The Dark Princess

Milo/Brooke/Mary

Milo

Another four days. I had been in my cell, without food and with minimal water, for a week.I had been trying, day and night, without sleep, to turn the wall between my cell and Brooke's into rubble. It just wouldn't work. I concentrated as hard as I could, but all I succeeded in doing was make my brain hurt. I was frustrated and had been hallucinating since night four. I was so frustrated, in fact, that my anger and despair were what finally got me through that wall.

I knealt in front of it. I had been hearing the screams since night four as well. Brooke's screams. I heard it again. It was bone chilling and filled me with dread and helplessness. What was so terrible to make Brooke scream like that? I couldn't even help. I let out a frustrated scream of my own. The wall burst apart. I was through! But I felt so exhausted. Even more so than before.

I stumbled weakly into the room. Brooke wasn't there, but, in the corner, was a pool of water. I didn't think twice before I began to run towards it. The next thing I knew, however, there was a black thing diving towards me. And after that, I was on the ground, bloody claw marks accross my chest, stinging and burning. I wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but then I saw it. There was a demon by the pool. It was sleek and black, and looked to be made entirely out of obsidian. And just under its right collarbone, glowing red, was a four-pointed star. Chills ran up and down my spine. Brooke's screams . . . her disappearing act . . . the star . . . The demon . . . the demon was Brooke. I tried to stand up, but I was too weak from the combination of a week without sleep, lack of food or water, and the claw marks which, I was beginning to realize, were poisoned.

"Brooke." I croaked. "Brooke, please. It's me, Milo. Please." The last word came out a whisper.

I knew I was dead the moment I looked into its—her eyes. Those glowing, red eyes . . . There was no getting through to her. No one could save me now. I lowered my head and closed my eyes as she charged. Then . . . the tearing flesh . . . the excruciating pain . . . the growing numbness as I began to fade . . . and finally, nothing.

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Brooke

It hurt so bad. I had lost to the demon in my mental struggles yet again, and it was taking over, pushing my consciousness into a little corner and using my body as its means of materialization. I, however, was the one that felt it. Not him. I was the one growing the big black shell. I was the one that burst into flames inside of it, and I was the one screaming my lungs out in agony. It was completely unfair. Then the wall burst apart. Immediately, the demon hid. It slunk into the shadows, seeming to melt into them. There was a groan, and Milo stumbled into my cell. He was pale, his lips were cracked, and it looked like he hadn't slept in a week, but he was alive . . . for now.

I could sense the demon's hungry, murderous joy. He still hadn't eaten something freshly killed by his own poisonous talons.

Milo spotted the water. The poisoned water. The demon liked water, so he often dove into the pool when he finished eating my food. Its poisonous self had poisoned the water on contact.

Milo dashed toward the water, but the demon wouldn't stand for it. It wanted a bloody death, and a bloody death it would get. It met Milo by the pool, raking its claws accross his chest and kicking him away.

He understood. Milo had looked up at me . . . the demon me, and understanding had flickered in his eyes. Understanding . . . and terror.

"Brooke . . . Brooke please."

Those three words echoed in my head, reverberating and bouncing around. They did something. Either they made me stronger or the invisible bonds weaker. I took it from there, breaking loose and wrestling the demon for control. I had to win. The demon had felt the change as well, and had charged out of desperation for his kill. Finally, I was able to shove the demon away and regain control, but I was afraid I was too late. I reverted back to my true form, the shell melting away and the fire extinguishing. Milo lay on the ground, unconscious or dead. I momentarily felt panic, but pushed it aside, performing a sloppy healing spell, and most of the wounds closed. At least the poison went away.