17. Geneva

17

GENEVA

I make my way down to the human women's living quarters, somewhat numb by the murder I just committed. He deserved it, just like the drunken dark elf that came before him. And now, his soul belongs to Calix.

Once I reach the living quarters, the stale air hits me like a wall, thick with the scent of unwashed bodies and despair.

Pushing open the heavy door, I'm greeted by the sight of dozens of women crammed into a space far too small for comfort. Bunk beds are stacked three high, leaving barely enough room to walk between them. Tired eyes turn to me as I enter, curiosity mingling with wariness.

"Hello, everyone," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "Sylas is dead. We're free."

A ripple of disbelief runs through the room. One woman, her face gaunt and eyes hollow, shakes her head. "Don't joke about such things, Geneva. It's cruel."

"I'm not joking," I insist, holding my ground. "I saw it with my own eyes. He's gone, and we don't have to stay here anymore."

Another woman, younger than me with tear-stained cheeks, pipes up. "But... but where would we go? This is all we know."

I take a deep breath, scanning the room. Some faces show hope, others fear, and many simply look blank, as if they can't process what I'm saying. Has it been so long since they've known freedom?

"Look," I say, softening my tone, "I know it's hard to believe. But if you stay here, it's only a matter of time before someone else takes Sylas's place. Do you really want to risk that?"

A murmur runs through the group. I see a few nods, a few more shaking heads.

An older woman, her hair streaked with gray, stands up. "I believe you, child. And I, for one, am not staying to find out what comes next."

Her words seem to break a spell. Suddenly, the room is alive with movement and whispered conversations. Some women begin gathering what few possessions they have, while others remain rooted to their beds, fear evident in their eyes.

As I turn to leave, a hand catches my arm. It's the young girl with tear-stained cheeks. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. As I make my way out of the room, I hear the sounds of movement behind me. Some are escaping, seizing their chance at freedom. Others will stay, too afraid to venture into the unknown.

Poor girls , I think to myself. They're too brainwashed by the dark elf's lies to seek a better life for themselves.

I trudge along the dirt paths leading back to Pythros, my feet aching with every step. The weight of what I've done—and what I still need to do—hangs heavy on my shoulders. As I approach the city gates, I spot a caravan of carriages preparing to enter. Perfect.

Slipping between two ornate coaches, I blend in with the bustling crowd as equus lead the way into the city. The dark elf guards at the gate barely glance our way, too preoccupied with inspecting cargo to notice a lone human girl.

Once inside, I weave through the familiar streets, keeping my head down. The orphanage looms before me, a grim reminder of where this all began. Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door.

It swings open, revealing Miss Pickett's pinched face. Her eyes widen in recognition, then narrow with fury.

"Geneva! You insolent child!" she hisses, grabbing my arm and yanking me inside. She then slams the door behind us. "How dare you run away from your master?"

I stumble, caught off guard by her strength. "Miss Pickett, I?—"

"Silence!" she snaps, her bony fingers digging into my skin. "Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused? Lord Sylas will be furious!"

A dry laugh escapes me as I shake my head. Miss Pickett narrows her eyes at me before gritting her teeth.

"What are you laughing about, girl? This is serious . Once Sylas knows you fled, he will search far and wide until he finds you. You're his property now!" Miss Pickett clicks her tongue, crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't understand it, do you? You're nothing but a slave."

"You're the one who doesn't understand a thing," I retort. "Sylas is dead ."

Miss Pickett blinks slowly. "…What? But how?"

I swallow down the knot in my throat, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my body. It's nice to see the fear in her eyes, the confusion etching its way along her features. I relish in it.

"I killed him," I whisper, reaching into my pocket, making sure the crystal is still there. My last one.

Miss Pickett gasps, before raising her hand and striking Geneva across the face. "You foolish girl! You stupid little thing! Do you have any idea what kind of horrors await you once the dark elves realize what you've done?"

The old woman begins pacing the floor, ruffling her pink dress as she goes. She smells of rotten fruit and dust. She must have changed her horrendous perfume to an even more unsavory one.

Miss Pickett's face contorts with fury as she launches into a tirade. "The dark elves don't tolerate human insolence. They'll hunt you down like a rabid batlaz!"

I stand there, silent and unmoving, watching her pace back and forth. She wrings her hands, clearly distraught by the news. Holding back a smile, I want to wait for her to finish her dramatics.

"They have eyes and ears everywhere," she hisses, her bony finger jabbing the air. "You think you can just waltz back here and everything will be fine? You've signed your own death warrant!"

Miss Pickett's words wash over me like water off my back. I've faced far worse than her empty threats.

She whirls around, her beady eyes narrowing as she takes in my lack of reaction. "What's wrong with you? Don't you understand the gravity of the situation?"

I shrug, my voice steady. "I understand perfectly, Miss Pickett. I just don't care."

Her nostrils flare, and for a moment, I think she might explode. Instead, she lunges forward, her cold hands gripping my shoulders. She shakes me violently, her face inches from mine.

"You stupid, ungrateful brat!" she shrieks, spittle flying from her lips. "I gave you everything! A roof over your head, food in your belly, and this is how you repay me? By ruining everything?"

I don't flinch, even as her nails dig into my skin. "You gave me nothing but misery and servitude," I reply, my voice cold. "You sold me like I was a piece of meat, Miss Pickett. I'm sure you still view me as such, even now. You don't get to play the victim."

Her eyes widen in shock, then narrow with renewed anger. "You've ruined your pathetic little life, you know that? You had a chance at something, and you threw it all away!"

I can't help but laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. "A chance at what? Being a plaything for the dark elves? No, Miss Pickett. I've chosen my own path now."

Her grip on my shoulders tightens, her knuckles turning white. "You thankless little?—"

I sigh, cutting off Miss Pickett's tirade. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

Her eyes narrow, suspicion replacing some of the anger. "What are you talking about? You came crawling back because you have nowhere else to go."

I can't help but smirk. "Is that what you think? You're more delusional than I remembered."

Miss Pickett's face flushes an ugly shade of red. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may think you're clever, but you have no idea what's coming for you. Once Sylas's associates realize what happened?—"

"No one will find Sylas's body," I interrupt, my voice cold and steady. "And no one will find yours either, when I'm done with you."

The color drains from Miss Pickett's face as my words sink in. She takes a step back, her eyes darting to the door behind me. "What... what are you saying?"

I advance slowly, savoring the fear in her eyes. "I'm saying that your time is up, Miss Pickett. No more selling innocent girls to monsters. No more ruining lives for your own profit."

She stumbles backwards, knocking over a vase. It shatters on the floor, the sound echoing through the room. "You... you can't do this. I raised you!"

"You raised me to be sold," I spit back. "You never cared about any of us. We were just merchandise to you."

Miss Pickett's back hits the wall. She looks around wildly, desperate for an escape. "Please, Geneva. Think about what you're doing. I can help you hide from the dark elves. We can work together!"

I laugh, the sound hollow and mirthless. "Work together? No, Miss Pickett. I'm not here for your help."

My hand slips into my pocket, fingers closing around the crystal. Miss Pickett's eyes widen as she sees it, recognition and terror flooding her face.

"What is that?" she whispers, her voice trembling.

I hold up the crystal, watching it catch the dim light. "This? This is your fate, Miss Pickett. Your soul's new home."