The Dark City.
A Kingdom of Monsters.
A Kingdom of Sin.
'Don't let them take your light, my child.'
Isabelle had clung to her father's words, like kindling. Trying to keep the thin flame of hope burning in her bleak life.
Sold to the slavers' m...
Isabelle's head whipped around at the sound of the gate closing behind them. After those gates closed, she would be trapped in a circle of stone. Forever. But, if she were to run now...
She stared down at the reins still looped over the horse's neck, pondering her path to escape. She was a practiced enough rider that perhaps it could work. Perhaps. But what was certain would be her death if she didn't escape, a risk she wasn't foolish enough to take.
Isabelle continued to stare at them, curling her fingers into Philipe's black mane with restraint as the horse continued to follow its master with blind faith.
She hadn't noticed the creature's eyes on her till his voice startled her out of her thoughts. Her cheeks flushed with the cold as she turned to face him.
"S-sorry, can you repeat that Ada-master?"
"Adam is fine." His eyes, red as embers, seemed to twinkle with a dark amusement casting down to where her fingers fiddled just above the reins. "Why don't you?" he asked, as if he could read her thoughts as clearly as the starless night.
"M-Master?" She feigned ignorance to his query, but his eyes stripped her thoughts bare.
"It's better if you don't try. Philipe will listen to no rider but me."
Isabelle moved her hands back, tucking them into the inside of the oversized cloak. She could feel Rosie's tiny claws scurry round the hood by the back on her neck. Her only comfort.
"I had thought of it," Isabelle confessed, her eyes on the shadow of the castle ahead slowly coming into view. "Can you blame me?" she let slip.
And then, to her surprise, a low grunt resembling a chuckle, escaped her lips. "No."
Encouraged by his reaction, she pressed on. "Phillipe. That is a gallant name for such a steed." She gave his neck a warm pat. "Perhaps you would like to be friends and whisk me away?" The gate grated shut with finality and Phillipe snorted, ears pinned back at the sound. "Perhaps not."
They were silent a while before his voice broke through the cackle of crows perched in the lofty barren branches above.
"Your chances of survival would be slim."
"I thank you for your confidence," Isabelle bit out sarcastically, slapping her hands over her wretched mouth as quickly as she said it.
This time she was sure he chuckled. A deep rumble, like distant thunder.
"I don't doubt your efforts, but the aim of my soldiers is true."
"Are you not the commander? Can you not command them to stay their arrows?"
"...For now, you are safest by my side. The world beyond this wall can be just as cruel."
Isabelle knew that all too well. The treatment she had received from her family was no better than that of a slave, but at least I had a choice, she thought bitterly.
They stayed silent during the remainder of the ride, the moon slowly passing down toward the horizon with each step they took toward the palace. By the time they had arrived, it had dipped down past the three towering spires that shadowed their entrance.
Phillipe trotted towards the stables, picking up the pace as he recognized the path to his home and the bucket of grain awaiting him. Isabelle's stomach clenched at the thought of food. When had she eaten last?
"Whoa, boy," the beast's command brought the horse to a halt just outside the stables, and the black steed bobbed his head impatiently. Without warning, Adam plucked Isabelle from the saddle, setting her on the ground.
"Stay," he commanded, before disappearing into the stables with Phillipe.
"It's not like I know where to go anyway," she muttered under her breath. Looking around cautiously, she took the time to survey her surroundings.
The large thatched roof of the stables stretched over her, windows breaking up the monotony of its stone siding. Beams carved with galloping horses ran all the way up the long sides of the wood frame, rearing to a halt at the top point of the roof. The craftsmanship was unlike anything she had seen before. It was achingly beautiful, and she gazed at it with wonder, losing herself in it as she mused about the possible stories behind such intricately detailed work.
Isabelle stepped a little closer, trying to get a better look.
A loud, squeaking sound caught her attention. Behind her, a man, entirely human -much to her relief-was approaching with a covered wheelbarrow. She stepped out of his way as the wheelbarrow's wheel squeaked and groaned under the weight of its load. The man struggled to push it through the cold, damp grass, occasional grunts leaving his lips.
He hit a bump, and the burlap cover lifted for a moment, revealing its contents.
Isabelle's breath hitched, her throat constricted and her fingers tightened on her cloak.
But she couldn't look away.
Lifeless grey eyes, frozen in terror, stared at her from amidst a mass of tangled corpses. Deep slashes cut across the face. Loose flesh flapped with each bump of the cart, revealing porcelain bone underneath.
Isabelle fell to her knees, retching watery bile onto the grass, heaving until there was nothing left to expel. Rosie shifted around nervously in the hood, squeaking in concern. Isabelle's whole body trembled as she pushed away from the soiled ground and leaned against the stable's beam for support.
The sight of those listless eyes burned in her mind. It was the first corpse she had seen since her parents, and she had a sinking feeling that it would not be the last. Would her's be the next pair of lifeless eyes to ride that cart?
Isabelle sucked in deep breaths through her mouth, trying to calm herself. She had to survive.
Like a dark furry shadow, the beast emerged silently from the stables, and with a glance at her, he strode towards the man struggling with the wheelbarrow. She watched him before promptly focusing on the grass to steady herself, but her ears picked up the conversation.
"How many tonight?" Adam demanded, his voice sounding almost angry. Harsh.
"Three, my lord. It came sooner tonight. One of the maids was..." The man's voice lowered as he talked, making it difficult for Isabelle to catch his words.
"...take them to the pits." Adam said something else but his voice was also far too low.
Isabelle strained, but she couldn't make out the rest. Instead, she focused on the touch of the cool blades of grass between her fingers to calm the waves in her stomach that threatened to rise up once more. A touch on her shoulder made her jump. The beast loomed overhead, onyx horns gleaming in the dim light the stable lanterns cast.
"Stand up." His strong arm hoisted her to her feet. "Calm down," he ordered, "We can smell it."
"Smell what?"
"Your fear."
Isabelle swallowed, her heart plummeting to depths of her stomach threatening to dredge up more bile.
She tried to control the rhythm of her breath as Adam strode towards the castle. It didn't help that she had to trot to keep up with his long strides. But despite her efforts, her heart pounded louder, faster, with every step closer, and all she could see were flashes of that lifeless face playing to the march of her strides.
PROCEED TO CHAPTER 6
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