31. AURELIA

Chapter thirty-one

AURELIA

M y head was pounding, my eyes wincing from the flashes that streamed into them, making everything look blurry.

"She's waking up," I heard a man gurgle deep from his throat. There were a lot of loud noises, alerting me that I was in a new environment. The air was alive with the cacophony of clanking tins, laughter, heated arguments, and overlapping conversations. The spacious room bustled with a multitude of individuals, filling every corner with their presence.

As my eyes gently opened, I found myself faced with men holding large gray mugs filled with foaming beer. The room was dimly lit, and only a few sconces lit up with flickering flames along the outskirts of the walls. The concrete slabs matched the floor, making me believe we were underground. There were also no windows, and only one door in the back with red paint slacked onto it, peeling from age.

It was an underground bar permeated by the powerful aroma of alcohol and the distinct scent of drunken men, with a sour, yeasty smell that lingered in the air and clung to one's senses.

A black-aged bar in the corner served mugs and glasses of alcohol to other men with scraggly hair and beards sitting along the counter. There were beams throughout the room, supporting bar racks and stools, affirming my guess to be true.

A short man was in front of me, staring deeply into my golden eyes. His mouth hung down, drool pooling out, his lips twitching at the small movement. His eyes were large and his nose was drawn to a sharp point, making his features remind me of some type of wild and uncontrolled owl from the Forbidden Forest. His hair spiked up in different shades of red, and he had large holes in his ear where large rings must've been. His teeth were rotted and a dark brown color, emitting a foul smell as his mouth dangled open.

His laughter was an eerie, unsettling sound, making me recoil in my seat. He continued to deeply chuckle as he moved toward the man who had struck me on the head. His flesh was severely burned and turning a purplish color. Boils already started to form and ooze out a sickly yellow liquid. He shot me a glare, acknowledging that I had just changed his life forever.

I noticed my surroundings and found that my hands were bolted down to a wooden chair. My ankles were the same. My muscles strained against the restraints, my body twisting in a desperate attempt to escape. The bolts and straps secured me in place, confining me. My black pants were hiked up to the middle of my thighs, and I realized that they hadn't changed me into one of those raggedy sacks yet.

Clenching my fingers and hand, I attempted to conjure up more flames and use them to my aid, but nothing came out. My head was still spinning, and the energy within me was diminished.

The room hushed to a silence, and all the frightening men rotated to look my way. I scowled at the stares, waiting for someone to break the silence.

A loud voice boomed from the back of the room. A man who was double the height of everyone else in the bar sauntered forward. I gulped, probably louder than I hoped, and stared innocently up at the large figure before me. His eyes were the color of the deep sea. His hand disappeared in his jacket pocket, pulling out a short knife, a thick silver with the flames from the sconces around the room gleaming from the blade.

My heart stopped in place. I felt frozen. I couldn't breathe. It was as if my life was flashing before my eyes. Emotions of regret for leaving my tower started to infiltrate my veins, burning with the doubt I had in myself. Maybe I was not meant to be queen if I could be kidnapped so easily. Or for not being able to save my kingdom. I had one opportunity and the thought of dying was the only one on my mind.

He drew the knife perilously close to my throat, the sharp edge glinting ominously in the dim light. With a firm grip on the back of my hair, he yanked me downward, tilting my chin upward, forcing me to meet his menacing gaze.

The edge of the knife felt cool against my neck. My face flushed, not wanting to make eye contact with him, because I didn't want my eyes to remind him of what I had beneath my skin.

I grimaced, noticing the tattoos that ran along the sides of his neck, arms, and fingers, and the scowl that was etched on his face.

A loud laugh echoed from his lips, rumbling throughout the underground bar. "Look what we have here. Finally, fresh gold. Our other monster is running out. We wanted to wait for her to produce more blood, but I didn't think that we could wait any longer. Lucky you. You should feel like a hero. Saving the monster from her death." The way that he called her a monster sent chills throughout my skin. I remembered how sickly she looked. They would've killed her.

He quickly moved the knife from my throat to my arm, replacing it with his hand. His fingers dug into my skin, making an animalistic choke escape my throat from the lack of air.

He guffawed as more and more laughs erupted from others in the room watching, tracing the silver knife along my skin.

He found a tender spot beneath my arm where the skin was more fleshy. My skin pricked with unease as his gaze met mine. Smirking, he pressed the knife in, sinking into where my blood flowed.

A howl escaped my lips, and I tried to move my arms and legs to retaliate but was unsuccessful. He pressed an object against my skin, capturing the flow of my golden blood as it trickled down into one of the gray beer mugs.

Once the cup was filled enough, he lifted it up high for everyone to see. "Let's get this golden party started!" He lifted the cup to his lips, consuming my golden blood in long, uninterrupted swallows. With each gulp and swallow, I couldn't help but wince, feeling his unwavering gaze piercing through me. His eyes, devoid of warmth or empathy, locked onto mine, reflecting a soulless void that sent shivers down my spine.

The malevolence on his face would haunt me forever, residing in each nightmare I will ever have. His eyes appeared so dark that they could have been black, as though he had struck bargains with the devils within Haxnau 1 themselves.

As he wiped away the lingering traces of golden blood clinging to the curve of his upper lip, his eyes bore into my own. A smug tugged at the corner of his lips, making me despise him even more.

Stepping back, he melted into the ravaging crowd.

The men surrounding me shifted closer, their movements deliberate and predatory. In one hand, each clenched something glinting and sharp, while the other gripped mugs and vials, their contents mysterious yet undoubtedly sinister. Saliva dripped from their lips, forming a grotesque trail of anticipation, while their eyes flickered with avarice, hungry for the gold in my veins.

I clenched my eyes closed as I felt large raspy hands grabbing me, cutting into me with their sharp objects, and arguing over which areas of my body they would claim and cut.

One man held a kitchen knife in his hand, cutting the cap off my shoulder, holding a cup to the edge, catching every drop that would fall. Another man lifted my pants up even more, revealing my thighs, and cut deep into my leg with a shard of glass that he held in his hand. He held a rag to the wound, soaking each drop and left, ringing the golden blood into his cup.

Each cut made me yelp in fear and pain. My expression remained frozen. I tried to scream but found that no words would escape from my mouth.

1. Haxnau (Hah-nah-woo): Hell