Chapter thirty-three
Why sent us here
Elizabeth froze.
Yet Datura was dead serious.
Reluctantly, she grabbed her dagger and descended the staircases, strode toward the platform, her legs heavy and her head dizzy.
Datura ca forward, grabbed her by the wrist, and jerked her toward a beam of dazzling light shining ahead of them.
The radiating light hit them over the face and dimd seconds later.
Elizabeth rolled over on the ground, her hands dangling beside her. Suddenly, she was wide-awake.
Rubbing her throbbing wrists, Elizabeth hoisted herself up into a sitting position. She gazed wildly around and found herself in a deserted cave.
Spectacular stone carvings adorned the walls, blood-stained fangs hung from the ceiling, scarlet trickled down to the ground, and water drenched over the frazzled tablecloth.
Suddenly, Elizabeth heard footsteps echoing around the cave entrance.
She whirled on her heels, just in ti to find Datura, brandishing a sword, marching toward her.
“What do you want?” Elizabeth asked through a quivering voice.
“Duel—and kill.” Whispered Datura, advancing closer. “It’s live-streaming now—across the entire venue.”
Elizabeth drew her dagger and prepared, yet Datura was quicker.
She charged, her sword glittering under the damp torchlights, and she pierced through Elizabeth’s arms with a tilt of her sword, drawing the blood-drenched blade out.
Elizabeth took a few steps back; she didn’t dare to look at her hands, and she knew it would be no good if she lost her life here.
She tried to raise her dagger, yet her hands went slippery with blood, and the frost blade slipped from her clutch. Datura grabbed the chance and kicked it out of Elizabeth’s reach.
Elizabeth willed her energy bolt to appear, yet it extinguished after a few quick flickers.
She stared, quite apprehensively, as Datura strode forward.
Suddenly, Elizabeth leaped into the air and fell on top of Datura, knocking the sword out of her hands. Yet Datura was definitely prepared; she lunged forward, seized Elizabeth by the wrist, twisted her arms with a clear crack that echoed throughout the cave, and threw her to the ground before her.
Datura jerked Elizabeth’s hands behind her back with a clench and bent her down by the knees.
“Now, I appreciate a little ga,” Datura murmured, drawling her voice cold and long deliberately, her fingernails digging into Elizabeth’s skin.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and said nothing.
Concentrating, she urged the flas to erge from her palms; she could feel the sharp blade of Datura’s sword slicing her forearm, and blood dripped to the ground, diffusing over in small scarlet flowers.
Greenish flas lingered through Elizabeth’s fingers, dancing across her palms, over where her carpal bones were broken, and suddenly, searing pain washed over her.
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Elizabeth’s face contorted in pain, fire was searing over her body, and she felt sothing wiggling its way out from her wrists. She tried to glance over her shoulder, yet Datura was gripping her hair hard.
Yet suddenly, the sharp blade dropped to the ground in a clutter.
Datura scread, loosening her grasp on Elizabeth and backing away, gaping.
The fla stretched across Datura’s hands, spreading toward her heart, leaving scarlet streaks over her fair skin. And Elizabeth knew her plan had worked.
Yet Datura was irritated by how things had turned out, and she won’t let it all blow over that easily.
Enraged, she raised her hands high and twirled. Elizabeth felt a sudden force draw her upwards, her arms grappling frantically as she rose in midair. Her legs dangling under her body, her eyes bulging in uncertainty, she was tilting over, and she found it hard to keep her balance.
Datura’s hands gave a sharp twist, and Elizabeth heard an earsplitting crack beneath her.
Her legs twisted in midair, contorted into a grotesque shape as Datura hurled and slamd Elizabeth to the ground in a sickening crunch.
Elizabeth collapsed to the ground, panting.
Datura leaned back, and her eyes bulged as she stared at Elizabeth.
Confused, Elizabeth took a glimpse of her wrists; she might as well let out a terrible shriek if she hadn’t bit her lips and suppressed it.
A blur of scarlet stained over her wrists and knees, yet she could note that the twisty bones were nding, blood was gliding back into her body, and the agony eased.
Elizabeth whirled around, she wiggled her wrists, and was relieved to find the joints had healed within seconds.
Suddenly, a dazzling light hit them. As the glow dimd, Elizabeth saw Morris Morgan standing ahead of them. A look of loss erged on his face, his silvery hair matted behind him, and he staggered toward them.
“Why are you here?” Demanded Datura angrily, striding forward.
“Well, you bet, I’m gonna ask you about—” Whispered Morris, his voice suddenly strangely strained, and his glassy eyes bulged as he stared at Datura, lost for words.
Elizabeth turned on her heels to find Datura shivering. She had her back pressed against the wall, her face drawn down to a look of horror.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Elizabeth saw sothing tumbling toward them from the far edge of the cave.
Clank! The sound of iron scraping against iron resonated in the dimly lit hallway, mingling with the faint, musty scent of old pages as Penelope hurried her way to Datura’s office.
The door creaked open, revealing a space drenched in shadows, almost as if it were holding its breath. Datura had tasked her with fixing the chandelier overhead, a delicate fixture that had been plunged into darkness by what she described as "a heavy dark source."
What could possibly qualify as such a source? Was it a creature born of nightmares, or simply the weight of forgotten mories?
Datura’s dismissal had been swift, her voice laced with authority as she handed Penelope a sparkling magical orb.
“Use this to save the chandelier,” she had commanded, “and prove yourself.”
But prove herself to whom? What was the asure of worth in this world fraught with magic and secrets?
With a determined heart, Penelope positioned herself on a tall ladder, her palms sweating against the worn wood as she ascended toward the lofty ceiling.
She hurled the orb downward, watching as it paused in midair, shimring ominously. It hovered before her, pulsating gently.
Digging through her pockets, she retrieved a set of incantations scrawled in Datura’s hurried handwriting.
As the incantations tumbled from her lips, a soft light burst forth from the orb, illuminating the chandelier with a golden glow. The crystals twinkled like stars in a midnight sky.
For a fleeting mont, Penelope felt like a sorceress herself, commanding the light with her bare words.
Yet, as her eyes flicked upwards, she noticed sothing else—
It was then that Penelope realized, in utter frustration, that the chandelier had ignited itself, rendering all her painstaking efforts completely useless. As if that wasn’t enough, the tattoo over her neck flared to life, green light glowing ominously from within the red words.
Had the whole she bang been for naught?
A flickering blackish shadow galloped into view.
Its upper fra was a lion’s, its midsection a goat’s, its hindquarters a serpent’s. Its jet-black, rock-solid hide exuded a sickening, cloying stench. The serpent head flicked alertly to and fro, forked tongue darting in and out with a nacing hiss; the goat head bleated piteously, sharp fangs lolling from its jaw, caked in thick, glutinous blood; the lion head reared back to the sky, belching billows of fla, gusts of smoke, and letting out a thunderous roar. Blood slithered down its spiked tongue, and an acrid, noxious reek hung heavy and thick in the air.
It was a Chira.
Shuddering, Elizabeth flinched as the Chira stumped forward, its venomous saliva dripping down its chin, beady eyes focused on the intruders that lurked in its cave.
“Goddamned it, who the hell sent us here?” Muttered Datura angrily under her breath.
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