The Ring

0011

They had been taken to a room that reminded Chrissa of a stadium of some sort. In the center, stood a stage where Kandor was, and a few other Vampires. On the sides of the stage, were rows of them. Despite the chaos, they were all deathly silent.

Everyone had observed both Chrissa and Michael. There were dried tears on Chrissa's face, her dress had been tattered at the ends, and her hair slightly tousled. She'd never been in the physical state where she looked as terrible as she did, ever in her life. Usually, there were people that dressed her, did her makeup, her hair, her laundry, and bathed her. There was always someone who took care of Chrissa. It felt surreal to suddenly not have anyone to do those things for her.

As they walked towards the stage, she saw hundreds of Vampires shoot her dirty looks. She knew exactly why. The Vampiric hated the Fae. It was as simple as that, and how it always would be. But it wasn't her fault, Chrissa thought. It wasn't her fault that she was born into royalty, born into wealth, and wasn't at all cursed. It was just how things happened in her life.

She'd never been even allowed to go beyond her own kingdom. She was to forever stay inside of her own bubble. However, it was exactly what she had been craving. It was the very thing that she needed. Chrissa imagined her family in Endlaysha, waiting for her and Michael to return. She didn't know if she would ever see them again. She longed to see her parents. To see Theodore, her younger brother who'd only been four years younger than she was.

When they'd reached the stage, Kandor's gray eyes had raked over her. He looked like his brother slightly, but not really, she thought.

His facial structure was sharper, his jaw stronger. His hair, she now realized, wasn't actually silver, but a faded blonde tone. He was dressed in a dark velvet long-sleeved shirt, with silver rings that decorated his fingers. It looked as if all of the Vampires had been kissed with death, in the most beautiful way. She knew that the Fae were gifted with charm and eternal youth, but the Vampiric appeared as if they were that in the manifestation of something even darker.

Beside Kandor, existed another woman. Her neck held an emerald stone, and her dress was of darkness. It looked as if it were made of the same fabric of Kandor's shirt.

"Let us go," Michael said sternly. His wrists had been constricted with heavy, steel handcuffs that dragged behind him in a thick chain, along with his ankles. There was a purple bruise that existed just below his left eye. "Or I'll kill you myself," he said darkly, not caring that Chrissa heard him. The crowd suddenly began to shout at him.

She gasped to herself, alarmed at his words. To her, Michael had been the logical one. The smart one. The practical one. She didn't view him as violent, and she didn't want to. She rolled her eyes at him, "why can't you just comply?" Chrissa mumbled, "you're simply making matters worse."

"He's about to cut you open and you think I'm the problem?"

"There's a way to do things." She argued.

"You think we're gonna discuss this over tea and pastries?" He shot back at her.

"Silence!" Kandor shouted, as the crowd around them then ceased.

Hundreds of Vampires began to kneel, as they spoke in unison, "all hail king Kandor."

When they'd been taken from the cell earlier, Michael punched a Vampiric guard and tried to break free, and in return was then introduced to chaos. He couldn't fight as well as he wanted to due to his chains holding him back and his weapons and armor being gone. He'd been outnumbered, and out-strengthened. He was fed up, and was at his breaking point. More than anything, he hated to appear weak in front of Chrissa. In front of anyone. He hated how his strength wasn't enough to overtake the Vampiric.

"You need to calm down," Chrissa said to him, in a shaky voice. "You're scaring me."

But Michael had tuned her out. He followed Kandor's eyes, as they seemed to gaze at Chrissa in obsession. Michael shook his head. His lip curled, "touch her and I'll fucking kill you."

Chrissa froze. Kandor's mouth twisted into an elegant smirk, as he tore his eyes away from Chrissa's and onto the dark-haired man's. He didn't respond to him, but he gazed at Michael in amusement. He seemed to be enjoying his helplessness. Michael wanted to punch that stupid smirk right off of his face and stab him to death for the things that Kandor probably wanted to do to Chrissa.

The light-haired man cleared his throat, "Today is a special day. It is officially the beginning of the fall of the Fae as we know it." Everyone around them cheered.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, "for years, we have been tormented, frowned upon, and cursed. Wanting the Fae to pay for what has been done to us." His gaze fell to Chrissa, "and now the process can finally start. The process of converting all of the Fae, to Vampirism."

Her head shot up. "What?"

"He wouldn't," Michael snarled.

Chrissa thought that Kandor would cut her open first, and take her jewel. Her face twisted in confusion. She would rather die than be cursed with Vampirism. She shook her head, as her eyes then welled with hot tears. "Please just kill me." She admitted, Michael then shot her a wild expression, but Chrissa ignored him. "Y-you can have my jewel," She finally looked at Michael, "But set him free. Michael doesn't deserve to be cursed."

She didn't want to see the downfall of the Fae, with her being on the opposing side. She figured if she were dead, she wouldn't have to witness the act of her own forced betrayal. She didn't want to exist in a world where her actions were responsible for someone else's life. She didn't want to be responsible for cursing the both of them.

"Chrissa, are you crazy?" He shouted, and looked at her, "you're not dying for me. You don't deserve it."

"None of us deserved to be cursed, yet here we all are," Kandor challenged.

Chrissa shook her head, "You can't punish us for something your brother did, something that the spirit of Karma created!" Her voice broke, as something flurried inside of her. She wanted to push him, but her chains had yanked her back. "It isn't fair!"

The woman beside Kandor rolled her eyes, "life isn't fair."

"To hell with you," Chrissa seethed, alarmed at her own words. Nobody understood what she felt, the sudden emotions that existed within her at that very moment. Michael looked as if he wanted to say so many things, but he held his tongue. He could only glare at Kandor.

He then stepped down from the stage and looked into Chrissa's eyes. His gaze felt vulnerable, yet dark. Kandor looked at her as if she were a delicate flower. Something inside of him moved when he saw her, and Chrissa didn't understand. He looked at her as if he had known her before. His expression had been soft for only a second until it went back to something stern. "Stephen will feel the wrath of me," he whispered lowly, as he tucked one of her curls beneath her ear.

Chrissa was lost for words. Her throat became dry. "Don't do this," Michael raised his voice, "take me instead of her."

He rolled his eyes and looked at Michael in annoyance. He'd never be able to do what he truly wanted if the Knight was always by her side. But they had been almost magnetic, and he needed them both. If he let Michael go, Kandor figured that he would go and tell someone the intentions of the Vampiric, and destroy them. If he let Chrissa go, the same would happen. They were both too loyal to the Fae, and he needed Chrissa's jewel. Kandor shot a gesture to the guards beside both Chrissa and Michael.

"Kandor no," she sighed and shook her head. "Please," Chrissa whined.

"Sorry princess," He looked at her. "The process has already begun."

Before she could say anything else, Chrissa's neck was met with a long and sharp syringe that had been jammed into her blood vessels. Her world started to fade, as her legs then gave out, and her breath escaped her lips.

"Chrissa–!" A voice shouted painfully. It was Michael's voice, but it faded away as her eyes had heavily closed shut.