Olivia Green: Envy's Child [COMPLETED]

Chapter 14: Banshee's Breath

A tornado of blood, midnight and ash; the potent scent of burnt flowers, firewood and forests; coppery, a dangerous taste; whooshing, whipping, whistling wind; smouldering, singed, smoking skin.

I blink.

Releasing an equable exhale, I roll my shoulders back, lift my chin high and begin to slowly walk off the slightly raised platform where the teleporting sigil is placed. The room is finely decorated: high ceilings, intertwining leave designed wallpaper, gorgeous mahogany flooring with expensively furnished black leather seating spotted in different areas of the vast, nearly deserted room.

"Name," croaks the small, elderly demon. Her elliptical, icy pupils peer down at the heavy registration book laid central the oak desk, a quill in her wrinkled clasp, small glasses balanced at the edge of her nose. When I don't respond immediately she glances up and widens her eyes in surprise, "W-why, Princess, I apologise."

I nod once before continuing my way to the double doors, biting my lip in pain from my leg. I did fall on it after all, the intense throbbing causes my breaths to become shakier than normal and a small bead of sweat to form at my temple.

A swoosh sounds from behind me before a couple of steps, the receptionist's droning voice and then the student's reply, "Felix Fernsby."

Of course it is.

His strides resounds around the room as he meets my distance within seconds, stopping next to my sorry self. What? I hate other's sympathy, doesn't mean I can't feel if myself. "Quite the show you put on back there."

"I'm really not in the mood Fernsby," I ground out as I clench my jaw, making it to the double doors before indicating him to open them.

"I'm just saying," he chuckles slightly and opens the doors with a shove. "It was quite a fiery moment. Nancy Hodgkin ran with her tail between her legs."

"She always does that," I grumble.

"Still," he pauses and gives me a pointed look. "Then accepting Charlie Mauve's assistance. The students are whispering you know, ought to be careful in case they misunderstand his curious generosity."

"Rumours aren't reliable," I reply coldly, walking through the marble foyer. The entire building is practically empty, it's soul purpose to be an extravagant entrance into Envy's kingdom. It certainly lives up to the standards. A round, dark spruce table stands central to this magnificent room with a tall, emerald encrusted vase filled with Banshee's Breath. This is a gorgeous black flower with imbricate petals, long stems and a sweet, sugary fragrance. A beautiful bouquet, yet the perfect poison. "Are you aware of what this flower can do, Fernsby?"

He shrugs carelessly.

"If ingested, the victim's muscles will first seis, causing paralysis throughout the body. As the toxins slowly begin to react, the muscles will contract so violently it will cause the body to go into a fit-like state, without the mind of course. The person will have no control of their body whilst maintaining full consciousness, being trapped inside their own vessel. Only that's the beginning, as the poison continues it's job and the toxins finally unfurl to their complete potential, the victim will begin to scream in agony as the poisons scorch his insides. Hence the name Banshee's Breath. However you want to know the best thing?"

"What?" Fernsby asks uncomfortably.

"The survival rate is one hundred percent, so no matter what, the victim will remember the torture," I finish in a whisper, making it to the already opened grande double doors.

"And why is this a good thing?"

"Because it is usually served to people who disrespect the royal family," I reply firmly. "Those who forget their place and require a little reminder."