REVOLUTION: A Rebel Among Monsters ✔

Ten••It's Not What You Think

Something shook—the lift or her body, Melaynia wasn't sure. Lowering into the Underground Monster Lair, she kept her lids squeezed shut, as ordered, and struggled to hold still.

Her temples throbbed and the corners of her face ached from the blindfold that wrapped around her skull. A sour flavor lingered in her mouth, and she doubted she was authorized to drink water. Why bother? She repressed a sinister chuckle.

All she heard were her breaths. Loud, wheezing, echoing off the walls of the elevator. Wylan was close; she sensed his arms against hers, caught whiffs of his scent—that faint Cerulean Crystal coppery stench Quincy always had after working on his projects.

If others were there too, she'd never guess. Her eyes had been closed before she entered, and no one spoke, moved, breathed. Even the lift—which she expected to creak, squeak as it continued its trek downwards—was quiet, powered by the crystals, infused by the Monster's energy. The lack of noise only prompted Melaynia's thoughts to worsen, develop, pinch her brain.

Had any other Sacrificed Ones felt this way? Trapped, desperate to plot an escape, hesitant to vanish but forced to? Or did they all blindly accept their fate? Did they all march to their deaths courageous and prepared?

Was Valnia like this, when they led her down?

The ride was endless. It felt like hours had passed before the engine came to a stop, followed by a thud that nearly toppled Melaynia over. Wylan caught her arm and stabilized her.

The doors opened, and a muggy air filled the lift, breezing over her cheeks and under the blindfold, tempting her to peek through the silky and supposedly see-through blindfold.

Wylan tugged her out, and she realized someone else had been with them, as they nudged past her.

"Careful, we're going down a short flight of steps," said Wylan, his voice coming through muffled and soft. He slipped in front of her and held her hands, letting her descend at her rhythm.

She counted ten steps..

"Now a flat surface, no stairs." His tone turned hoarse, bouncing off the facade of the area surrounding them.

Walls? A room? A corridor? Melaynia had no clue, and would never find out.

His palm squeezed around her biceps, and they marched. The same smell that wavered from his clothes lingered in the entire space; a crystalline odor swelled in her nostrils and woke something inside her, rumbled in her gut.

Are we surrounded by crystals?

Her footsteps reverberated, sending tiny echoes out ahead of her, leading her to assume they were in a hallway. Her ears pricked with the sound of other footsteps, not just hers and Wylan's; one set before her, and another behind.

There were two more Attendants accompanying them. But who?

The surface beneath her feet was cold, smooth, a tad slippery. But with Wylan next to her, she didn't lose her balance. She kept as straight as possible, though every fiber of her being pulled her forward, wanting to slouch, cry, scream, beg for help. Beg for mercy.

The air cooled the farther they walked, and another eerie odor crept into her nose. Earthy, foul, salty, all at once, mingling and swirling in her and tainting her mouth, her throat. She tasted it, and caught herself before she gagged.

Doors pried swung apart before her—she picked up on the whoosh of air they caused and could tell they were large. The dreadful scent amplified, lurching through her insides, making her yearn to see through the cloth covering her upper face. Wylan had said something about the Monster's private chambers—was that where they were? Could the stench be from... their food?