Hallowed Damnation [#Wattys2016]

12

Zyrin led Salina to the far end of the dilapidated mansion until they reached an iron door. It was large and rusted with big gashes from something sharp that had run through it. Overall, it looked ordinary and she wondered what could be so special behind that door. While she continued to stare at the door, she began to feel a certain tug coming from it as if the door was beckoning to her. As if hypnotized, she reached for the door handle.

"Shit!" she cried out while clutching her hand tenderly to her chest. The door had electrocuted her, she was sure of it. She turned to Zyrin for an explanation, but found that he was just standing there with an amused smirk on his face.

"This room, the entire room actually, has been especially sealed with powerful magic," he said with that infuriating smirk still on his face.

"Couldn't you have told me that sooner?" she huffed.

"I didn't think you would be naïve enough to try to open it immediately," he shrugged. He was just getting more and more annoying to Salina. "The seal protects this room from any kind off attack or depreciation. It also ensures that there is only one way to enter."

"What way?"

"With the blood of a living Sagittari."

Zyrin gazed pointedly at her with anticipation swimming in their dark depths. This was a moment that was just as important to him as it was to Salina. The honour of his House hinged on the protection of this room.

Wordlessly, he took out a small dagger from the around his belt and handed it hilt first to her. She took it and relished the feeling of holding a weapon again. They had taken all of her weapons when she was captured leaving her feeling naked and defenseless. For a moment, she let herself entertain the thought of stabbing it right through Zyrin's smug face to take out all her pent up aggression.

He suddenly chuckled and his eyes flashed wickedly. "I wouldn't try to kill me just yet if I were you."

Salina's eyes widened. How could he know? Could it be possible that he read her mind? She shuddered at the thought of someone invading her own thoughts.

"Are you so confident I can't kill you that you would willingly hand me a sharp weapon?" she challenged him with a raise of her eyebrow. Much to her dismay, he chuckled at her one more and shocked her with a teasing wink.

"You can certainly try," he said in a husky voice filled with promise.

She could not find any words to reply as he successfully scrambled her thoughts. As a mercenary, her most valuable skill was being able to read people but this man was not only difficult to read; He was written in a whole other language she could not decipher.

She was vengeful for the death of her brotherhood, livid at being captured, enraged at the fate of her bloodline, disgusted by the nature of Archanians, and yet as he winked playfully at her it was for a different reason that her heart raced. She rolled her eyes at him and dismissed her thoughts, but not before reminding herself to never underestimate him.

Taking the dagger, she cut smoothly on the palm of her free hand without flinching. It was a deep cut but not nearly deep enough to create any form of discomfort for her. She used that bloody hand to hold the door handle once more and gave it a push. This time it did not shock her, but instead glowed a soft topaz light before swinging open willingly.

Surprisingly, Zyrin took out his handkerchief and pressed it to her palm that had already started to heal. She awkwardly muttered her thanks to him before returning her attention to the newly opened room.

Not quite forgetting what happened with the door, she gingerly took a few steps into the room but relaxed when she found that nothing else was happening. Releasing the breath she was unaware she was holding, she turned her attention to the details in the room.

The room was astonishing; long and wide, much more than she expected from that seemingly ordinary rusted iron door. Dark coloured wood dominated the entire room from the walls to the furniture making the whole room seductive in its warmth. The windows were large and spilled into the room the soothing light of dusk.

Going further into the room, she sees that it had two distinct parts. On one side were bookcases as far as the eye could see filled to the brim and spilling scrolls and documents on the few tables. There was so much literature there just waiting for her to indulge in and her hands itched to do just that.

On the opposite side of the enticing library was a wide raised platform with a soft surface. This was familiar to her for this was exactly what the training rooms back at the Ironblood Keep used for duels. On the walls hung weapons of all kinds; swords, daggers, throwing shards, guns, spears, and bows. In a place of honour on a shelf amidst it all, was a gold hilted sword with a thin black blade. The sword seemed to call to her very being as if it were a long lost friend.

Immediately, she fell in love with the room and its contents and was utterly amazed at how beautifully preserved everything was. She turned to look back at Zyrin with questions swirling in her head, but was puzzled to see him still standing out on the hallway.

"Why are you still out there?" she asked in confusion.

"It seems that you have to implicitly permit me to enter," he shrugged. She grinned and silently hoped that he got zapped too.

"I grant my permission to Zyrin of House Orion to enter this room," she said tentatively. She was unsure how these things worked and hoped she had not embarrassed herself. He chuckled as he strolled into the room.

"That will do. Have you noticed the portraits?"

Salina shifted her gaze in the direction he pointed at and let out an appreciative gasp. On the long wall where the door was attached were numerous portraits of different sizes hung adjacent to each other in a mosaic-like fashion.

"Are they...," she started but could not seem to finish her sentence. He understood that she must be overwhelmed, but he also knew that deep inside her she knew exactly who these people were. He followed her as she went from one picture to another and spoke to her gently.

"Yes. These are all paintings of esteemed members of House Saggitari. They are your blood, Salina."

Zyrin smiled proudly at Salina as she took in each picture in complete awe. They stunned him as well; they were remarkably lifelike and did justice to the power that exuded from each member. Although he was told about this room and what it contained, it was still a marvel to him now that he saw it all for himself for the first time.

"Who preserved this room?" she asked softly waking him up from his own musings.

"My family did," he said firmly. "The Orion House has protected this room for four generations now. You could say it was an act of guilt for not being able to save your bloodline, but we kept doing it in the insane hope that a Sagittari heir would someday come to claim it."

Salina observed Zyrin intently. She was surprised that it was his family that had preserved her legacy for a slim chance that someday someone would come. It was a deluded kind of hope, but she did appreciate it immensely. What surprised her even more was the way he had presented this all to her; with pride and a deep satisfaction.

She had not expected that he would feel so relieved for having fulfilled this part of his family's obligation. It was apparent that honour and justice was important to this man. She began to think that perhaps she had misjudged him harshly before she knew of his motives.

"Thank you, Zyrin. I am deeply grateful to you and your house," she said sincerely. She meant it and in her mind he had earned some of her respect. He smiled a genuine smile that he rarely showed. He did not notice that she was transfixed on one portrait in particular for a long moment now until she spoke again.

"Tell me, is this my father?"

********

A/N:

Maybe Zyrin isn't that much of an asshole. For now.