Chapter fifty
The Forsaken Hell
Penelope checked in her screen as usual.
Out of the corner of her eyes, sothing caught her eyes.
Her heart sank.
Penelope sat frozen in her chair, every muscle taut as she stared into the void. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, pierced through layers of reality, fixated on sothing beyond the room. The cacophony around her reverberated in her mind, each sound amplifying the chaos brewing within her.
"Hey, you know those Nonblenders over at the Ethereal House? They’ve really dumped a ton of fear on you, just sitting behind their screens, making your life a total nightmare. It’s like they’re just hiding away while you’re left trying to pick up the pieces.”
The voice echoed in her head, clawed at her sanity.
How had she deluded herself into thinking she was a savior when, in truth, she was the architect of despair? Was there even a flicker of goodness left in her soul, or had the darkness consud all that was once pure?
The world didn’t need saving, it needed purifying.
Elizabeth felt the world spinning madly beneath her; she could hardly keep her balance, and with a hard crash, she had landed on a thick blanket.
Struggling to get up, Elizabeth blinked hard and blinked again. She was sinking into the cushioned sofa, and dazzling lights sparkled upon her.
Hoisting herself up by the elbow, Elizabeth realized only seconds later that she was sohow transported into a grand building.
Then, sothing hit her: how on earth can she be so dumb?
This must be the Glacier Peninsula.
Glancing around, the house's interior was decorated with hundreds of seashells. It felt refreshing to sit on the squishy cushions, with a sense of clear seaweed emanating from within.
Sothing gelatinous was inside the cushion, Elizabeth assured herself.
Glancing around, she spotted Victoria andering near the elegant spiral staircases, her eyes wide with wonder at the dazzling chandeliers overhead. Emily was darting toward the towering bookshelves, eager to uncover hidden literary treasures, while Percy lounged on the balcony, soaking in the gentle breeze that whispered through the air.
"Thanks a bunch, Veronica de Angelo, for giving us so much. It's just really sothing, you know—just hits different." Whispered Elizabeth, patting the velvet sofa.
"Hey, Liz, it's too late, let's grab so sleep." Ca a crisp voice.
Following the voice, Elizabeth found Victoria beaming at her on the third floor, where a grotesquely shaped candelabra stood swinging near the walls.
"Check this out." Victoria ejaculated, indicating her bedroom door.
"Yep, good night." She snapped, smiling broadly at her friends as she cracked open her bedroom door.
The interior was glamorous, with beautiful sculptures of seagulls and seashell decorations everywhere, and ethereal lights kept swirling in and out of the crystal chandelier hanging high above. On the nightstand stood a small, exquisite clock that was shaped like a pearl.
Elizabeth flung herself onto the bed, plopping on the bouncy mattress.
Suddenly, the chandelier flickered and went out, casting a cozy darkness over the room. Elizabeth, lying on her soft, squashy bed, turned over gently, her wristwatch softly beeping in the quiet. Then, quite unexpectedly, she saw a piece of paper appear out of nowhere on the nightstand. She got up inquisitively. With her heart pounding rapidly, she reached for the paper and unfolded it with trembling hands.
“Hey, it’s ti to dive into your next adventure! So get up, get out there, and see what’s waiting for you. Sending you all the good vibes! And honestly, maybe keep so tissues handy for the trip—V. de Angelo.”
Elizabeth's heart fluttered with excitent and nervousness as she rose from the bed and grasped the frost dagger hanging imposingly near her closet.
She moved toward the door, but since she didn’t check around first, she tripped right over sothing lying right in her path.
She instinctively reached for the wall for support, her fingers brushing against sothing hard hidden within the soft, squishy seaweeds that covered part of the wall—a strangely shaped embossnt. Accidentally, she had pressed it further into the wall. Suddenly, it lit up with a sharp click, breaking the eerie silence, and a humming noise emanated from beneath the bed.
Shocked, Elizabeth recoiled, nearly losing her grip on the dagger.
To her amazent, her bed was splitting open as if soone had violently pried it apart with a blunt knife.
Then, the cushions and mattress on the bed vanished in midair with a few little pops. The bedposts lted in midair, evaporated in midair within a flicker of dazzling light. With a sweep, the curtains were drawn apart and hung poised over the ceiling, their fabric fluttering as they tumbled downward. Yet the wind seized them halfway, as they faded without a trace into the empty air. The bed didn't stop pealing over until the upper part was pressed hard against the wall.
Elizabeth poked her head out carefully, and what she saw had nearly made her blood run cold.
A dark, eerie-looking secret passageway appeared between the huge, blunt gaps.
The muddy staircases crackled happily under her gaze; the steep slope was rising higher by the second, as if blocking her way on purpose. Charnel shrieks echoed sowhere deeper inside, and scarlet stains blanketed the dusty walls on both sides.
But this only gave Elizabeth a tug of excitent in her stomach.
Carefully, she withdrew her dagger and stepped into the tunnel that had just revealed itself. Darkness enveloped her as she descended leisurely, with only the opal hanging on her neck providing the faintest light. The bed banged shut behind her. Her heart pounding fiercely, Elizabeth descended deeper into the underground passage; for each step, she had to bend over and carefully stretch out to reach the next staircase. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her palms felt slippery, and her legs trembled under the weight of anticipation. Still, she pressed on. She sensed that sothing of great importance was concealed within this tunnel, and she was determined to uncover it.
When she finally reached a large platform, she skidded to a halt in her tracks, alert and cautious. Anything could happen out of the blue now, anywhere, anyti, and she was ready for whatever lay ahead. Suddenly, two glittering doors appeared out of nowhere, shimring in the darkness ahead of her—one inscribed with 'The Soulblender Institute,’ and the other just plain.
Driven by curiosity, Elizabeth approached the unknown door and—hesitating just for a mont—pushed it open.
It was a circular room with a spiral staircase that led to a sealed door at the top, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above her head. Different rolls of parchnt lay neatly on the long, wooden, high-polished table. Silk cushioning sofa sitting in the corner, hundreds of candles were sitting peacefully in a large holder, and a snowy cat was dozing in the vicinity.
Elizabeth wandered in the chamber, gaping at the extravagances.
But then, she heard distant footsteps and curses when she rounded the corner of the spiral staircases.
Without much ti thinking, Elizabeth flipped open the tablecloth, crawled over, and huddled underneath it just in ti when the door banged open.
Did you know this story is from ? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Josephine and the man Elizabeth recognized at once as the Fairy Lord walked into the room.
It was the first ti that Elizabeth noticed that Josephine had a striking resemblance to Joanna the Great.
"Hey, Joanna, what’s up with all this? I asked you to keep an eye on Dolores. First, you stashed that heirloom and let her sneak away; then you had her back at the Mystic Masquerade; and now you’ve got your kids trying to bust her out of jail. Seriously, what’s going on here?" the Fairy Lord snapped, his split nose jutting out from his thin lips. He jabbed a finger right at Josephine’s nose.
"Seriously, are you really cool with putting innocent lives on the line just so you don’t have to admit you ssed up?" Josephine shot back, anger firing from her eyes.
“Innocent? Oh, yeah? She just swooped in and took my sweet Morris from ! You really think that’s being innocent?” the Fairy Lord roared, his fingers shaking with rage.
"How can you say that? Morris is the guy who had Veronica offed! He’s done way worse—he's hurt and killed so many people. I an, what do you call that if not straight-up cruelty?"
Josephine stood her ground, not flinching as she locked eyes with him, even though he looked like he was about to blow a gasket. But instead of screeching at her, the Fairy Lord suddenly went dead silent. Out of nowhere, his icy stare shifted to Elizabeth, who was curled up and trembling under the table. A chill ran down her spine. She had this terrible gut feeling that things were about to get really ugly.
“Dolores has shown up! We’ve gotta get her outta here!” he scread, his face twisted with rage, his eyes practically sparking.
“Look, she’s your kid! You can’t just turn your back on her like that. Just think about it—she’s the one who needs you right now. She’s got your eyes, your smile, all that—she’s a piece of you! Co on, man, you can’t just walk away from that.”
That hit Elizabeth like a ton of bricks. The way he spat it out, filled with venom and madness, made her heart plumt. It was a threat that lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving her feeling like there was a boulder on her chest. Suddenly, everything felt different, like this mont was going to flip her world upside down.
The tension was electric, crackling all around them, and fear started creeping into her veins, all too real. She could hardly breathe, every instinct screaming at her that they were standing on the edge of a disaster.
The Fairy Lord marched straight toward Elizabeth, a nacing snarl curling at his lips.
As he drew near, his mouth split wide open, revealing a set of wicked fangs, glistening with so dark, fresh blood. His eyes, once a vibrant color, now swirled with a shadowy ink, giving him a ghostly, otherworldly look. With a sudden flare, massive, bony wings erupted from his back, tearing through his robes like they were made of parchnt.
In one fluid motion, he leaped forward, the air around him thick with danger, as if the very shadows were twisting in his wake. You could practically feel the chill radiating from him, a sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the air, making every hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
Josephine launched herself forward, arms spread wide like she was ready to take on the world, standing tall right in front of the Fairy Lord.
From her spot curled up under the table, Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice how her legs were shaking like crazy, a clear sign she was scared out of her mind, even though she was trying to play it cool.
But her voice? That rang out strong and clear, slicing through the heavy tension in the room. “If you’re gonna take her out, if you’ve really made up your mind about that, fine, then you’re gonna have to get through first.”
Elizabeth was totally taken aback. What made her step up like that?
In that mont of uncertainty, fragnts of mories began to surface, piecing together a bigger picture—the striking resemblance of Josephine and Carlos’s constant misnaming of her as Joanna suddenly made sense.
It all clicked into place—Josephine was not just another person in her life; she was Joanna the Great, Elizabeth's long-lost birth mother.
The Fairy Lord snarled with anger, twirling his sword in his hand, and he brandished its bloody blade with a snap of his finger. His thin, bloodless lips curled up into a evil sneer, his nostrils flared.
"How very touching, are you quite sure about this?" he sneered, coldness and danger filled his voice.
Yet Josephine didn't flinch, though her legs quaking beneath her like fragile saplings caught in a fierce storm, her heart stood strong.
She stood there, a towering guardian, much like a resilient tree protecting its tender sapling, a mother—a fierce mother ready to shield her child from any threat.
The Fairy Lord, with his cold, calculating gaze, looked upon her bravery as nothing more than a foolish gambit, for his heart had never been touched by the warmth of compassion. With a cruel glint in his eye, he raised his sword, its blade glistening ominously in the light, casting reflections that danced over his twisted, malevolent grin.
Then, without warning, he stabbed toward his wife's chest.
Penelope froze.Visions of her past swirled violently in her thoughts, images that sliced through her like a dagger. She saw the agonized faces of her victims. Dying—lying in pools of blood yet still resilient, resilient only to be forgotten by the universe.
Her world crumbled around her.
How could it be true? How could reality betray her so cruelly?
No, she couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t. Wasn’t faith supposed to anchor her in turbulent seas?
This couldn’t be the end of her story, could it?
In the darkest corners of her heart, did she dare to confront that maybe she had been the villain all along?
At first, she felt a wave of righteous anger surge within her, the flickering fla of defiance urging her to dismiss the whispers of doubt. How could she consider that her actions had led to such sorrow? But as that anger receded, it was replaced by a profound sense of guilt—a deep, gnawing sensation that gnawed at her very soul.
A deep-seated sadness enveloped her, knowing that her actions had—fundantally—caused pain instead of healing. What was the point of her fight if those she sought to protect were dood to be re shadows in a world indifferent to their sacrifices?
She wasn’t ready to lose herself—her monts of clarity, her mories, so painfully etched in her heart—were still hers to bear.
Josephine whimpered softly, her body wracked with pain as thick streams of blood cascaded from her waist, pooling at her feet like a crimson marker of her struggle. Even as rage and pain coursed through her, Josephine was not the kind of person to back down from a few threats. She faced them head-on, ready to fight for what she believed in, no matter the cost.
She stood there, determined, destined.
"You never win, evil never wins," She uttered through gritted teeth.
The Fairy Lord, without a doubt, was thoroughly enjoying the vibrant scene unfolding around him. his sword dripping blood, and his smile was crueler and colder than ever.
"Move, this is the last chance, rember, I can heal you in a second if you move aside." He reminded wickedly. "If you die, I can kill your precious, too."
But without a mont’s pause, Josephine rooted herself in place, her determination radiating as she embraced the stillness around her, "I won’t leave. Your sword, I've cursed it." Josephine laughed triumphantly. "And now, I fight for my daughter."
"Well, I'll grant your wish." Sniggered the Fairy Lord angrily.
With a flash of white light from his blade, quickly followed by a whimper of pain, a clatter of iron, and the Fairy Lord disappeared from the doorway.
Penelope stood and made her way to the cluttered corner, where mountains of old boxes lood like reluctant giants. Kneeling amidst the chaos, she felt a rush of determination for what lay ahead. She sifted through the dusty piles, her fingers brushing against faded labels and yellowed papers, intent on uncovering the history that would shape their world. As she dug deeper, she realized that the weight of age-old secrets pressed heavily upon her. Her vision began to blur from the dust motes dancing in the air, but she persisted, pulling out a folder that seed to shimr with a ghostly allure.
Carefully, she unfolded it, a breath catching in her throat as she read the words that swam into focus—her heart sank like a stone. The tale was steeped in an ancient ti, long before the cataclysm known as Ragnarok. It spoke of Odin, the All-Father, who had stealthily journeyed to the Kingdom of Death.
Was he seeking power or redemption?
He offered Hel a partnership, promising to lead her out of the Underworld in exchange for her help in reclaiming the seven talismans that housed the essence of the gods.
Yet beneath the surface of that promise lay betrayal—a thread woven thick with deceit.
Hel, trusting as ever, gathered the jewels, her heart bound to each shimring piece. When they finally t, the air thick with anticipation, she asked Odin to fulfill his vow. But in a twist of fate that sent shivers down Penelope’s spine, he turned on her, seizing the jewels with a ruthless grip. Penelope could almost hear the echoes of Hel’s struggle—the desperation of a being unwilling to be shackled any longer.
Bound by fury, Hel fought against Odin’s betrayal, but in a tragic, desperate move, she was struck down, her lifeblood staining the ground between them. In her final monts, Hel hurled the jewels across nine realms, scattering them like lost souls, hidden from Odin forever. Those gems held unimaginable power—the kind that could grant eternal life and dominate entire worlds.
The folder slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud, mirroring the gravity of the secrets it contained. What if those jewels still existed? What if they were waiting, just waiting, for soone courageous enough to reclaim them?
The folder fell to the ground in a quiet thud.
Elizabeth burst out from her hiding spot, and Josephine drew a sigh of relief.
She tried to hold herself together, but her legs gave out on her, and she crumpled to the floor in a pool of her own blood--crimison splashed beneath her. Her arms were just kind of dangling there—it was like they didn’t have any strength left in them.
“Dolores, evil's got nothing on the love we share. If your friends show up, tell them to duck into the sealed room. You’ve got the guts to save Alfheim—I know you do, you’re my brave girl.”
Josephine smiled, and her hands dropped to the floor in a sickening crunch; a trickle of blood ran down her face.
A phrase appeared above Josephine's lifeless body, glittering in golden lights.
'The night may be dark and cold, but there must be dawn sowhere ahead.'
But Elizabeth found it hard to keep on going; her hopes were shattered into pieces, and how long before she could reach so warmth to keep going on fearlessly?
All of these were a tyrant's prank to tear her apart.
But just like Lady Athena had said, Elizabeth was not the kind of person who would satisfy them. Well, sort of.
They wanted her to break, to give up.
Elizabeth wouldn't.
As long as there is still breath inside her body.
Elizabeth Jordan was always gonna fight back.
Reviews
All reviews (0)