Trapped II

The palace corridors twisted like the dark tendrils of a haunting nightmare, illuminated by torches that cast flickering shadows on the cold, stone walls. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, and the tapestries lining the passage portrayed grotesque creatures that seemed to writhe in agony.

Rohan strode through the foreboding hallways with an air of quiet determination, his senses alert to the oppressive ambiance. The flickering torchlight played upon his features, revealing a visage that mirrored the cold resolve of a battle-hardened warrior. His eyes, like shards of ice, scanned the surroundings, ever watchful for any sign of danger.

His dark tunic was intricately embroidered with silver threads, forming elaborate patterns that glittered in the torchlight. It was open slightly at the chest, revealing a glimpse of his bronzed skin and a trail of dark, swirl tattoos that snaked across his collarbone. A black leather belt cinched his waist, adorned with an ornate buckle made of silver. Fitted leather trousers hugged his long, powerful legs, and knee-high boots of polished black shone in the torchlight as he walked. His ebony hair, usually styled in a loose, tousled style, was now pulled back from his face, exposing a pair of piercing stormy blue-gray eyes that gleamed with an intensity that could pierce the very soul.

As he approached Absinthya’s chambers, the oppressive silence pressed upon him with an almost palpable force, the air thick with an eerie anticipation. The door, crafted from ancient dark oak and adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts, yielded under his touch, revealing a room draped in opulence.

Velvet curtains, the color of deep midnight, framed the windows, casting long, dramatic shadows across the room. Silk pillows, their colors a symphony of jewel tones, adorned the plush couches and armchairs. Gold ornaments, gleaming with the brilliance of a thousand suns, adorned every surface, their intricate designs depicting scenes of ancient battles and mythical creatures.

Rohan had no choice but to enter Absinthya’s chamber, the heavy door creaking in protest as it swung shut behind him. He felt a cold shiver slither up his spine, like a snake coiling around his neck. The air thick with a palpable tension that seemed to linger in the room like an unspoken secret.

He scanned the dimly lit room, his eyes landing on the figures of Absinthya and a witch. Rowena Blackthorn, a name that sent shivers down the spines of many, stood before him—a living embodiment of twisted magic and sinister whispers. Her appearance was repulsive, to say the least. Pallid, marred skin clung to her emaciated frame, and her eyes were dark, one hidden by a mechanical contraption that emitted an eerie sound with every movement. Tattered, dirty dress, long, gnarled nails, and a necklace of finger bones completed her grotesque ensemble. They say witches are the result of crossbreeding between humans and demons, female beings that even the most powerful High Lords avoided. They were half-crazy and unpredictable, speaking in riddles and unsettling all who crossed their path.

The witch and Absinthya were engaged in a quiet conversation, standing before a round table. A large, open book rested at its center, its pages turning as if by phantom winds when Rowena’s gaunt hand hovered above them. They stopped talking as they noticed Rohan’s presence, but not before he heard something about a prophecy. His instincts prickled with unease, but he hid his emotions behind a mask of calm and composure.

“Rohan,” Absinthya greeted him, her voice smooth and sweet, like poisoned honey. “This is Rowena Bl-”

“Blackthorn…I know her by name. And by reputation,” Rohan cut her off, his voice icy and contemptuous, his eyes glaring at the witch’s remaining eye.

Rowena’s gaze, cold and penetrating, fixed on Rohan, a crooked smile twisting her lips. “A pleasure to meet you, young High Lord.” she rasped, a mocking glint in her eye. “I sense a tumult growing inside you, a whirlwind waiting to be unleashed. ”

Rohan felt the weight of the witch’s words, and a surge of anger rose in his chest. He knew she was here for a reason, and he didn’t like it. He sneered at her, his voice low and dangerous. “I have no interest in your riddles, witch.You can keep them to yourself.”

A cruel smile spread across Rowena’s face as she watched Rohan’s anger flare. “So full of pride and arrogance. But even you, young Rohan, cannot escape the whispers of fate.” she sneered, her voice like the rustling of dead leaves.

Rohan’s jaw clenched tightly. “What truth do you speak of, witch?”

Rowena Blackthorn let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing through the dimly lit chamber.

Absinthya coughed slightly, drawing attention to herself. She smiled enigmatically and said, “She has come to bring great and unexpected news, something that will change our plans.”

Rohan narrowed his eyes at Absinthya, suspicion written on his face. “What news?” he demanded.

Absinthya’s smile widened. “You will find out soon enough,” she said cryptically.

The queen then handed a small pouch of coins to the witch, informing her that she still wished to see her again soon.

The witch agreed and left the room, but as Rowena passed by Rohan, her bony fingers grazed his arm, and her voice dripped with cryptic malevolence. “A star’s fate entwined with shadows, a dance of whispers and blood. Watch, High Lord, as destinies entangle and stars fall,” she hissed, a twisted smile playing on her lips. With a sinister laugh, she departed, the clinking of her staff marking her unsettling exit.

Rohan stood there, the witch’s words echoing in his ears. The room, still charged with an arcane energy, felt like a chessboard where unseen players moved their pieces in a game beyond his understanding. As Absinthya turned her attention back to him, Rohan felt a cold dread in his stomach. He knew he was trapped in a web of fate, and the strands were tightening around him.

 

[ Lorian, remember I was unsure about the name “witch”? I decided to leave it like that. 😀 ]