The Beginning Of The End

Chapter 38

"Wakey, wakey!" A voice sang out a few hours later. I blinked groggily and sat up with a groan, rubbing my shoulder where it had pressed into the bar I'd fallen asleep against while talking with my newly found father.

"Rowyn." His voice was quiet, and in it, I could hear both love and anger, but overruling both those things was the pain, clear in his rough, throaty voice.

"Well, well, I see our two favourite prisoners have become acquainted!" She exclaimed, giggling as she half walked, half danced across the dark room. "I've got a little surprise in store for you, my darling." She grinned wickedly and lifted a shining object, jingling it around so that I realized it was a set of keys, which she smoothly inserted into the barred door of my cell and swung it open.

I stood up slowly, eyeing her carefully as I walked cautiously to the door, my whole body stiff from sleeping against the bars in this cold, uncomfortable place. She slammed the door closed once I was out and grabbed onto my wrist. She was small, petite, with long, skinny fingers that wrapped around my wrist loosely though I knew if I tried to pull away that grip could turn iron strong. She had long, dark hair and a very pretty face. Even though she was shorter than me and looked as fragile as a china doll, I had no doubt in my mind of what she could do.

She was my sister, and we looked very little alike. She was my sister, and I feared her. She was my sister, and she couldn't care less about what she was doing to me. I had seen it: She relished in my suffering.

"Rowyn, you don't have to do this."

She stopped and turned slowly, walking with a cat-like grace back over to his cell and wrapped her slim fingers around the bars.

"Aww, daddykins wishing his little daughter wasn't this evil?" She crooned, on the last word lowering her voice and baring her teeth in a manic grin.

"You know I wish that," he said, walking over to the front of his cell. Their faces were just inches apart, separated only by the bars between them.

"Well, hate to break it to you but that ain't ever gonna change." She laughed and danced backwards, catching me by the wrist and pulling me along.

"Rowyn, wait!" My father, our father's voice called. She didn't even hesitate. "You want to know who that is," he shouted. "Trust me, you do!"

"Wake up, my little zombies!" Rowyn sang, ignoring our father as she dragged me, tripping and stumbling, down the dark corridor between the rows of cells. She snapped her fingers and torches flared, filling the place with a flickering, haunting light. In almost every cell I could see people, people I hadn't even realised were here last night because I hadn't been able to see them in the darkness. There were so many of them, some just bags of bones, filthy, dressed in rags. Others looked fresher, cleaner, more well fed, but there was the same misery and hopelessness in everyone's eyes as they watched me getting dragged past.

"Can't you slow down a little?" I managed to gasp out, fighting against Rowyn's grip. She stopped dead and I almost collided with her before I saw why. We had reached an uneven stone staircase.

"Up you go," she said, still in a cheery voice. I stayed where I was, just staring at her in disbelief. "Well?" She asked when I didn't move. "Would you rather go downstairs?" Silently, I shook my head and turned away from her. There were tears in my eyes as I climbed the stairs, and not because I was afraid. It was because this was my sister, my little sister, and she had been corrupted and poisoned with evil. There was nothing I could do to help her, to get her to turn back from this.

At the top of the stairs was a door, which Rowyn reached around me to push open. I stepped through cautiously, blinking against the brightness that I was suddenly met with. I was in a big room, brightly lit with a round table in the centre. The walls were hung with various things; pictures, weapons, shelves containing books and ornaments, some magical items.

"Welcome to the transition room," Rowyn said, stepping past me and walking over to the round table. She picked up a knife with a long, curving blade and flipped it expertly in one hand. I glanced back, wondering if I should just go back down to the prison. What did my maniac of a sister plan on doing to me here? But the door was gone. Or at least, it appeared to be.

"Oh, don't even think about it," she said, shaking her head at me. She put the knife down and beckoned me. I moved towards her, my legs carrying me even though I wasn't telling them to.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, trying to stop but finding myself unable to.

"Simple magic," she replied with a shrug.

"Dark magic," I whispered. Her head jerked up and the cheerfulness was gone for the first time since I'd seen her.

"Not dark magic," she hissed, moving at me so fast she seemed to blur. In a heartbeat I found myself pressed against the wall where the door should have been, he angry little face so close I could see the flecks of colour in her eyes, feel her breath hot and angry on my skin. I felt the cold touch at my throat and gasped, looking down at the knife pressed to my throat, the light glinting off the shining blade.

"Rowyn-" I started, but she cut me off.

"I do not use dark magic!"

I felt the sting of the knife as she pressed it harder against my throat, felt the wet trickle of blood escape where it was making contact.

"Okay, okay!" I croaked, my hands hopelessly grabbing at Rowyn's arms, unmoving, rock solid. She released me, breathing heavily as she took a step back. I leaned my head back against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

"I know I must seem despicable," she said, her voice low and sounding as if it were about to start shaking. "And I am. I'm evil. But I know what dark magic does, what it can do. I'm not about to do that."

I stared at her, standing there slightly slumped, her arms hanging limply, the knife that had been against my throat a minute before now beside her feet. For just a moment, I could see a terrified, vulnerable girl and I felt waves of sympathy towards her. But it lasted only a moment and then she snatched up the knife and turned away. With her head bowed, she spoke again.

"I like to stick to more traditional methods." She raised the knife, and I could hear the manic, wicked tone that had come to her voice.

"Rowyn, why are you-" I started, but stopped, feeling something.

No, no, no.

I squeezed my eyes shut, knocking my head back against the wall but I knew what was coming. A whisper, a voice, but I couldn't make out what it was saying. Just the sound, loud and painful. I gasped and clutched at my ears where the pain was sourced. But as I waited, hoping for it to pass quickly, it built. It got louder, like a yelling in my head. I looked up, my eyes bulging and saw Rowyn standing over me. She looked confused, but it was changing and I could see she understood.

"Please!" I managed to gasp out and was shocked to find I couldn't even hear my own voice. "Rowyn!"

I could see her lips moving but I couldn't hear her words. She shook her head. She wasn't grinning anymore, but she looked mean and angry.

She physically dragged me down the stairs this time, using magic to pull me along the rough stone. The voices were rising still, and I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't deal with this pain.

Rowyn threw me back in my cell and I watched from my position curled on the floor through squinted eyes as she angrily slammed the door and locked it again.

I could feel the bars against my back and something tickled at the back of my mind. A hand clasped at my shoulder, pulling me over onto my back. My hands were over my ears, tears on my face.

"Help me," I whispered, wondering if he would be able to hear me. I definitely couldn't. "Help me, daddy."