32. Elara

Chapter 32

Elara

C rimson silk caresses my naked flesh as I lie bound on the altar. Smoky incense chokes the air, while fire sconces provide the only light in the windowless stone chamber, their flames dancing in tune with my terrorized heart.

The High Sovereign stands over me as he finishes the final silk binding on my left ankle, his colorless eyes piercing and merciless behind his mask. My breathing becomes heavier, shorter, as I stare back.

What are they going to do to me? Will they rape me? Will the guys—my men—have to watch the Sovereigns take turns on me while they're trapped in torture devices?

Is this how I die ?

With the men I love watching helplessly while I scream?

"No."

The soft, cold whisper of the word arrests my thoughts, the sound not coming from my own lips, but the High Sovereign's.

"No, Miss Wraithwood," he continues, reading the thoughts behind my eyes. He unfolds his long, gloved fingers to emphasis his point. "Sexually violating you would be too … mundane."

The High Sovereign turns, facing north—facing Axe —with the Silent Sovereign standing by. Axe is chained like a wild animal, his knees forced to the floor and his hands only able to hover inches from the ground.

With the horizontal way I'm positioned, I can turn my head north, to Axe, and south, to Wilder hanging on strappado hooks, his arms wrenched in ways no human should endure. The Scourge stands close to him, as if expecting Wilder to slip free of the ropes and fling himself on top of the Scourge at the first sliver of opportunity.

Lifting my head, neck straining, Cav is east, strapped to a pillory board, the tendons in his neck bulging as he struggles to control his weight against a deadly point between his legs.

The two initiates, the boys Sasha thought she had feelings for, linger behind him, but not too close, lest Cav manage to reach them somehow.

Though I try, I can't see Kaspian directly behind my head.

I can't see Kaspian , but I know, from the hard breaths through his nose, that the water covering his feet has begun to boil.

How many nights have I dreamed about their bodies tangled with mine? Now they're here, helpless and hurting because of me.

Me and my bloodline.

Maverick's research burns in my mind. You're the sacrifice, Ellie.

So I am.

I thought I'd be alone in this curse, that the Sovereigns wouldn't need my men for anything else.

How wrong I was.

The High Sovereign addresses the room.

"Elara Wraithwood," says, placing a disturbing emphasis on my name. "Your ancient heritage has always posed a threat to us. You come from the Anderton line, one assumed to have died along with Sarah Anderton and her young daughter in 1715. It is only known to a rare few that Sarah's nameless daughter survived long enough to conceive a secret child, a baby who grew up and began the Farrow empire. Your father was ordered to marry a Farrow once the lost child's family line was traced. What we could not abide was that he fell in love with her and refused to use her as our final gift to our Exalted Regent once we found Its Heart. Darian Wraithwood was a revered Sovereign of ours before he died in that … tragic … plane two decades ago. Did you know he was the one who discovered your lineage, then tried to hide it once he realized what—or who —it led to? He'd had a daughter by that point, a darling baby girl. By conceiving a girl, he spared his wife. But what is one to do when in order to save your wife, you must kill your daughter?"

He pauses dramatically to peer at me as if expecting me to gasp in horror. I glare at him.

"Already discovered that, did you? I shouldn't be surprised, considering the nasty habit of rebellion that flows in your genetics.

Your ancestor, Sarah Anderton, was a woman of great power," he continues. "She was a healer, an assassin, a witch. She had a knack for using the ruby Heart in way we never could. She wielded its power and used it against us in an attempt to dismantle the Court's control."

I seal my lips shut at his history lesson, recalling the stories of Sarah Anderton's infamous dealings within Titan Falls, a mixture of Clover and Maverick's information, as well as town lore—tales that made Sarah sound like a ruthless villain rather than the heroine the High Sovereign now paints her to be.

Because he's the villain. And, I'm realizing, Sarah was killed by the Sovereigns of the Court because of their fanatic superstitions.

"Her bloodline possesses great power," he continues with fervor, spinning to me and inching closer. His eyes are alight with something akin to dark admiration. "The power that could challenge our rule. And we can't let that happen."

I swallow hard as he looms, my throat constricting. My blood. They want my blood.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Kaspian spits just out of my sight. Deadly promise laces his tone.

" You are such a disappointment," the High Sovereign hisses at Kaspian while he reaches out a finger to trace down my arm. A shiver of revulsion ripples through me.

Kaspian releases a guttural roar, thrashing even while rooted to the floor. I hear the metal grating of his ankle locks, then a hard boom as he loses his balance and his upper body hits the ground.

A laugh devoid of warmth crawls out of the High Sovereign's throat. "Initiates, fix Kaspian's posture so he stands like the soldier he was supposed to be. Ideally before he rips himself off at the ankles and crawls pathetically over to the girl he was never entitled to in the first place. Elara is meant for more, Kaspian. More than the four extreme disappointments that surround her."

"You call us disappointments ?" Wilder explodes with a volcanic burst of sound. He strains against the hooks, chest heaving beneath sweat-soaked skin. "We're the nightmare you created, and your downfall is our birthright."

Cav strains, too, his body taut and pale skin shining with effort. But Cav keeps his cold, blue eyes on me, and I cling to them like cool water washing over my body, guiding me away from Hell.

"They show such touching displays of love," the High Sovereign sneers, pacing around me in ever-shrinking circles. His gloved fingers trace down the curve of my exposed side in a sick parody of a caress. My skin erupts with rash-like goosebumps.

"As if they know what love is," he continues. "These boys know nothing but cruelty, Elara. Hate and violence. But you, innocent dove that you are, have been chosen. Not just for your blood, but for your Anderton heart. The gem will be an adequate replacement in your chest and will be a life-force for It. Do you think you're unique, Miss Wraithwood? That your life matters more than those of the countless others who have spilled their blood on this very altar?" He leans down with his placid mask inches from my face. "Not by far. Our Exalted Regent is hungry again."

Though I want to flail in terror, I keep still and force a bitter laugh to escape. "You're deluded if you think a gem can replace a heart and my body can house your mythical demon."

The High Sovereign only simpers at my retort. "It's ironic how a man's obsession can drive him. First your father, then your brother, and now you've managed to get my soldiers, my regents, to devote themselves to you instead of to us, their Sovereigns. I was furious at this at first, of course. Like Wilder pointed out, every nightmare has an architect. We've been building these boys for years and for that to culminate into such a waste… But I've come to see reason. Your connection to my regents will be the conduit we need to secure our future. The Anderton bloodline that has always threatened us will become ours and our Exalted Regent can feed off their sweet agony while I cut your beating heart out." The High Sovereign rakes his gaze over my bare form, lingering between my breasts. "We are going to give you to It, heart, body and soul."

He signals to his right and the Silent Sovereign slinks over to Axe. My chest tightens as he extends a long, spindly finger towards the fresh wound on Axe's chest, made by the ruby Heart when its molten, crystalline body was pressed into his skin.

Every muscle in Axe's body tenses. There's a fleeting, heart-wrenching moment of vulnerability in his face before he covers it with quiet rage.

"Touch him and I'll rip your throat out." Wilder's voice is as rough as the uncut Heart as he strains against his ropes. His words are met with snickers from the robed figures that lurk in the shadows of the nave, but one look from Wilder, even while dangling helplessly, silents the initiates.

The Silent Sovereign's hunched shoulders stiffen—a tiny but noticeable break in his otherwise methodical demeanor. But then he presses his gloved finger against Axe's ugly wound, ripping through the blackened skin and causing fresh blood to run down Axe's chest.

Axe endures it—barely, his lips whitening and his teeth clenched, choking on torment.

With a bloodied finger raised, the Silent Sovereign walks to the dais, the weight of his focus pressing down on my skin and burning through his pale, cracked mask. There's a pause that stretches too long as he studies me with a flicker of hesitation.

The High Sovereign grunts in irritation and the Silent Sovereign blinks out of it, raising his finger to my hip. My breath stalls as he draws a complex symbol on my skin in Axe's blood.

My pulse won't stop roaring in my ears until the Silent Sovereign completes the crude symbol and backs away.

I squirm beneath all of the stares that burn into me as they watch for a reaction. But there's no immediate sensation, no blowback of power or sudden rush of energy. Only the cold touch of blood drying on my skin and the lacerating gazes of the Sovereigns.

"So this is your great ritual?" I ask. "You cut up your men to paint pretty pictures on me?"

"Clearly, it's not enough," the High Sovereign barks, ignoring me. "Brand another one."

The Silent Sovereign approaches Kaspian, with the Scourge moving from his position beside Wilder and now holding the deadly, glowing ruby with metal tongs.

No, no, no…

I didn't notice the Scourge Sovereign move to the workbench and reheat the jewel in the furnace.

" Stop! " I scream. "Just cut out my heart and get it over with. Don't do this to them."

The High Sovereign only inclines his head, likely delighted by the renewed anguish on my face. He caresses my cheek, his touch as cold as the revenge I'm certain he wants to seek against my dead father for disobeying him. For protecting the Anderton line. "Don't worry, pet. It'll all be over soon."

With that, he gives a nod over my head.

"Your turn," I hear the Scourge say to Kaspian with a voice as scraped and uneven as gravel.

I can't see what happens next, but oh God, I hear it.

The sizzle of flesh is drowned out by Kaspian's soul-shattering agony. The smell of cooked flesh mingles with the incense, and my stomach churns.

Sounds of desperate motions, like bodily convulsions, follow until Kaspian gasps, heaving through the aftermath as he fights for breath.

The Scourge laughs darkly. ""I always hated you the most, you egotistic fucker."

He presses the ruby hard against Kaspian's chest once more.

Kaspian's scream can barely escape, his vocal cords are so shredded.

I start crying.

"Does it hurt, Kaspy-waspy?" the Scourge sing-songs viciously.

"Go to hell," is Kaspian's snarled, weakened reply.

"Kaspian," I whisper, desperate to offer some form of comfort.

"Beastie," he says raggedly, "Don't break. Not for me. Not for them."

I barely register the Silent Sovereign returning to me until his newly bloodied finger hovers into my vision and he inscribes another sickening pattern in Kaspian's blood on my trembling flesh, a morbid mirror of Axe's symbol on my other hip.

"The Sovereigns aren't creative," Wilder observes through gritted teeth, his thoughts aligning with mine, "They're using the same symbols as they did with Axe."

His words are met by enraged grunts of agreement from Kaspian and Cav. The Silent Sovereign hesitates before continuing his macabre artwork on my body.

The High Sovereign scoffs at this. "Axton was a failed attempt. We assumed our Exalted Regent would want a strong, honed, highly trained body with a malleable mind to inhabit. Our mistake. It should've been obvious what our god wanted—an Anderton vessel, emptied after drinking the blood of the one who defeated him over three hundred years ago."

He waves a dismissive hand towards Axe.

The Scourge Sovereign prowls into my vision and takes a slow, cruel inventory of the room until his attention rests on Wilder.

I struggle against my silk bindings, my scream trapped by my clenched teeth, my vision hot with anguish.

Wilder fights back against his restraints with a sudden burst of rage. His muscles bulge and flex under the strain, but the ceiling hooks hold him firmly in place. He snaps at the Scourge with his legs, bucking like a trapped lion.

"You touch me," he savagely intones, "and I'll rip your fucking heart out and feed it to your demon."

The two initiates, their faces unmasked and therefore glowing with eagerness, each grab a leg, stilling Wilder enough for the Scourge Sovereign to approach with the freshly smelted ruby. The red glow is reflected in Wilder's eyes while lips move in a silent snarl.

"Feisty," the Scourge Sovereign mocks.

He doesn't waste time, likely noticing the initiates' tenuous hold on Wilder at the same time I do. He presses the ruby against Wilder's chest until smoke rises from his chest, followed by Wilder's deafening roar. His body shakes violently with futile resistance as raw anguish contorts his striking features.

"Wilder," I cry out.

His helpless gaze locks onto mine for a moment.

I love you , I mouth. I'm here.

"Hey, sweetwitch," Wilder rasps, grinning through blood-stained teeth, "Wanna bet I can make ‘em scream louder?"

He tries so hard to remain strong that I give him an answering, shaky smile. But hearing his stifled gasps for air and the scorching sizzle of his flesh is almost worse than I can bear.

I beg the Sovereigns to stop. To leave him alone.

They do not.

The Silent Sovereign takes Wilder's blood, painting me under my breasts. Tears soak the back of my head now, coursing freely down my cheeks.

If any of these legends were real, if Sarah Anderton were truly a witch, she would come to our aid. My blood could put a halt to this all with its genetically inherited magic. But the Sovereigns are wrong. Clover was wrong. There is no magic in this world, just brutality. No spirit from the afterlife is coming to save us. No power will flow through my veins, break my bindings, and singe these motherfuckers into Hell for all eternity.

We're stuck in reality. I'm to die in this nightmare. The villains will win.

The Scourge turns from Wilder and centers on Cav.

"Don't you fucking take one more step," Cav says. His voice is icy as a winter's night, his eyes frostbitten with fury. "Or I'll do more than personally dine on your hearts for dinner tonight. I'll rip your tongues out of your heads and stuff them back into your skulls so you can choke on your screams."

"Empty threats, dear boy," the High Sovereign says by my side. "You're in no position to negotiate. Do shut him up and fry him so we can move on."

Please, no. I can't watch another one. This can't be our last moments together…

The metallic taste of fear floods my mouth, and I swallow against the bile rising in my throat.

But I will. For Cav, I will keep my eyes open and endure this with him.

My heart races, threatening to burst from my chest, as I force myself to look at him one last time.

After a deep, trembling inhale, I level my gaze on his chest, his marred skin puckered and angry from the Sovereigns' previous torture.

The sight of his wounds—raw, weeping, and crusted with dried blood—makes me want to scream and vomit simultaneously. I remember how that chest once felt beneath my fingers, strong and warm, rising and falling with peaceful breaths as we lay together.

"Butterfly... don't cry for me." His voice is a bare thread, a fine tremor coursing through his over-taxed body. "Their every move is a tell. Watch. Learn. Remember. Survive. "

The use of my pet name shatters something inside me, and fresh tears burn behind my eyelids. A whimper escapes despite my best efforts to stay silent.

The Scourge halts in front of Cav, ruby brandished like a weapon and glowing with an unholy light. Heat radiates from it, its invisible steam licking at my legs even from where I lay.

The Scourge lowers it towards Cav's chest. I brace myself for Cav's inevitable, visceral bellows?—

A loud crash sounds out from the adjacent Grand Library.

The three Sovereigns turn their heads simultaneously at the sudden disruption.

"Who the hell…?" Lowering the ruby, the Scourge stalks toward the archway.

"Stay where you are," the High Sovereign barks at the Scourge. "Initiates, investigate what that noise was."

"A possum?" one initiate suggests no one in particular.

"We locked everyone in the drawing room," the other one replies, a little nervously. "There's no way anyone should've escaped."

"A possum," the High Sovereign repeats, his voice dripping with derision. "You two had better find out before it becomes a real problem for you."

His attention never leaves the archway as the two younger members of their unholy congregation scurry off.

The room grows quiet except for the thump of my heart and the grunts and moans of my men's continued torture.

A moment passes, then another, and I begin to fear that whoever or whatever made that noise has already been caught or killed.

Then, a loud, thunderous bang reverberates through the room, followed by the sharp screech of wood splintering from its joints and the harsh clatter of books tumbling to the floor.

From somewhere deep within the library, two blood-curdling screams are abruptly cut short by a sickening crunch. My breath catches in my throat as I strain to hear any other sounds, but all is eerily silent again.

Until a female voice bellows, "How does that feel, you complacent pricks? Are you as shattered as my fucking heart right now?"

I don't believe it.

Sasha.