Chapter thirty-five
The teleport bathtub
It was nearly the crack of dawn when a rather anxious knock rang abruptly under the ocean, deep down, in front of one of those beautiful seashell houses at the Soulblender Institute.
A woman dressed in all black was pacing up and down the lawn. She tapped her palm with a long crystal stick as her boot crashed into the seaweed laid neatly on the ground.
Then, without warning, the door cracked open, and three other people dressed in black appeared in the doorway, and multicolored flas danced across their fingertips.
The woman handed them each a bottle of clear liquid and motioned them to drink up.
They clutched the bottles tightly in their hands, tilted their heads over, and drank the contents in one gulp.
Out of the blue, their eyes glinted with cruel light, ink washed over their pupils, and their blood-red lips curled into ruthless smiles.
One of them, with a frost-wrapped dagger clutched tightly in her hands, yawning as she stepped forward, "Veronica? It's the crack of dawn!"
"Yes, Elizabeth, we must start our second adventure now. The killer Carlos sent is on his way right now. We act now," said Veronica, her voice determined as she leaned forward.
She plucked out her sword, its sharp, ice-cold blade glittering in the darkness. She put its sharp blade flat on Elizabeth’s shoulder solemnly.
"Now!" she demanded.
Elizabeth extinguished the flas with a snap of her finger. Then, frowning in protest, she and the others followed Veronica out into the clearing behind the cathedral.
"How are we going there?" asked Elizabeth, yawning.
"The kingdom of dwarves," Said Veronica, "We take the Teleport Bathtub."
"What the heck could that be?"
"Wait and see." Said Veronica dreamily as she clapped her hands.
Instantly, with an earsplitting crunch, cracks crawled all over the wall opposite, and it shook forcefully, splitting apart. The violent impact sent dust flying across the sky.
Within seconds, Elizabeth found herself standing in ruins. Dirt mounded on the ground, feet deep in drifts; massive cobwebs slung askew the ground, their strands thick and tangled; a mixture of unidentifiable liquid oozed out and trickled down the broken walls, slow yet viscous, leaving faint streaks in its wake.
Veronica, not disgusted by the slightest, chuckled as she led them into the dark tunnel in the wall.
Staring, Elizabeth felt a rush of energy enter her fingertips as flas lingered through them. She started down the muddy staircases, Elizabeth heard crickets crackling above, so unknown birds flapping their wings chaotically overhead. They descended deeper and deeper, and several drops of acid dripped from the ceiling, which was dotted with holes.
They didn’t pause until Veronica stopped in front of an iron door.
She plucked out a crystal key from her belt, inserted it into the keyhole, and turned her wrist over.
The door creaked open, its hinges protesting just slightly as Penelope stepped inside, a wave of weariness washing over her. She hesitated on the threshold, her heart racing as she took in her surroundings.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her unease. Datura bead at her with the enthusiasm of soone unveiling a long-awaited dream.
“I’ve opened a barbershop! Wanna have a glimpse and help out?”
Without waiting for a response, Datura seized Penelope's wrist and nearly dragged her across the street, their footsteps echoing against the pavent as they rounded a corner and climbed the stairwell.
When Datura shoved open the door to the barbershop, Penelope was montarily blinded by the bright lights that illuminated the lavish interior.
It was unlike any barbershop she had ever seen—opulent and inviting, with plush cushioned seats that beckoned weary souls to sink into their embrace. Large windows frad the space, allowing natural light to flood in, and a soft glow radiated from ornate chandeliers that flickered with a srizing bluish hue.
The atmosphere buzzed with the low hum of conversations and laughter; chairs were filled with clients eagerly awaiting their transformations.
“C’mon, help !” Datura urged, her voice bubbling with excitent as she maneuvered toward a woman who sat with an anxious expression, glancing at her watch.
With a swift and practiced motion, Datura guided the woman into the chair. She deftly tied a piece of cloth around the woman’s neck, the fabric soft against her skin. She then gathered the woman’s hair into an elegant updo, pinning it neatly atop her head.
The sight was a whirlwind of activity, as Datura’s hands moved like a blur, a broom whisking aside the stray hair that fell like confetti.
Opening a nearby drawer, Datura retrieved a pair of crimson scissors that glead under the overhead lights.
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With a flick of her wrist, she began to sculpt the woman’s hair, each snip precise and deliberate. Strands fell softly to the floor, and slowly, a beautiful curl began to cradle the woman’s neck.
For twenty minutes, Penelope stood rooted to the spot, eyes bulging.
As Datura finished with the scissors, she reached for a hairdryer, the sound of its motor building anticipation in Penelope’s chest.
With a flick of the switch, the dryer roared to life.
Penelope stood there, her feet firmly planted on the polished wooden floor.
The mont Penelope spotted the hairdryer, her hands instinctively flew up to cup her mouth.
A soft, barely audible gasp escaped her lips.
Sothing just felt off.
With a sharp click, the door gave a quiet creak.
Inside was misty, as if soone had just sprayed vapor deliberately inside.
Veronica swung the door open, and they stepped inside.
Elizabeth found herself standing in an old chamber, in the corner was an ancient bathtub, and high above their heads was a crystal chandelier.
Veronica snapped her fingers twice, and water began to pour into the bathtub from an old faucet.
"What are we supposed to do?" asked Elizabeth tentatively.
Veronica didn't answer until the water overflowed the bathtub.
She then spun around, had her hands on her hips, and said sternly, "Do exactly what I've done.”
Glancing around, she went on,
"Don't breathe in that water, the liquid inside was not water but a kind of liquid that is fatal to our lungs. I need you three to close your eyes, get into the tub, and wait. Do I make myself clear?"
Before Elizabeth could ask, Veronica crawled into the tub, keeping her eyes shut, and lay down peacefully on the surface of the water.
Elizabeth, gazing unblinkingly at her, covered her mouth with her hands in surprise.
A second before, Veronica was floating on the surface of the water; a second later, she was drowning peacefully in the liquid. Now her entire body was subrged.
She sank lower and lower, her form warping and rippling with undulating water surface. Glimring wavelets scattered bursts of prismatic light; the crystal chandelier overhead swayed in unison with her tresses, which were shrouded in a faint, shimring golden glow. When her body pressed against the bottom of the bathtub, she thought Veronica would at last co to a halt.
But she kept drowning right away. Her clothing faded amidst the misty liquid, her form slipped through the cold, hard bottom, cloaked in a soft golden radiance. Her figure faded into an ever more hazy, dreamlike blur, seeming to lt within the bottom itself before vanishing into the swirling mist.
Elizabeth felt her vision blurred with drama bubbles that floated away in the dazzling light. By the ti she cleared her sight, her fellows disappeared. Elizabeth rushed forward and found Emily had reached the bottom of the tub and vanished from sight.
Elizabeth felt her heart pounding furiously; she hadn't prepared for this.
What if she failed?
What if she choked?
What if that liquid went right through her body?
But without allowing herself to linger on her doubts, Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply as she lowered herself into the cramped confines of the tub. As her body plunged into the cool water, it sloshed over the edge, cascading onto the slick, tiled floor and forming a glistening pool that reflected the dim overhead light, creating a chaotic symphony of splashes.
As she attempted to find a comfortable position, she quickly realized just how constricting the tub was, its size dwarfing her attempts to maneuver, it seed to shrink around her, squeezing her to death.
Tension coiled tightly within her, tightening like a noose as panic gripped her like a vice. Her breath quickened, and she could feel the chilling water wrap around her, threatening to steal her breath away.
The frantic beating of her heart echoed in her ears, drowning out reason as a wave of hysteria surged through her. Each nerve in her body flared with anxiety, sending jolts of electricity racing through her skin. In a wild attempt to regain control, Elizabeth thrashed against the slick, cold porcelain edges, her fingers slipping as she fought for a standing position.
Desperation fueled her; she clumsily sought to rise, her mind racing with the naive belief that if only her feet could find the solid surface at the bottom, so internal switch would flip and grant her release…
But no matter how zealously she kicked and pushed, her feet remained hopelessly pressed against the chilling tub's base, a silent testant amidst the swirling, icy water.
Then, as a churn tingled in the depths of her stomach, terrible illusions appeared in her mind—the old iron door, the chained chair, the Evil Scarlet's prison—and Victoria.
Carlos was pacing in front of Victoria, his thin, ruthless lips split into a wicked smile.
"My sweet, give your necklace, your Oriental Opal, tell where your friend is, and you are free to go," Carlos whispered viciously.
"Go to hell, I'm not telling you." Choked Victoria, her lips were bleeding, and a tickle of blood ca running down from the corner of her mouth, but she kept her glassy eyes focused on Carlos fearlessly.
"Where is Elizabeth?" Carlos leaned forward; his expression was horrible.
Rage flooded over Elizabeth.
“Goddamned it.” She muttered under her breath, agitated.
How dare he interrogate her friend in such a horrendous way?
"Take her away." Demanded Carlos as he took a last glimpse at Victoria, he whispered, "If you don't tell , I'll find her myself, and I'll make you watch her die."
"No, challenge , kill if you want, leave her alone, please—” Victoria was crying, and Elizabeth felt a wave of sorrow wash over her.
But then, the illusion disappeared just as suddenly as it erged, and Elizabeth felt a sudden anger boiling inside her.
Who knows that the feeling of hopelessness and emptiness was so hard to bear?
How guilty and weak the feeling can be when you watch your friend suffering pain right in front of you, but all you can do is stand there and listen?
Feeling a wave of anxiety wash over her, Elizabeth struggled to find her breath, but her chest tightened like a vise.
Panic gripped her heart as the oppressive silence of the subrged world threatened to swallow her whole. With each passing mont, the sense of suffocation clawed at her mind, robbing her of clarity and sanity. Just when despair threatened to pull her under, radiant threads of violet and golden light burst forth from the ornate chandelier above, cascading around her like an otherworldly net.
It enveloped her, pulling her gently back to the surface of the shimring liquid, a surreal lifeline in her darkest mont. A sudden warmth blossod at her throat, a tether to her reality. She hesitantly raised a trembling hand to touch the necklace that belonged to Victoria.
The opal at its center pulsed warmly against her skin, an echo of its previous comfort now mingling with her fear. Then ca a haunting sound, distant yet piercing, like the whispers of forgotten mories swirling around her. “Elizabeth—stay safe—don’t co after —don’t mourn —please—stay safe—”
The voice was unmistakable, unmistakably Victoria’s, reverberating in the depths of her consciousness, a desperate plea threaded with love and worry. With a heavy sigh, laden with helplessness, Elizabeth closed her eyes, surrendering to the despair that enveloped her. In that mont of acceptance, she let herself sink into the depths of the tub, fully expecting to be engulfed by the water.
Yet, sothing miraculous happened—her lungs, once stifled and desperate, were filled with fresh air, cool and invigorating, as if the very essence of life surged back into her body.
Just before she reached the bottom of the tub, she heard distant footsteps skirting toward the chamber.
Thud, thud, thud, it went.
The air was suddenly heavy with tension.
Then, Elizabeth suddenly rembered the iron door; they had forgotten to close it, and the key was still inserted in the doorknob.
But thanks to Jesus, she went right through the tub just in ti when a woman with black lips burst into the chamber, panting with rage to find the chamber empty…
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