Ninety-nine years ago, Faine Libet made a deal to save the life of someone she cared dearly for. One hundred years of service at a crime guild in the land of Pinedon. Four months left before her deal is over and Faine is assigned one last mission: i...
Similar to the harsh beat of Zebulon's wing, a wind-filled Faine's head. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking with a burn, and she squinted into the dark. Immediately, she knew she wasn't alone. Standing on the other side of the iron bars, his wings tucked in behind him and his shoulder resting against the uneven and jagged wall of stone, stood Zebulon.
"You should've listened to me," he said.
Every part of her body was cold. The floor she laid on was cold; the stone walls around her were cold; everything seemed to resemble ice. Faine pressed her hand against the stone floor and pushed herself up. Her shoulders barked at her and she hissed out. But it wasn't wounds she found on her shoulders when she pressed her dry fingers to them.
"Why did you heal me?" she rasped. "Why, after everything you did?"
"You think so low of me, Faine." Zebulon clicked his beak. "In fact, I think you have the lowest opinion of me out of everyone in Rising Eternity."
"I'm not Rising Eternity anymore." She watched him through lowered brows. The only thing in her cell, if considered such, was a small window too high to reach. The source of the wind and the chill in the air, and from the light shedding in behind Zebulon, another source of the elements. A stone hall twisted behind him and led to that bright light Faine associated with freedom. The window was only big enough for her to fit an arm through, let alone her head.
Zebulon tilted his head, scrutinizing every inch of her strained face.
"You are part of nothing now. I still own you, so I have every right to keep you here for as long as I wish," he chided. She hated looking into that face, hated that he was there and she was here, separated by the one thing that could protect him. Secure iron bars in a cell.
Despite her best efforts, Faine shivered. He knew all of her advantages so the only way to get her into this cell without her having a way to retrace their steps was to render Faine unconscious. From the chill alone, they had to be in the mountains. On Scarsbour, perhaps. The mountains were known for having abandoned dungeons and prison cells after the original settlements died out and their structures outlived them.
"Since I still own you, I have every right to make you remember why I am your savior. All these years...I've only wished the best for you. Everyone must learn about appreciation, and this is my choice of a lesson for you, Faine." She flinched at the soft, melodic sound of his voice. A tone parents constantly used with their children to get them to cooperate.
Instead of looking at him, she stared at the pile of straw in the corner. Her bed. Possibly the only thing with the potential to keep her alive during the freezing nights on Scarsbour.
"How long am I here?" Faine growled. "Two months?" The remainder of her deal.
He huffed a laugh. "I gave you mercy by letting you keep your life ninety-nine years ago. You only had two months left to figure out your life, but you screwed everything up. That leads me to believe your lessons are not finished. You are not wise or strong enough to head out into the world without my supervision." He strolled towards the bars and wrapped his hands around the cold iron. Those dark eyes flared with rage. "You will be here, Faine Libet, for another one hundred years."
"No," Faine croaked. She rushed to the bars hoping to grab an invisible key to unlock the gate, but he pushed himself far enough away. "Zebulon, you can't do this. You cannot keep me here for another hundred years."
"But I can!" He waggled a claw at her. "You are still under my control so I have every right to do this." Turning on his heel, Faine came face to face with his large wings. Tears bit at her eyes.
Faine's mind was reeling with the thought of being stuck in one cell for one hundred years. She'd never see Ilian again, never ride Tyvni into the clouds, never hug Kaspar. Everything hit her at once, the realization that her life was suddenly over. Just like that.
Her life began and ended with Zebulon. That was the rule from the start and if she'd just cooperated for these last two months...
She wrapped her hands around the cold bars and shouted as he began to leave the cave, "Please, Zebulon! Don't leave me here alone!" When he didn't respond, his head remaining high, her fear turned to a boiling rage that heated her skin. "I'll make it out here alive and you'll see, quickly, just how much I can go against you."
That made him stop. Faine expected him to come running at her, shouting she better not try, but he laughed. Tipped his head back. And laughed. The metal groaned underneath her tightening fists.
"I'd love to see you try, then again, every person who ever escaped this cell became dragon food a few steps out of the cave. There are plenty of them around here, Faine, and they won't hesitate to rip off your head." His wings ruffled one last time, and she made a choice to let him go. Let the wild dragons of Scarsbour Mountains rip him to shreds.
Hours later, as day descended into night and Zebulon hadn't returned, Faine huddled herself in the pile of straw and tucked her knees against her chest. The warmth didn't come, but she continued to search for it when the wind receded for a few short seconds at a time. It was then she was reminded of being with the people she cared for most, all handed to her by two crime guilds.
Were they alive? What chaos unfolded at the high elf palace that Faine wasn't there to see? The battle must've shifted from the high elf family and Rising Eternity to the two crime guilds going at each other, head to head, to end their opposing forces.
She remembered the color of Ilian's eyes, his wide smile, and soft touches. She remembered Kaspar's laugh, his jokes, and the way he allowed her to be so close when no one else received such a privilege. Nalea's friendship; Ginevra's bickering.
If she was trapped for one-hundred years and made it out alive, all of that wouldn't be there. Every bit. Most of her friends—dead or faded into the afterlife after spending the majority of their years searching to find the existence of a sarcastic feliram they once considered a friend.
The worst part of it all was that Faine knew he'd get his hands on them. Zebulon had plans to hurt the people she cared for most, Ilian included. And the mortal never once stood a chance against such a force, despite fighting so ruthlessly in the gardens.
Though she wasn't hungry, Faine forced herself to eat the stale bread and cold soup Zebulon provided. Before the rats took it for themselves and dragged it out of the cell. Her only friend was the whisper of wind and distant screech of dragons that echoed into the cell every time she closed her eyes. Was it her mind, or the truth of the matter they'd find her, eventually?
Faine stared at the twisting stone hallway that led out of the cave, waiting for a dragon's large head to make an appearance, until her eyes grew heavy. She didn't want to sleep, but it'd be a long hundred years if she didn't.
Tucking her knees against her chest and using her arm as a pillow, Faine closed her eyes. In her dreams, she saw their faces and her happiness, freedom she hadn't achieved in too long.
END
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