Chapter 3

SABINA

Six men escorted me away from Aboloft, leading me down a long corridor. They were positioned all around me—two in front, two behind, and one on each side. Their eyes were fixed straight ahead, but I knew they’d be quick to draw their swords if I tried to escape. They were under the king’s orders, and no one dared to cross Aboloft.

We continued our march. The men led me through the corridor and down a spiraling staircase that made my head spin. The steps were steep and treacherous, and I had to tread carefully to avoid a fatal fall.

Torches lined the walls, and a woman in a tattered dress was lighting them with a half-melted candle. The sight of the flames sparked a wave of anxiety within me, but I forced myself to stay calm. I didn’t want them to see how much the fire unnerved me. As we descended, the torches flickered to life one by one, signaling the setting sun.

~How long have we been here? The sun was still up when they brought us in. It can’t be setting already.~

The deeper we went, the darker it got, and my heart pounded harder with each step. How far down did these dungeons go? Did the stairs ever end? Was there any light down here, or was it just an endless abyss of darkness?

I nearly stumbled when the stairs abruptly ended. I’d been so focused on the descent that I hadn’t noticed we’d reached the bottom. The darkness was so thick I couldn’t see a thing. To my surprise, one of the men caught me, steadying me. His unexpected kindness brought tears to my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond. We resumed our walk, but after a few steps, we halted again. The guard at the front left snapped his fingers, and torches flared to life, casting a soft glow in the pitch-black dungeon.

With the path now illuminated, we continued our journey. I shivered, clutching my dress tightly. The shawl I’d been given earlier was more of a hindrance than a help. The cold was biting, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my punishment. Maybe Aboloft planned to leave me here to freeze to death. No one would mourn my passing. The entire Kingdom of Quopia would probably celebrate.

As we moved deeper into the dungeon, the cold intensified. I marveled at the palace’s design—different areas had different temperatures. I was sure the king’s chamber was perfectly comfortable. He wouldn’t be shivering or sweating. He’d be sleeping soundly. I wished I could feel some warmth.

The cold was now seeping into my skin, chilling my bones. The shawl was practically useless, offering little protection against the freezing air.

The sound of metal scraping against stone made my heart leap into my throat. It was the sound of a cell door closing, a sound that echoed in my heart and sent my body into a panic. The screams of women filled the air, and I bit my lip to stifle my own cry of fear. I didn’t know what was happening to them, but I knew it was terrible.

But we kept moving, the guards seemingly oblivious to the cries echoing off the dungeon walls.

When the cries finally faded, we turned a corner, and I felt like I’d entered a different part of the castle. Not because it looked different, but because it was silent. The silence was so thick it felt tangible, and it terrified me. This kind of silence was a bad omen.

The guard on my right stepped forward and stopped in front of a wall. It wasn’t until I heard the sound of a lock turning that I realized it was a door.

The darkness here was as thick as the silence. Only one torch burned, providing little light.

“Go inside,” the guard commanded, his deep voice startling me. The faint glow revealed him standing next to the open door, waiting for me to enter.

Biting my lip to hold back tears, I shuffled inside. The door slammed shut behind me, plunging me into complete darkness.

I couldn’t see anything. The darkness was so dense it hurt my eyes. The silence was deafening. I felt like screaming just to break it. I was sure I’d go mad in this place.

With only silence and darkness for company, I knew I’d lose my mind. Then my soul would follow. I’d die in this room, and no one would care. No one would mourn me or say kind words about me. They’d probably celebrate my death. Maybe they’d even turn my death anniversary into a holiday.

“Oh, please, someone help me,” I whispered to myself before collapsing onto the cold, hard floor.

I wrapped the shawl tighter around me, letting the front of my torn dress fall. But the cold was relentless, seeping through my defenses and chilling me to the bone.

After a while, exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t know how long I’d been there, but I was tired. My eyes were heavy, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t keep them open. I succumbed to the exhaustion, sinking deeper into the darkness.

~Something smelled strange. It smelled like...burning. I opened my eyes to see smoke seeping into my room through the cracks in the door.~

~I jumped out of bed, grabbing the glass of water from my nightstand to douse the flames.~

~But when I opened the door, the glass slipped from my hand and shattered. Fire was everywhere.~

~I screamed, looking for a way out, but the fire was closing in, licking the walls of my room. I was surrounded.~

~Tears streamed down my face as I screamed for help, but no one came. I called for my father, but he was nowhere to be found. Where was he? Where was my father?~

~Then I heard him. But so did they.~

~“Burn! Die! Witch!”~ The townspeople’s voices echoed in my ears as the flames consumed my home. Among those voices, I recognized one that should have been pleading for my safety, not cheering for my demise.

~My father.~

My heart shattered with the pain and disbelief of hearing my father join the crowd, calling for my death. But desperation overrode my heartache as the fire licked at my back, and I cried out for help.

~“Help! Somebody help me!”~ I screamed, my voice choked by the smoke filling my lungs.

~“Die, witch, die!”~ The crowd’s chant drowned out my pleas. No one came to my aid.

~“Please, somebody, help me! Father!”~ I begged.

~“Burn her! Burn the witch!”~ Their shouts overpowered mine.

~“Please, I’m begging you, help me!”~ I cried out. But when the fire seared my skin, I screamed, and the crowd’s voices finally fell silent as the pain swallowed me whole.

I woke with a gasp, sweat trickling down my back. I looked around, but all I saw was darkness.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away. My breath came in ragged gasps, but I forced myself to remember that it was all in the past, just a dream.

~What time is it? It must be midnight. It has to be.~

I knew I wouldn’t feel better until I completed my nightly rituals, so I tried to make my way to the door.

But the darkness had blinded me, and I stretched out my arms, searching for something solid. I moved slowly, carefully, hoping to avoid colliding with anything.

Eventually, my hands found wood, the rough splinters pricking my fingers.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. At least, I hoped it was a door. And I didn’t stop. I kept knocking, hoping someone would hear me.

“Is somebody there? Please, I need some water!” I called out.

I waited a moment before pounding on the door with all my strength. “Somebody please! Is somebody there?” I yelled.

The door swung open so suddenly I almost fell, but I managed to steady myself just in time. I looked up into a pair of angry eyes. Maybe the man wasn’t angry, but the faint glow of the torch made him appear so.

“What is it? What do you want?” he demanded, his tone definitely angry.

I took a deep breath before speaking. “Sir, could you please get me a bucket of cold water?” I asked.

Despite the chill in the cell, I was sweating, and only a cold bucket of water would help.

“What?” He sounded shocked.

“Please sir, just one bucket of cold water, please,” I pleaded. I desperately needed that cold water. I wouldn’t be able to sleep without it.

Muttering curses under his breath, the guard slammed the door. A sob tore through me as thoughts of fire and burning consumed me.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t a witch, yet they tried to kill me. No one wanted me to live. No one saw me as human.

The door opened again, catching me off guard. The same man stood there, holding something in his hand. “Here. I got you your bucket of water,” he said.

Gratitude filled me, and I smiled in relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I told him.

I thought he would hand me the bucket of water and leave, but he didn’t.

Instead, the man threw the bucket of cold water at me. The icy water drenched me, and the wooden bucket hit my forehead. Pain exploded in my forehead, and I yelped.

“Here’s your bucket of cold water, witch.” The man cackled before slamming the door shut, and I knew he wouldn’t open it again.

Shivering, I sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. Water droplets slid down my face as I trembled with cold. But even though my body was cold, my soul felt warm.

Now, I could sleep in peace, and hopefully, no more nightmares would plague me, because I wouldn’t get another bucket of cold water.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and wrapped my shawl around me. Even though my shawl was wet, I kept it around me because it was my only protection.

My clothes were torn, so this piece of cloth was the only thing keeping me from being taken advantage of.

As sleep claimed me, I prayed that my memories wouldn’t haunt me.

When I woke up next, there was light, and my eyes met the one person I never expected to see in this cold cell. King Aboloft.

He stood a few feet away from me, watching me with an unreadable expression in his captivating eyes. He was dressed in a black robe, his crown glinting in the faint light.

I was struck by how handsome he had become. Aboloft had always been handsome, but time had only enhanced his beauty. Fear spiked in my heart before I forced myself to speak.

“Your highness,” I said, then forced myself to kneel before him.

Aboloft didn’t say anything for a while, and I didn’t dare look up at him. If he wanted me to kneel before him for the rest of my life, I would do so, because that’s how things were done here.

The silence was thicker than ever. My heartbeat was so loud, I feared he could hear it. But I stayed still, not wanting to do anything that might provoke his wrath.

King Aboloft was known for his cruelty, and I didn’t want the people of Quopia to use my story as a cautionary tale for their children.

I flinched when he touched my hair, running a strand of my dark hair through his fingers before letting it fall. My breath hitched when the fallen strand brushed against my face. He knew. He knew what I had done.

The force of his slap nearly snapped my neck, and I fell to the side. I gently touched my cheek, but didn’t dare to meet his gaze. He was the king. He held all the power.

“What have you done to your hair?!” Aboloft roared, his voice chilling me to the bone.

I whimpered and wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. But I didn’t answer the king, which only made him angrier.

“Answer me!” He growled, his command hitting me like a whip.

“Please, your majesty, have mercy,” I pleaded softly.

“Sabina, what on earth have you done to your hair?” Aboloft demanded. “I won’t ask again.”

I stayed quiet, not because I didn’t want to answer, but because I couldn’t. I wanted to explain, to tell him why I’d changed my hair color, but the words wouldn’t come.

I couldn’t tell him about what had happened after he left. I couldn’t share the secrets of my past. He wasn’t a part of my life anymore, and that’s why I kept my silence.

“Sabina, answer me. Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.

But I chose silence over confrontation. I knew I was defying the king, and that was a dangerous game to play.

Yet, his question wasn’t coming from the King of Quopia. It was coming from my best friend. And that’s why I held my tongue, bracing myself for the storm that was sure to follow.