As Luxana hurried away from the dungeons, her mind raced with questions. The healing power she had just displayed was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It felt both familiar and alien, like a part of herself she had forgotten.
She made her way through the winding corridors of the fortress, her heart pounding with each step. The weight of what she had just done – defying her aunt, healing the prisoner – pressed down on her. She knew there would be consequences, but she couldn't bring herself to regret her actions.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her into a shadowy alcove. Luxana stifled a scream as she found herself face to face with Ava, the pink-haired girl from earlier.
"What did you do?" Ava hissed, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anger.
Luxana stammered, "I-I don't know. I just touched him and-"
"You idiot!" Ava interrupted, her voice low but intense. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If Medea finds out-"
"Finds out what?" Luxana demanded, finding her voice. "What's going on, Ava? Who is that man? Why do I feel like I know him?"
Ava's expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, it seemed she might reveal more, but then she shook her head. "His name is Cillian. That's all you need to know right now."
Luxana's head spun with this new information. "Cillian," she whispered, the name feeling right on her tongue. "But why can't I remember him?"
"Your memories were taken from you," Ava explained quickly. "But we don't have time for this now. We need to move. There's a resistance forming within the fortress, and we need your help."
"HUH-" Luxana began, only to be cut off again.
"No more questions," Ava snapped. "Just... stay out of the dungeons. And for your own sake, don't do anything stupid like that again."
Luxana felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice.
Before Luxana could protest further, Ava pulled her deeper into the shadows, leaving her alone with her swirling thoughts and the echo of a name: Cillian.
-5:30 AM, Fortress of Ossa; Underground Dungeons-
The heavy iron door creaked open, revealing the dank, dimly lit cell. Ava stepped inside, their footsteps echoing in the confined space. The air was thick with the scent of mold and unwashed bodies, a stark contrast to the fresh bread, porridge and cheese on the tray Ava carried.
Cillian lay slumped against the far wall, his wrists raw from the chains that held him. His once-pristine white hair was matted with sweat and grime, falling in tangled strands across his face. As the cell door clanged shut behind her, he stirred, his muscles tensing instinctively at the sound.
Ava's eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. In one fluid motion, she glided towards Cillian. Her hips swayed with each step, a deliberate display of sensuality that seemed oddly out of place in the grim surroundings.
"Well, well, good morning, handsome," Ava purred, her voice low and sultry. She crouched before Cillian, close enough that her breath ghosted across his skin. "Did you miss me? I brought you a little... treat."
Her fingers, surprisingly soft for someone in her line of work, trailed along Cillian's jawline. They traced the curve of his neck, lingering on his pulse point. "You know, for a prisoner, you're quite the catch. Maybe we could arrange some... special privileges for you."
Cillian's eyelids fluttered, aquamarine orbs slowly focusing on the figure before him. Confusion clouded his features as he was greeted by Ava's coy smile, her face mere inches from his own.
Ava pressed closer, her body heat seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. Her free hand came to rest on Cillian's chest, fingers splayed suggestively over his heart. "Open up, darling," she cooed, her lips brushing against his cheek as she spoke. "Let me take care of you."
She lifted a spoonful of the porridge to his mouth, her movements slow and deliberate. "Come on, don't be shy. I promise I don't bite... unless you want me to." Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips in an exaggerated display.
Luxana watched the scene unfold, a mixture of confusion and discomfort evident on her face. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure whether to intervene or remain silent.
Instinctively, perhaps driven by hunger or disorientation, Cillian's lips parted. The moment the spoon touched his tongue, however, his entire demeanor changed. His eyes, previously unfocused, sharpened with sudden clarity and fury.
With a violent jerk of his head, Cillian spat the food directly into Ava's face. The lukewarm porridge splattered across her cheeks and nose, bits of it clinging to her eyelashes and dripping down her chin.
"What the bloody fucking hell do you think you're playing at, you psychotic cunt?" Cillian snarled, his voice hoarse and raw with a mixture of disuse and rage. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued, "Get your fucking hands off me before I rip them off and shove them so far up your ass you'll be tasting your own fingers for a week!"
The sudden outburst echoed off the stone walls, seeming to reverberate through the very foundations of the fortress. Ava reeled back, shock and indignation warring on her face as she wiped the food from her skin with the back of her hand. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, a flicker of something dark and cold passing through them.
"Now, now," Ava retorted, her voice losing its flirtatious edge and taking on a sharper tone. "Is that any way to treat a lady who's gone out of her way to feed you?"
"Lady? Ha!" Cillian scoffed, his chains rattling ominously as he strained against them. "I've seen alley cats with more class than you, you fucking slag. Now piss off before I show you exactly what I think of your pathetic attempt at seduction, you two-bit whore!"
The air in the cell seemed to freeze, the tension palpable. Luxana stood rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between Cillian and Ava. The flirtatious scene had devolved into a verbal sparring match, with Cillian's crude language cutting through Ava's facade like a sharpened blade.
The dungeon fell silent save for Cillian's heavy breathing and the slow drip of porridge from Ava's chin. The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
Throughout the tense exchange between Ava and Cillian, Luxana remained frozen in place, her eyes wide with shock. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. The intensity of the confrontation left her feeling overwhelmed and unsure how to react.
The tension in the cell was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Ava, seemingly unfazed by Cillian's crude outburst, leaned in even closer. Her body pressed against his, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered, her voice dripping with honey and promise.
"Come now, darling," she purred, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Don't be so harsh. I can make your stay here much more... comfortable. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
Cillian's aquamarine eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and disgust. His muscles tensed, straining against the chains that held him. "Listen here, you fucking harpy," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I'd rather eat my own shit and wash it down with piss than play your little games. Now back the fuck off before I show you what I'm capable of."
Ava's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Oh, such a naughty mouth," she purred, tracing a finger along Cillian's jawline and down his throat. "I can think of much better uses for it, you know. Why don't you let me show you?"
"Get your filthy hands off me, you deranged bitch!" Cillian snarled, jerking away from her touch as much as his restraints would allow. "I've met sewer rats with more charm than you."
As Ava opened her mouth to retort, Luxana's voice cut through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Ava, I must insist that you cease these actions immediately." she commanded, her tone firm and authoritative, reminiscent of a royal decree. "Your conduct is unacceptable and requires immediate termination."
The effect on Ava was immediate and startling. She flinched as if struck, her eyes widening in shock. The command in Luxana's voice was eerily reminiscent of her mother's - a tone that brooked no argument and demanded immediate obedience. Ava retreated instinctively, taking several steps back from Cillian, her pink hair whipping around as she spun and fled the cell.
As Ava's footsteps faded, a heavy silence fell over the dungeon. Luxana stood rigid, her amber eyes fixed on Cillian. Her lips parted, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she hissed, "Cillian Ras Theodore De Valentine Eriko Elmir."
The air seemed to crackle with tension as Medea materialized in the doorway, her presence filling the small space with an oppressive aura. She glided into the cell, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
"Now then," Medea's voice slithered through the air like a venomous serpent. "Shall we begin..." She paused, savoring the moment. "Brain-washing?"
In a fluid motion, Medea seized Luxana's arms from behind, her grip like iron. She loomed over Luxana, her lips mere inches from the girl's right cheek as she continued, "Since, marriage without blessings is considered invalid."
A visible shudder ran through Luxana's emaciated frame. Marriage? The word echoed in her mind, a concept both foreign and terrifying. What is she even talking about? Luxana's gaze remained fixed on the grimy floor, unable to lift her head and meet Medea's piercing stare.
Thoughts raced through Luxana's mind, each more confusing than the last. Am I supposed to summon my shadow flames? Am I supposed to kill him? Am I supposed to kill the person he'll marry? The person he's married to? What is going on? What does that even mean? Her mind reeled, struggling to make sense of the situation.
"C'mon, Luxana," Medea hissed once more, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She slid her hand down Luxana's arm, bringing the girl's wrists together and holding them in one vice-like grip. "Does that charming face of your beloved imposter not remind you of anything?" Her free hand caressed Luxana's jaw with mock tenderness.
Suddenly, Medea's gentle touch turned violent. She grabbed Luxana's chin, yanking it upward and forcing her to look at Cillian. The abrupt movement sent a jolt of pain through Luxana's neck.
Cillian stood motionless, his expression a mask of indifference. His aquamarine eyes, once so full of the ocean, now stared blankly at the floor, refusing to meet Luxana's gaze.
"C'mon. Don't keep me waiting," Medea growled, her right hand violently squeezing Luxana's cheeks as she loomed over her. The pressure of her fingers left angry red marks on Luxana's pale skin.
Luxana, her mind a blank slate save for her name and an ingrained obedience to her elders, felt terror rising within her. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and leaving glistening tracks down her hollowed cheeks.
"Pl-please let- let go of me," Luxana begged, her voice cracking with fear and pain. "I'll- I'll do anything. But please," she paused, a sob escaping her lips. "Please- please don't hurt me or him." Her eyes, wide and pleading, were forcibly fixed on Cillian's impassive form.
"Oh my-" Medea began, a cruel smile playing on her lips.
Before she could finish, the air in the cell seemed to thicken. A black circle materialized beneath the three figures, pulsing with an eerie black and white glow. The temperature dropped sharply, and an otherworldly energy crackled through the air.
"Luxana."
Cillian's voice sliced through the silence as if cutting through the suffocating tension like a blade, cold, deliberate and sharp as shattered glass. His head lifted slowly, strands of blood-matted white hair falling away to reveal his fractured aquamarine eyes—piercing, luminous, and blazing with a fury that seemed to ignite the air itself. The blank detachment that had cloaked his expression and features moments earlier dissolved, replaced by something primal and untamed.
Then—
Medea's skull erupted.
A wet, visceral crack split the air as her head exploded like overripe fruit. Bone fragments and brain matter sprayed across the dungeon walls in a grotesque and grisly arc. Blood—thick, vivid crimson, and still steaming—splattered and drenched Luxana's face and body, streaking her pale skin and coating her gaunt cheeks, pooling in the hollows of her collarbones, soaking into the thin fabric of her dress. The metallic tang of iron flooded her nostrils, sharp and nauseating. She gagged, frozen in shock.
Luxana's zircon eyes shot wide open, her pupils dilating in shock. Her knees threatened to buckle as her mind struggled to process what had just happened.
The chains binding Cillian exploded and shattered.
Shards of molten metal screamed through the air, embedding themselves in the stone walls like shrapnel. Cillian rose to his feet in a single fluid motion with eerie grace, his movements unnaturally precise. As he stood, black pristine clothing materialized across his body in a ripple of dark energy.
As he stood there, his battered torso exposed, black clothing began materializing around him, weaving itself into existence as though summoned by the shadows themselves.
A sleek black suit jacket, its lapels sharp and angular, draped over his broad shoulders like a mantle of authority. The fabric shimmered faintly under the dim dungeon light, as if imbued with an otherworldly sheen.
Beneath it, a high-collared black shirt hugged his frame, its neckline layered with delicate silver chains that glinted ominously against his pale skin.
His trousers were impeccably tailored, tapering down to polished black boots with pointed toes that clicked sharply against the blood-slicked floor as he moved.
Completing the ensemble was a long translucent coat, its edges trimmed with faint silver accents that seemed to pulse faintly with energy. The coat swayed behind him like a shadow given form, its length emphasizing every deliberate step he took toward Luxana.
Every stitch screamed lethal elegance, the garments clinging to his frame like a second skin—a fusion of battlefield practicality and regal menace.
He began walking toward her.
To be Continued...