The Alpha's Witch |18+|

Chapter Thirty Four

ADELINE

Everything from the air to the food they feed me is stale.

The stone walls that keep me captive are cold and void of any windows, the only source of light comes from a single flickering lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling.

The small space is otherwise empty, aside from a thin mat on the floor, which is hardly the bed that Silas referred to it as when he threw me in here.

Time is warped in this prison, I know it is. But I still can't stop myself from giving into this illusion that feels so real.

The memory of Braxton's touch feels faded, like it's been months. His voice, the one that I've willed myself to keep imbedded in my mind has even started to wither away.

He's nothing but a distant memory now. One that seems that be slipping through my fingers, and despite how much I try, I can't seem to curl them to grasp onto it forever.

This is a mind game, meant to wear prisoners down, disintegrate them before they even get the chance to stand trial.

It's frustrating. I know what it is. But no matter how many times I tell myself it's not real—that months haven't passed and it's probably only been a couple days at best—it just seems so futile.

Even my body betrays me. My muscles are weak, my throat and stomach are dry with a desperate need for proper nourishment, and my mind feels hazy. Like I'm fully losing myself in the midst of this delusional place.

I can hardly decipher what's actually real and what's not. So when a man, one who I've never seen before, comes to the cell and tells me that I'm being summoned to my trial, I hardly believe it.

I follow anyways, not that I had much of a choice or that I can't find it in me to complain either. Leaving that four walled hell hole is like a breath of fresh air. Even if I am being led through a dimly lit and narrow hallway that's leading me to my inevitable doom.

My eyes scan the walls and the countless doors that we pass. It's all unfamiliar to me. When Silas had brought me here, he used a spell that transported me directly into my cell. Now, I can only assume that each of these doors leads to another similar torture box.

I shift my attention back ahead to the man who never introduced himself. Even without my powers, I can still sense his lack of title and standing, so I'm assuming he's simply an errand boy for the High Coven Council.

My eyes narrow on the mop of black hair atop his head. The corners of my lips subconsciously tip downwards into a frown.

All I've seen of this place is dark. Although it's fitting, the color of his hair still unnerves me. My top lip curls at the thought before I urge it away and find myself inspecting the intricate lines that spread across the walls.

It's artwork of some sort, but nothing I've seen before. My fingers itch to touch them, like they're calling my name. Whispering to me and inviting me closer.

Just as my fingertips stretch to graze the lines, the man in front of me speaks for only the second time. "Don't touch them. Unless you want to burn from the inside out."

I retract my hand quickly, feeling foolish for not realizing sooner that the artwork is actually a hex on vivid display.

We walk in silence for a while after that, time seemingly ticking even slower. The hallway eventually widens into a large corridor before it narrows once more. Torches flicker on the walls and lead the way, illuminating one by one as we approach.