Hall of Games [ REWRITE ] | The Varya Chronicles #1

Chapter Fifteen

Media: Elijah Khavarosk

Music of the chapter: Shadow fall, Audiomachine

The Predikar said that the Underlands were nothing but a wide stretch of emptiness frozen to the point of burning. Cadence felt as though as she had been thrown into the Ithesa, the river of no return, forced to swim through the burning waters in search of the Twelve Gates in order to reach Orisha Valador, Lord of the Dead.

Cadence was shrouded with a burning cold, the kind that bit into the skin and tore it out, chunk by bloody chunk. She couldn't even shiver, every muscle of hers were locked dead. She could only cry out in silence as the cold dissolved her.

There was a sudden burst of light. Rich colors of gold and white fluttered before Cadence's eyes. Just like a forgotten nightmare, the pain vanished. She lifted her hands, trying to touch the light, but they flowed through her fingers. It was like catching mist, fruitless.

Cadence watched as the interior of a grand chamber unfolded before her eyes. Smooth marble tiles extended themselves from a far off corner and rolled into flat ground under her feet. A large bed sprung out of nowhere. Curtains dyed a deep shade of scarlet dropped down from the windows where a salty breeze sailed lazily through.

What the hell?

A woman in a silken dress materialized before her. Cadence had never seen her before in her entire life. This woman looked far beyond Cadence's league, given her heavy dress, heavy golden hair studded with enormous diamond pins, and enough rings on her fingers to choke them all. She must belong to one of the richest Houses.

The woman turned to face Cadence. Cadence jumped, partly by her sudden motion and the blueness of her eyes.

"Hi," Cadence croaked, glancing around the unfamiliar room, overwhelmed by the richness and luxury. "Where am I?"

The woman said nothing, but she looked to the mirror behind Cadence. It was as if Cadence was transparent, like a ghost. However, it wasn't the realization that Cadence might be a ghost that shocked her, but the tears glimmering in the woman's eyes. The woman sat on the bed, moving her hands over her belly.

Her belly was heavily swollen. Cadence could tell she was close to delivering, she had seen plenty of pregnant women when she worked in the Orelik mansion. The servants, especially the women whom Master Orelik and his friends used as pleasure ladies, fell pregnant after the acts, and they had to deliver in the dirty kitchens where no one could hear them scream. Those poor women had to hide their swollen stomachs under rags, giving them the impression that they had grown fatter, not pregnant, for only the Orishas knew what would be done to bastards. The wives of the Masters would torture the poor girls in imaginable ways, eventually killing them.

The chamber doors creaked as it opened, and a hawkish-looking man stepped into the light.

The moment the man came into the room, the woman hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks, took in a shaky breath and smiled.