The Hushing [#ONC2022]

Chapter Five (part 2)

Marion placed a hand against her stomach. Why didn't she feel hungry? Was that part of the simulation too? Was Lady Ingrid so powerful that she could sway Marion's mind into believing that she was alive and well even as she was slowly starving to death?

"Marion, darling," Lady Ingrid said, tsking in dismay. "Don't look so offended. We play by different rules here. You should know that by that now."

Marion couldn't help feeling cheated. She knew Lady Ingrid wasn't honest – hiding aces up her sleeve to use at the last minute in order to keep Marion under her thumb. It only reminded Marion that the longer she stayed in Valecroft, the more power Lady Ingrid wielded over her.

"You're upset," Lady Ingrid observed lightly. There was no trace of remorse in her voice, no apologetic tone to her words.

A dozen responses sprang to the tip of Marion's tongue.

You weren't honest with me.

You lied.

How long would you let me starve before you told me the truth?

But they were weak protests and arguing wouldn't get her anywhere. Lady Ingrid would simply laugh and point out that she was the queen; she didn't have to tell Marion anything. So Marion switched tactics. She wouldn't let it show how Lady Ingrid had agitated her.

"No," she replied. "I'm impressed."

Lady Ingrid raised her eyebrows slightly. Her dark gaze latched onto Marion, unblinking.

Marion selected another grape from the platter in front of her – the only platter that the wraiths hadn't touched – and held it up between her forefinger and thumb. The lush, nearly-black shade of purple gleamed in the ethereal glow from the mushrooms lining the walls of the room.

"You have proven," she went on, "that a queen thinks of everything, right down to the smallest detail."

Lady Ingrid regarded Marion for several long moments of silence before tilting her chin up with a pleased look in her eye. Then she flicked her hand in the direction of a wraith servant, its back pressed against the wall.

"Fetch Marion her gift," she said.

The wraith servant drifted away and returned a minute later carrying a black pillow. Nestled atop the pillow was a silver-handled dagger, the blade a thin, smooth curve of obsidian. The edge was so paper-thin that it appeared lined in white.

Delicately, Marion picked it up. The handle was chilled against the warmth of her palm. The blade weighed nothing more than a feather and when she ran her thumb along the edge, a thread of blood welled up on her skin. It was so sharp that she didn't even feel any pain at the cut. Definitely not a simulation. This was real. And it could make her bleed.

"It's beautiful," Marion said.

"I'm glad you like it. I thought it would be of use to you."

Marion's gaze flicked up. Lady Ingrid leaned forward, her black lips slick with dark saliva, her teeth glinting in the silvery light. She wrapped her frigid hands around Marion's fingers on the knife.

"Stay with us," she said. "And you can sit forever at my right hand."

For a split second, Marion didn't grasp the meaning of what Lady Ingrid was saying. Then her words began to sink in. She tried to pry her fingers away from the blade but Lady Ingrid held her in place.

Slowly, Lady Ingrid turned the blade toward Marion, the cold, black tip of the knife resting at the vulnerable hollow of Marion's throat.

"You know as well as I do," Lady Ingrid murmured. "The mirror is gone. You're not the first to be abandoned by the mirror and you won't be the last, I'm sure. There's no way to return to your world now I'm afraid. So stay here. With us. Don't waste away from starvation, Marion. I can't save you if that happens. You will become one of them."

She tilted her chin in the direction of the wraiths hovering at the edges of the table, looking on with their hollow, sightless eyes. Lady Ingrid stroked a fingernail down Marion's cheek.

"You are too lovely for that fate," she said. "You have too much fight to allow yourself to succumb to the slow, agonizing decay of The Hushing. You will lose all thought, all sense of yourself. After a while, you will forget the shape of words, the taste of them in your mouth. It's a special kind of torture to feel your mind slipping away and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Then let me go," Marion said. "Let me search for the mirror. If I find nothing, I will come back to you."

Lady Ingrid sighed and shook her head. She took Marion's hand away from the blade and turned it palm up.

"Look at you, Marion," she said. "You are dying."

Marion glanced down at her upturned palm. Black veins snaked down her arm and her skin had taken on a gray pallor. Why hadn't she noticed it before? She scrubbed at her skin, hoping it was simply dirt or ashes that would rub off. But the veins remained as black as ever.

"Eventually," Lady Ingrid continued. "The Hushing will work its way into your bloodstream. The longer you stay in this land, the more it poisons you. Even the air you breathe now seeks to leech the warmth of your soul from your body, pet."

Marion stood up, the knife clattering to the table. She turned on her heel, searching for a way out of the room. But the wraiths hemmed her in, blocking the entrance. She wasn't leaving until Lady Ingrid gave the command. Glancing down at her arm again, she traced the black veins with her fingertips. She had no idea where the mirror could be, no idea how to get back home. And if she truly was wasting away, it was only a matter of time before there was nothing left of her to save.

As if reading her thoughts, Lady Ingrid retrieved the knife and rose to her feet. She came to stand behind Marion and pressed the knife into Marion's hand.

"It must be by your own doing," Lady Ingrid said. "If you do not choose it yourself, I cannot prevent your soul from fading into a shade of your former self, like my subjects. I have their loyalty and in return, I provide for them. But they are...mere husks of what they used to be."

Marion shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me about this before? Why didn't you warn me that The Hushing would slowly kill me?"

Lady Ingrid touched Marion's cheek, the pressure of each fingertip cutting into her skin.

"You had already been through so much, darling. But once you are reborn and you swear your allegiance to me – "

"What about the others?" Marion cut in.

Lady Ingrid's eyes flashed. She didn't move a muscle, standing still as stone.

"What others?" she replied coolly.

"You said I wasn't the only one who came through the mirror. What happened to them? Did they fade into wraiths? Or did they...?" Marion gestured with the knife.

Lady Ingrid said nothing right away. She brushed an invisible speck of dust from Marion's shoulder.

"Marion, there's something you must understand." She cupped Marion's face in her hands. "No one has survived The Hushing as long as you have." She smiled as gently as she could despite her myriad of needle-teeth. "You are special."

Marion curled her fingers into a fist at her side. She didn't want to be paraded around like the queen's personal prize for the rest of eternity. She wanted to go home. She wanted to live.

"No."

She dropped the knife and when it hit the floor, the blade shattered into a thousand black shards, glinting in the pale light.

Silence settled over the room. A surge of icy air swept through the hall, sending Marion stumbling back a few steps to catch her balance. The wraiths began to hum and chatter uneasily.

"You disappoint me, Marion," Lady Ingrid growled. Any trace of her sugary-sweet cajoling tone was now gone. "And that is very unfortunate for you."

Then the room went pitch black.