The Light of Elysium

23 - Leap of Faith

(Elissa's PoV)

I stare in the tarnished mirror and the sickening sight of the blood-encrusted 'N' carved into my breast. My anger bubbles over and I scream in frustration at the injustice of it all. Outside, the weather is equally mercurial and the wind howls around the tower.

The servant chooses that moment to enter the room with a tray of food. Venting my ire, I grab a bowl and send it crashing against one of the windows. There is a crystalline ringing, but the glass holds and my would-be breakfast slides down the wall.

Trembling, the servant scrabbles on his knees, picking up fragments of broken crockery and cleaning up the worst of the mess.

Looking down upon him, I find myself contemptuously thinking I could easily take him out and escape this dreadful place. Knuckles whitening from their grip on the back of a chair, I rein in my emotions.  No Elle, this is not the way, not at the expense of another victim.

A little later, the servant returns with a fresh bowl and places it on the table. After my earlier outburst I don't deserve it.

"Thank you. I am so sorry. This place, it's just..." I start to choke up.

Head bowed, he nods and shuffles out. I sit at the table and start eating. Aware of eyes upon me I turn to the eagle. I've decided on calling him Aquila, which is Latin for eagle, but sounds better than Mr Eagle.

"So, Aquila do you want to try porridge?"

He cocks his head, which I take as a maybe. I actually laugh, because trying to feed an eagle with a spoon is quite a messy affair.  I'm so glad that I have him because I would surely go mad or fall into despair without his company.

....

I'm not sure how much later it is because it's difficult to gauge time, when the captain comes to collect me. Aquila hisses at him, but his efforts are scoffed at.

I am led to a different part of the castle and into a room with a large bath, where two female servants bow low. One is a young girl, dressed in the normal drab garb of servants, while the other is older and has a fitted dress in a better-quality cloth.

He shoves me towards them and instructs, "Make Lord Nero's new pet presentable."

Once the captain has left, they try to undress me and initially I fight them until the woman says that we will all be punished if I don't comply. Actually, the bath is wonderful. What I truly baulk at is the pure white dress, which screams 'virgin sacrifice'.

The tight, low cut bodice displays the now healing 'N' and the skirts are so sheer that it feels like I'm not wearing anything. Now accustomed to modest Elysium fashion, I feel exposed and vulnerable.

I am a bag of nerves by the time the captain comes and escorts me to that dreaded chamber from yesterday. Really, the place looks like a fetishist's wet dream. 

Nero is sat relaxed in a carved ebony chair, bathed in candlelight from a wrought iron chandelier above him. The light doesn't reach the corners of the large room, which are filled with sinister shadows.

Crooking a finger, he beckons me closer and closer, until I'm standing between his outstretched, leather-clad legs.

Reaching out his hand, he commands, "Give me your hand."

Unable to stop the slight shake, I place my hand in his. Almost reverentially, he draws the tip of his blade across my palm and brings the cut to his mouth, closing his eyes and giving a shiver of pleasure.

Holding my hand aloft, he beckons to his captain, "Come, taste my sweet."

My stomach roils in protestation when the captain tongues the wound. Desperately casting about for something else to focus on, my eyes fall upon the carvings on the chair's armrest, which depicts writhing bodies. This place is sick.