Solace and Nox: A New Light

Chapter 28

Black smoke filled the room. Cytra got out of the way as the smoke began to materialize and form the shape of a body. She hadn't realized she was still moving until her back hit the wall. Moldark stepped out of the billowing smoke.

Without using magic, Cytra blended into the shadows. Her dark brown hair appeared black in the surrounding darkness, and the hood of her cloak shadowed her face. Moldark's yellow eyes snapped open, and Cytra shuddered. She would never get used to those piercing, demonic eyes.

"Cytra," he said, voice deep, but proud. "My plan was a success. Raiden Solace is too noble for his own good. We have him contained in my dungeon."

Cytra felt like a knife was just shoved into her gut. There was a slight sting in her heart as the words left Moldark's lips.

But Cytra couldn't show weakness in front of Moldark. If he knew about Turphia, and the her feelings for Raiden, he would never live long enough to even try to stick to his word.

"That's great," Cytra lied.

"Let's go," he said hastily.

"Go where?"

"Do you forget our plan, Cytra?" he asked. "You agreed to kill Raiden."

Cytra's face remained emotionless, but she was screaming inside. It felt like the knife stabbed into her gut was being twisted in an impossible way. What had she gotten herself into?

Cytra nodded slightly. "Let's go then."

Moldark gave a devilish smile and he waved his hand. At his commanded, the billowing smoke returned, and surrounded them both. In an instant, they were both in a dark cavern.

The cavern was literally a black tunnel that seemed to stretched out forever. Every hundred feet or so, there would be a torch to give the tunnel a tiny bit of light. There were no intersecting tunnels. It was just one extensive underground passage that seemed to go out forever in both directions.

Moldark marched down the tunnel, his strides long and proud. He removed his cloak to reveal a black leather outfit. His vest was thick, and almost looked like an armored breastplate. Small spikes poked out of the shoulders. He rolled up the sleeves of his black button up shirt, and popped his knuckles. His long dark hair almost covered the spikes on his shoulders. Cytra couldn't tell if he looked more intimidating with, or without the cloak.

Cytra followed behind at a short distance. She trailed Moldark, his thick boots echoing in the hallway. Cytra's steps were so silent that Moldark had to look back to make sure she was still with him.

They walked for what seemed like forever. The tunnel dragged on and on. Moldark seemed so confident, that Cytra wasn't afraid of getting lost. She just wondered if that tunnel would ever end.

At times, it felt like the tunnel seemed to turn, or start going downhill. The tunnel itself moved, but it was all the same tunnel. It snaked through the ground in all different directions.

Finally, Cytra could see a light ahead. It was different from the light of the torches, so she exhaled in relief.

It was hot. Cytra didn't blame Moldark for removing his cloak. The temperature was rising by the second. Just before they reached the light, Cytra removed her cloak as well. She wore normal lower class clothing that she had to scavenge for when her old clothes got small. Being homeless had a lot of downfalls. Not having clothes to change into was one of those cons.

Unlike Moldark, Cytra kept her cloak with her. She didn't like to be seen wearing peasant clothing. It made people think less of her, she was sure of it. When they approached the light ahead, she saw why the temperature had risen so drastically.

They were in a volcano.

The tunnel entered a spacious, boiling area. Hundreds of feet below her was a pit of steaming lava. Miniature fires lined the rock walls, and Cytra could see that most of the hollowed mountain was made of igneous rock. The tunnel floor acted as a catwalk over the lava. One misstep and you'd be a pile of ashes.

They crossed the catwalk safely, and Moldark led her down the familiar, yet boring tunnel that looked exactly like the one they were just in. When they were far enough away from the lava, and the temperature became considerate, Cytra put her cloak back on.

Suddenly, Cytra could see a figure standing straight ahead. Like Moldark, the figure did not have a cloak. As the got closer, Cytra could see that the figure was a woman with light brown hair. The woman's face was bruised, but she looked strong. Something that caught Cytra off guard was the woman's eyes. They were violet, just like the Princess's little boy. The boy who had helped her. She smiled as the memory came to her mind.

"My Lord," the woman said. "The prisoner has been detained and has remained untouched."

"Excellent," Moldark said, rubbing his hands together. "Ebony, you are free to go."

The woman, Ebony, bowed to her master and walked away. Cytra suddenly noticed several differences in this section of the tunnel. Up ahead, the road forked into three separate tunnels. Ebony exited through the one on the far left. But the one thing that scared Cytra more than anything else was the wooden door that was fitted into the wall behind where Ebony once stood.

Sunshine was just beyond that door.

And she had to kill him.

"Moldark," Cytra said.

"My Lord," he corrected.

"My Lord, I've been thinking," Cytra said casually. "What if we didn't kill him?"

"Excuse me?"

"At least, not yet," Cytra corrected herself.

"Cytra, this better not be some kind of trick. Raiden Solace will die."

"What if he killed him in front of all of Shodon?" she asked. Without thinking, the words seemed to spill out. She didn't even consider the consequences of her thinking.

Moldark stopped for a moment. "Curious," he said softly, considering her proposal.

Moldark eyes her for a moment, then said, "Fine. We will not kill him yet, however..."

Cytra's heart sank. What did he want now?

"However, I need to make sure I can trust you," Moldark said, holding out his hand. In his hand, a spear materialized from black smoke. "I can't spare him because you are developing feelings for him. I want you to torture him. Make him bleed. Make him wish he were dead."

Cytra stared at the weapon in horror. There was a special place for Moldark in the Dark Depths. If he truly was human, and not some horrific demon, he was one sick human.

Moldark saw the look in her eyes and said, "I figured you would be too weak to do it."

He was about to march through the door, but Cytra stopped him. She snatched the spear from his hand, a familiar fire burning inside, and Moldark smiled. He stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

Cytra took a deep breath.

Then, her inner darkness took over.