heartless ; 𝐭. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 , 𝟏

04 - elixir of life

august 1572

HER FEET HIT the ground with a thud as Monsieur Dubois practically dumped her off of his shoulder like a bale of hay. The impact sent a shock up through her ankles, fizzling out before it reached her hips. She whirled her head up, daring to stare right into the stranger's eyes and shoot him a deadly glare.

"Ah, je regrette," he sneered, malice rolling off the words like a sleigh down a snowy hill. The twelve-year-old huffed. He does not seem sorry at all, she growled inwardly. How rude.

The kidnapped kids were shoved towards a door and the woman who had escorted them flashed her teeth in the firelight. "Bonne chance," she wished them luck. The torch she held cast unsettling shadows across her wrinkled face, making her eyes look darker, her features sharper, her teeth longer—

But then the door swung open and the kids were corraled into the next room that was littered with torches leaning against the walls, looking as if they were floating. It was a much larger space than they'd previously been in, and Jacqueline wondered how it was possible for such a large place to exist underground without caving in. She tore her eyes away from the light to investigate the ceiling, trying to see if she could figure out just how they managed to excavate this much airspace.

The young girl, leading the pack of scared and sleep-deprived Protestant children, took a step forward in wonder as if to get a better view of this incredible anomaly when she bumped into something that let out a small yelp of protest.

No, not a thing, it was someone.

The person she bumped into turned around, revealing a haggard-looking boy whose cheeks were gaunt and eyes tired. "They're going to kill us," he spoke in accented English.

She didn't understand the strange syllables. "Comment?" She asked in her native language.

But he refused to say it again, his eyes widening when he looked past her shoulder at the number of guards surrounding the group. Without another word, he ducked his head and turned around. Even when she tapped him on the shoulder, it was like he didn't feel it.

"Fall into line," the woman barked, her voice surprisingly threatening at such an old age. "Everyone, now."

Jacqueline remained behind the boy, realizing he was at the end of a line that, when she peered around him, extended the length of the room, leading up to a desk with a man who asked to see the wrists of each child. She swung her gaze from side to side, seeing about ten more lines identical to hers, just as long, if not longer...

Oh, mon Dieu, she gasped inwardly, there are hundreds of them.

She'd never seen this many kids in one place, never in her whole life. Living in the rural villages of France meant that she wasn't accustomed to seeing people her own age. It was almost like she didn't know what to say to them.

Turning around to ask a question, she stopped as soon as she heard Dubois say something in a hushed tone, just loud enough for her to catch it.

"The boss told us about the Catholics' plans for tonight, he said it would be like a gold mine with all these kids," Dubois muttered to the woman who was nodding, a sickly satisfied smile curling her lips in a venomous expression.

Another guard huffed and crossed his arms. "You sound like you're surprised, Jacques," he grunted. "The boss is always right."

Jacqueline's mind was swimming with those words as she slowly turned around, trying to draw attention to herself. She shivered despite the heat coming from the torches along the walls. This was more than a mere abduction, more than just a stray case of a few kids being taken from their homes.