Crown Of Thorns (Black Veil Brides Fanfiction)

Chapter 1 [Revised - 3-23-22]

[A/N (3-23-22): I'm going through and revising this story. Aiming for a minimum of 2000 words a chapter. That's not a lot, I know. It's been so long since I've touched this but I've gotten heavily back into Black Veil Brides after not listening to them much during the pandemic. Hopefully, I'll have more inspiration to continue writing]

A/N WAS NO ONE GOING TO TELL ME I SPELLED REVISED WRONG IN THE TITLE. I GOT SICK FROM MY NIECE SO MY BRAIN ISNT FUNCTIONING RIGHT 😭

"The kingdom of God is inside you and all around you, not in a mansion of wood and stone. Split a piece of wood, and God is there. Lift a stone, and you will find God."

Raising my head up, I bring my violet eye to rest on the speaker in the corner of the room, situated high on the wall.

That is not the Voice of F.E.A.R. flowing through the crackling speakers of the dungeon. The voice, although it is a man's like the Speaker, is much too smooth, too deep and alluring to be The Voice.

When the man is finished speaking, alarms blare loudly, deafening me. My fingers twitch to cover my ears but the shackles dangling me from the ceiling by my wrists prevent most movement.

I lightly toss my head to the right, trying to get my blonde hair away from my eye, the tresses stiff with blood and grime. Even as the alarm blares, the hallways are silent. The alarm almost completely drowns out the distinct rush of boots against stone. Across from my cell, captured rebels stir from their clustered positions, huddled together for some sort of warmth. My numb fingers twitch again as I try to force bloodflow back into them to counteract the stinging cold. The alarm cuts off mid-ring and all that is left is the sound of labored breathing and pained whimpers.

I watch silently as they help each other up. One girl is missing an arm; a boy, his leg from the knee down. War is ruthless and F.E.A.R. is cruel. Whispers break out among them, the mass of voices getting louder as the footsteps draw ever closer. The soft rustle of moving fabric would have gone unnoticed had the person not been pale, their skin a stark contrast to their clothing, paint, and the dark hall.

A demon mask, a common source of identification for rebels, glints in the light of the blazing torch as the person works to unlock the cell across from mine. She stands there for a moment to let the prisoners escape before moving to my cell, her delicate build moving gracefully as the hollow horns of her mask turn up by each of her temples.

My eye tracks her as she moves toward me, lockpick in one hand and torch in the other. Another person follows her in, a man this time, based on the bulky, buff build.

The torch is moved closer, the harsh, flickering light illuminating my weak form. The man let's out a surprised gasp as his gaze catches on my weeping eyelid. Blood oozes from the from underneath as a clump of withered, bloodstained flowers lay at my feet. The woman catches sight of my other wounds a moment later, seemingly in shock of my state. I would wonder why if my brain wasn't fuzzy with static. It's not like anyone stuck here was treated with any amount of care. You're lucky if you made it out (at all) with all your limbs in tact and your sanity secured.

"Don't remove the knife. She'll bleed out before we can get her help." The girl states, the man coming over to lay his hand on my hip and back.

She unlocks the shackles and immediately the floor rushes towards me before stopping suddenly. I let out a weak groan of pain as the knife buried in my abdomen is jostled. I'd almost forgotten it was there as the area surrounding the wound had grown numb over time. I'd have bled out had my magic not been working to fix my barely functioning body.