Ela found herself standing in an endless void, the emptiness enveloping her like a thick blanket, stifling and inescapable. Her heart thudded in her chest, a lone drumbeat in the silence, as she took a tentative step forward. Each movement felt heavier than the last, her anxiety spiraling as the void seemed to stretch on infinitely, a sea of nothingness that threatened to swallow her whole.
The loneliness was palpable, a physical pressure against her skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to ward off the cold embrace of isolation. Just as despair began to take hold, a door materialized in the distance, an odd beacon of hope in this featureless expanse.
Ela rushed towards it, her previous trepidation forgotten in the face of this anomaly. She reached out, her hand trembling as she pushed the door open, only to be met with a sight that made her heart sink—a replica of her room, but where her bed should have been, there was only an endless, gaping hole.
She edged closer, curiosity battling fear, and peered into the abyss. The air chilled, and she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she saw Irene, her friend's face a mask of silence. Ela's eyes lit up with recognition and relief, but as she stepped towards Irene, hoping for comfort, Irene's expression remained blank. Without a word, Irene pushed Ela into the hole.
The fall was immediate and terrifying. Ela's scream was swallowed by the void as she tumbled through the darkness. Then, without warning, fire engulfed her. Pain seared her skin, an all-consuming agony that tore through her with ruthless intensity. She could feel her flesh burning, the heat devouring her from the outside in, an unrelenting inferno that promised nothing but endless suffering.
Just as suddenly, the fire was quenched by cold water, plunging her into a new torment. She gasped for air that wouldn't come, her lungs screaming for oxygen as she flailed helplessly in the dark water. The pressure built in her chest, a mounting panic that mirrored her physical struggle to break the surface.
In the midst of her despair, A sound, sharp as a knife, ripped through the water, reaching her ears, each word a hammer blow to her already fragile spirit. "Failure," the voice scorned, "a disappointment to everything we've given you." The accusations were relentless, each one a confirmation of her deepest fears, until darkness mercifully claimed her consciousness.
Ela awoke in a haze of pain and confusion, her body wracked with weakness. She was in Bram's arms, his face etched with concern as he carried her towards the safety of her room. "Did I... succeed?" she managed to whisper, Her words emerged like a fragile thread.
Bram's eyes met hers, and in them, she saw a depth of empathy that momentarily eased her pain. "It doesn't matter," He spoke in a quiet but confident tone. "What matters is you're safe now."
She wanted to ask more, to understand what had happened, but her strength was failing. "What happened?" she murmured, her eyelids heavy.
"I stopped them," Bram confessed, his voice laced with a quiet intensity. "I couldn't just stand by." His admission was a small comfort in the aftermath of her ordeal.
Ela thanked him, her gratitude genuine but overshadowed by her exhaustion. As Bram laid her down in her bed, she let the darkness take her once more, sleep a welcome escape from the pain.
Bram's steps echoed through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, each footfall heavy with the weight of his duty and the recent chaos of the ritual's interruption. The air hung thick with tension as he approached the study hall, the epicenter of the night's upheaval. There, seated with the poise of a queen in her court, was Adelia. The soft glow of the candles flickered across her features, casting shadows that seemed to dance with her simmering anger.
"Why?" Her voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold as the blade of a knife. "Why did you dare to interrupt the ritual?"
Bram stood before her, the words catching in his throat. His duty had been clear: protect Ela at all costs. Yet, now, faced with Adelia's wrath, that same duty seemed to condemn him. "My lady, I... I was tasked by you to protect Ela," he stammered, the fear evident in his voice. "And protecting her meant stopping the ritual."
Adelia's gaze hardened, her disappointment palpable. Without a word, she raised her hand, and Bram felt an invisible force grip his throat. Panic clawed at his insides as he struggled for breath, his hands reaching futilely to his neck.
"You were to watch her, nothing more," With a sharp hiss, Adelia spat out her words. "Your actions have consequences, Bram. You've ruined everything."
Bram's vision blurred as he collapsed to the floor, the pressure on his chest mounting with every passing second. Desperate for air, he gasped silently, his body convulsing in a futile fight against the sigil's hold.
Adelia watched with cold detachment, her words slicing through the air. "We cannot perform the ritual again. She will refuse now, and it only works when joined willingly."
As darkness threatened to envelop him, Bram felt the vice around his throat loosen, air rushing into his lungs in painful, heaving gulps. But as he clawed his way back to consciousness, he realized the price of his breath: his voice remained trapped, stolen by Adelia's sigil.
"This is your punishment," Adelia declared, her eyes devoid of any mercy. "A reminder of your place, and what happens when you defy my orders."
Bram could only kneel in silent submission, his voice a prisoner of her will. Nodding, he acknowledged her decree, the weight of his failure pressing down upon him.
As he staggered to his feet, the room spun around him, each step away from Adelia a battle against his own body. He left the study hall behind, the sound of Adelia's satisfied sigh a bitter echo in his ears.
Despite the pain, despite the punishment, Bram felt no regret. Protecting Ela, ensuring her safety above all else, had been his choice. And as he left the room, leaving behind Adelia's simmering wrath, a sense of pride filled him. He had stood up for what he believed was right, consequences be damned. The weight of silence was a small price to pay for preserving his honor.
Under the cloak of night, Harrison's return to the palace was a silent affair, the echo of his footsteps lost amidst the grandeur of its halls. The palace slept, save for the vigilant guards outside and their torches. the palace was at peace, the familiar sight of a candle's dim glow beside his door was comforting beaceon in the darkness, a thoughtful gesture to guide his return. Feeling a gentle reassurance as he noticed the light, dispelled any shadow of worry, blending seamlessly the night's calm as he approached his room
He pushed the door open, the moon casting a silver glow on a scene so surreal it rooted him to the spot. There, in the lunar embrace, stood Ela, his daughter, her figure etched against the night, a shinning object gleaming ominously in her hand. Below her, Adelia, his wife, lay in a macabre stillness, her blood a stark contrast against the white of their bed. The shock was a palpable force, freezing him in place, the room spinning as reality slipped away.
"Ela?" He spoke in a near-inaudible whisper, a plea for this nightmare to shatter. But it was too late; Before his eyes, she crumbled into sand, each grain slipping through the air, leaving no trace as it vanished from the floor, the ela before him disappearing as quickly as she had appeared.
Harrison stumbled forward, his hands shaking as he reached for Adelia, the cold truth seeping into his bones. This couldn't be real. But the scream that tore from his throat as guards flooded the room was all too genuine, a raw sound of agony and disbelief.
In her own chamber, Ela awoke with a start, her dream a vivid tapestry of terror that clung to her, tears streaking her face. The echo of her father's despair reached her, a harbinger of the nightmare turned reality. She raced towards the commotion, only to find her father, a figure of grief among the chaos, his eyes a storm of anguish.
"What's happening?" Terror surged through her, cracking her voice as the dream's edges blurred with reality.
Harrison's response was a tempest of pain and rage, his actions a blur as he pushed her away. Ela's world tilted, the impact with the wall a sharp, grounding pain. His accusations cut deeper, branding her with words she never thought he'd wield against her.
"I didn't—," she tried, her pleas drowned out by his sorrow, his hands in her hair a cruel anchor to this harrowing reality.
Overwhelmed by rage, Harrison grabbed Ela from the wrist with great force while tightening his grip as he relentlessly dragged her towards her room, her pleas for understanding lost on him. Igmoring her attempts to reason, he pushed her into the darkness of her room slamming the door shut, she cradled her head, tears streaming down as sobs weacked her ody, the ache in her wrist a sharp reminder of the night's turmoil
