A Tale Of Shadows (Wattys 2023) - REPLACED BY DIVINE ASCENSION

Chapter 16 - Punishment

Melinda had no idea what would happen to her the following day. When she got up after a short session of yawning and stretching, not waiting for Agatha or Frank to do so, someone immediately knocked on her door. She didn't think much of it at first. She felt it was a bit early, which was strange to her, but it didn't matter in an environment like this. What mattered was that she was greeted by an angry officer she'd never seen before. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she stared right at him. His piercing brown eyes met hers for an incredible amount of time in the oppressively silent and cold room, and she wanted nothing more than for it to end, regretting it when he yanked her hand with much force, urging her to get out of the room.

Agatha woke up when he closed the door, her face pale with fear once she noticed that Melinda wasn't there, causing her to shake Frank with all her might. "Frank, wake up! Melinda isn't here! Wake up!"

"Huh?" Frank said drowsily as he adjusted to his surroundings. "Melinda isn't here? That's strange."

"We must go and look for her," she said quickly as she pulled Frank by the collar, forcing him to stand up along with her. 

She opened the door not long after that, which enabled her to see that Melinda was leaving the hallway with one of Patrick's officers. She and Frank looked at each other knowingly as they retreated quietly into the dark corner they usually occupied, closing the door with barely a creak, and hugging each other for comfort. Anything could've been happening to Melinda at that moment, and they didn't want to think about it. She was surely going to be alright anyway. It was Melinda, after all.

In the meantime, Melinda walked to an unknown room with the officer in utter silence, and it seemed like it was never going to end. The hallways were as dull and depressing as always, perhaps even more so than usual, for the feeling didn't tend to be as acute in her heart as it was then. She knew very well that it was because of what she'd done far more likely than not, but she also knew very well that she'd do it all over again, for peace can't ever be achieved without strife. It was minimal progress, but progress nonetheless.

After approximately five minutes, they reached the room at last. It was the same room she and Amanda met each other in the previous day - a terrible coincidence unless it was telepathy or knowledge or likemindedness of some sort. The room was somehow even more dusty and diseased, the chrysanthemums somehow even more wilted, and even the air seemed stuffy. Her nervous system was worsening her perception of reality again, that was for sure. She stood in place like a statue, and it did wonders to keep her at unease. She wanted nothing more than for it to be over at last.

"Do you know what we came here for, Miss Grey?" the officer asked sternly the moment he came face to face with her, his gaze piercing right through her soul.

"Yes," Melinda said, straining not to let her voice show any emotion. "I'm sure it's exactly what I'm thinking of."

The officer laughed darkly. "Is this all a game to you? Do you even know who I am? Do you not know that your actions have consequences and that every mistake will lead you further and further towards your doom, especially in a place such as this? Did you really think that I have not been informed of your little expeditions, particularly the one in which you tried to take the book? Will you not be taught your lesson for the rest of your life? What is your endgame, Miss Grey?"

"I admire your curiosity, mister," Melinda said, trying her hardest not to show her annoyance at his endless questions.

"I am Frederick Huxley, Hemingway's lieutenant," he said, his face turning red, "and you will take me seriously. I have unprecedented power here, much unlike you. I know how impressive your power used to be, but it will mean nothing soon. There is nothing stopping my master from ascending to the throne, and with your ardent refusal to join the dark side or listen to any of us at all, you will soon land yourself a grave. But first..."

Before she could ask him anything, he started casting a spell she wasn't familiar with. At the moment, he was standing right behind her back, meaning that she couldn't see anything except for a bunch of green lights. She stared at the awfully grey horizon unflinchingly for the next couple of seconds, forming many theories concerning what purpose the spell could serve. She then proceeded to fall onto the ground and hurt her head, which was merely the beginning of her pain.

For what seemed like an eternity, he tortured her relentlessly. He felt nothing but hatred and wrath towards her, which her bones knew very well. They seemed to melt away, replaced by the indescribable agony he was all too eager to inflict upon her, her skin engulfed by a coat of anguish that suffocated her completely. 

She was crying and screaming, which surprised her. She'd built much pain tolerance over the years, but she supposed that it was merely Huxley, whose efficiency she remembered now, being an expert. Like his master, he had a well full of evil and hatred that looked bottomless in place of a heart, and she believed that he'd now let her feel a part of it. She'd give anything to be free of it. She hated that feeling.

"Do you still have your morale, Miss Grey?" he asked, smirking like the pretentious cad he was.

"Yes..." she responded weakly, choking on her bile, clenching her hands into fists to take hold of the little strength she had left, but he increased the intensity of the spell with ease, which she didn't know he could do. She couldn't have imagined that the spell could be more intense.

"Do you still have it now?" he asked, stifling a laugh.

"Yes..." she responded, barely able to speak.

"Now?" he asked, increasing the spell to its highest intensity.

"Yes..." she responded, barely able to live. The toll of being awake at that moment was simply too much for her. Every word, every breath, every thought - they all pained her immensely as her surroundings began to fade. But she kept struggling, kept her eyes open, just for that vain hope of the smirk vanishing from her tormentor's face. She was strong, and she always remembered it, even when it was the hardest to do so. There was hardly a thought that-

I'd sell my soul to the devil to end this pain right now.

It was a terrible thing to have thought of, even for a second. It signified weakness and cowardice and many other traits she didn't want to associate with herself. But she supposed that it had to come to this. This event was the culmination of the despair and sorrow she'd felt for months. Huxley gave her this pain to teach her a lesson, and she supposed that this was the lesson, that no one can resist the dark side forever. 

But perhaps his perspective was flawed. Perhaps he was merely ignorant of all the greatness that the human heart held and all the beauty in the human struggle to do good where it would be easier to do evil. Perhaps she would find a way like she always did. The pain was still very much present, and the passing minutes felt more like hours, but this helped her remind herself that it was only temporary and that there would be much pleasure in the age of peace she'd bring. With that in mind, she wasn't discouraged when her tormentor smirked at her after the spell was over while she was standing up like a drunken person. She left the room triumphantly, trying not to think of the residue pain, holding nothing but hope for the future.