Dull Colours [EDITED EDITION]

Six | The Blade of Giala

Hera was running. She knew where she was going. She was going to get The Blade of Giala, the pair to Athena. She had only known about it for the past few weeks. She wasn't allowed to use it, no one was, as it was too powerful. It had once belonged to the most powerful Conjured, the one who had originally conjured them all. It had been turned good, just like Athena. It was the second-greatest weapon, the first being the ashes of The Betrayer, the only person in history who had come back from being a Conjured. He had been captured and turner, but had enough presence of mine to somehow - no one knows how - turn human again. She had to use the sword, and thankfully, her magical connection to Athena allowed her to find where The Blade of Giala was. 

The Blade and Athena had been connected from the start. One of the most powerful royals - the amount of power each inherited differed - had smithed two swords, and these two were his and his lover's. They hadn't had names at the time. This magical connection between the two swords hadn't broken, thankfully, as Hera hadn't known where The Blade was kept. She felt it now, and before she knew it, she was in a dungeon.

"Wow," she whispered into the blackness. She had closed her eyes to make sure she could accurately find the sword, as Athena had been the only thing leading her to it, and she had sensed it's closeness, so opened her eyes. There was light only from a small, barred window at the end of a long hallway with cells lining it. Hera shivered. She hadn't known this place existed. Judging by the cobwebs, no one had. For a while.

There. The Blade of Giala. It was right there. It was so powerful she could see it slightly glowing and pulsing. She reached out to touch it -

And almost shrieked. Her whole hand was shocked with blows of electrical tingles, yet she hadn't even touched the sword. She knew what it was. The most powerful Conjured was coming. All royals could sense when one was coming with a tingling in their fingers. This was her whole hand. She had to hide.

~~~~~

Hera couldn't see any place to hide in the dungeons, so she jumped up the steps, taking it three at a time, something she had never been able to do before now. The fear seeming to emanate from her every pore. Tears were pouring out of her eyes so fast she thought vaguely she might dehydrate. But nevermind that now, when a Conjured was chasing her and would either kill her, suck the life out of her, or turn her into one of them.

Lovely.

Hera's mind was throbbing and pulsing with so many thoughts, and Hera's stone weights were so heavy she basically had to drag them along behind her, mentally straining with fear. And then she saw it. An old, wooden, rotted-looking dumbwaiter from ages ago, that probably wouldn't hold her but was the only place she could hide.

She slid her thin body into the gap, resting on the dumbwaiter's platform and slidign shut the door. The darkness flooded over her, blanketing her. The only bit of light came from a miniscule crack in the door closing the area to the dumbwaiter. She folded herself up smaller, her hand tingling so badly it was beginning to shake furiously, physically. It was almost painful, and Hera was helpless in stopping it. Then she heard it.

A creak.

Then a crack.

Then a snap.

And she was falling.

The air rushed past her, and she held back the urge to scream or yell out. So she stayed silent, falling for what seemed like ages. Landing was slower, more painful. It was a small space to start with, and Hera couldn't help but cry out when she landed. She heard a sickening crack as her muscles and bones collided, and formed a messy heap.

Then the tears came. The tears came, and wouldn't go. There were people out there, fighting for her kingdom, and this powerful Conjured could sense her like she could sense it, so it would find her and probably kill her, so there was no hope. Hera felt all life drain out of her, the world crumpling in on the sides. She must have busted her diaphragm or something when she hit the ground. Then Hera died. 

Meanwhile, the Conjured had found her. Kneeling over her body, it knew it needed her. So it did what it had to. Lowering its skeletal face, the Conjured's pulsing blue heart began to thump harder, giving some of its polluting light to Hera. Her skin fell away revealing a face not unlike the one who had just turned her. Her clothes melted and twisted into the black cloak, and her heart started glowing blue.

Her eyes opened.

The Conjured grinned.