A Court of Truths and Revival

Forgotten

SEREN

The thing about nothingness was that it induced madness. There was nothing to occupy her thoughts or time so despite knowing that it might be a trap or another cruel game, she slipped into the dimly lit hall.

The reek of mildew greeted Seren. Everything on this Cauldron-cursed island smelled of it. Too much rain and not enough sun to chase the remnants away. The sprawling stone castle was ancient enough to hold its own against the storms that sometimes battered it. Unfortunate, since she wouldn't have minded if her cell had been filled with icy water to permanently steal her breath.

With little choice but to play out the game, Seren pulled the door shut and ignored the shouts of protest from the male trapped inside. Her captor would get a kick out of that. There were no other cells on this level. The subterranean floor was nothing more than a hidden hold below the actual dungeon, known only to a select few.

Narrow stairs carved into the slippery stone wall led up and she steeled herself for what might greet her above.

Once, she'd run up as fast as her legs could carry her and fallen, catching herself with her nose. A healer never saw to it so she presumed it remained slightly crooked. Seren kept her steps cautious as she made it to the top, reaching the false bottom hidden within the cell above.

The male pounding his fist insistently from the inside of her cell left the hatch wide open. Absolute fool.

Holding her breath, Seren poked her head up, anticipating the crude prisoner she'd had the displeasure of meeting on several occasions. To her shock, the shabby cell was empty and all putrid scents stale. Had the prisoner been killed? The prospect pleased her considering her encounters with him had always been part of a ruse concocted by her tormentors.

Seren placed the torch down and heaved herself up, landing on her knees as a wave of nausea nearly had her face down in the grime. Meager or not, her single meal might have given her strength had she started this nightmare after eating. It didn't matter, for she wasn't slinking back down to her own level until she was forced to.

Each step left her unsettled as she waited for an unpleasant encounter. The cells she passed after exiting the one she'd emerged in were all just as empty. Her captor must have had a bout of fury and eliminated them all. She went up three more levels before she considered the faint possibility she was dreaming. If she were, it would be the first time in a long while that she had.

Another level and no prisoners. And another.

Her bowels churned when she made it to the massive doors, so heavy, they took multiple guards to move. But they were wide open, letting in soft faelight that stung her eyes until tears fell. A rasping hiss passed her lips at the unwelcome pain. Too long she'd been in the dark. She been born into it, wielded it, and then had it turned against her.

Seren left the torch behind and emerged into the wide hallway, taking in the sights that haunted her waking thoughts. Whenever she'd been taken up to the main levels to see her captor, it never ended well. Everything was old and dusty. The rugs had likely been weaved long before her father had ever been born. Ancient crap and a tasteless décor were everywhere she looked.

The way to the throne room was familiar, but she found it empty. Devoid of its wicked ruler, the emerald dais appeared dull and the throne assembled from human bones looked small.

Seren was at a loss for what she was meant to do. There'd never been a game or punishment that didn't lead her to the base of that horrible throne.

Voices filtered to her, the sound growing clearer as a group of bickering males approached. They didn't look up where she stood, still unable to see her. They argued of...sanctions. Laws and trade.

Seren shifted on her feet, eavesdropping in hopes she'd understand the purpose of this latest game. It didn't make sense. These nobles argued amongst themselves as if their opinions mattered. No opinions other than that of the King mattered on this shit hole island. Ignoring them once they dissolved into a disagreement about marrying off someone's daughter, she moved away. She'd partaken in enough of those disagreements with her own father.

Like a ghost, she moved through the maze of halls, stopping before each corner and waiting for someone to jump out at her. It wasn't until a plump maid gossiping with a frowning lady mentioned ascension trials, did Seren understand the truth of her situation.

Her knees cracked against the floor hard enough to bruise. It couldn't be. How hadn't she known?

Ascension trials...

A squeaky, hysterical laugh bubbled, unheard by those around her. She hadn't been forgotten as she'd begun to suspect. The lack of visits by her tormentors was a blessing sent by the Mother.

No. She laughed louder until the sound turned to choked, manic sobs.

The King of Hybern was dead.

Sharp jealously nicked her like a knife. That kill had belonged to her. She'd promised herself over and over that she'd look over that unnervingly handsome face one day as she ended him.

Seren had been told his traitorous General had failed her power grab in Prythian's. Her captors had taunted her with those atrocities for five decades, spinning lies with horrible truths about what was being done to High Lords Amarantha had by the balls.

But she was dead by her own stupidity and the King of Hybern evidently dead too. If there was talk of trials, then neither of her tormentors had ascended already.

Seren clutched at the drab fabric that covered her like a sack. Could it be true?

The King of Hybern had no children, thank the Cauldron. Long ago, her father had joked with an advisor over wine that one of his spells had backfired, leaving him sterile. If it were true, she didn't know and it no longer mattered.

His heir apparants were powerful and matched him in wickedness, making it unnecessary for the King to attempt to sire any others.

Twins in both looks and cruelty, Dagdan and Brannagh should have either incestuously ruled side by side or fought till the death for full control over the island territory.

It was no longer a stretch to assume they'd never returned from whatever assignment they'd been given in Prythian. They'd boasted about it to Seren as they drew screams from her. They were amongst the few that could see her, for there was no point in torment if they couldn't watch her write and hear her pleas.

Seren forced herself to stand, pushing her shoulders back until she felt the familiar ache and absence of weight.

Those kills should also have belonged to her, but to do so would have meant facing the twins once more. They'd gotten what they deserved and she owed someone a debt or at least a drink for saving her the horror of ever looking into the dark pit of their eyes again.

Despite the wobble of her knees, Seren ran. The castle was vast and she began to pant but her ankles held her weight, urging her on.

She wanted out—wanted to go home where stars brighter than the sun would greet her. By some sort of a fluke, she'd been freed. Forever forgotten awaited her within those stone walls and she wouldn't look back.

Her bare heels smacked on stones and pain spiked up her calves, but she didn't stop. The greasy clumps of hair that had once been smooth and inky clapped against her neck as a reminder of what she stood to gain with her escape.

Thoughts of a tub filled with warm, sudsy water drew her from the castle that had once been impenetrable. Only a fool would have tried to infiltrate such a structure with its King in residence, but the wards had fallen and she was free.