The Prodigal Descendant (AlphaxOmega) | ✔

43. Ceilani

Chapter forty-three:

It felt like someone was painfully squeezing Cyra's body; she could swear she heard a rib crack. She could barely breathe and was gasping and choking, thrusting her hand forward in the dark trying to grab onto anything that would anchor her from getting stretched further into the void. Her gasps and cries were muted, the darkness around her sucking her voice; the deafening silence that surrounded her scared her more than anything. She kicked her legs out beneath her, trying to push herself to the surface and away from the endless pit she was gravitating towards. It probably was only a few minutes but to Cyra, it felt so much longer. 

She choked out a feeble scream when a beam of light hit her from below, blinding her. She stopped fighting the force and let herself free-fall towards the source of light. The air finally returned to her lungs when she fell down woodenly on a firm ground. She got up on her knees and clutched her throat, trying to suck in as much air as she could and reveled at the way it soothed her burning lungs. Panting, she stood up on her feet and looked around her to see where she had gotten. The land around her was grassy with weeds crawling their way in here and there. She walked through the tall grass and stood in the middle of the narrow muddy path. The sun was right above her head, beating her down and soaking her in sweat. She turned around and down the road, she saw people walking around in floor-length gowns, some of them extremely elaborate that stood out in the chatty throngs of people. She could recognise those unattractive faces anywhere. 

She strode forward towards the stalls selling the most colourful bizarre things underneath the various awnings of the cramped shops of the market. She begged for all of this to be true and not some mind tricks. She sprinted down the path and once she stood in front of the loud, yapping marketplace, she had to make sure. She reached out to the closest Witch standing in her gaudy old gown that seemed to be mended a handful of times over the years and pinched her arm as hard as she could. To Cyra's absolute delight, she shrieked in pain and jabbed her finger into Cyra's chest that had her flying backwards and falling on the ground. 

"Thanks," Cyra grinned. If this was really where she thought she was, then she walked further towards the narrow alley that led her out of the market and looked around at all the havelis that surrounded her. She looked around for the bed and breakfast that Ceilani had taken them to the other day but it was hard seeing that all the havelis look so similar and the fact that she wasn't quite paying attention at the time that she had come here. But she could see the woman, who had greeted them, up in the jharokha of a haveli. 

"Hey! Hey excuse me!" She waved her hands frantically in the air to catch the woman's attention. She should've asked for her name earlier. "Hey, I'm a friend of Ceilani's. I had come here with her and another Warlock a few days ago." She shouted when the woman looked down at her. "Is Ceilani back here?" 

The woman frowned and shook her head. 

Where could they be? Her brows deepened. She walked along the main road and towards the light and very well, she could see the Temple of Armalir from there. She hated the place but she couldn't think of anywhere else. 

"Stop!" The guards near the tall gates of the temple stopped her with their spears. 

Cyra didn't have time to indulge them. She grabbed the spear and yanking it off him, threw it away. The other guard charged at her but she shoved him back harshly. She could hear them calling for backup but she didn't care. Pushing the gates open, she dashed in and madly ran through the hallways not knowing where she was or where to go. Finally, she saw the wall full of beautifully awful portraits of the Wiccas and there it was, the glorious door to their courtroom. She banged her fists against the heavy wooden door when it wouldn't budge open.