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07 CAGED CONFESSIONS
—THE young girl has entered the mountain. A mouse scurrying into the den of vipers, a lamb sneaking into the hungry lion's den. A mere mortal walking into the land of the gods.
And she is too late.
Feyre Archeron comes with promises of love, but love is not enough anymore. Love is now just a weakness, a useless sentiment to be used against her. Matters of the heart will no sooner save her than get her killed down here. So when she is encouraged to look upon the remnants of Clare Beddor, mutilated and nailed to the wall after her death, her face betrays nothing even as her heart pounds in remorse.
"What a pity you missed the grand show," the one they call the Deceiver says as she admires the disfigured body like an expensive painting. "My beast had a wonderful time bringing about her end. I'm sure she'd have just as much fun bringing about yours."
Her beast, Feyre Archeron breathes. What beast is so atrocious that it would kill and torture innocents for this horrid queen? What beast is so awful that it must be hidden away while this Attor gets to roam free?
"No need to look so frightened, dear," the Deceiver tuts with mock concern, "I have different plans for you. But maybe some quality time with my beast in the dungeons will do your human arrogance some good?"
When Feyre Archeron is finally escorted roughly, beaten and bloody, from the throne room, she knows that only worse things await her in the dungeons.
—REST is an unaffordable luxury in this unforgiving solitude. Sleep is futile and stillness is impossible. The quiet caters to the unease in Kazi's bones, and the muffled screams concoct terrible visions that haunt her mind. The hunger carves a hollow hole in her stomach, an unceasing pain with no way to curb it. The cold bites into her muscles until every part of her yearns to move around the small space she's been given.
As so, Kazi's abdomen cries out from many places as she forces herself into another sit up. She remembers being able to work endlessly without feeling the ache of pain, but now it only takes a few minutes before the exertion becomes unbearable. But she forces herself to continue.
Staying idle is a win for Amarantha. Letting herself dwindle down to nothing means accepting defeat. Losing her will to fight is a battle that she will never secede to. She will not become that tame and complacent beast. She will not be broken.
A tear slips down her cheek as she forces her back off the floor again. Her body is yelling at her, but the pain she endures now will be the relief she feels when the Deceiver is dead.
The door at the end of the hall slams open. With so few visitors, it is easy to guess just who the scraping footsteps and growls of displeasure belong to. Kazi wipes the sweat off her brow and slinks into the shadows of her cell to avoid its attention.
