18. Rhea

18

RHEA

C hains dig into my wrists, suspending me in this dank cell that reeks of despair and decay. Every muscle in my body screams in protest as the chill of the stone seeps into my bones. Across from me, Valen is a pale shadow of the warrior I've come to know. His usual vitality has been leeched away by the remnants of poison and pain.

Our eyes meet, and in his crimson gaze, I search for some semblance of hope, some sign that we can endure this too. But there's a vulnerability there that I've never seen before, and it terrifies me.

The clanking of metal against stone heralds the approach of Aelith, the dark elf noble whose cruel whims have dictated the course of my life for far too long.

"Ah, the lovely Rhea," he croons, his voice slithering through the air like a venomous serpent. "How the mighty have fallen."

I meet his cold eyes with a glare that could cut steel. "You think this makes you mighty? Lording over two prisoners?" I sneer.

Aelith chuckles, his fingers tracing the hilt of the ornate dagger at his belt. "Oh, I'm not here to gloat about my... catch," he sings.

Valen's gaze sharpens, his body tensing despite his weakened state. "What do you want, Aelith?" Valen growls.

The dark elf turns to Valen, his smile widening. "I want you to know that your little rebellion has been... entertaining. But it ends now," he demands.

My heart hammers as I watch this exchange, a sense of dread coiling in my gut. Aelith is toying with us, drawing out the inevitable for his own twisted amusement.

"And what," I interject, my voice steady despite the fear that claws at my throat, "do you plan to do with us?" I ask snidely.

Aelith's gaze slides back to me, his eyes glinting with malicious glee. "Why, Rhea, don't you know? You're the star of the show. The final act in our little hunting game," he hisses.

A wave of nausea washes over me. I've seen what happens in these games—the torture, the slaughter... and I know that Valen and I are meant to be the grand finale.

But then, Aelith drops his bomb. "Didn't the great Vrakken tell you? Your beloved parents are still alive. Imagine that—all this time, fighting for vengeance, and they've been in our... care," he says in his slithering tone.

The world tilts beneath my feet. My parents? Alive? Valen's eyes meet mine, filled with a mixture of regret and uncertainty. My mind races.

"Why should I believe you?" I ask skeptically.

Aelith's smile never wavers. "Believe what you will. But ask yourself—why would your precious Vrakken lie to you?" he replies.

I turn to Valen, my heart a chaotic drumbeat against my ribcage. "Is it true?" I ask him in a soft voice.

Valen's silence is a knife in my chest. He doesn't respond, just hangs his head in defeat.

Aelith claps his hands together, his laughter bouncing off the stone walls. "Oh, how delightful! The bond between you two is truly something to behold," he says, his voice tinged with sadistic glee.

I ignore him, my focus solely on Valen.

Valen's color drains from his already pale face. "Rhea, I—" he starts.

"Enough!" Aelith's voice cuts through our exchange like a whip. "This touching reunion has been most enlightening, but we have a proposition for you, Rhea," he says.

Aelith stands before me, a smug grin on his face as he gestures toward Valen with a flourish. "Rhea, dear, you have a choice to make," he says, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Your beloved parents are indeed alive, and you can save them. All you have to do is end the Vrakken's life."

My heart suddenly threatens to burst from my ribcage.

"Show them to me," I demand, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within.

Aelith snaps his fingers, and the heavy wooden door creaks open. My parents shuffle in, their bodies marred by the cruel hands of their captors. Chains clink with each hesitant step they take, their eyes wide with terror and confusion.

I lurch forward, a desperate cry escaping my lips as I reach for them. But before our fingers can brush, the dark elves yank them back. The sound of my mother's scream and my father's futile struggle is a dagger to my heart.

"Mother! Father!" I scream, my voice raw with anguish.

Valen's gaze meets mine, a silent plea for understanding. He knows the significance of this choice, the crushing pressure of a life hanging in the balance.

Aelith saunters over to me, a wicked gleam in his eye as he presses a dagger into my trembling hand. The cool metal of the hilt is a stark contrast to the heat of my rage and despair.

"Kill him, and your parents go free," Aelith whispers in my ear, his breath foul against my skin.

I look down at the dagger, its blade gleaming under the flickering torchlight. My mind races with the implications of what I'm being asked to do. Valen, the Vrakken who has become my mentor, my protector, my... Could I truly end his life?

The dark elves begin their vile work on Valen. Their instruments of torture elicit groans of agony that resonate deep within my soul. I watch, helpless, as they carve away at his flesh, each wound a testament to the cruelty of our captors.

Valen's eyes never leave mine, even as his body convulses in pain. There's a message there, unspoken but clear: he would endure this a thousand times over if it meant sparing me from making this choice.

My fingers tighten around the hilt of the dagger. The heaviness of the decision before me is suffocating, a boulder resting on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs.

Aelith watches me with a predatory gaze, his patience wearing thin. "Tick-tock, Rhea," he taunts.

I look at Valen desperately, my vision blurring with tears. His face is a mask of pain, but there's a determination in his eyes that hasn't wavered. He's survived centuries of torment and loss, yet here he is, willing to face death if it means preserving my humanity and my family.

The dagger feels like a betrayal in my hand, a tool of darkness meant to sever the bonds of trust and love we've forged in the fires of adversity. I want to hurl it away, to rage against the impossible situation laid out before me.

I can barely draw a breath now, the air in this stone hell thick with the stench of blood and fear. But my gaze never wavers from Valen’s. His eyes are a storm of crimson agony.

"Rhea," he whispers, his voice a ragged echo against the stone walls.

I want to go to him, to offer some comfort, but I'm rooted to the spot, the weight of the dagger anchoring me in place. The dark elves watch with sadistic pleasure, their cruel laughter punctuating the silence that stretches between us.

I turn to Aelith, my voice a fragile thread that might snap at any moment. "And if I refuse?" I ask.

Aelith's smile is a cruel twist of lips. "Then they all die, and you'll have their blood on your hands," he states firmly.

The room spins around me, the walls closing in with the relentless pressure of an ever-tightening vise. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps as I struggle to keep the rising tide of panic at bay.

Valen's voice cuts through the fog of fear. "Rhea, look at me," he commands, his tone steady despite the pain that contorts his features.

I meet his gaze, and in those fiery depths, I see the truth laid bare. He's ready to die—for me, for his own twisted sense of redemption.

My fingers tremble around the hilt of the dagger. The very idea of harming him sends waves of nausea crashing over me.

"I..." The word is a strangled cry, caught in the vice of my own inner turmoil.

Valen's eyes soften, the lines of agony etched into his face easing for the briefest of moments. "I would face a thousand deaths if it meant your freedom," he assures me.

Aelith tsks, his impatience a palpable force in the room. "How touching. But time, dear Rhea, is not on your side," he admits.

I glance at my parents once more, their eyes wide with terror and a glimmer of something that looks like hope. They believe in me, in the strength they instilled in me from the moment I was born. Can I let that hope die?

I close my eyes, the dagger's edge pressing into my palm, a cruel reminder of the choice before me. My throat tightens, and for a moment, I allow myself to imagine a world without Valen—a world devoid of the fierce loyalty and unexpected tenderness he's shown me.

The thought is unbearable.