My eyes search out the source, and I land on mud-colored wings and the back of a head that’s filled with black dreadlocks.
No. Not dreadlocks, my brain screams at me. Snakes.
Morax.
Terror slams through me, makin’ my chest tighten and my lungs constrict. Frantically, I look around me, forcin’ myself to see exactly where I am, and my gaze zeroes in on the bars surroundin’ me.
A cage. I’m in a damn cage.
Bitin’ my lip, I drag my eyes away from the metal bars and see that my cage appears to be inside a large cellar with no windows to speak of, and at the far end, I’m starin’ right at the back of the Ophidian.
His words are met by silence, and I realize he’s talkin to someone else. I can just make out a small, frail lookin’ body on a metal table that he’s standin’ over. All I can see from my vantage point are legs with lines cut into the flesh all over, leavin’ behind dozens of blood-red slices. Disgust and anger start to boil inside of me on behalf of whoever this monster is torturin’, while horror threatens to burst my heart in my chest.
The word gotchya continues to ring through my mind, and devastation claws up my throat. How did Morax get me? That last thing I remember is starin’ into Alder’s lovin’ eyes as flowers and plants sprung up between us, and now...I’m here, in this dark, dank room filled with nothin’ but agony and shadows.
A sob works its way up my esophagus, but I close my mouth and swallow it down. I need to get out of here. I look around for somethin’ that will help me, tryin’ to drown out Morax speakin’ as he continues to issue orders to whoever is on that torture table. It’s clear that he’s gettin’ more and more frustrated every time he’s met with silence. When he lifts his hand up, I catch sight of a long, sharp dagger in his grip, the metal glintin’ from the lit torches anchored into the walls.
I shiver at the sight of the weapon and the power I can tell he’s pourin’ into his voice, but it’s not aimed at me, and my body doesn’t betray me by listenin’ to him. Silently, so that I don’t tip him off that I’m awake, I sit all the way up and search for somethin’, anythin’ to help me out of this.
My gray eyes land on a shape in the corner of my cell. Hope explodes in my chest at the sight of my scythe. Yes!
I dive for it.
Except...my body jerks to a stop after movin’ barely an inch. Blinkin’ in surprise, I try to reach for it again, but my body refuses to listen, stayin’ frozen in place.
With a determined frown, I focus all my efforts on my fingers, my hands, my arms, but I can’t get a single part of me to move toward my weapon, toward the one thing that could protect me from Morax and his evil intentions.
Tears of fear and frustration drip down my cheeks, and a brutal headache blooms behind my eyes, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t force myself to grab my scythe.
Morax must have used his power to keep me from usin’ it, to keep me from touchin’ it, and that realization terrifies me. He left it here, right within my reach, just for the mental torture it would bring me. It’s like he’s danglin’ a carrot on a string in front of a starvin’ horse, and right then, I know exactly what sort of bein’ I’m up against. Evil. The Ophidian is evil.
Slumpin’ back, I give up on the scythe and wipe the tears off my cheeks as I quietly scoot back in my cage. Delta said Morax’s power wears off with time. Just like that night he approached me in the club, I had to wait for the effects to fade away. My only hope is that with time, I can take back control of my body and hold my scythe in my hands once again.
I flinch in alarm when Morax suddenly bellows out in rage, and I cower down onto the floor to make it look like I’m still sleepin’ in case he glances over here. Peekin’ through my lashes, I see him throw his dagger clear across the room where it crashes against the stone wall before clatterin’ to the floor.
In his fury, he doesn’t even look my way, and a small puff of relief moves through me as he storms across the room to a shadowed doorway and leaves, slammin’ the heavy door behind him.
My heart beats hard and fast in my chest, but I wait a moment, makin’ sure he’s really gone before I scramble up and rush forward to the bars. My hands close around them as I look around, searchin’ the room for anythin’ else I can use to try and get out of here.
I freeze when my eyes land on the woman that’s strapped to the table. She’s in only her underwear, and cuts of all shapes and sizes mar her skin. I see what looks to be healin’ burns and bruises peppered over her as well, and my stomach churns at the sight.
I press one palm to my stomach and the other over my mouth as I take her in. I blink back more tears, and the image of the woman on the table changes. Suddenly, she has deep purple wings underneath her that are so dark they could almost be black. The hair blanketin’ her shoulder is the same purple-black hue as her feathers, and my eyes widen at the sight as I quickly dash away my tears, makin’ sure that I’m not seein’ things.
My gaze skips over the bruises on her neck and lands on full, slightly parted lips, lookin’ as chapped and cracked
