Light of Stars [2]

Chapter Seven

♕ Serpent Scars ♕

His mother's voice echoed in his ears as the same sharp set of nails carved into the skin of his arms, cutting the skin from his shoulder all the way to his fingertips. He tried to erase the picture of her red orange hair, or the soft smile he always seemed to want to forget. Except for moments like this, where he needed to clung to every bit of peace he'd had before.

Nerezza dropped her grip on him, walking away, not bothering to speak again. Asher could barely open his eyes, could barely follow her steps as she left him lying in the ground of the seventh level of Exilium. She was bored. Angry. He could tell by the way she'd spent a couple of hours more than usual trying to break him, trying to get him to talk, or to fight back hard enough for her to have an excuse to kill him.

Asher stayed still, waiting until his wounds were closed enough for him to stand. Somehow he knew staying under Exilium was a worse fate than forcing himself to walk up each stair, dragging the chains on his feet until he reached Her his bedroom.

He sat, the edge of the long rock table hurting against his legs. There was blood dripping both of his arms, mud underneath his fingernails. His shirt was ripped in half, the spot where the lightning had touched him visible in the dim light.

He groaned lifting himself, waiting for his eyes to stabilize before taking a step towards the stairs, and then another. The ground beneath his feet was as black as the ashes of Wood Sorrow. Nerezza had made sure to cover up everything his father had left behind. She'd transformed Blackstone into a cell of nightmares, and extension of the deepest levels of Exilium itself. It was hard now to spot where the mountain ended and the palace began.

The smell of blood was so ingrained in his mind he could hardly distinguish it anymore, and where the blood had not yet made sure to leave its mark, the smoke had. Even from afar, he could feel the dead ground of the Sorrow, still hot, still dying.

Wood Sorrow had burnt for twenty eight days, fourteen hours, and seven minutes. Not even from the tallest tower in Blackstone could you spot the trees that were left somewhere among the northern parts of the land, where the fire had not been able to reach.

That was a lie he told himself.

He lied, convincing himself there was still something left of the enchanted forest out there, far from his reach, and some day those trees would grow into the land that was taken from them.

Some day.

Even if that day was one where no blessed or cursed felt the rushing of fire and ice through their blood anymore, one where the world was not filled with any sort of magic, and trees could only move with the brush of the wind.

Asher looked down at his arms, wiping away the blood that he could, empty scars wrapping around them like serpents, becoming clearer as the blood got stuck in their edges. Scars that should have been filled with darkness by now. Scars that mirrored Nerezza's. Mason's. Deirdre's. Scars that she made sure to remind him would become his doom, were he to step out of line.

Their skin so white in contrast with the rest of him, that looked so gold in comparison. Skin of one who once used to bathe in sunset tears, of one who had kneeled above sand and let water wash the heat away. He was not sure that person even existed anymore. If he ever had.

He was a ghost.

Felt like one anyway. He was not sure there was enough left of him to call himself something.

He could still hear her voice. Lingering over his ear all through that first night. Savoring the power his sacrifice had brought her.

Alive. She had said. I need you alive, little prince.