In the room's muggy atmosphere, Neil felt a coldness sweeping over him. The coldness crept up to his leg, to his waist, all the way to his neck. As the coldness began to enter him, he touched his silk shirt and then the coat. His body trembled with even the simplest movement. He held his breath as he felt cold shadows and icy winds crawling up to his face. He bit his tongue sharply, drawing blood within. The queen's piercing stare kept him in his place. He could only hope that his face had betrayed nothing of what was tormenting inside him.
"I'm sorry, your highness, I can't accept..." Neil spoke, but the queen interjected.
"Do you not miss her, that girl, your first love?" The queen's eyes glistened as she leaned closer to Neil.
"Pardon?"
"You know who I'm talking about. Do you not still have nightmares about her as she screamed your name while taking her last breath?"
Neil stilled as his mind kept repeating the queen's words. A horrible image came to his mind. It was the day he saw Pia's body for the first time before burial. He knew she would be altered in appearance. Amma had prepared him and had even written that he would hardly know her. But he would bite the bullet. He would not be astonished. He'd promised himself.
As his gaze fell upon her, he found himself transfixed, his eyes fixated on her like one encountering a bewildering apparition that evoked not only pain but also fear and mistrust. This was not the girl who had once been his beacon of love, the one he had envisioned spending his life with. Instead, he beheld a sight of horrifying transformation, as if she had become a vessel of darkness.
And at that moment, he questioned the depths of his own despair, for how could he be undergoing such torment in merely contemplating her altered state?
Her complexion, once radiant, now appeared pallid and unnaturally flushed, with a feverish hue accentuating her cheekbones. Her features seemed distorted, almost skeletal, with a hollowness that accentuated their prominence. Her garments hung loosely on her fragile frame, a stark reminder of the physical toll she had endured. In this heart-wrenching encounter, emotions surged within him, entwining pain, confusion, and a profound sense of loss.
At the sight of her, something within him seemed to be shuddering, shrinking, shriveling together, losing all semblance of what had been. He felt as if it was his heart, but it was only his love.
The queen snapped her fingers in front of his face as he released a small gasp from his mouth.
"I can get her back," she whispered and steadily increased her amplitude as she marched closer. "I can get her back for you. But only if you kill Dove. Keep up your end of this bargain."
"You cannot, no one can. She's gone!" he yelled, losing his calm composure and overcome with emotions.
"I have a potion," she said.
"A potion to bring someone back from the dead?" Neil asked.
"Yes," she said simply.
"And why must I believe you blatant bluffs?" Neil asked.
"Would you believe it if you saw it with your own eyes?" she asked.
"I would," he spoke instantly.
"Follow me then," she said and led him outside the castle. Neil watched the festival for the last time. People were still busy dancing and chatting, their voices obscured by the distance that separated them.
As they kept walking, a blanket of uncomfortable silence embraced them. Neil felt as though he had taken a dreary road, darkened by all the gloomiest trees of the forest, which barely stood aside to let the narrow path creep through and closed immediately behind. It was all as lonely as could be, and there is this peculiarity in such solitude, so that, with lonely footsteps, he may yet be passing through an unseen multitude.
He tried looking beyond the trees as shadows danced before his eyes.
Neil pondered deeply, his mind consumed by a tumultuous mix of emotions. The weight of winning the trust of his queen should have brought forth gratitude, yet instead, an unsettling caution gripped him, a constant unease that gnawed at the depths of his being whenever he was in her presence.
His gaze settled upon the queen, and he observed the facade she woreâa mask of carefree demeanor as if she had meticulously molded her expressions to conceal the inner workings of her heart. Sensing the need to conform, Neil adjusted his attire and composed his countenance, striving to match the tranquil façade he perceived in her.
In moments of solitude, Neil reflected upon the profound impact that the Knights had on him, rekindling a glimmer of his former self that had long been eclipsed. Their warm embrace and unwavering acceptance had breathed life into his spirit, a stark contrast to the constant whispers of prejudice that surrounded him. The darker color of his skin and his perceived differences had made him an outsider in the eyes of many, rather than a member of their own community just as Amma had also warned him.
Despite that, the queen was now entrusting him with her clandestine spot. He ought to feel more honored about it.
They crossed a narrow tunnel, and at the end of it was a small hut.
The queen led him inside. The door opened, and the rush of escaping air ruffled his black hair and crept inside, lips parted, a lantern ready in his hands. He heard the electrical arcs sizzle and smelt ozone, and the glow of strange inventions cast a purple light over his face.
The queen walked towards a black cauldron after offering him a drink; bubbles formed over the liquid's surface that brewed within, and some of the gooey liquid oozed out from the corners.
While Neil saw a huge, oval-shaped mirror on the left wall, it was encased in silver and embroidered with the sapphires and emeralds that sullied splendor and argued a descent from high levels of tasteful opulence. The mirror was bewitching, and it was the longest Neil had ever looked at himself. The rich and tasteful decoration surprised him in this nest of squalor and seediness of the modest hut.
"Come here lad, let me demonstrate the power of my potion," the queen said, her voice echoing within the four walls of the chamber.
Neil came closer and saw a small dead bird placed beside the cauldron. The queen closed her eyes and chanted some spells. She dipped her wooden spoon in the cauldron pot and placed it aside on a marble plate. Then she opened the bird's beak roughly using tweezers and poured a minuscule portion of the anecdote from the spoon into the bird's beak.
A few seconds passed in silence until Neil saw the bird slowly flapping its injured wings. He couldn't comprehend what he had witnessed.
The queen had stayed true to her word, and now he had to stay with his.
"So, will you kill him now?"
Neil bowed deeply and said, "I shall, your majesty. I'll withhold my end of the deal."
A triumphant smirk made its way to the queen's features.
"But if you fail to complete your task, I'll not even flinch once before throwing you into the dungeons for eons. So, whatever decision you make next, make it wisely."
The following night, Neil couldn't sleep; he kept tossing and turning in his bed. He wanted Pia by his side; she was the most important person in his life, but at what cost? He was going to kill an innocent person.
How better was he than the British officials who had attacked his unarmed father? Would Pia even be happy if she knew how she was brought back to life?
He couldn't help but reminisce about Piaâthe woman he could never forget. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him, although her slender figure, curvaceous waist, and warm saffron complexion were undeniably enchanting. It was the way her delicate ears framed her face, her cute button nose, and the radiance of her dazzling, angelic smile that lit up any room. Her long, flowing locks, as dark as the shadows cast by the moon, added to her allure. And those captivating ebony eyes, full of depth and mystery, seemed to hold secrets only he could unlock.
Not to mention her voice, a sweet melody that lingered in his memories and dreams. Pia was more than just a collection of beautiful features; she embodied a connection that went beyond the surface.
He longed for her smiles, the way she called his name with a voice that brought him comfort, how she intuitively knew when to soothe him, and how she scolded him whenever he neglected his well-being. In a crowded room, she was the only person he saw, and her presence made it hard for him to catch his breath, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for her.
Questions kept coming and nightmares kept running inside his head. But ultimately he had made up his mind. Tomorrow, he would follow Dove and when the opportunity struck, he would complete the deed. He would take away a life if it meant he could bring her back because the truth was simple, he was incomplete without her.
A/N
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