A Court of Watchful Shadows

Not if i could help it.

Ziláa

~31 days since Hybern~

Pain laced through my back, my skin felt raw and burned, each slight movement sending pain through me.

The soft echoes of my own breath filled the air with a haunting melody. At least it was better than listening to Ziven's cruel words.

I struggled to lift my head, the chains around my wrists pulling taught, every movement felt sharp causing discomfort. My head spun, my eyes felt as though they were rolling into the back of my head, and I swallowed hard. Trying to push the nausea down as well as the lump in my throat. I had to stay conscious, surely there were still ways out of this, right?

I tried over the next hour to think of ways to get out of this, to never have to see Ziven's stupid prim face again. But no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, one thought clung to the edge of my mind, sharp as a dagger - Azriel.

I couldn't help myself, even in this place, with my world shattered and my body broken, even just his name on my mind brought a flicker of warmth in this darkness. In my wretched cold heart.

I forced my eyes open, blinking through the blur of tears that I hadn't realised I was letting fall. Feeling the weight of the chains and the ache in my back. The lacerations from the whip were stinging and pulsing, but the cold iron was what hurt the most, the weight of the chains and absence of my power reminding me how trapped I was.

"Ziláa," a voice hissed from the shadows. "You're awake."

I froze, heart stuttering at the sound.
Ziven.

My mind scrambled for something- anything- to say. But fear clung to my every thought. I felt weak, I had never once been at a loss for words, but Ziven's cruelty was like a sickness, poisoning everything he touched. The thought of what he might do next whilst I'm already in so much pain made my skin crawl.

I struggled to turn toward the voice, my body protesting the movement. My eyes finally focused on him standing just outside the dim light, his figure too calm, too collected. His expression, a twisted smile tugging at his lips, made my stomach churn.

His piggy eyes looked calculated, gleaming with malice. He was enjoying this, every moment, every drop of my suffering.

"You look so weak Ziláa," he sneered, stepping closer with slow, deliberate steps. "Pathetic, really. How do you feel now? A little broken? Not so proud anymore, are you?"

My chest tightened.

Don't give him the satisfaction

I told myself, but the pain from my back flared as I tried to hold my posture steady.

I forced my words out, gritting my teeth against the searing agony. "If you think,"
I had to pause to grit my teeth harder, "if you think you will break me, you're wrong."

Ziven's lips twisted into a smirk, his eyes glittering with cruelty. "You're already broken, Ziláa. You just don't realise it yet. All I'm doing is speeding up the process." His voice dropped to a lower tone, almost a whisper, as though he were savouring every syllable. "You'll be begging to be mine before you're done."

The air between us seemed to grow colder, heavier. He stepped closer, his figure looming over me, his fingers brushed my cheek in a mockingly tender gesture. "It's so amusing, you know. How much you fight me, how much you resist. But it's all just a game to me. You will be mine Ziláa, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

I flinched away from his touch, but the chains around my wrists kept me tethered, my body a prisoner to his whims.

Ziven didn't seem to care, he towered over me, leaning in so close that even without my power I could smell the scent of cold iron on him. "You think you're strong? You think you're some kind of hero? You're not. Without those shadow powers of yours you're nothing. You're just a broken little girl pretending to be more. All those foolish hopes you cling to, the ones about your little friends from the night court. They're mine to destroy, and I will."

His hand grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him, his grip was tight, painful, and all I could see was the madness in his eyes. "You will marry me, Ziláa. You will kneel before me, and you will accept that you belong to me willingly, or I'll make you wish you were never born."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, struggling against the tears threatening to rise. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. I wouldn't break.

"You're nothing but a coward." I spat, my voice hoarse. "You can't force me into anything."

Ziven's smile widened, but there was no humour in it. His eyes gleamed with an almost manic fervor. "Oh I won't have to force you. I'm patient, Ziláa. I'll wait. I'll break you slowly, piece by piece, until there's nothing left of the strong woman you think you are."

He released my chin, but not before his fingers dragged roughly down my throat, leaving a trail of sharp, biting pain. "And when you're broken enough, when you finally understand who holds all the power here...I'll have you. And you'll be begging me for it. You'll beg me to make you mine."

I physically recoiled, my breathing shallow and quick. Every word he said cut deeper than the whip ever could. But somehow, even in the face of such cruelty, there was a spark inside of me, a flame that refused to be snuffed out.

"You'll never own me, Ziven" I managed to croak out, aiming to keep my voice steady despite the fear threatening to swallow me whole. "Never."

His laugh echoed through the cell, a chilling sound that rattled my very bones. "We'll see, Ziláa. We'll see."

And with that he turned on his heel and walked away, to which I silently thank the cauldron. Leaving me stuck in this cell.

I may be trapped here in this hell for the time being, but I wasn't his yet, and I never would be.

Not if I could help it.