ARELLIA

Down here in the deep darkness, far below the bustling castle sits a quaint warm chamber. It is nestled amongst the narrow stone rooms of the dungeon. The chamber is bright and airy with high ceilings and tapestries hung on every wall.

It seems cruel and twisted that a place as fine as this could exist here amidst this vulgarity. Paintings, trinkets and baubles scattered messily atop tables and bookshelves make the space seem smaller than it is. The brightness is such a contrast from the sinister hall behind that an uncontrollable gasp escapes me. Immediately, I drop my chin and tug at my sunhat when I notice the man.

"Who are you? What is the meaning of this?" His voice is deep and gravelly as though he has smoked too much in his time. Fear shoots through me. No one is supposed to be down here.

"I-I'm sorry. I was told to get you, the alarm..." I lie, deepening my voice and stepping back, inching closer to the threshold. I try to control the shudder building under my skin. I will not fool myself and think that my acting convinced him. I hear his chair scrape loudly against the floor and heavy footsteps coming closer. I panic. If I run, he will know that I am an intruder. If I stay, he will eventually see my eyes and everything would all be for nought.

"I heard the alarm, but I've never seen you before." He croaks. "You're not one of my guards," I flinch when I see his boots enter my field of vision. They are dirtless, shined to perfection. My hands shake as I hold the hat tightly to my head.

"You don't call me sir, or Warden. Who are you?" I try to stop the shaking and say something. But, no words come. The warden smacks my hand aside and the hat flies from my head. His wrinkly eyes widen when he finds mine.

"Princess?" He blurts as he recognises me. I have never met this man, but there is something in his eyes that makes my stomach churn with fear. I turn and run before his shock dissipates, but I am not used to the exercise. He is bigger and faster and before I am anywhere near the exit, he catches me in his arms. His grip is painful, knocking the air out of my lungs. I scream and thrash as he drags me back.

"Stay still!" He exclaims as I kick and elbow him. It is like fighting a stone wall. I injure myself before I can even make a dent in him. The warden lifts me up by the waist and I scream once more. I try to overwhelm him with slaps and punches, but it is fruitless. I feel like a mouse kicking and flailing against a bear.

When he whirls me around, I lock eyes with the prisoners behind the small windows of their cells. Their ghastly hands clutch at the iron bars; their gazes are hollow and ghoulish. A defeated sob escapes me. They watch soundlessly as I am carried away like a weightless doll. Will I now be one of them? Confined and locked away in the darkness, forced to live in my own filth?

The warden flings me with such a force that I yelp when I hit the ground. My arms soften the impact and my elbows skid against the stone. It is now raw and bleeding. I am barely beyond the threshold, looking up at him as he saunders from the darkness into the light. He steps over me and grabs my arm.

"Unhand me at once!" I bark, but he does not listen. I kick his shin, but the warden does not stumble. A sharp sting spreads across my face, taking my breath along with it.

"And what were you planning to do dressed like this, your Highness?" He kneels on one knee and pushes my chest down with his forearm, I feel his warm breath on my face. Disgust rises along with anger.

"L-let go!" I screech, but it only makes him more violent. I have felt this before, I realise; the feeling of complete and utter fear. But, his assault is not like Vasilis'. There is an urgency to his voice and movements. Then, I feel his shaking hand fumble at my waist and trousers. He tugs at my gem pouch until it rips from my belt. I gasp and reach for it, but the gems fall free, clinking against the stone.

"Where are you going with all these jewels?" He sputters. I am struck by the tone of his voice. There is twisted darkness behind his eyes, a thirst that makes the hairs on my skin stand. I cannot show him that I am afraid. I knee him in the stomach and dig desperately at his arms, scratching and clawing at him until I feel layers of blood and skin underneath my nails.

"You fucking bitch!" He bellows and recoils. The warden sits exposed as he twists away, his bleeding arm outstretched as he reaches behind him for something I cannot see. I clench my fist and punch awkwardly at his chest. I am weak, my punches are soft and my wrist wobbles. But the adrenaline kicks in and I hear the warden gasp. It is enough. He rolls off me and the sensation in my legs returns.

He tugs at the top of his tunic and the buttons come free, displaying a chest full of hair and wrinkles. Free of encumbrance, he stands before me, arms bloody and bleeding. His smile is cruel and twisted. Wrapped around his waist is a black leather belt with a dagger in its sheath. The hilt is shiny gold, carved intricately to imitate the head of a snake.

He unsheathes his dagger, shakes his head and says, "Do not make me hurt you, Arellia. Coming into a man's chamber at this hour, what were you thinking?" His voice is full of mocking sorrow and pity. I crawl back toward the darkness but it is futile as the warden charges at me like a man possessed.

"No!" I scream, arms and hands flailing in front of me, desperate to block his attack. When his blade sinks into my arm, hitting the bone beneath, the pain is unlike anything I have ever felt. Warm blood gushes from my arm, covering my beige tunic. The pain is searing. I kick at his legs and his chest until I am kicking the air. He is no longer on top of me.

Tears blur my eyes. But, I get no reprieve as I feel his hands pull at me; at my trousers and tunic. He holds the dagger no longer. When his clammy fingers touch my flesh, I stifle a gag. All I hear is his insidious breathing and my own panicking sobs.

"Stop resisting!" He shouts and pins my injured arm onto the stone floor. Pain shoots through me. I howl, pinched and breathless under his weight. A fist connects at my temple. My head lolls sideways, vision blurry. Then, the warden shifts his weight. A scream ruptures from his throat. I hear the sound of something crackling, then I smell smoke. Something is burning.

With a disembodied moan, I tear my eyes away from the stone floor and crane my neck toward the warden. He is curled on the floor beside my feet, the image reminds me of Enka on her cot. But, instead of sadness, I am elated.

The warden is screeching and writhing in pain. The flesh on his arm and hands has disintegrated. Tendrils of smoke rise from his flesh. I have smelled this before; the stink of burning flesh. The skin corrodes slowly, sizzling like meat on a pan, eating away, exposing the muscle and bone beneath.

How? What happened? My heart is beating so fast that I do not even feel the pain in my arm. If he keeps screaming, the guards will come. I hear laughter and whispering behind me from prisoners in their cells, but I pay them no heed.

"D-don't, please!" He squeals when he sees me pick up his dagger. Princess Arellia was kind, up there in that wretched castle. I am not. I hate myself for it.

For the first time in my life, my hands do not shake. I stagger over him. My blood covers the blade. I kneel and bring down the dagger. Blood seeps from his side when the blade connects and the flesh beneath his tunic sizzles. He screams.

Morality slips from my mind. All it takes is the desperation to survive for humans to act with such vulgarity. Even when I stab the warden and his blood smears my hands, it does not seem like a fight. Not like before. I do not feel like myself as I plunge the blade into his side again and again until he screams no more.

His body is still. A dark pool of blood spreads from beneath him. I have never killed a man before. I am ashamed of my anger. Most of all, I am ashamed that I like this; that killing him gives me satisfaction. I roll him onto his back and plunge the blade into his chest once more. It connects to bone. Blood sprays, obscuring my sight. The only sound in my ears is my shameful cries and the soft sizzling of his flesh where I have inflicted damage.

But, my hands do not stop. I mutter my brother's name as I pull the dagger out and bring it back down. Everything around me turns crimson with blood. It is never-ending, my wrath. It pours out of me just as furiously as the blood from the warden's body.

"Arellia," Someone calls from behind me. I recognise this voice but my mind is a mess of agony and hatred.

I do not answer, because I feel like I am her no longer.