The Chamber

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TiaSarah
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The Chamber

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((This is kind of a continuation of what I started in Kugar's thread here: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=42074 I did not want to completely take over his thread, so I am starting my own.))

Laying on the floor, pain radiating throughout her body, the Elfess stared at the ceiling. She would not give in to the cries of her flesh. Not now. Not until she knew she was alone. The original potion she had been given because she was “too valuable” to die yet, was nearly gone. She had rationed it to herself, only seeking a whisper of relief when the pain was unbearable. Truthfully, it should have been gone by now, but she had let herself suffer once or twice. Punishment for being unable to resist taunting her tormentor… though the demonic woman seemed to enjoy it as well.

The one she knew only as “Red” had spent days trying to coax cries of pain from her. She had succeeded, though not nearly as often as she had hoped to. She still had yet to hear pleas for mercy escape the lips of the stubborn captive, a small victory in a very large war.

Her ears still twitched with every move of the figure looming in the room. She knew he was watching, waiting to see a crack in her façade. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing a single tear, or even a frown. Closing her eyes, she put on her mask of stone again.

Tonight, or was it today? Day and night did not exist in this chamber… for now, she would sleep. She hoped for darkness, no more heart wrenching visions of those she loved. And certainly none of the nightmares where she heeded the undead lord’s urgings to “awaken” and see the world as he did. To follow his Master…

Repressing a shudder, she wondered over the master. An enigma, to say the least. Urging his minions to see her as valuable, but seemingly unbothered by the varying cuts, bruises and broken bones they had given her. A brief, bitter smile crosses her lips as she recalled his assurances that she would not be sent to a permanent home with Cherga. As if she would believe that. She pictured the chamber around her. She had spent her hours memorizing every brick.

This chamber was her home.

This chamber would be her tomb.
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TiaSarah
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Re: The Chamber

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Laying in the darkness, blissfully alone for a moment, the Elfess allowed her mind to wander.

The first place it landed was expected. Her son. She thought of her boy, so suddenly a man. He would be twenty soon. Idly she wondered if his birthday would find him planning her funeral. She pictured his eyes, the same icy blue as his father, the way they would harden as he tried to hide his grief. He would lift his chin, bury the pain inside like both of his stubborn parents, and carry on as expected. She only hoped he would not allow the grief to fester into a need for vengeance.

Who would tell him? Her lover had never even met the boy.

Her lover… she wondered how he was handling things. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Rage. Rage and fire is how he would handle it. She pictured the way his face would twist as his anger bubbled over, completely erasing the man who chuckled as she tried to keep him in bed just a few minutes longer. His focus would be revenge, no matter the outcome of this. His pride and honor would not allow such an offense to go unanswered. She only hoped he did not blame himself, or Galmair.

Another face entered her mind. One likely to be full of worry, gnawing at his lip the way he did when something troubled him. The greatest love in her life who would never consider taking her as a lover. The one who had seen her through some of the worst times in her life, even when he couldn’t be there… even when she pushed him away. “Forever.” The whispered word echoed in her head. Who would have thought forever would end so soon. He would tell her boy. And not in some cold, formal letter. He would go in person to grieve with her family, because blood or not, he was part of it.

An ache that had nothing to do with a bruise throbbed in her chest. Even if she could write with her broken fingers, there was no guarantee that any message she left would make it into their hands. How she longed for them to know that none of them were at fault. Not a single thing could have been done to save her. She had stumbled, blinded by her own stubbornness. She should not have been working alone, unarmed, no matter where she was. She alone sealed her fate, and now the ones she loved most would suffer the consequences.

The tears finally won, her mask crumbling to dust as she fell into a fitful sleep and prayed the Gray Goddess would come to take her while she dreamed.
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Re: The Chamber

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The Elfess propped herself up in the corner. “Rest.” She snorted softly, contemplating the undead lord’s parting words. As if she had rested at all in her time here. Even when exhaustion claimed her body, her mind kept racing. Trying to make sense of the mess she found herself in. Working to separate the information they gave her into facts, and things said only to gauge her reaction. She hoped she frustrated them with her lack thereof, just as much as they frustrated her trying to get one.

Her fingers idly found the fresh brand on her neck, her eyes looking to the matching one on her thigh, framed by her torn leggings. The dark one… the undead lord had warned her to use caution with him. A smarter woman would listen, bowing her head in submission from now on. Instead, the prisoner pondered what it would take to make him break enough to kill her. Her threat to take her own life and end their games had not been an empty one, she had simply lacked the means to carry it out just then. Pushing him over the edge might prove an easier option if she found herself that desperate again. She smiled softly as she wondered if she had left any bruises or claw marks on him. One should never poke a caged animal.

She looked again to the apple he had left her, narrowing her eyes at it. How had he known? Such a fitting reminder of the one soul who would be rejoicing at her demise for certain.

Shaking her head, the Elfess chastised herself. She should be using this time to build her strength. Now she had two of them pushing to get inside her head. The physical pain did not worry her, it served her well as a reminder of why their words meant nothing. No matter how many times they spoke of her value, and how she might be wise to join them, the pain reminded her that she was nothing but a simple toy. Once the novelty had worn off, she would be discarded. But the frequent invasions of her mind were wearing on her.

She did not know what they hoped to find there, but she would not let them take it so easily. She silently cursed the undead lord. Twice he had caused a blow to her head, why could he not have done it hard enough to erase her mind? Her situation would be more confusing, but she might not be so pained emotionally if she had no idea who she was. No more thoughts of her son and the way things should have been for him. No more thoughts of the father he never knew, and the siblings he never had.

She smiled softly at the memory of her boy, not even a year old, shoving a wooden wolf at his newborn “cousin”. Both sets of parents laughing, imagining the boys as brothers and friends for life. Now, they were just as much strangers as their parents had become… well, the parents who were left. She sighed. She had failed her son there. Letting her own attempts to push his “uncle” away, and keep the peace with the wretched creature he loved, get in the way of his bond with the boy.

No, boy wasn’t right, only a little younger than her son, he would be a man now. She wondered if he was still almost painfully shy. Such a sweet child he had been. Her heart ached when she thought of all he had already been through, wondering if it had hardened him at all. She should have been there for him, just as much as she should have let her son. It was far too late now. The damage was done.

As the fog of sleep slowly encroached upon her, she envisioned two boys playing in a field. Sitting on a blanket nearby, their parents laughed and chatted, eating cookies and cake. Occasionally the fathers would toss a playful insult at each other and their wives would roll their eyes. Hands resting on nearly matching baby bumps, the women would chuckle, hoping that the next pair were girls to balance out the oppressive masculinity in the air.

As their laughter faded to whispers, her peace was shattered by two words.

Too late.

Everything in her life could be summed up with those words now. It was far too late.
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Re: The Chamber

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A quick wash with a bucket of warm water. Clothing that wasn’t smelly, torn and covered in your own blood (among other things). Such a simple luxury. She hated it. Every small gesture of kindness made her hesitate, wondering what the payment would be later. Even food, which she knew was just to keep her from starving before they were done with their games, had her on pins and needles for days.

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips as she ran a hand through her hair. She, the one who never let anyone walk away from her hungry, was scared of food. She had fed friends, family, complete strangers… probably an enemy or two as well. Food was her gift to the world, and now the thought of it made her ill with worry. She of course rationed that as well, never knowing when her next meal would come.

Who was she?

Quietly, she moved to the bookshelves. Most of the choices confused her, but it was better than just sitting around, staring at the walls. It made them think she was doing something more than sitting and waiting for death as well. Apparently such thoughts were not good for your mental health. Who knew?

She flexed the fingers on her right hand carefully, before reaching out to grab a book that she wasn’t even sure was in Common. She wondered if that ache would always be there, should she live past the end of the week, that is. She wasn’t sure if the makeshift splint had set them properly, and she had foolishly used them to defend herself. She hadn’t bothered checking the bandaging after, and no one else had thought to.

After much urging, and one attempt at taking it into their own hands, she had drank enough of a potion to mostly heal the broken appendages. They were still tender, and the skin was discolored, but they worked again. The undead lord had hinted at putting her to work, but that may have been just another attempt to prolong the illusion that she would live.

Settling back into her corner, the Elfess opened the book. Staring at the pages without really seeing them, she waited. Her ears twitching at the slightest sound, holding her breath in anticipation of who might come down the ladder next.

Idly she wondered if a papercut could kill a grown woman.
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Re: The Chamber

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She wasn’t sure how long she had been here at this point. The red one had said a month, but how long ago did she say it? Days and nights blended together in this windowless pit. She knew she was underground, they had confirmed as much, but she did not know where or how far. Oh how she missed the sun.

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the warmth surrounding her as she dug in the dirt. She pictured the trees near the field, heavy with fruit, leaves dancing in the breeze. In the distance, the Malachite Creek could be heard trickling its way along the mountain. Then suddenly the heat grew more intense, the green grass was swallowed by sand that burned, and her throat grew dry. The scene changed again to the chamber earlier that day.

“The Baroness. Did you hear?” the dark one’s breathless words caught her attention, as he nearly flew down the ladder, though she tried not to show it.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here” Red muttered, casting a glance at the Elfess huddled in her corner.

Sighing inwardly, the prisoner turned her attention to the torch, watching the flames dance upon the wall as they lowered their voices. Her stomach churned, and she pulled her knees a bit tighter against her chest. She had known the Baroness since she was but a child. What had happened? A tightness grew in her chest as she mulled all the possibilities that would draw such animation from them.

She wasn’t sure when the conversation had turned to her, but their voices had grown louder. Inwardly she groaned. Children, fighting over who gets to play with the toy. Deciding who was allowed to try and enter her mind, and who was actually trying to hurt her more. She could feel the Master’s eyes upon her, even as he chimed in to their conversation, amusement clear in his voice. She ignored him. Whatever it was he wanted from her, she was too tired to give.

She’d taken to sleeping in the corner, sitting propped between the two walls. It kept her from falling into a deeper sleep, alert enough to know when one of them descended the ladder into her prison. It wasn’t like she did enough to warrant needing a good night’s sleep anyway. Her days were filled by staring at the walls, or the floors. Or the torches. The one she called the Dark One had smirked, commenting on her obsession with them.

“The fire dances like it is free... completely unaware that it is imprisoned in a torch. I envy it, that is all.”

Poetic, he had called her, but that couldn’t be. Poets were filled with emotion, letting it overflow onto their parchments. She felt less emotion every day. Slowly, the emptiness was enveloping her, turning her into one of the statues guarding the Crest.

She wondered how much longer it would be before she was just as cold as the wall she leaned upon.
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Re: The Chamber

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Seems he is more interested in obtaining gemstones to make himself look more beautiful than being reunited with the one he is supposed to love.” The words echoed in her memory. “Sorry you had to find out like this mortal, but it is hardly surprising.

The Elfess lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling blankly. The physical torture had given way to mental torture over the past… weeks? Months? She wasn’t even sure at this point. Time did not exist in the room where the sun never shined. She longed for the ache of a fresh bruise to distract her from the thoughts that plagued her now.

The undead lord’s words held no truth, she told herself, they were simply meant to disturb her. At first, it had not worked. Her faith had been strong, her will like iron. Slowly, they had eroded her defenses. Getting into her mind, literally, and making her question everything she knew and loved. Slowly, the lord’s words mingled with another memory.

It does sadden me that you are happy to take a space behind his work for so long. Even though we are Elves… they do not have the time we have available to us.” A recurring speech from her friend. At the time, she saw it at face value. An attempt to plant the seed of doubt, just enough to give a chance at getting under her skirts. Now, she saw a common thread.

Did everyone think he was neglecting her? Were they correct? Of course not… she heard herself.

I am happy to have a man who can devote himself to something. He is steady and true in his work. That shows me he is stable. And if he is working, he has no time for running around, chasing girls.

It was the truth. When you loved men who were hard workers, you had to know that they would always be working hard. All of her lovers had been that way. Even her brothers had to occasionally be reminded that they had lives outside their titles and tasks. It was the price you paid for stability.

Drifting off to sleep, her mind whispered, questioning how much stability she had ever earned from it.
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Re: The Chamber

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The sound of soldiers marching was almost deafening. Why couldn’t she lift her hands to cover her ears? She tried to move, but she was surrounded by them. The city around her burned, the heat almost painful. She twisted and turned, trying to find an escape. Something pale caught her eye, and she turned to see it was her own reflection in a window nearby. She saw herself as she had appeared in the water the last time they brought her a bucket to bathe.

Pale, thin… the shadows under her eyes almost matching the darkness in them. For a moment she was mesmerized, wishing she could reach out and send the image rippling away, just as she had done with the water. A child screamed out for his mother, and instantly she knew.

She urged herself to wake up as she watched the scene play out again.

The boy, her boy, on the other side of the sea of soldiers. He called for her as a man loomed over him, her lover, preparing to strike the boy down. As she tried to will herself awake, she realized something was different this time. She was hearing another set of voices. Bits and pieces drifted to her through the noise.

… wait at Zhambra’s Temple….. get back… Sirani Temple… illusions don’t… effect there.

Cadomyr…. Don’t look…. Pillar!

The man grabbed the boy roughly, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out.

Damn it…. time for this…

She tried to piece the words together, they were familiar, but so foggy. The voices, who were they? Was that a growl? Suddenly, the scene changed. She was in the desert, cowering from her lover as he spoke softly to her.

Take a deep breath.

She sat up, gasping as she looked around the chamber, his voice still ringing in her ears.

… illusion… Black Pillar… they try to break us.”

She had been tormented by her visions many nights, but this was the first time she had really relived it. The chaos, trying to focus on the people with her as the column dangled her child like a carrot. How real it had felt, despite knowing that Liam was no longer a little boy. The confusion, the desperation, the pain.

Stay strong ... and always remember that I love you, aye?

She lay on her side, curling herself into a ball, just like she had done as he rushed out to rejoin the others that night. While the memories washed over her, she cried.
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Re: The Chamber

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“You have indeed spent a long while here. What does that tell you?”

The dark one’s words echoed in her mind. He was nearly as unpredictable as the undead lord. Kind enough to bring her books to read, but also the one responsible for the likely permanent marks on her skin. Again, he dismissed her assumption that she was useless enough to be discarded.

“No. Well at least it is not today that you die.”

Not today… she wondered if they alternately dangled death and freedom in front of her like carrots for their own amusement. A way to assuage their frustration that she had proven too insignificant to be bait. Or if they simply swayed between the two themselves, wondering which would be the least hassle to dispose of their burden.

The Elfess only hoped they would honor her request to dump her corpse in Galmair. There, she knew of one who would see to a decent burial, or at least see that her bones were sent back to her family. She did not wish to become one of the departed so easily roused from their shallow graves in the field. When Cherga claimed her, she hoped to finally rest.
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