d e c e p t i o n

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Dilara

I have the urge to scream but instead clamp my jaw shut. It feels as if I'm falling, my stomach bottomless and my hair whipping against my face. I can't tell up from down, can't even hear over the roar of wind thrashing against my ears.

My feet slam against something solid. I stagger forward, stumbling unsteadily as I begin falling for what I can only assume is the ground. Something— or someone, grabs hold of my forearm, yanking me upright before I can face plant.

I whirl, frantically blinking away the blackness seeming to coat my vision.

Scanning my surroundings, I piece together that i'm in some sort of chamber, a vast room incorporating an onyx floor and charcoal grey stone walls. It's a weird combination, mixing dark finery with torture chamber, but it somehow works. There seems to be no furniture in sight, just an empty expanse of what I can only assume is a meeting room.

So this is the feared interior of The Kingdom of Purgatory. Truth be told, i'm a little disappointed. I expected more chains and screaming.

Turning my attention back to the figures, I blink away the last of my sightlessness. The Devil stands about a foot away from me, a little too close for my liking. His three sons stand further back, not one dark hair out of place on their arrogant heads.

I instantly recoil, backing away to give myself some distance I can work with.

"No need to withdraw yourself darling," drawls the shoulder length hair brother.

I take another step back.

"We don't bite," the silent but deadly brother purrs. His silver gaze rakes over me, string something unwelcome within me.

My gut clenches. Another step.

The cold brother cocks his head, surveying me as a predator would its prey. "Unless you want us to," he whispers.

My breathing should not be this ragged right now.

"Behave my sons," half heartedly scolds The Devil before drawing all his attention back to me. "I do apologize for the rather unsettling form of transportation we used to get here," he says, sounding anything but apologetic, "—But shadow travel was the fastest method."

I say nothing, never having heard the term shadow travel before.

The Devil, apparently unfazed by my lack of reply, continues. "Let's get right to it, shall we?" he says, a terrifying smile tugging at his thin lips.

Low in my stomach, a tight curl of nausea forms. I'm currently willing myself to vomit just so I can do so on the Devils boots.

Any moment now, one of them is going to pounce, and it doesn't take a genius to recognize the odds are not in my favor. I don't have a plan, but i'll be damned if I do nothing.

Hitching the hem of my nightdress upwards, I trail my fingers up the skin of my upper leg. Reaching the straps of my thigh sheath, I frantically feel for my dagger. Nothing.

Dread fills me.

The cold looking brother laughs, the beautiful sound humorless. "I'm pretty sure your dagger is still embedded in the chest of your..." he pauses, his lip curling. "...lover."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I spare a quick glance behind me, trying— and failing, to locate a escape. How is that even possible.

The Devil steps towards me. "Now tell me dear, will that man you compelled stay in that state forever or just for a time?"

"He'll stay that way," I lie. "He'll be dead in a couple of hours."

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