The Search for Soul in Everything

Chapter 20

Tears streamed silently down her face as she laid on the stone floor. A rat ran across her feet, but she didn't bother to move. She laid only on her leggings and undergarments. The shirt laid under her head, too uncomfortable to place on the cuts dug deep into her back. Drops of water rattled across the halls as the last torch burned out.

Goose skin rattled over her cold body. Dehydration set deep into her, her mouth was dry. She licked her lips, hoping for a little relief but it only made the air feel dry. She was almost surprised when another tear slipped over her nose.

The last few days had been nothing but pain. Knives, fire, whips. There were holes and burns riddled all over her. The pain bore into her, leaving scars that would last forever. Mental scars, drilled into her head.

A jingling of keys made her look up. The door of the cell opened with a long, screeching sound. Vanora winced for a moment, wincing at the sound. "Come on, he wants you up."

She nodded, lifting herself up from the floor. She decided to carry her shirt, knowing this would either be her singing, or her screaming. Either way, she didn't want the fibers rubbing the sensitive skin.

She followed the man two steps behind, feeling a pull on her chest. The ring called to her, and it seemed she wasn't going fast enough. She sighed, knowing she was only allowed to follow behind. She also knew her chest would burn.

It did, a searing pain that ripped into her heart. She gripped her chest, her nails digging into the skin. She did her best to take a breath, but every huff felt like her lungs were filled with burning coals. The man in front of her, noticing her pain, walked faster through the hall.

When Vanora finally arrived, she fell to her knees. The burning in her chest subsided, and she did her best to take in a few breaths.

"Vanora, my sweet! What took you, hmm?" Cazador called out, lifting himself from his self-appointed throne.

"My apologies, sir." Vanora said, staying on her knees for a moment. She gripped the shirt in her hands, wishing she'd put it on.

"Well, no matter. I wish to hear from you again." He knelt down close to her. He gently picked up her chin to inspect her closer. "And I'll be taking the shirt, my sweet." He said, holding a hand out toward her. His eyes bore into her, looking at every point he could.

Vanora felt disgusted in herself as she stood in his presence. Handing over the shirt, she stood up slowly as he walked back to his seat. Vanora looked down at her feet, slowly starting to hum a sad tune.

"You never know what tomorrow may bring.

The woman lyin' next to you,

Could be a memory...

I've idolized, I've memorized your face.

Just in case I need it to last for eternity.

It's a shame that it ain't enough for me..."

"Vanora!"

The doors slammed open. Vanora could hear his heavy breathing behind her. She sighed, she knew he would do this. She knew he couldn't leave well enough alone, but she wished he didn't have to see her like this.

Astarion stood sturdy, dagger ready in hand. He faltered a little as he stared at her for a moment. Large, swollen slashes bore into her back, each and every one of them looked infected. He glared hard at the man in the front of it all. "Let her go."

"Astarion, welcome home! Come over here, would you?" Cazador had a hard look on his face, like he was trying to conceal his anger but it wasn't working. When Astarion didn't move, he was a little surprised. "Oh... well, no matter. Kill him."

"Wait!"

The hall became silent as the tiefling yelled out. Cazador looked at the girl, who dared to look straight into his eyes. "My sweet, know you place." His voice dipped into a harsh growl as he scowled at the being before him. "Your place now is to sing, or would you rather scream.

Astarion felt anger ripple through his body. His stance became ready to fight as he looked up at the man. He wanted nothing more than to see his guts fall to the floor, watch the man die a slow, agonizing death as he twisted his heel into the organs. Before he could intervene, he heard Vanora speak out once more.

"You gave me your word, Cazador. He goes free." Her voice was shaky. She sounded so unsure of himself. Astarion watched confused, looking up at the man. The pale elf knew she would get punished for this later, even if it was his word.

Cazador looked at her with a fire in his eyes. "Such a stupid girl. You could've freed yourself, and you chose him. Tell me, my sweet. Why?"

"He's important to me. He deserves to be free from you. Besides... You and I both know you'd never let me go." Her words were fierce, cutting through the room in finalized certainty.

Cazador huffed a chuckle. "You're right, I'd never let my precious pest leave again." He waved his hand, turning away to sit back down. "Alright, elf. You can go. Seems I can't control you anymore anyway."

Astarion's nose flared, his voice almost murderous as he looked at the girl, then back at Cazador. "Not without her." He sneered.

Cazador thought for a moment, before he laughed. He was absolutely hysterical. "I can't believe this." Bellowing ripples made his shoulders bounce up and down, and he leaned forward to hold his knees as he turned back to the two of them. "She made you fall in love with her!"

Astarion thought for a moment, his stance faltering more as he heard the words. His eyes widened, looking back and forth from that man to Vanora, who had yet to look at him. "Wh-what?"

Vanora looked down at her feet, her shoulders held shame as they tensed. "No, I-"

"Oh, be quiet! You pile of shit." Cazador interrupted the girl. He laughed again. "Don't you know what a siren does? She used her voice against you. Wrapped you around her wretched little finger." He laughed again. "She's not allowed to speak to me because of it, the pest."

Astarion looked at his feet for a moment, his thoughts spreading throughout his mind. "No, she didn't." He looked over at Vanora, who shook in her place. "You didn't."

Cazador laughed. "Oh, so you don't have this urge to help her? You don't find yourself worrying for her, wishing she would stay beside you?" Astarion looked up at Vanora, who looked sadly at Astarion. She had broken, cold eyes. Like she wasn't even there. Cazador continued. "You don't feel pride when you help her? Some say it's almost addicting."

"I..." Astarion felt his heart break apart. He found it hard to breathe all of a sudden, desperately trying to find a reason she couldn't. "Vanora, darling. You can't actually do that, right?"

Her shoulders tensed more as she heard him ask, her breath raspy as she tried to hold back a sob. He watched as she shook, not saying a word. Astarion stood higher, his dagger still drawn in front of him. When she didn't say anything, doubt spread across his mind.

"This is precious... and sad. You can go now, elf." Cazador said, as he started to turn around again.

His face contorted as he gasped. Everyone looked over to see him. A sword was driven into his chest. Wyll stood in front of the man, carefully slipping the ring off of his hand before he dropped to the floor. Not one person said a word, or jumped to his aid. Cazador gasped, looking over at the tiefling beside him. It was his last sight before his vision faded.

"Got it... that was a lot easier than I thought it would be." Wyll said as he walked over to Vanora, holding the ring to her.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked back at Astarion, who stood in the doorway watching. His eyes clearly showed a struggle, indecision. Her heart broke knowing he didn't believe her, and that he didn't care for an explanation. The doubt would always be there, seared into his mind.