Feral For Her Freedom

Silence surrounded me in a thick blanket. I could hear my own heart beating, each beat passing slower and slower as my adrenaline faded. Blood dripped from my hand, splashing onto the white and gold marble floor, marring it with a stain of crimson. A pool of sticky red liquid fanned from Myrin’s neck, covering the floor with its dark beauty.

I was still crouched, poised on Myrin’s chest, my toes digging into the flesh beneath his collarbones. My bangs tickled at my lashes, blood leaking from their tips into my eyes. I was splattered in gore, both my own and my enemy’s.

The realization of what this meant for me had yet to set in. I was numb, unsure of what to do next. Not sure what there was to do now.

I half expected to wake up from this dream, to find Myrin laughing at me as reality crashed in wave after wave to drown me in its cruel depths.

I stared at the corpse below me, waiting for those glazed over eyes to blink or his hands to seize me.

So, I waited because this couldn’t be real. Freedom was a lost concept to me. Survival had taken over every thought, every instinct I possessed.

A gasp of horror pierced through the silence.

I looked at the body below me, frowning when it didn’t move. Had I imagined that noise? I cocked my head, white hair shifting across my face.

It wasn’t until footsteps echoed behind me that I realized Myrin and I were not alone. I twisted around but it was already too late. I was shoved off the body as a small female threw herself upon the corpse. She sobbed, brushing at the blood red hair, her hands coming away in the same color of crimson.

I watched as the female frantically tried to stop the bleeding from his neck. I was confused as to why she thought that would help.

Reaching out a hand towards the female, my arm was grabbed and wrenched behind me before I was violently pinned to the floor, my face forced to the cool marble. My cheek was pressed into a puddle of blood and a knee drove into my spine. Even from my restricted position I could see the petite female slowly turn her head to look at me. A large scar marked up her face, a permanent split on her lip and gash through her brow. Her eyes were filled with hatred and churning with rage.

“Kill her,” the female growled.

No one moved to obey. The female’s eyes snapped up to whoever was holding me. “Kill her! She killed Myrin! She killed your One!” she screamed each word louder than the last.

“Grace, we can’t kill her. She has to go before the council and stand trial.” The voice of Myrin’s Two sounded above me. I tried to get a look at him but when I lifted my head his hand viciously came down, smashing my head back on the ground.

“She’s feral, Samson, she was supposed to die anyway so just kill her!” Grace stomped her foot, nearly slipping in the pool of Myrin’s blood.

I smiled, finding it quite comical she thought throwing a tantrum in this circumstance would get her what she wanted.

“She will die,” Samson stated firmly. There was no doubt I would be executed for my crime. Samson just knew he might very well have to stand trial himself if he killed me. I was posing no threat to anyone right now. The damage had been done and now they’d have to bring me before the council. The council would be furious if I wasn’t publicly executed to send out a message and Samson wasn’t going to risk his neck for Grace’s revenge. “As Two it falls to me to abide our rules. She stands trial.”

Grace screeched out her fury and flew at me, determined to do the deed herself since no one else would. She was caught around the waist and swung into a cradled position by the other male who had arrived with Samson. The moment she was in that male’s arms she broke down and wailed uncontrollably, clutching onto the male’s biceps as she wept.

Samson took this opportunity to take me away. He was wary of my claws as he hauled me up. With one hand clutching my wrists in a crossed position behind my back and his other buried deep in my hair he steered me from the room, guiding me to where I was to go.

It was an iron box that I was brought to. It was about three feet wide and nine feet tall constructed out of solid iron with a singular slot that could be opened and closed at eye level. Three other males were there waiting with bindings in their hands. A muzzle was snapped around my neck, a chain dropping between my breasts down to my feet where an iron bar was secured to my ankles, the chain from the muzzle connecting to the bar. My hands were forced closed into clenched balls and then covered with the metal cuffs that completely surrounded my hands and partway up my forearms.

I kept my eyes on the Two as he watched. I didn’t flinch at any of the clanks as each restraint was locked on my body. The chains were something I was used to, something that no longer fazed me.

“What kind of monster did you create Myrin?” I heard Samson breathe as he looked me over. His eyes lingered on the grotesque scars that spelled out two words on my stomach.

He looked up meeting my eyes. I caught the shudder that shivered through him. He looked away, unable to meet my gaze and flicked his head. “Lock her in. Three guards at all times. She doesn’t leave the box and it is not to be opened.”

The three males nodded. Turning to me they herded me into the box.

My bare feet touched the cold surface, the bite of the iron only painful because it was another cage to be locked in. The door closed, a high pitched squeal and metallic clang signaling my capture. I was locked in darkness and left in silence.

Hours, maybe even days passed, and nothing changed. I was given no food, no fresh air. I had long become accustomed to the putrid smell of bodily fluids and stale blood. Flesh and tissue were clogged under my nails and did not help matters. I did not sleep, at least not that I could tell. I was in darkness either way, no sound but the slight ringing in my ears.

Every once in a while, I could hear knocking sounds as something hit the box surrounding me, maybe even catch the sound of a muffled voice.

I stayed standing, only leaning against the side of the box if need be. My knees ached every bit as much as my feet, but I was afraid that if I sat, I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.

I was resting my head against the side of the iron box when the slotted window was quickly opened, a small plink echoing through the box as something hit the floor by my feet. When I looked up again the window was already closed.

I started to cough, my mind growing fuzzy. I wasn’t sure if my eyes closed, darkness looked the same whether they were open or not. I’d given up trying to tell. But soon even the darkness was gone, and I was just left with nothing.

When I was conscious, I wasn’t yet awake. I was in the empty space where the stars always talked to me. Where that voice had spoken to me. The between from my world and somewhere else.

The red ball of light sparked to life, quite a bit bigger than the blue one that slowly faded into existence.

How are you going to be when you wake? The red one asked.

I didn’t really understand the question, so I remained silent.

What will you do is the better question I suppose. The red star amended. Will you make them suffer and take your revenge, claim your title, or will you give up and become hollow?

Did it even matter? I was going to die soon, why did I need to decide that?

You won’t. The blue star denied in a small voice. It reminded me of a sad child. You know it won’t be that easy.

Easy.

Death was easy. To just cease existing would make all of this go away. Would I ever be allowed such a thing? I felt as though I deserved it multiple times throughout my life and yet it had been taken from me. It was like I was not allowed the ease and the peace of death.

What did that mean for me then? If I wasn’t to die, then what was left for me? I could not go through another Myrin. I would not survive that again. Even if death was not the end, my shattered mind, my broken will, my empty soul would be the end of me. Who I was would simply disappear. I’d be forced to become someone else, something else.

Panic crept through my veins. It wrapped around me, freezing my body and constricting around my throat. It tightened, threatening to crush my windpipe and cut off my air supply.

My eyes snapped open and I flinched away from the blinding light that filtered through. My whole body jolted as if I had just been shocked with high-voltage.

My head whipped around as I took in my surroundings.

I was on a podium placed before a raised platform. Nine males sat at the slightly curved table staring down at me. To my left and right were stands filled with wights. Banners hung from certain sections reserving spots for their corresponding territories. Power and dominance radiated throughout the room. The pressure threatened to make my shoulders curl inwards.

I tried to jerk around to see my exit, but my hands snapped me back forward. I was still in all of my chains, only the muzzle having been removed from my face. I was surrounded, guns trained on me, filled with sleeping and paralyzation darts.

My sense of hearing slowly began to return, and it was only then that I turned my attention back to the nine males sitting before me. Nine males, two from each of the four provinces and one elected by the old council to stand as head.

“Daylin Farringhow is standing trial on account of murdering Myrin Redith the One of High Lake territory in the Western Province, illegally residing in twenty eight territories, attacking forty seven wights and never attending The Finding as law demands.” The head council member banged his gavel. “This court is now in session.”