Cage of Proteges

 

Ang West Wing ng Sanctum ay hindi mukhang piitan. In fact, it looked like a five-star boutique hotel. Ang pasilyo ay napalalamutian ng mga velvet na wallpaper, at ang bawat pinto ay gawa sa mahogany. Pero habang naglalakad ako sa corridor, ramdam ko ang bigat ng hangin. This wasn’t a place of luxury; it was a gilded cage where the birds were taught to sing before they were plucked.

“Dito ang silid mo, Rank 15,” malamig na sabi ng guwardiya habang binubuksan ang isang pinto sa dulo ng hallway.

I stepped inside. The room was spacious, shared by four girls. Pagpasok ko, tumigil ang tawanan at bulungan. Tatlong pares ng mata ang tumama sa akin—mga matang puno ng kuryosidad, husga, at ang isa… puno ng purong lason.

“So, the trash from the Iron Roots has finally been washed,” isang boses ang pumutol sa katahimikan.

Nakaupo siya sa pinakamalaking kama malapit sa bintana, nagsusuklay ng kanyang mahabang blonde na buhok. Siya si Dominique. Kahit hindi ko pa siya nakikilala, alam ko na kung sino siya base sa paraan ng kanyang pagkilos. She exuded the arrogance of a woman who had never been told no. I knew every person inside this hell.

“I’m Dominique. Rank 1,” pagpapakilala niya, hindi man lang tumatayo. “And you… you look like a stray cat that Julian found in a dumpster.”

Hindi ako sumagot. I walked toward the only empty bed, bitbit ang isang maliit na canvas bag—ang tanging gamit na pinayagan nilang dalhin ko mula sa labas.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Dominique snapped.

Sa isang mabilis na galaw, tumayo siya at hinarang ang daan ko. She was taller than me, wearing a silk robe that cost more than my life in the slums. Bago ko pa magawang umiwas, hinablot niya ang bag ko.

“Ano bang laman nito? Scrap metal? Or maybe some leftover rats from the club?” halakhak niya habang binubuksan ang zipper.

“Give it back,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

Pero hindi siya nakinig. Inalog niya ang bag hanggang sa bumagsak ang iilang gamit ko sa sahig. Isang lumang suklay, isang maliit na notebook, at isang maliit na piraso ng tela. In fact, it was just a scrap of silk—charred at the edges, faded but still elegant.

Dominique picked it up, mocking it. “Is this it? A piece of rag? This is what you value?”

Before I could reach for it, she gripped the fabric and ripped it in half. Tear.

Ang tunog ng punit na tela ay naging hiyaw ng mga uwak sa pandinig ko. The scent of vanilla in the room was suddenly replaced by the metallic tang of blood and the heavy, sweet fragrance of white lilies.

Naalala ko ang araw na iyon. Isang linggo matapos ang aresto ni Papa. Ang mansyon ay tahimik, liban sa iyak ng hangin. I ran to the garden, looking for my mother. I found her among the lilies—her favorite white blooms. She was wearing her favorite silk robe, the one with the intricate floral patterns.

Pero ang puting sutla ay hindi na puti. It was soaked in deep, visceral crimson. My mother lay there, her wrist slit, her eyes open but staring at nothing. The scandal hadn’t just taken our wealth; it had taken her soul.

I sat there, cradling her cold body, the blood staining my own hands. That was the moment I stopped being a child. That was the moment I realized that death isn’t the enemy—it’s the people who drive you to it. Looking at her, I realized that I no longer feared the dark, or the cold, or the end. I had seen the worst the world could offer, and I had survived it.

Dominique laughed as the two pieces of the charred fabric fell to the floor. “Oops. It was garbage anyway.”

Dahan-dahan akong yumuko para pulutin ang punit na tela. My hands weren’t trembling. They were steady. Too steady. When I looked up, Dominique’s smile faltered. She saw something in my eyes that made her step back—a void so deep it could swallow her whole.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered.

“And what are you going to do, Rank 15? Rule number five: Insolence is punished,” hamon niya, pilit na ibinabalik ang kanyang tapang.

Bago pa lumala ang sitwasyon, isang maliit at payat na babae ang lumapit at mabilis na pinulot ang iba ko pang gamit. “Dominique, tama na ‘yan. Baka marinig tayo ni Tess,” bulong nito.

Ito si Lulu. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear—the kind of fear of someone who had seen too much but couldn’t fight back. She handed me my notebook, her hands shaking slightly.

“I’m Lulu,” she whispered. “Welcome to the West Wing. Don’t mind her… she just wants everyone to know she’s the Queen.”

I nodded at Lulu, a silent alliance formed in the shadows. I tucked the torn pieces of my mother’s robe into my pocket. Dominique huffed and went back to her bed, but I knew this was just the beginning.

Maya-maya pa, bumukas ang pinto at pumasok si Tess. She was the Mentor of Elegance—a woman who moved as if she were floating on water. She tapped a silver cane on the floor, calling for our attention.

“Line up, Proteges,” Tess commanded. Her English was flawless, her accent upper-class Vesperian. “It is time for the evening recitation. To survive the Sanctum, you must embody the laws that govern it. Eris, since you are our newest… guest, you shall lead.”

I stepped forward. Everyone’s eyes were on me. Julian was probably watching through the cameras, and Viveca was likely waiting for me to stumble. But I had memorized these rules the moment they were handed to me in the prep room.

I stood tall, my voice clear and cold, echoing through the marble walls.

“The Twelve Commandments of the Sanctum,” I began.

“First: The Death of the Past. Your former self is deceased. You shall not utter nor answer to your birth name. You are an Alias—a ghost in a beautiful shell.”

I am not Margo Valderama, I thought. Margo died in the garden with her mother.

“Second: The Silent Observer. A Mistress has two ears and one mouth. Listen to every secret; speak of none. Knowledge is the only currency the Sanctum accepts.”

“Third: The Custody of Beauty. Your body is no longer your own; it is the Sanctum’s asset. Any scar, blemish, or unauthorized alteration is a defacement of Thorne property.”

I felt the burn of the scars on my back—reminders that I was already “defaced” by their fire.

“Fourth: The Curfew of Shadows. By 10:00 PM, all Proteges must be confined to the West Wing. Crossing into the East Wing—specifically the Conservator’s quarters—without a summons is an act of high treason.”

The East Wing. Where Julian sleeps. Where the secrets are kept.

“Fifth: The Hierarchy of Desire. Respect the Ranking Board. The Top Protege claims first right to attire, sustenance, and targets. Ambition is encouraged; insolence is punished.”

Dominique smirked at this, her eyes darting to her Rank 1 badge on the wall.

“Sixth: The Prohibition of Heart. Emotion is a defect. You shall not fall in love. Any romantic entanglement with a fellow Protege, staff member, or Mentor will result in immediate ‘disposal’.”

Love is a weakness I can no longer afford.

“Seventh: The Debt of Elegance. Poise is your permanent skin. You must move, speak, and eat with the grace of a Queen. Vulgarity is the shortest route to the Cold Room.”

“Eighth: The Confessional Duty. Every interaction with a target must be reported in clinical detail to Madame Viveca or the Conservator. Omission of truth is considered theft.”

“Ninth: No Touch Without Command. Physical contact between Proteges and Handlers is strictly prohibited unless it occurs during a sanctioned Simulation or Refinement Session.”

I remembered Julian’s hand on my jaw in the prep room. He was already breaking his own rules.

“Tenth: The Blood Oath of Secrecy. What is seen in Ivy Heights stays in Ivy Heights. To leak the Sanctum’s existence to the outside world is to sign your own death warrant.”

“Eleventh: The Loyalty to the Crown. Your devotion belongs to the High Sovereign and the House of Thorne. They are your creators; they are your only protection from the filth of the Iron Roots.”

They aren’t my creators. They are my destroyers.

“Twelfth: The Finality of Graduation. Once deployed, you remain property of the Sanctum. There is no retirement. You are a Mistress until you are discarded, or until you cease to breathe.”

As I finished the last commandment, a heavy silence settled over the room. Tess nodded, her expression unreadable.

“Perfect recitation, Eris. You have the mind. Let us see if you have the discipline.”

Tess left the room, the click of her cane fading down the hall. The lights dimmed automatically, signaling the start of the curfew.

The other girls climbed into their beds, whispering in the dark. Lulu offered me a small smile before turning over. But I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling.

In the darkness of the West Wing, the rules felt like a noose around my neck. They wanted to strip me of my name, my heart, and my freedom. They wanted me to be a perfect, mindless mistress.

But as I lay there, clutching the two pieces of my mother’s robe in my pocket, I realized that twelve rules weren’t enough to contain what I had become.

I am the ghost they invited in, I thought.

In my head, I added a thirteenth commandment. One that wasn’t written on the gilded plaques or taught by Tess. One that I would live by every single day until this house was nothing but ashes.

“Thirteenth: Kill them, all of them.”

I closed my eyes, the image of the white lilies stained with red flashing behind my eyelids. The game has truly begun. Dominique wants to be the Queen of this cage, and Viveca wants to be the Goddess of this empire.

They have no idea that the girl at the bottom of the ranking is the one who’s going to burn the board.

I am Eris now. And Eris doesn’t know how to forgive. She only knows how to wait.

The air in the room was cold, the scent of expensive linen and lavender trying to mask the rot beneath. But I could still smell the Iron Roots. I could still feel the grit under my nails.

Sleep well, Julian, I whispered in the silence of my mind. Sleep well, because the girl you ‘saved’ is the one who’s going to make sure you never wake up from this nightmare.

The clock on the wall ticked—a rhythmic, steady sound. Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a countdown.

Rank 15. The very bottom.

“Good,” I muttered to the darkness. “Mas madaling manghila pababa kapag nasa pinakailalim ka.”

I fell into a dreamless sleep, the torn silk still warm in my hand. Tomorrow, the training begins. Tomorrow, I start learning how to be the perfect weapon.

And once I am perfect… I will be lethal.