Winter Moon (Jelsa)

Chapter 24: Elsa

"The child," a deep voice growled. "Is she awake yet?"

"I shall wake her now, Master" a simpering male voice replied.

"Good. We must begin the process as soon as possible."

"Of course, Master."

I heard footsteps as a person approached. Forcing my eyes open, I blinked as they adjusted to the darkness.

"She's already awake, Master," the simpering voice called.

Who were they talking about?

Oh. Me.

I was lying on a raised rock platform, unbound and ungagged while a torch flickered in a holder a few feet above me. I tried to move, but my limbs felt as if they were made of stone. Had I been drugged?

Focus, I ordered myself. 

Turning my head to the side, I noticed a man in priest's robes watching me from a wary distance. There something wrong with the robes - usually they were adorned with a crescent moon patch, representative of the king of gods. The robes were usually silver or gold as well. However, these ones were solid black. The patch was still a moon, but it was blood red. 

I flexed my fingers, feeling my magic rally. I could feel whatever had happened to me wearing off.

"Who... are you?" I forced the words past my dry lips.

"Don't worry, little girl," the priest extended a hand and chains shot out of nowhere, binding me to the platform.

He can do magic, I thought frantically. There had to be a way out of this.

What did people in books do? The heroes in stories were always getting into these situations. They usually fought, ran, or were valiantly rescued by their friends.

I couldn't run anywhere, and I wasn't going to get rescued. I could fight with my magic, but not in this state. My breath started to surface in shallow pants. I had to escape.

"She is too strong in her current state for me to enter. Weaken her mind," the deep voice ordered. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

The priest bowed his head. Reaching into his robes, he removed a dagger. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the handle appeared to be silver. The blade glowed orange, like a fiery ember. I could feel the heat radiating off of it, as if there was fire in the very steel of the weapon.

He was going to weaken my mind. With pain.

I wriggled in my chains, searching for a way out, whimpering as the priest studied me for a moment, evaluating his target. 

He was going to burn me. Cut me. 

Break me.

"No," I whispered. "No. No. No!"

Stop, a little voice in my head demanded.

Stop. Think.

I gulped down air. I was not just a useless, unwanted princess. I wasn't entirely helpless. I just needed enough time. Even now, the effects of the drug were fading.

I needed to stall for time.

My voice sounded surprisingly steady and clear as I said, "Wait. You don't want to do this."

The priest didn't falter. He gripped the dagger in his palm, preparing to press it to my arm.

But the disembodied voice laughed, amused by me. "You know nothing."

"I know that if you hurt me, you're as good as dead," I threatened.

"Oh? Why is that so, Your Highness?" the voice asked. Its tone was humorous.

I stilled. These people knew I was royalty, and they weren't afraid of the consequences of harming Arendelle's crown princess. 

"Because," I said, "I will kill you."

The voice laughed, and I knew it was going to call my bluff.

"I know everything about you, Elsa Arena. I know more about you than you do yourself. And I know that you cannot kill me."

There was no way it could know more about me. Unless... unless Iduna and Agnarr told it something that I didn't know.

"Who are you?" I asked, dreading the answer. 

"You know who I am. I am the fifth god."

Pitch Black. 

I sucked in a breath. Pitch Black truly was real. 

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I have my reasons. Begin, Kynes. I grow impatient."

"Yes, Master," the priest - Kynes - nodded.

No. I only needed a few more seconds.

He lifted the knife over his head, and I knew my time was up.