Corrupt

Chapter 7

When my eyes eventually blink open, everything is blurry. Even my eyelids hurt. My entire body is in total agony, every bone, every muscle as though they have been torn apart and sewn clumsily back together hundreds of times. 

I close my eyes again, hoping I'll sink out of consciousness, hoping the memories that slam against my exhausted mind are all just fragments of a nightmare, praying that it's all my imagination.

I wait. Wait. Wait.

With my vision repressed, all my other senses rise to take over, and suddenly the pain is one million times worse. I've never felt anything like it. Never felt such weakness before. Though I grind my teeth together, trying to ease the torment, the action only makes me aware of my throbbing headache, the slight wailing in my ears, the weariness of my brain. I can hardly think. 

It takes me a while to even consider trying to work out where I am. 

Beneath me seems to be some sort of wooden crate. It's incredibly uncomfortable. I find myself craving the soft mattress of my bed at the castle.

Mustering all of my remaining strength, I open my eyes again, wait for the phantom fog to clear.

I'm not in the castle. 

It's been years. Even the thought of leaving Carcaseau terrified me. Now it seems I've had no choice.

Where am I?

Above me, in place of a ceiling, there is only a crude array of planks, through which I catch glimpses of dark clouds. I turn my head, cringing at the soreness of my neck. Stone walls. A tiny room, maybe only a few metres wide, barely enough for one person, with dirty fabric strewn across the dusty ground. 

Does someone live here?

I barely have the chance to wonder. Distantly, but growing nearer, I hear the sounds of light footsteps, a gravelly voice.

"Get Jesper and get ready to go. We won't have long. They'll be all over us, you know it." 

Reaching the makeshift door, the footsteps slow to a halt. 

"And bring knives."

My eyes widen, the musty air sticking in my throat. 

A tall figure appears from the velvety shadows, standing strong amongst the wreckage.

"Oh, hello, darling. You're awake," they murmur in a slurred voice. "Perfect."

Pushing down the pain, I scramble upwards, backing myself against a rough stone wall.

I remember them suddenly: the rebel from earlier. They're still dressed in their black suit, slightly stained with dark red the same colour as their sleek, short hair. I gulp. Their pupils are dilated in the dingy lighting, turning their void-like eyes an onyx black.

"Stay away from me," I try to say, but my voice breaks on the words.

"No can do, I'm afraid. I'll need you to come with me now, if you wouldn't mind." 

"I do mind, actually," I reply, feeling a little stronger than before. "Where are you trying to take me? Where even are we? Who are you?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head over that," they respond. "Now, are you coming?" 

Though I would rather do anything else, I find myself stumbling off the crate, muscles screaming, following the figure as they wind through a labyrinth of alleyways. At first, I try to remember the turns we take.

Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. Left. Left... Wait, no...

But I soon realise it's hopeless. 

"Where are you taking me?" I repeat. 

"Unless you want to die, I recommend you stop talking," they say. I believe them. I go quiet.

We are suddenly joined by two scruffily-dressed men, who flank their leader, either side of me. They say nothing. 

About a minute later, we emerge from the shadowy alleyways onto a street. The worst street I have ever seen. It is filthy, almost a monochromatic grey, and the buildings around it are falling to pieces. As we continue onwards, I stare around us, feeling incredibly out of place. 

"I don't belong here. I belong in the castle," I think aloud. "What is this place?"

"Fuck," the man to my left mutters. 

And then we're ambushed. 

From seemingly every direction, people jump out at us, grabbing the men. I hear the bones snap as their necks are sharply twisted. It is a sound I've never heard before. One I never want to hear again. 

In front of me, the mysterious person whirls around, grabbing a knife from thin air, brandishing it out in front of them, shouting. I can't make out the words, terror muffling my senses. A hand grips my shoulder, another my thigh, the grubby fabric of my skirts ripping. 

"Get off me!" I shriek, but it's no use. I watch the person in front of me as they thrust their knife into someone's chest. They pause. I wonder if they're going to leave me here, with these violent strangers. Maybe I'll be kidnapped again. Hopefully I'll be killed. 

Instead, they flick their eyes from side to side, sigh, and raise a pale hand. 

Instantaneously, smoke wraps the entire street in a cool caress, billowing into my lungs. Against my skin, the clutches loosen, and then I'm picked up by strong arms, carried away. 

"Keep your voice quiet now, will you?" says a gravelly voice next to my ear. I nod, covering my mouth to stop my coughs as the smoke squeezes my airways. 

We are running again. Will we ever stop running?  I have no idea where we're going, but they seem to. I can't see my hand in front of my face; the smoke is thick like stew. 

Finally, they come to a halt, and my feet hit the ground once more. I blink and the smoke has miraculously cleared. Standing before me is the tall figure. 

"Was that smoke... Was it... Who are you?" I whisper. 

The person shakes out their dusty hair, flexes their fingers, and grins a fox-like grin.

"Daeva Korren," they reply. "Shh."