The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 38: Aebbé - Sinister

Warning: this chapter and the ones following it has some violence and allusions to violence and crimes in them. I haven't written anything too graphic or explicit, but this is necessary for the story to continue.)

"The sinister, the terrible never deceive: the state in which they leave us is always one of enlightenment. And only this condition of vicious insight allows us a full grasp of the world, all things considered, just as a frigid melancholy grants us full possession of ourselves. We may hide from horror only in the heart of horror." - Thomas Ligotti

Metal grates on metal as a key turns in the rusted iron door. Lord Hoyt and four beefed-up men enter, making my cell seem smaller than a jewellery box.

"Lord Hoyt, you really are a son of a whore."

"Princess, you really have quite a foul mouth," he says dryly.

My fists curl up. Whatever clever retort I might have, gets stuck in my throat.

With a flick of his wrist, two of his men grab my arms - and I immediately imagine that my arms would grow purple patches before the change of the sun. His eyes narrow as he studies me, seemingly waiting to arrive at a decision. The ring of keys he produces from his pockets rattle as he unlocks my shackles.

Realising that a golden opportunity is within my reach, the shattering feeling of my shin connecting with his shoots up my leg.

Moron. Couldn't you rather kick him somewhere softer and higher up?

The guards at my side immediately burrow their meaty hands deeper into my arms. Those bruises will come even sooner.

"Lord Hoyt, I will kill you myself," I say as my feet drag and slam against the floor when they usher me out of the cell.

His hollow laugh echoes down the tunnel, giving it an even more eery quality. "Oh, little princess, you can try, but you will soon see that we are going to proceed on my terms and not yours."

Something in his voice while uttering his warning chills me to the bone.

I'm lead down an unlit tunnel with an uneven floor. Without light to how our way, I would've stumbled, but the creeps at my sides are clumsily pulling me forward through the tunnels they seem to know. A few turns, a long walk and an obvious descent later we find ourselves in front of an impenetrable wooden door, with two torches mounted on the walls on either side. The sturdy iron holding the door together seems strong enough to withstand even a dragon's breath.

Lord Hoyt snaps his fingers and a black key appears out of thin air. The unnatural midnight black metal seems to suck the faint candlelight towards it.

I gasp and then start coughing as the murky air of the tunnels enters my lungs. I've seen some of the things that elves can do with water, but I've never seen them conjure objects out of thin air.

Lord Hoyt is no simple foe, and whatever magic he is using is not of the Council. The elves used to whisper about magic stronger than the Council's - a magic dark and inexplicable. They always talked about it with fear - something the elves barely know the meaning of.

A feeling of despair takes root somewhere in the dark corners of my mind as I realise that I am at an obvious disadvantage.

The ancient door creaks open on its own accord. I enter a circular room chiselled out of the rock. The room is about the same as the hall in Raven's Peak. The ceiling domes up into darkness. A circular pit caves down in the centre of the room. A thick chain comes from somewhere in the darkness above and enters the middle of the pit.