Starborn

Chapter 7 (Part 2)

Roland steps closer to me. "Forgive the cuts, but I had to play the part if I was going to make it down here without conflict. I don't bow to Bishop, nor do I bow to you."

"Why are you helping us then?"

"Because once we escape, you and Duncan will honor your debt to me and help me rescue Lady Westfall."

"We can discuss that later," Duncan says. "We've gotta get down to the courtyard, Triton. They're about to kill Al'!"

"Why didn't you free him?" I ask.

"I did go to his cell, but he requested to be left behind," Roland says.

"He's innocent! How could you even think of leaving him behind?" I say while getting into his face.

"We have no choice now! It'd be suicide to interfere with the rituals, especially in the state that we're in. If we're going to have any chance of getting out of the city alive, we need to leave now," Roland says, turning his back to me. "Trust me. I've watched several friends die just in the last three days. One more lost life won't change anything."

"Well, we're not leaving without Alistar, whether or not I owe you a debt," I say. "Come on, Duncan."

And just like that, I brush past him and follow Duncan along the cold stone halls. I must follow his faded silhouette while looking through the Adder Stone to keep up with him. I don't even stop to look at my surroundings, though I probably won't see anything but stone and steel bars everywhere I look. There isn't even a window to show the night sky. However, even from down here, my ears pick up muffled voices from outside. Voices and the sound of bells ringing.

Duncan seems to know exactly where to go, as he doesn't even look around. This dungeon seems like familiar territory to him.

It doesn't take long before we head up a flight of stairs, but Duncan prompts me to hug the wall. My Auryn chimes as soon as I hear stomping footsteps. When I look through the Adder Stone again, through the stairway entrance, I see someone walking closer to us.

We stay quiet enough that he doesn't notice us, but soon, someone else brushes past us, and I can barely contain my gasp. I can see the silhouette of Roland, who draws a dagger and sneaks behind the Shadowheart. Roland pierces the scoundrel through his chest, covering his mouth to soften the yelp. He gently lays the body down and jerks his head towards us.

The hallway is slightly brighter than the cold dungeon as we pass a row of windows. I can't take the opportunity for this wretch to get back up, so while he's vulnerable, I call upon my Auryn. It is still a pitiful-sized Vim dagger, but it's enough to pierce the Shadowheart's throat. He emits a dying breath before the darkness in his body dissolves away, and he's left as a husk.

I can't tell what is worse to be accustomed to at this point- my Vim being so weak or how Alistar may be like this man soon, a withered puppet for a dark spirit.

Roland leads the way, his sword freshly dripping with blood. With little light there is, I can finally see the walls. The hallway is outfitted with little paintings of three different figures. One is a woman with short brunette hair tied into a regal knot on her head, and she's wearing a white frilled dress. One is a stout, authoritative man in a fancy overcoat with a bushy gray mustache on his lip.

Finally, the most petite figure is a woman with long brown hair and a cheerful smile in each of her paintings. There are streaks of red in her hair in every illustration, like she was born with her hair that way.

Roland leads us to a room with a majestic wooden door. When we look inside, a gust of wind strikes my face from an open balcony door. It's a bed-chamber, complete with a bed that is round, soft, and comfortable with a veil to block out the sun's rays in the morning. There's a mirror with a small stool and a dresser nearby, with a pad of powder ready to plaster on a woman's face. Two glass doors are wide open leading to a balcony.

And there's another painting of that small family. The father and daughter are still present, but the mother's face has been ripped away from the paper.

"Bridgette's room..." Duncan says with a forlorn sigh. "I remember this place."

"They came straight in and took her from her bed," Roland says.

"We're in Theoton," I whisper to myself, my heart skipping. "We're too late."

There is chanting from outside, and I hear a man screaming in pain. When we head out onto the balcony, it's large enough for us to stand side by side. We have a view of the courtyard in its entirety, surrounded by the silhouetted city of Theoton. The buildings are of a noticeable size and built wisely out of white bricks, much like the castle. The roofs look to be of a dark warm color. There are massive white stairs just below us, leading from the palace front to the courtyard. I admire the building from the outside, and I see the palace has an unmanned guard tower at its east wing.

But surrounding every corner of the courtyard are rows of Shadowhearts, all of them facing toward a wooden stage. On the stage are three figures- an older gentleman wearing robes and reciting from a book, a massive gentleman with a veil over his head to cover his face, and a poor fellow chained to a massive symbol. He wriggles from the chains and screams for help while the onlookers give him cold blank stares.

I know that man. That's the guard from the Peddler's Reach who let us through past curfew. And here he is, paying the price for showing us empathy. His eyes have been ripped from his skull, leaving him with bleeding sockets.

Another hooded man blocks our view of the old man as he reaches into his cloak, his back turned to us. I can see an instrument in his hand. It's hard to tell from all the way back here, but it looks like a goblet. The hooded fellow has his meaty palm on the victim's throat and pours whatever was in that cup down the man's gullet.

Soon, the air goes silent as the man hangs dead from his perch. Then, in unison, the crowd of Shadowhearts starts to chant in a low, foreboding tongue. I can't hear what they're saying, but I can practically feel the vibrations in their throats. Then, the crowd begins ringing handbells, each giving a different sound. It's a strangely melodic tune they're playing. The bells would sound beautiful had they not been in the hands of these cretins. Instead, their tone echoes through the streets sending chills down my spine.

I've heard stories of a Shadowheart ritual from the servants of Asreal. Their victims were stripped of their eyes and forced to swallow a Fiend. The bells were a tactic to irritate the Fiend, so it may consume the victim's soul. Then the Shadowhearts would pray in unison, welcoming the Fiend and its new form as a genuine Shadowheart himself. But I've never seen it with my own eyes, and now I wish I hadn't.

Once the chanting begins to soften, that once-dead fellow rises again. And yet from here, I can tell his eyes are Fiendish red. He's lowered from the symbol, and he's welcomed into the arms of the old-robed man. He's led into the crowd and given a robe and necklace, shaking hands and receiving embraces from his new kin.

The Shadowhearts take that symbol away while, through the crowd, another symbol with a man chained to its face comes toward the stage. They carry him slowly. I instantly recognize that man, or at least his dark red hair. It's Alistar, already looking lifeless.