispered, concern pulling his dark eyebrows together, "what's wrong?" When she failed to meet his eyes, he placed his thumb under her chin and tilted her head upwards. "Maarit?"

Tears flooded her eyes at the loving tone in his voice and the intensity in his gaze. She had thought her parents loved her once, but love did not last. Keion would leave as well, once he found out what she was.

"K-K-Keion," she managed to say, before a strangled sob escaped her lips.

Maarit's legs were numb as Keion pulled her onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to rest her head on his chest.

"They l-left me," she mumbled, tears wetting the front of his shirt. "Mother and Father... th-they left and they aren't c-c-coming back."

"What? No, of course they'll come back," he said, confusion lacing his voice.

"N-no, you don't understand!" she cried hysterically, her fists curling around the fabric of the front of his shirt. She buried her face deeper into his chest. "You'll l-l-leave t-too when you find out."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, tightening his arms around her quivering form.

"K-Keion, please don't leave me," she whimpered, ardently hating how weak she sounded. "I'm a soothsayer and they l-left b-because they're afraid of m-me!"

Almost imperceptibly, she felt Keion recoil away from her, and her heart sank right through the stone floor. His shock caused him to loosen his arms, but he shook his head and hugged her even closer to him.

"I don't care," he managed to say with difficulty.

They remained that way for what felt like an eternity.

"I don't have a single person who loves me," she said despondently, taking a shaky breath.

"You still have me."

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       MAARIT DID NOT see King Theodoracius again for a long time. Every day, as promised, Picard showed up to bring her food, but the horrid king no longer led him. In his place were the two guards, both of whom disgusted Maarit almost as much as Theodoracius did. There was not a day that went by without the derogatory comments from the large guardsmen. In fact, in their presence, the only thing that made her feel safe was being behind bars and out of reach of their grubby hands.

With every passing day, her state of mind got worse—however, as did her appearance. Her filthy dressing gown gained a gaping hole at her knee, her dark hair was greasy and still matted with blood, and her eyes, which had lost their fire, were sunken. There was a constant cold perspiration from her body. Grime from the dungeon floor clung to her skin.

She could not handle this any longer.

Maarit hated King Theodoracius with every fibre in her being. Every part of her burned with rage at the very thought of him, with his father's crown perched upon his head and his long robes—the very colour of bleeding flesh—majestically swirling out behind him as though he truly was someone deserving of worship.

Never had she been one to sit by and watch injustice unravelling before her eyes. She would have to do something, and she knew just what.

She would cut her hand off to remove the Sorcerer's Tenebrium bracelet.

She would heal herself instantaneously after teleporting from the dungeons.

And then she would kill him.