Chapter 19
And now, sunset was close.
As she pictured the desert night sinking into darkness as if she were seeing it herself, the door opened with a brief sound of movement.
Four women entered at once. This was the first time so many people had come into the room. Hill blinked in surprise.
Without a word, they began to dress her. They prepared a bath strewn with petals of desert roses, then anointed her cleansed body with red-scented oil. Hands roamed over her skin, her chest, between her legs, before they brought out a crimson garment. It was lavish and beautiful, embroidered with gold patterns.
At the sight of it, a word almost slipped from her mouth before she swallowed it back.
A wedding robe. The ceremonial attire worn by the king’s woman, the tana.
Her fingertips tingled. She wanted to refuse, but she had no strength left to resist. Wrapped in the ceremonial robe clinging to her body, she became still, obedient as a doll.
The women poured oil into her hair as well, working quickly. They styled her hair like a bride’s on her first night, twisting it up. Powder covered her face, rouge brushed her lips. Jewelry of gold and gemstones caught the light and glittered noisily.
One woman respectfully brought a mirror, but Hill did not look.
If she saw herself dressed like a bride, she felt she would retch.
She’s no bride. A sacrifice to a beast.
Anxiety bloomed like drifting sand, but she forced herself to calm down. At worst, she would only be made to share her body with a beast. It was something she had endured every night already.
When even her shoes had been polished, the women withdrew. Soon after, Andouche entered. She gave Hill a brief glance, bowed deeply, and said,
“The king is waiting. Please follow me.”
Andouche stepped ahead to guide her. Hill stood still for a moment, then followed after her. As she passed through the low doorway and stepped outside, a strange feeling brushed against her heart. Since being moved to this room, she had not once left it.
Her heart began to race. Inside her sleeve, Hill clenched her fist tightly.
The first corridor was not very long. Through windows set so high she could not reach them even on tiptoe, darkness crawled in instead of light. Without the torches placed between the windows, it would have been difficult to see at all.
A faint fragrance lingered in the air.
…No. It wasn’t just incense.
They had tried to mask it by burning perfume, but this was—
…the stench of death.
Yes. This place was the mortuary. Where corpses were roughly preserved and burned to ash.
The reality she hadn’t felt in the brightly adorned room now clawed beneath her skin. She shuddered as if bare flesh had brushed against a corpse. Beneath the incense, the thick, writhing scent of death seemed to clog her airways. Even breathing became difficult.
As if unaware of her state, Andouche changed direction. Hill followed, panting shallowly. Though it wasn’t yet a deep night, the surroundings were utterly silent.
The only sound was their footsteps..
Walking through the quiet corridor steeped in death, a sudden impulse seized her—what if I ran now?
The desire to escape this place overwhelmed her reason. A dreadful premonition swelled larger and larger. A sense that a despair unlike anything she had yet faced was waiting ahead.
…No. No.
The moment her eyes fell on Andouche’s ear, the impulse snapped like the neck of a dying beast. As if she had never considered escape at all, memories flooded her mind.
I’ll be caught.
No matter how I run, no matter where I go—
People will die because of me.
Like the boy. Like the boy’s sister, whose face I never even saw.
A formless dread surged like a shadow. Hill barely restrained the urge to claw at her own skin with her nails. Her steps wavered dangerously, but she could not stop.
Ahead, the end of the corridor came into view.
It opened into a wide space. Still dark, but brighter than the corridor.
As they moved closer, the space became clearer. The first thing that caught her eye was a massive kiln directly ahead. Built of ash-gray bricks, it gaped open below, red flames flaring like a giant’s tongue.
With each step, her field of vision widened. On the left, Hill noticed a raised platform, elevated like a royal throne, and frowned. Bathed in reddish light, it looked disturbingly like an altar.
One step. Then another.
When she finally stood fully at the open entrance, the corners hidden by the walls until now came into view.
Her gaze swept over the high structure on the right, then flowed naturally to the left.
Her eyes widened.
“….”
In the far-left corner stood a massive iron box.
Made of black iron, it was closer to a cage than a chest. Thick iron bars formed its sides, leaving the inside fully visible.
And inside it was something. A small figure, barely supporting themselves while gripping the bars.
…No way.
A thunderclap went off in her head. Empty breath spilled from her parted lips.
Even covered in blood, the prisoner made not a single sound.
And yet, that figure was unbearably familiar.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.