His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 59: Servants of Nomier

Author's Note: This is the second chapter published today.

I can't see. I can't hear. Everything is black. What's happening?

I step backwards. Water splashes at my feet. It reaches up to my shins. How? I was standing in mud just a moment ago, with King Tytius's soldiers pinning my body in place.

Maybe it wasn't a moment ago.

I bring my hand up to my face. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, barely able to make out my fingers. How is it nighttime?

A moon shines overhead, but constellations like the rose and teapot are absent. There are no stars at all. This is not the sky.

I twist around. Shimmering reflections extend endlessly in every direction - a vast plain of thin ocean, quiet as the dead other than the noise from my splashing steps. I'm alone.

My last memory is the Hunt Unit soldiers pinning my body in place. I was surrounded by King Tytius's army. The pain from the beating is still present, the ache extending through my legs, arms and chest. Rahlite was burning, and my julite necklace was cold as ice.

I touch my chest – the pendant is gone. Tytius took it off my neck – the last thing I remember.

My dress collar is still torn to my shoulder, and my feet are bare. The soldiers took my boots.

My head doesn't hurt like the first time I lost consciousness. Only my feet are wet, so I couldn't have been lying down. I just appeared here. This isn't Mephia, Versillia or Ceramaya.

A cold gust of wind makes my body shiver. My instincts are clawing to get out of this place. Something about it – the silence, the darkness – reeks of death.

I flinch at a loud bang. It sounded like one stone striking another. I whip around. There's a bright white stone in the distance - the only thing raised above the water.

I walk towards the stone platform. It's far, but it's the only thing visible above the dark ocean, and it may be my way out of this place.

The water drags on my legs, quickly tiring my muscles. I push on, eager to get my feet out the cold.

A dark shadow bisects the white stone platform. I stop. Not a shadow – a figure.

It doesn't move.

I continue forward, taking slow, quieter steps through the water.

The figure's back is to me. Their narrow shoulders and thin arms are distinctly feminine. She stands still as a statue on top of the stone. The white platform resembles a king's dais, raised just a few inches out the water, no larger than necessary to hold a throne.

"Hello?" I call.

The figure remains still. Her loose, dark robes wave in the wind, reminiscent of a scarecrow. Long black hair hangs over her shoulders, hiding her face. In her left hand is a rod tipped with a large diamond-shaped stone. That's Nomier's staff.

I hesitate, staying still for a long time. She doesn't react to my presence, still turned away from me. Glancing around reveals nothing but black ocean. I steady my nerves. There's only one direction to go.

I begin to close the distance, taking slow, measured steps through the water until we're only twenty feet apart.

"Hello?" I call again.

No response. Another stone cracks. A pink flame burns at the center of the platform. It's rahlite, burning on its own without any fuel.

The gust a wind tugs at the figure's hair, pulling her loose strands as her frame remains rigid. The sight of her bare neck makes me freeze. Her skin is gray like a corpse. Half of her neck is severed, the massive cut revealing her spine. She must be dead. Her body must be propped up on a frame. No one could live like that.