The Enchanting Rapture (#1)

Chapter 22

     Annika

     Annika brushed her fingers over her wavy hair, it fell down to her waist with a noticable mass and thickness. She stood before a mirror, unrecognizable even to herself. 

     The outfit gracing her body was fit for royalty. With lengthy, fitted sleeves, the entire top was covered by silver gems, creating an arbitrary yet lovely pattern, providing a sleek yet rough feel. Though the neckline was a little low in her opinion, Annika was absolutely in love. 

     The long skirt was disconnected from the top, revealing only the slightest strip of skin. The skirt was flowing with each movement, a gorgeous brocade fabric spun from silk. Intricate designs were sown in with colors of bronze, copper, black, and gold, creating the most breathtaking pattern. 

     A servant was in front of her, putting on heels Annika would normally stay far away from. The pumps were long, and the shoe itself had been blanketed with pitch black gems. 

     For an evanescent period, her breath remained stuck in her throat. 

    "Thank you so much for your help," Annika praised honestly, "I would not have known the first thing to do without your help." The two women beamed at her kind words. 

     The older woman stepped closer and patted her on the shoulder. "It is best we leave now, let you breathe if only for a moment." She and the other woman left with nothing but the amicable air they entered with, so unlike Annika from before. 

     Annika looked into the vanity mirror with an almost analytical gaze. 

     Time had passed, and the differences she observed then were monumental. 

     The only indication of her past life of slavery were the lighter pieces of scarred tissue scattered over her skin. The wounds went so deep that not even a healer such as Jadris had the power heal them. 

     Under her storm-blue eyes, where dark bags of exhaustion used to have been permanently placed, pale and smooth skin lay. Her cheeks were plump with health instead of hollow and arid. The fullness of her body increased into something considered acceptable. 

     But then, there were her eyes...

     Those pools of sage she wish she never had were, like always, the first thing that really made anyone look at her twice. They were brighter than before, yet they told the same, terrible tale that was her past. It was a forlorn mess, how easily one could look into her gaze and know exactly what her story was. 

     She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. 

     What was her story? 

     "My name is Annika," she said conversationally, looking right into her own eyes, "and as I so uncertainly recall, I was around the age of ten summers when I was taken by Snatchers. They then sold me as a slave, and for years to come after that, I lived and breathed as someone's servant. I no longer belonged to myself, not really. And one day, a dark creature came into my life, but oddly instead of being beastly, he was the one who set me free, he became my protector. I was no longer a slave. Funny how something can be undone just as quickly as it was started. We decided to travel together, and we haven't stopped since." She wiped at the tears brimming on her dark lashes. Her lips trembled. 

     Not so long ago, a beating did not go unexpected by Annika. Fists pounding into her wispy frame were about as filling as the meals she never received. She was the shell of the girl who once smiled with charm, she was the ghost of someone regarded with decency, with kindness. Her stomach was constantly smothered with vile fear, a fear that crept onto her chest more often than she liked to acknowledge.