Sianna and the Soulweaver

Chapter 5 - The New World

Suddenly Annie's face has lost her usual kind expression, a darkness to her blue eyes that doesn't belong there making my stomach feel sick instantly.

"You'll never see James again, Sianna. You belong to us now."

••••••••••

My body trembles not only at the words she says but at the way she says them. Annie delivers the news with a demonic edge to her voice that sounds nothing like her, a deep undertone of amusement at my expense. I stand up away from her and the bench, stumbling over my own two feet and falling flat on my back. The air leaves my lungs with a dramatic whoosh and I am left sprawled out, desperately trying to remind my respiratory system how to function properly. Before I know it Annie is standing over my gasping body, looking down at me like a rodent to be exterminated. Her natural red curls are piled high on her head and appear so fiery bright that in my disoriented state, it looks like she's burning alive.

"Annie, please." I choke out, attempting to sit up on my elbows. In response Annie presses her foot to my chest, the toes of her left boot digging into my sternum while the heel presses hard into my fractured ribs. Pain rips through me and I try to push her leg off, the action only causing her to add more weight while she continues to stare down at my begging form.

This isn't Annie. I have been duped.

"Any last words?" She asks me icily, cocking her head to the side as if to take a better look at me. Panic seizes and I try wiggling free again, smacking at her leg to get her off but my efforts seeming to have no effect. I usually kick her ass in every self-defense class she's ever dragged me to over the years, and even in my fragile state I can honestly say that I know this cannot be my gentle friend. She'd never hurt a fly let alone hurt me; I should have known it was too good to be true.

"I don't have anything else to say to you. You're not Annie." The pretender smirks and I squeeze my eyelids shut, holding my breath as a single tear falls loose down the side of my cheek.

That's when she lifts her boot up high and stomps it back down with all her might, delivering the final blow and sending me back to the darkness.

•••••••

When I awake I am still lying on my back, my right hand and fingers that had touched the wall now scorched a deep scarlet. It stings like a bad burn, causing me to hold it close to my chest in an attempt to nurse myself back to health. Thankfully, the pain lasts only minutes before it finally dulls, subsiding enough that I am able digest what just happened.

The glowing wall shocked me, like some sort of defensive electrocution. Does the glow act as forcefield to keep prisoners from escaping? Is that how they intend to keep me in here, and if so for how long? I don't understand how any of this is possible or why the jolt sent me back to the museum, imitating Annie in a forcefield-induced nightmare. It reminds me of the special effects you see in sci-fi movies, not tangible things that are grounded in reality. I stare at my scarred hand and then look back towards that unique spot on the wall, the tiny gleam of light that tempted me in the first place.

I really thought, just for a moment, that I had made it out of this hellhole.

Forcing myself up onto my hands and knees, I crawl over to the same spot as before but resist the idiotic urge to reach out. Instead I take my time, scanning my eyes around the area and balancing myself as I lean forward. The opening isn't much but my eyesight is fairly sharp; perhaps I can somehow peek through it without actually touching the wall. I could try yelling for help, and then they could call 911-

SLAM!

This brilliant idea is interrupted by the jarring sound of the door being swung open...and with it my hope for escape. The intruder stomps in and I close my eyes, already knowing that there is surely violence to come.

"You touched the selastium?" The voice that greets me is not at all what I expect, gruff but not sounding particularly menacing.

It takes me a moment to process that he is asking me a question. I stutter over my words, barely squeaking out,"Th-the what?"

"The wall. You touched the wall? How did you do that?" I finally open my eyes but keep them down, staring at the floor and my battered hands.

"I-I didn't mean to, I-" He clears his throat to get me to look at him, pointing to the red stain on my hand. The scarlet color has now deepened to more of a maroon shade, almost like it has aged years even though it's only been minutes. 

The appearance of the man himself is jarring, although I am not sure "man" is the correct word to describe him. He looks to be part human surely; his stance, his voice, his body shape. However, and this is the part I'm having trouble grasping, the man has fur. Like full-on, thick fur you'd find on a dog or a wolf. The hair is charcoal gray and covers all of his visible flesh, with thinner fur in certain areas like his face and hands. He is wearing a simple brown tunic and matching pants, his feet furry and bare. His eyes look black as night but with a purple hue to them, terrifying and hypnotizing at the same time.

But most notable of all, of course, is the gleaming battle axe he carries in his hand.

"Come with me. Now." He turns away without saying another word, clearly expecting me to follow suit. I am too stunned to do anything at first but then see him turn back around, checking to see if I'm walking behind him. "Hastily." He orders and his tone makes me hop up instantly, my broken toe screaming at the action but my feet moving forward anyway.

I am finally getting my wish to walk out the door...but now I'm so damn scared that I almost miss the meek comfort of the hay bed. The man continues stalking ahead of me at a steady pace, leading me down a dimly-lit hallway. There are a myriad of paintings on the walls, some in better shape than others. Almost all of them depict animals of every variety, many of which are winged creatures such as dragons, birds and bats. Then there are cats of every degree, from domestic to the kings of the jungle. There are wolves and dogs, frogs and snakes; not at all the artwork I'd be expecting from violent kidnappers. There are people in the paintings too, although not as prominently displayed. Most of them are wearing solemn expressions and sleek, minimalist clothing in shades of emerald and black.

Again I must ask the million-dollar question: what is this place?

"Halt." The man orders and I trip over myself at the sudden change of pace, accidentally knocking into him from behind.

S.H.I.T.

He huffs and turns to stare at me, his eyes piercing straight to my soul. I gulp loudly and take a step back, preparing to beg for my life if necessary. We stand in silence for only a moment before he turns back around, his voice sharper than before. "Wait here. I need to alert Vianah of the change of plans before I bring you in."

Vianah? Change of plans?

I stand stoically, trembling in sheer terror as he does a calculated knock on the door. It is at the very end of the hallway, the wooden frame noticeably worn and not a single window in sight of this place. "Stay here and don't try anything. You won't get anywhere." The man orders and then enters the room, closing the door shut behind him and leaving me alone in the hall. I take the brief moment to assess the area better, much of which is fairly empty except the paintings and the lanterns lighting our way. The wallpaper is peeling in many places, the pretty green color holding on for dear life. I contemplate for only a second the possibility of making a run for it; I know I won't succeed. I imagine the blade of his battle axe slicing right through my back and I cringe, the idea of such a death absolutely horrifying.

The man suddenly returns, leaving the door cracked open this time. His expression is strained more so than when he entered, no glint of softness in his gaze. "Come now." He states, holding his hand out to gesture for me to enter the room. I gulp loudly and my palms are sweatier than ever, my heart racing a million miles a minute.

May God be with me.

••••••••

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