The Awakening

Chapter Six

The moment Avelon's feet hit the ground, her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the earth. The long days of limited movement had left her legs feeling as though they had atrophied completely.

As soon as Balor's men had halted, he dismounted his horse and disappeared. In his place, a group of servants hurried from the palace, tending to the mares and the guards.

The guard who had helped her off the mare now hauled her to her feet, his grip firm as he barked orders at the servants nearby. Avelon vaguely registered the presence of nervous figures drawing closer, muttering apologies, and grasping her arms. Two of the servants draped her arms around their necks and began guiding her toward the palace.

Avelon felt like dead weight.

She attempted to synchronize her steps with theirs, trying to make the walk easier for all of them, but the sudden movement made her vision blur. Her body, weakened from two weeks of inadequate nourishment, had little strength left. She lacked the energy to resist, to question, or even to speak. Her usual sharp remarks and biting wit were silenced, sitting quietly in her mind. Dazed, Avelon briefly acknowledged her surroundings as they passed various doors and entryways. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Avelon was ushered to be seated on a hard bed, in a chamber that seemed like a dungeon of some sort. The servants had silently pulled her about, undressing her, bathing her and re-clothing her. She had refused to acknowledge the fact that other Fae were handling her body and simply let them do what they had to.

All the while the servants muttered and whispered about her situation. At some point they had even tried talking to Avelon, she had ignored them on purpose. Avelon was still coming to terms with the fact that she was now in what felt like the enemy's territory. An unknown place for Balor to continue to do as he pleased without any repercussions.

Gods, this was the life. She thought, refraining from chuckling at her own self-pity.

"Girl, you need to eat and rest up." A young Fae's face flashed before her. She frowned angrily at Avelon, her reddish-brown eyes almost glowing, "Balor wants to see you in the morning."

Avelon blinked, wondering why the Fae seemed to care.

"Fine, starve if you will." She snapped when Avelon did not reply and refused to look at her, "That won't keep Balor from working you to your grave. Hell, he might even make you dig it yourself." She angrily sat a plate of stew and stale bread on the bed beside Avelon and snarled at her- Actually snarled. Her lip pulled back revealing her elongated canines and pearly whites. Avelon pressed her lips together to stifle the sudden urge to laugh right in her face. She looked ridiculous.

What was it with the people of Teine? She thought to herself.

Without uttering another word, the snarling Fae turned and left. Avelon tried to cling onto the hint of lightness that still lingered in her chest. The absurdity of her situation had made her delirious. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Avelon's gaze lingered at the door where the Fae had rushed out of. She had mentioned Balor. Did she know the extent of his temper?

With a frustrated huff, Avelon cast a sidelong glance at the steaming plate beside her. Mere seconds passed before she grabbed the stale bread and shoved it into her mouth. She savoured the feeling of it settling in her stomach, even though her mouth felt drier than the desert outside. From the way she devoured the food, Avelon knew she probably looked like a starved animal. She supposed she was one, in a sense, albeit a weak one without a drop of power.

After demolishing the bowl of stew and setting the empty dish back on the bed, Avelon allowed herself to take in her surroundings. The room still had the feel of a dungeon or holding cell. She came to the conclusion that this would be her room. Five beds were lined up against one side of the room. There were no windows, though light emendated from the two torches that lined the wall opposite to the beds. She tilted her head, wondering if all of them were occupied. The bedspreads were as grey as the floor beneath her, matching the dull, lifeless walls. Her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. For all the vibrancy of the palace's exterior, the inside felt as lifeless as death.