The Princess of Wrath

Echoes from the Past - The Gray Death, Part VIII: Dawn of the Dark Soul

In the dimly littered lobby, Berkano stopped on his tracks as he saw the corpses of the guards, killed in different but equally brutal ways and with the same capability to spread blood and cover a large portion of the floor.

"By Erebion ...," the old man sighed, his body reacting with a violent jolt of fear as he felt Lucy's hand on his back. "You alone carried out this massacre? Are you...an assassin of the Order of Wraiths?"

With a push, he was forced to continue forward, stepping into the deep crimson pool illuminated by the torch fire. Lucy would have confirmed his hypothesis just to feed on his fear, but she well knew that doubts and dilemmas were the worst enemies of men of knowledge.

"Shut up and keep walking," she commanded reluctantly. "To the elevator."

Lucy showed no mercy as she kick the old man on his back again to push him into the elevator. Ignoring his groan of pain, she closed the door and activated the mechanism with the silver key, beginning the slow descent.

Sensing that several minutes would pass before reaching the first floor, the young apprentice crossed her arms —with her dark steel blade firmly and menacingly between her fingers— and leaned back against the wall opposite where Berkano rested, sore. She fixed her gaze on his and found, even amid the sickly play of shadows that her descent gave away, a new level of fear of being in a space as small and confined as that metal box, trapped with her.

"The fear of the unknown...," Lucy thought, smirking at the nervous old man. "You can't even see the face of the person who has your life hanging by a thread."

Every second of silence was torture for Berkano, no doubt about that, made worse only by the mere presence of his abductor.

"Are you planning to take me hostage?" the alchemist finally asked. "Take me to imperial territory?"

"At what point did I give you permission to speak, old man?" Lucy's question was accompanied by a simple movement of her arm, bringing the tip of the blade within inches of touching the center of Berkano's chest. "One more word and I'll rip your tongue out."

"You will not accomplish your task," he replied, gathering his courage and raising his head high. "Do you think you can get me out of this building without consequences?"

"Of course I do: I'll be an escort who will accompany you to a healing house to mend the wounds inflicted in the unfortunate accident you had in your office," she explained, revealing part of her improvised plan before the stunned eyes of her enemy.

"You are insane! No one will ever believe..."

Suddenly, Lucy stepped forward and raised the tip of her blade to brush Berkano's neck, instantly silencing him.

"Are you sure?" asked the apprentice, maliciously and manufacturing in her voice a deceptive aura of absolute confidence. The seed of lies was germinating little by little, a flower of perdition peeking out of the earth stained with the blood of the guilty and innocent. "Think about it... How do you think I got here, to this point of having you as my hostage?"

Logic would lead the alchemist to reason within a few seconds a single and essentially true conclusion:

"Treachery ..." he mused, as if he was afraid of his own question more than Lucy's answer and dry nod, as the smile behind her helmet widened.

"No one can escape the influence of the Empire, much less the inhabitants of a rogue nation fighting a war they cannot win. When facing the Abyss, fear and survival instinct outweighs patriotism ... Do you know what that means, Berkano? It means that you were handed over on a silver platter."