CHAPTER SIX - No way out

LIORA’S POV

The dungeon was everything I had imagined hell would be.

It had cold stone walls wet with moisture, the air thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and human waste and somewhere in the darkness, water dripped with maddening consistency.

I wrapped my arms around myself, huddled in the corner of the cell I shared with five other prisoners. My cellmates had been watching me since the guards threw me in, their eyes filled with curiosity and malice.

“Fresh meat,” one of them chucked, she had gray hair and missing teeth. “How long do you think this one’ll last, Greta?”

Greta, a massive woman with arms like tree trunks, snorted. “Three days, maybe. She’s too soft. Look at her, trembling like a newborn pup.”

“I lasted two weeks before I tried to hang myself with my clothes,” another prisoner chimed in cheerfully, “Didn’t work, obviously. The fabric tore.”

“Amateur,” the gray-haired woman said. “I’ve been here for eight months. You learn to appreciate the small things. For example when the rats fight over scraps, it’s very entertaining.”

“Eight months?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Oh, she speaks!” Greta clapped her hands together.

“Yes, little wolf. Eight months. Though Old Marnie over there has me beat. How long now, Marnie?”

An older woman in the far corner stirred. “Two years, come spring. Or was it three? Time loses meaning in the dark.”

My stomach churned. “But… your trials….”

“Trials?” The gray-haired woman threw her head back and laughed, “Oh, sweet child. There are no trials for people like us. We’re here until we rot or until they remember to execute us. Whichever comes first.”

“Berta died last month,” another one offered helpfully. “She just stopped breathing one night and the guards left her body there for three days before they came to remove it. The smell was horrendous.”

“True, but it was than Jakob,” Greta said “Remember Jakob? He went mad, and started eating his own fingers. They had to drag him out screaming.”

I pressed my back harder against the wall, my chest tightening, were they trying to make me feel better or add to my pain.

“What did you do, little wolf?” the gray-haired woman asked, leaning forward. “Must’ve been something special to get you thrown in here so young and pretty.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I was framed.”

The cell erupted in laughter.

“Framed!” Greta wheezed. “Oh, that’s rich! Hear that, ladies? She’s innocent!”

“We’re all innocent here, darling,” the gray-haired woman said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Every single one of us.”

I turned away from them, but their laughter continued and I felt tears burn behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wasn’t going to cry in front of these women who would only mock my pain.

But as the hours melted into days, the tears came anyway.

So I cried silently in the dark, wondering why Anna had done this. What had I ever done to her besides exist? Was my very presence so offensive that she needed to orchestrate my death?

The questions circled endlessly in my mind, each one more agonizing than the last.

On the fifth morning, the guards came.

“Time to die,” one of them announced cheerfully, unlocking the cell. “Hope you made peace with the goddess.”

I stood slowly, my legs shaking. The other prisoners had gone quiet, watching me quietly.

I walked to the dungeon gate and stood there, staring at the iron bars that separated me from the corridor. My heart felt felt and cold in my chest. I had accepted this. Death was coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The two guards approached, grinning at each other.

“Look at her,” one said. “Thinks she’s so brave, standing there all quiet-like.”

The other one scooped water from a nearby bucket and threw it at me. The freezing liquid hit my face and chest, soaking through my thin dress. I didn’t move nor flinch.

What was the point?

“Not even a reaction,” the first guard said, sounding almost disappointed. “You’re no fun.”

Minutes had gone by before the head guard appeared, it was the same one who had arrested me. His face was still cold and impassive.

“Come,” he said simply, opening the gate.

I followed him without a word. Behind me, I heard the prisoners calling out.

“Goodbye, little wolf!”

“Save us a spot in hell!”

“Try not to piss yourself on the scaffold!”

Their laughter followed me down the corridor until distance swallowed the sound.

We walked through the dungeon’s twisting passages, up the stairs, and through more corridors. My bare feet were numb against the cold stone, and the wet dress clung to my skin, making me shiver.

But something felt wrong.

We had been walking for too long. The execution grounds were in the courtyard, everyone knew that and public executions were meant to be seen, to serve as warnings.

So why were we going deeper into the palace?

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

The head guard didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

I began to feel my hands shaking, I felt fear creep up my neck, replacing the numb reaction I had earlier. What was happening? Was this some new form of punishment? Something worse than execution?

Finally, we stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The head guard turned to look at me, and the disgust in his eyes made me want to shrink away.

He said nothing as he pushed the door open.

I hesitated, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then I forced myself to look inside.

Darren stood in the center of the room, his back to me. He was dressed in formal attire, his posture straight. When he heard the door open, he turned slowly.

Our eyes met, and I saw an expression I couldn’t tell flash across his face.

The head guard stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. I looked between him and Darren, confusion making my head spin.

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

Darren’s jaw tightened. “Come inside, Liora and close the door behind you.”