The Prodigal Descendant (AlphaxOmega) | ✔

39. The Yeturas

Chapter thirty-nine:

As soon as Djo and Cyra stepped out of the dungeons with guard, shackles hung around their wrists again. Their footsteps echoed against the dark hallway, both of them silently following the man. When they reached a fork in their way, Cyra could hear screams coming down the other corridor--troubling, painful screams of men and women alike. She picked up her pace, sticking closer to the guard, not wanting to know anything about the torturous noises.

They reached another hallway that was now lit with the torches that were placed on the stands on the wall. Cyra backed away from the guard and puffed out her chest to demonstrate her strength. Climbing a flight of stairs, they reached a heavy metal door that opened with a touch of his bracelet.

Cyra peeked around, trying to catch a glimpse of his bracelet properly but it got covered by the long sleeves of his robe.

"Behave yourself in front of the High Witches," the guard instructed her as soon as they got out of the underground dungeons and stepped into the light. Both of them had to squint their eyes, still having to get accustomed to the broad daylight after being in the dark for hours.

Cyra looked around her. The place was a shade of warm colours. The walls seemed to be made of pink sandstone and had white motif painted on them. The floor underneath them was polished to perfection and Cyra could see their faint outlines in the marble. There were many people walking around, tending to things, straightening the curtains, carrying jars and shrubs around. Everybody was dressed beautifully in their floor length gowns. But she could see that the upper class men and women were dressed in lace and satin in contrast to the plain cotton that the others wore. Out by the courtyard she could see a group of privileged class women were sitting around a floating blue fire, holding hands as their lips moved in unison. The arched gateways that gave way to the courtyard had cotton white curtains floating around and she could hear the soothing sound of the wind chimes.

As they passed by, some people stopped to blatantly stare at them before the guard would clear his throat and they would scurry away, carrying on with their work.

Walking through the beautiful, long corridors with the soft blows of breeze caressing her face and bare arms, she forgot all about her being a prisoner and the shackles.

To her left, she could see the rooms inside through the lattice windows. In one room, she saw rows and rows of shelves with books and mason jars in them. In the far corner, she could see another section with snakes slithering around and bats hanging upside down from the ceiling and doves just sitting on the perches. The scene left her quite disturbed and she quickly looked away and into another room. Here she saw two women and a man laughing and sipping tea as they chatted on, like they weren't witches and just a trio of friends in a cafe and oddly enough, this gave her a sense of normalcy in this otherwise new world. A little further, there was another room that had drapes drawn on it but she could see the outline of two people sitting on the ground and across from each other. Her neck craned to make out the figures but Djo hissed at her to keep up.

She tore her prying eyes away from the rooms and set them ahead of her. The place had heavy wooden furniture adorning almost every square inch of the place. On a plain wall ahead of them, oil paintings hung from the 15 feet high ceiling to the ground. Paintings of men and women dressed to the nines. She was guessing these were one of the upper class Wiccas. There were tens of them and the thing common in each portrait was the lack of attractiveness in their faces. And yet they all looked unconventionally charming and Cyra couldn't help but admire their poise. She could swear that she felt their authority just through those canvases.

She abruptly came to a halt when the guard and Djo stopped in front of her. The guard raised his fist to knock against the huge wooden door that had detailed golden borders. There were patterns of vineyard like chains that swirled against one another in the border. The door handle caught the sunlight and gleamed and Cyra had to wonder if it actually was made of diamonds. The doors were pulled open and Cyra's jaw dropped to the floor when she walked in and saw the huge room around her.