Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

T he sound of trickling water on stone rouses me from whatever state Lord Hollis has put me in. I can taste the metallic residue of blood in my mouth when I can finally lift my head. I'm propped up in a chair by invisible restraints that hold my torso against the hard backing. My wrists ache from unseen ropes tied tightly on the armrests.

The roughly cut wall in front of me is wet, like the stone itself is sweating. Beads of moisture pool at the base, a thinly cut troth of faster moving water, carrying it from one end of the room to the other.

The torches behind me cast golden, dancing shapes on the glistening wall, leaving the shadow of my sitting silhouette empty and dark.

I follow the glow, tracking with my eyes to gain a sense of place, desperate to know where I am. The light stops in one corner, getting lost on the entire wall next to it, and then I realize it's not a wall but rather open on that side.

I stare hard at the opening, long obstructions catching vertical reflections of the light.

Bars.

This is a cell and that side has bars.

I'm in the dungeons below the Estate where they keep murders, thieves, and the people who commit crimes against the temple. Those waiting for execution for treason. I have done something worse than treason in the eyes of the temple. I have made the priestess order look weak.

I think of how 99 will react when he realizes the temple has lied, that they have accepted me back under false pretenses that I would be forgiven like others who have strayed by simply confessing my sins.

By the time the last days of the conjunction begin and I am meant to meet up with them in the safe house, will I already be dead?

I wait for my eyes to adjust and my mind to sober, squinting without being able to move forward.

Past the bars, there is a walkway of some sort and another cell with eyes watching me. I jump as a man gawks back, dressed in rags with a long, unkempt beard showing his duration of imprisonment.

Next to him is another cell, one I can only see a sliver of, enough to notice the bars are glowing. The light is low and pulsates slightly, like it's breathing.

Some sort of ward. Why would they need a ward in a dungeon? Are the thick metal bars not enough to hold whoever is in there?

The moment that thought crosses my mind, I can't think of anything else. I stare hard at the radiant light illuminating around each pillar of iron, an intense need calling out to me to see what is kept within them.

"Hello?" I stretch my neck from the invisible, strong hold I am in, but my muscles are frozen.

The man in the cell across from mine glances in the same direction but is unfazed, like he already knows the other prisoner won't answer.

I thrash, trying to scoot myself closer, overcome with a curiosity that wipes away all other emotions.

When that doesn't work, I move my shoulders side to side, swaying in rhythm until the growing momentum lifts the chair legs.

With one final extension, the chair leans on one set of legs instead of scooting, now slanted past the point of returning to a stable position.

The world tilts as I fall to the side and the light in the warded cell flickers, illuminating more of the space within the bars.

My gasp echoes off the stone walls as I realize I am about to hit the hard floor, the sound making the occupant turn and look over their shoulder at me.

As I am falling to the side, I catch a distorted glimpse.

It's not a person at all.

Reflective pupils watch me, like tiny, round lights floating within black sockets.

It's monstrous, a pale blue in complexion, only the size of a child with the features of a woman.

I slam into the floor, knocking myself out of the horror of seeing that creature.

The finger I wrapped around the armrest crunches, now pinned between both surfaces.

The pain is so sharp I have to scrunch my face in a feral scream then see little dancing speckles in the blackness behind my lids.

When I try to breathe through the sharp throbbing in my hand and look across the hallway again, the creature has moved. Whatever it is, I am glad it is behind that ward.

Even if I could move my hand, any tiny change in pressure would be excruciating. I cry out as a second wave of pain throbs in tune with my heaving breath.

The other prisoner across from me holds out his hand, counting his fingertips dramatically. His laugh is from someone who has been alone for a very long time, kept in company with something inhuman.

I glance down at my hand, hoping I still have all my fingers attached. The skin is already swollen and an angry shade of red.

The sound of footsteps approaching sends me into a panic as someone grips my chair, tilting me in a rough shove back into place.

An Estate guard comes to my front, bends down to wiggle the chair, and tests the balance. "Don't try that again," he whispers and smiles at my mangled hand.

"Has she been neutralized?" a whisper says behind me. It's not distinctly anyone, just . . . a voice.

"A precaution." The second voice is Lord Hollis's, smug and with a nasal hum.

The echoing click of well-made temple shoes sends a chill down my spine. The air in the cell turns thicker and harder to breathe in. My body prepares me, sending a wave of adrenaline in an icy blast of relief to my fingers, forcing me to pay attention to a much greater threat.

The sounds of their slow, intentional footsteps stop just behind me, the shape of the person's shadow dancing on the wall from the flickering flames.

Crixa.

I do not need to turn to know it is her; I can feel it.

"Begin," she whispers, her voice like a quick strike, sending Lord Hollis forward until he faces me.

He tsks, squatting down to catch my eyes. "Such exquisite light comes from these." He runs his bony palms across my restrained hands.

I clench my jaw to keep from groaning in agony at the contact and to keep the bile at bay from his touch.

He pauses for just a brief moment, his fingertips hovering over my knuckles before he grabs my hand and, with a crunch, forces the fingers back into their joints.

The breath is taken from me, my scream so loud my own ears ring.

"You have spent . . . countless time with the Viathans' technology. What do you think of it?" he asks as if he did not just harm me further.

I gulp on the stale air, a new sting in my knuckles taking root in the tendons.

His question looms, so odd that I think I may have misheard.

"Answer or I will pull them out. They won't go back in as easily a second time."

When he reaches for me, I quickly answer. "I . . . Most of it is unnecessary," I say, doing my best not to give any extra information.

"Did you use any of it?"

He is trying to see how much I have assimilated into their society.

"With great regret." I sigh intentionally, to pad the lie. "First Mother forgive me."

"I pray she judges you harshly."

He sounds ridiculous. I do not love every technology offered on Viathan, but there is no doubt in my mind at how, in small amounts, it can be used for good.

"Did you come into contact with any followers of the most wicked one, First Son?" He leans in.

"No."

"Do you believe that First Son is the greatest threat to the three worlds?"

"Yes," I pant.

"Do you believe that our way of life on Cosima is the only true way, the purest form of devotion to First Mother."

"I do."

"Do you believe in the teachings of First Son and his followers? Do you pray for First Mother's perpetual slumber so that her Son, the most wicked of her children, can roam free and decimate the three worlds?"

I look up at him, shocked at the line of questioning. I am being interrogated to see if I have turned against First Mother entirely. To see if I have fallen so far from previous beliefs that I have taken up with the opposition to fill the space in my heart First Mother once did.

A terrible voice cracks into the space to answer the question I cannot. "Yes. Yes, First Son deliver us. Spread yourself across the worlds. They are your domain!"

Lord Hollis straightens, his furious eyes fixed on the deranged man in the cell across from me. I hear guards briskly walking toward us and the creak of his cell opening.

The man screams as they corner and restrain him, the tattered fabric of his clothes pulling into strings and ripping as they force him out.

"Answer the question," Lord Hollis commands.

"I do not believe in the teachings of First Son."

He nods and seems satisfied.

"I have a question." It takes me a moment to realize Crixa has spoken. Her shadow steps closer, growing unnaturally up the wall in a mountainous form. Her robe swishes at her feet, and I can almost hear the undoubtedly intricate beading as it sways.

"We should assume by your appearance you are or have been still wearing the veil, correct?"

For some reason, it feels like the first words I speak to Crixa should be significant, like they should not be yes or no but have meaning. I hesitate to answer the strange question about my Viathan made priestess gown, wondering what the true motive is for her to ask.

So instead, I nod, letting her know that yes, I am intentionally wearing my black priestess gown.

She hums and crosses in front of me, her beautiful midnight-blue robe kissing the dirty floor. She looks down, giving nothing away as to her thoughts. Her hooded eyes are hollow, the skin around her brow thinner and more creased than the last time I saw her. The powdery blue eyes that I once thought were beautiful meet mine with no emotion in them, as if she is staring at a stranger.

"I would like to hear of your ascension at long last, the source of those newfound gifts I have witnessed. I would like to hear the words aloud."

My ascension?

"Highest Priestess, I have not yet ascended," I state, confused.

First Mother has never shown herself to me. I did not see a vision of her, and she did not find my devotion worthy of more gifts. The light that suddenly poured out of my hands once we touched down on Frith seemed to summon itself, and I did not realize I had healed myself until days later, when we returned to Cosima. I have not ascended in the way of the priestess order, I never will, and I have made peace with that.

"You stand before us, a lesser priestess, as the day you departed to retrieve the stones?" She spreads her hands wide.

"Yes. I assure you."

Crixa smirks, pausing to search my face. Then I watch as she glides off to the side and behind me with such graceful movements, they look unnatural in such a setting.

She and Lord Hollis whisper, scheming together in the shadows. I am unsure if it is a good sign that they are questioning me on such things.

If I am truly to be murdered down here, they will likely leave me to rot until they can make arrangements or do so in private to not cause a scene.

"Tell us, former Priestess Ferren, of your intent to undermine the temple under the false pretense of acquiring more gifts on your own?" Lord Hollis asks as if to announce it to the entire space.

The accusation is baffling, only furthering how truly warped the way of thinking is in the Estate. I am already sick to death of their paranoia.

"I've no intention other than to ask for forgiveness from my priestess sisters and mercy from First Mother!"

The undeniable etching sound of a pen on parchment perks my ears, the scratch of it tickling my nape with sad memories. Someone is scribing our words for a record of what is happening here.

"She is clearly still corrupted," Lord Hollis whispers.

"Please, I am prepared to confess my transgressions," I interrupt.

"The former priestess is serving in solitude," Crixa announces slowly, followed by the sound of more crude writing.

"My highest, I was offered atonement," I respond, my composure slipping.

She walks again in front of me, her chin angular and hard like she is grinding her teeth at my direct address.

She bends, her crinkled gaze holding mine, and it takes everything in me to seem passive, obedient, and shamed by my own actions.

Finally, I break, succumbing to the pain in my body, the mind-bending interrogation, and the betrayal toward myself for believing I could manage this world.

I bow my head, an attempt to hide my water-lined eyes.

She lifts my chin, pausing to watch my tears spill over before she says, "You will have your chance at forgiveness. But you will also suffer. "