Chapter two
Elizabeth was convicted of murder
Elizabeth spun and twirled, her body caught in the mesmerizing pull of a dazzling beam of light that shimmered like liquid gold.
Just as she felt the warmth surrounding her, she collided with something unexpectedly smooth and silky, the sensation sending a cascade of comfort through her.
As she regained her senses, Elizabeth found herself sprawled across a quilted bed adorned with laces. The air was infused with the gentle scent of lavender.
Feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her, Elizabeth flung herself onto the bed, surrendering to its enchantment. It wasn't her intention to drift off so quickly, but a deep, resonant voice suddenly reverberated within her, echoing through her thoughts like an ancient lullaby, whispering, “Sleep, my darling, sleep to discover.”
The words wrapped around her consciousness, urging her into a realm of dreams brimming with mystery yet to unfold.
She felt a tug in the depths of her stomach, a sudden shiver of chilliness weaved throughout her body, and was unexpectedly replaced by a burning, fiery churn that erupted from her temple.
What sprang forth was a tingle—followed by the sudden coldness and dizziness that fell over her body—not agony, not discomfort, but a cozy and pleasant feeling that was enough to draw her to sleep.
The air she breathed out turned into steam and dissolved into multicolored beams of light that swirled into thin air, into whatnot that disappeared with the wind that swept it away.
Elizabeth closed her eyes lazily and felt the soft breeze blow away her hair, her worries, and her consciousness…
In the dream, Elizabeth was walking to the university in her usual lace dress and her glittering high heels; her hair was drawn into a tight bun at the back of her head, and she wore a pair of sunglasses, the lenses of which reflected glorious lights across the surface. She flung her bag over her shoulder as she entered the university.
Vibrant banners danced energetically in the warm breeze, their rich reds, bright blues, and sunny yellows swirling together like a rainbow caught in a joyous whirl. The cheerful laughter of the seniors bounced off the walls, a harmonious melody that echoed through the sunlit corridors.
Outside, the sun blazed down mercilessly, setting the pavement aglow and turning the air thick and heavy with humidity.
Inside, the air conditioners struggled valiantly, their mechanical hum competing with the sounds of celebration.
At the same time, ceiling fans spun furiously overhead, their blades slicing through the atmosphere with a persistent whoosh, sending sporadic gusts of warm air.
Despite the lively surroundings, Elizabeth remained seated, a sense of unease unfurling like a dark cloud within her. Every cheerful exclamation felt distant, and she couldn't shake off the stiffness in her body, as if she were an observer in a world of laughter she longed to be part of but felt somehow disconnected from.
Perhaps it was because students frequently brushed past her, hitting her squarely between the shoulders without acknowledgment, or perhaps...
Elizabeth was reluctant to dwell on the flying lady, yet her thoughts were dominated by the vision of golden eagle wings.
What if it was related to her?
Groups of seniors hurried past, colliding with Elizabeth without apology, whispering complaints, and ignoring her presence. They consistently pretended that Elizabeth was invisible.
Just because she was highly intellectual—always the first to hand in assignments and the top student in every subject—many of her schoolmates took this as proof that she was a misfit, even more like a nerd.
They believed that she came off as just as flamboyant, nerdy, and pretentious as any other oddball, and no one had ever liked her.
Yet she was accustomed to that; she appreciated that no one was committed to transforming her chemicals into acid, nor had her locker been defaced with blood-red insults.
Today promised to be perfect.
However, with her luck, perfection was impossible, not even for one hour.
Elizabeth made her way through the bustling corridors towards the cafeteria, a palpable sense of unease knotting in her stomach as she held onto the hope that her day would remain uneventful.
The rich, aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as she approached the bustling counter, where she eagerly ordered her go-to beverage: a small caramel syrup cappuccino, its rich, creamy texture perfectly complemented by the sweet caramel drizzle on top.
With her drink in hand, she couldn't resist the enticing sight of a colorful tortilla nestled tantalizingly on a plate nearby, leading her to select a cheesy enchilada accompanied by a generous side of freshly mashed guacamole.
As she navigated the labyrinth of benches, searching for a quiet corner to enjoy her meal, a sudden hint of anxiety startled her. Elizabeth halted dead on the spot as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
She tried to walk, yet her legs felt like stones. Just as she was wondering, her peaceful reverie was abruptly shattered by a sharp voice cutting through the din.
“Look, girls, who’s that? Our nerdy girl is struggling to find her boyfriend again, eh?”
Elizabeth’s heart sank as her gaze locked onto the source of the mocking tone. It was none other than the Evil Whirlpool, the infamous group of four girls who ruled the school hallways with fear and intimidation.
Their leader, Janet, strutted forward with an air of superiority, her eyes glinting with mischief as she seized the collar of Elizabeth’s sweater, yanking her forward with surprising strength.
Leaning in, her smile twisted into a malicious grin that hinted at her sadistic pleasure, Janet sneered, “Need some help, nerd?” As Elizabeth glanced around, her stomach churned at the sight of countless smartphones brandished like weapons, recording her humiliation for all to see.
Faces filled with glee turned towards her, and a familiar taunt echoed in her ears: “Is our nerdiest nerd about to fall flat on her face?”
Desperate to mask her fear, Elizabeth forced a trembling smile, which only seemed to fuel the fire of Janet’s amusement.
Sensing the opportunity to escalate the situation, Janet signaled her minions to capture every moment on their screens. With deliberate slowness, she reached for Elizabeth’s precious cappuccino, raising it in mock cheers before taking a huge gulp, savoring the very drink that held Elizabeth’s hopes for a calming lunch.
In an instant, one of Janet's followers tossed her Elizabeth’s backpack, and with a wicked gleam in her eyes, Janet tipped the cup, pouring the remaining frothy contents into the bag.
Panic surged through Elizabeth as she suddenly recalled that her borrowed library book—a cherished, hardbound edition—was nestled inside, an irreplaceable treasure now at risk.
Tears threatened to spill, but sobbing wasn't an option—not with so many phones capturing every moment.
Just as she braced herself, Janet slammed the glass down onto Elizabeth's tray with a triumphant flourish, her spitting out a wad of chewing gum inside as if it were the grand finale of a cruel performance.
“Now, thank us,” Janet ordered with a sneer, her grip tightening around Elizabeth’s collar, rendering her momentarily breathless. With a devilish twinkle in her eye, Janet emerged holding a jar of jam, her smile widening as she declared, “Tough, eh?”
The next heart-stopping moment came as Elizabeth felt the cold, slimy jam cascade down over her head, its sticky sweetness mingling with her humiliation. It dripped down her nose, pooling beneath her feet, a grotesque blend of apple jam with her shattered dignity—an additional loss mopped away carelessly by the janitor, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of laughter and her own, now fragile, sense of self.
Elizabeth lowered her head; tears swirled in her eyelids, and her nose was reddening. She felt Janet’s nails digging into her skin—so painful, so silent.
Janet punched her squarely between the shoulders and, as she turned on her heels, her long hair whipped Elizabeth’s face relentlessly before disappearing into the crowd.
Elizabeth grabbed her heavy backpack and rushed out of the cafeteria, feeling another second in there was unbearable, since the janitor kept shooting her disgusting looks, and the students were all laughing and pointing at her hysterically.
Elizabeth made her way back to the hall, her steps heavy and reluctant, until she finally sank into a cold, hard chair in a dimly lit corner. The atmosphere buzzed with the exuberant chatter of seniors, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of laughter and gossip, yet no one even glanced in her direction.
Around her, the chairs remained conspicuously empty, as groups of students huddled together, eagerly exchanging anecdotes and inside jokes, their faces alight with camaraderie.
As she sat there, an acute sense of isolation washed over her.
This was a scene she knew all too well—a painful reminder of the neglect she had faced since childhood.
After an hour of monotonous speeches, the loudspeaker announced, "The graduation celebration begins NOW! Do not be late!"
Students hurriedly exited toward the stadium, with Elizabeth being pushed along in the crowd.
Several seniors obstructed Elizabeth's path, trapping her amid a crowded corridor; many were laughing and speculating about the punishment awaiting her for arriving late.
One certainty was that they were responsible for delaying Elizabeth, yet this was how people often behaved. It appeared to them as a harmless jest, but for Elizabeth, it meant hours of further humiliation.
But they were, generally speaking, having fun in Elizabeth's gloom.
Yet despite all of this, Elizabeth could still get there on time, except that seniors were not the only ones who wanted to give her a hard time.
“Miss Jordan, can you help me take those coffees to the stadium?” asked an elegant lady from behind. She was Elizabeth's French teacher, Miss Bianca. She shoved the coffees into Elizabeth's arms, knocking her textbooks to the floor.
"But I have to get to the stadium in one minute!" yelled Elizabeth in protest.
"You can get there on time." Smiled Miss Bianca, but something about her smile didn't feel right, though.
Without another word, Miss Bianca left, leaving Elizabeth with a handful of coffee in the middle of a crowded corridor.
Seniors were rushing through the hallway, totally ignoring that Elizabeth was holding five cups of coffee. With an earsplitting crunch, the cups fell to the ground, and coffee spilled all over the floor, splashing onto her dress. But no one passing by helped her, and by the time she had finished the residues, the celebration had already begun.
"Miss Jordan, why are you always late?" came Miss Bianca's harsh voice.
"Miss, you've just told me to—"
"Yes, that is not a reason for being late," said Miss. Bianca briskly.
Elizabeth said nothing.
She looked down at the floor, at her coffee-stained dress.
Then she looked up tentatively.
But all the faces that looked back at her were smirking and giggling.
“Don't you ever check the coast before you set off running like a fool?” they laughed, their voice icy cold, gloating, their eyes flickering with malice.
“Stand over there, clean the rubbish, and sweep the corridor,” Ordered Miss. Bianca. She looked almost pleased with herself.
With a piercing gaze that hinted at malevolence, Miss Bianca assertively cleared her throat and stated, "Miss Jordan, I regret to inform you that you are not permitted to graduate from here.”
"What? I am merely late for a stupid gathering. I am a straight-A student and passed all examinations with perfect scores. How could all of you be so cruel to me? Or will it be too regretful if you miss the opportunity to punish me unjustly? You cannot do this!" Elizabeth protested, straightening her posture.
“Shut up, Jordan, go back to your cleaning.” Miss Bianca sneered, “Come here.”
She was about to lead Elizabeth to a deserted corridor when a voice rang in Elizabeth's ear, which made her jump.
“Stop. Don’t follow her, she’s trying to destroy you.”
Elizabeth came to a startled halt, Miss. Bianca glared at her disdainfully, “What are you doing, Jordan?”
“Nothing,” Elizabeth muttered, and kept walking.
“You know what, my dear, I’m not trying to destroy you, I am trying to help you, to save you.” Whispered Miss Bianca, skidding to a pause.
“Yeah,” said Elizabeth skeptically.
“I’m leaving you here, and remember to sweep the corner,” Miss Bianca announced, her voice sweetly laced with mischief.
A knowing smile played on her lips as she turned away, her figure disappearing into the enveloping shadows like a whisper in the night.
Left alone, Elizabeth glanced down at the dusty corner where the broom stood neglected, its bristles worn and splintered. The heavy fabric of her dress, once vivid and full of life, now bore unsightly stains of coffee. A somber weight settled in her chest, as if the air had thickened, making it hard to breathe.
Suddenly, the tears began to flow, hot and uncontrollable, cascading down her cheeks like a torrent of despair. She felt her legs buckle beneath her, as if the floor itself had become a sinkhole of sorrow.
With a soft thud, she collapsed onto the cold, wooden floor, her back pressed against the wall as she surrendered to her feelings. Her hair fell like a dark curtain, shielding her from an unkind world, while she struggled to contain the tide of emotions swirling within her.
The world expected her to be strong, to stand tall against adversity, yet the facade crumbled beneath the weight of her grief.
Even as she attempted to hide her vulnerability, the sobs escaped her lips, each sound raw and pitiful.
Her once bright, eager eyes now shimmered with tears, reddening as if lit from within by an inner fire of anguish. The tip of her nose glowed an angry shade of pink, betraying her attempt to hold it all together.
Desperately, she rubbed the coffee stains on her dress, as though by scrubbing the fabric, she could also wipe away the relentless fears clawing at her heart. The echoes of mocking laughter still lingered in her mind, sharp and cruel, piercing her spirit like a barrage of icy daggers.
In that moment of despair, she felt utterly isolated, drowning in a sea of sorrow, left to suffocate in the merciless reality of her solitude.
“What's up, Eliza?” a caring voice rang.
Elizabeth flinched with a startle.
“Oh, Victoria, I'm fine.” Elizabeth smiled bitterly. She turned and wiped her tears with her sleeves.
“No, no, something’s wrong. Eliza, I can sense it, so tell me what's wrong, all right?” whispered Victoria as she knelt beside Elizabeth and patted her back gently.
She paused for a moment, her eyes filled with empathy, and smiled reassuringly. "I know it's tough, but you can get through this," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "I'm here for you, Eliza, no matter what. You'll come through all this safe and sound."
The warmth of her words wrapped around Elizabeth like a comforting blanket, and the sincere hope lacing her tone gradually began to ease the weight of Elizabeth’s worries.
“Thank you, Victoria,” Elizabeth murmured, her hands trembling slightly as she struggled to regain her composure.
Victoria intertwined her fingers with Elizabeth's, gripping them firmly as a wave of warmth surged between them. Elizabeth lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Victoria, who wore a reassuring smile that brightened her face. “Everything will get better,” she said, her voice filled with unwavering hope. Without hesitation, Victoria enveloped Elizabeth in her arms, pulling her close as she deepened the embrace, creating a cocoon of comfort and support. The world outside faded away, leaving only the soothing presence of each other and the promise of brighter days ahead.
Suddenly, a bell rang at the far end of the corridor, and students poured out of the stadium.
Victoria straightened up. She leaned forward and whispered, “I must go now, but I have a feeling that—”
Elizabeth stood up quickly and pretended to be cleaning the floor all the time. But the corner of her eyes stayed fixed upon Victoria’s silhouette as she went out of sight in the crowd.
All of a sudden, a voice shouted aloud, “Aside! Stand aside!”
The crowd obeyed at once as a tall girl with curly golden hair flowing down from her shoulders strode toward Elizabeth. Her emerald eyes glinted with delight.
She was the leader of the Student Congress, Janet Jasmine.
“So, doing community service, eh?” asked Janet with a relentless sneer.
She advanced on Elizabeth, but just when she was able to touch Elizabeth, a silver dagger appeared out of nowhere, and it slashed into Janet's chest automatically.
Janet staggered, choking, then collapsed onto the ground.
Elizabeth stood there, feeling aghast.
“How on earth—I didn’t do anything—” she muttered, looking scared.
“You killed her?” shrieked one voice in the crowd.
“No, she, I don't know, I have nothing to do with this!” retorted Elizabeth.
But in front of such evidence, her protest sounded so weak.
“Miss Jordan?”
It was Miss Bianca, and she appeared both furious and ashen, her face drawn tight with displeasure. Her usually well-groomed hair was a tangled mess, with strands haphazardly falling into her eyes. Her shoes, once polished to a gleam, were now caked in a layer of dirt.
“What happened?” she asked shrilly.
“Miss Bianca! Jordan killed her, I saw it!” yelled another voice.
Panic flickered like wildfire in the crowd; they backed away, circled Miss Bianca and Elizabeth, shivering.
“Explain.” Demanded Miss Bianca, thunderstruck.
“Look at you, the blood had spilled all over your dress, at such a distance, how is it possible if you aren't the culprit?”
Elizabeth looked downward in horror—the coffee stain had expanded into a blood-red hue, spreading further.
"Coffee stain, Miss," Elizabeth stammered, her pallid face ashen.
“Murder in the university, I guess you are going to the police station to explain. Jordan, now, may I have you arrested?”
Miss Bianca wheeled around, the police circled Elizabeth, their breath heavy, and the handcuffs were clanking around their belts.
There was only one voice inside Elizabeth's head: She won't be arrested, she won't let this happen, never.
Elizabeth sprang to her feet, adrenaline surging through her as she wove her way through the throngs of people.
With the wind whipping past her, she sprinted as if every ounce of her being was propelled by some primal instinct. She hurtled through the school gate, leaping over the chain-link fence and bounding across the gurgling stream that shimmered in the sunlight.
Each stride felt like an eternity, and exhaustion clawed at her muscles, but she pressed on, driven by an urgent need to escape. Finally, with her body trembling and her breath coming in ragged gasps, Elizabeth collapsed onto the cool, green lawn, the soft blades of grass cushioning her fall. She lay there, heart racing, her frantic eyes darting as the police approached, their footsteps heavy and purposeful.
With a rising dread, she shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the inevitable clink of cold metal around her wrists. Yet, instead of feeling the harsh bite of handcuffs, a surreal sensation enveloped her, as if the earth itself had reached up, pulling her down into its embrace. In that moment, she felt an otherworldly force cradle her, drawing her deeper into the ground.
Chapter three
Elizabeth broke out of jail
A clatter of iron chains echoed hauntingly in the suffocating silence. Elizabeth stretched, her muscles taut and strained, yet heavy iron chains bound her legs in place.
With a sudden jolt, she was jerked awake, heart racing as the reality of her predicament seeped in. Her gaze swept across the dimly lit confines of her cell, the cold steel biting painfully into her wrists where several chains bound her to the damp stone wall. Her clothes lay in tattered shreds, a mockery of what they had once been, and her arms were suspended at an unnatural angle, tethered by thick cuffs that caused a sharp, throbbing pain she couldn’t quite ignore.
It hurt—hunger gnawed at her insides, twisting her stomach with increasing ferocity.
She had been trapped here for hours, perhaps days.
The air around her felt thick with dread, and she was desperate to believe this was all just a nightmarish dream.
But deep down, the weight of truth crushed her thoughts—she didn’t murder anyone.
The echo of heavy footsteps reverberated ominously through the corridor outside, sending a jolt of fear coursing through her veins.
Elizabeth backed away, pressing her back against the cold, damp wall, a futile attempt to shield herself from whatever fate awaited her.
She didn't want to face her interrogators; she was innocent—this was a grotesque mistake that threatened to swallow her whole.
Shadowy figures emerged outside her cell, and she flinched, her breath quickening as panic surged within her. The creaking of the cell door sent a chill up her spine.
Two hooded figures stepped inside, their movements deliberate and menacing. They began to unbind the chains that had held her captive, the metal clinking ominously as they did so.
As the last of the chains fell away, Elizabeth stumbled forward, wincing as the cool air kissed her bruised skin, relief flooding her for just an instant.
But before she could let out a sigh of freedom, they seized her arms and snapped a pair of smaller cuffs around her wrists. A combination of anger and exhaustion coursed through her veins, and though she wanted to scream, the weight of weariness kept her muted.
Her legs faltered beneath her.
And she slumped downwards.
The guards dragged her out of the cell and down a dimly lit corridor.
The sound of chains clattering against the stone floor harmonized with their heavy footsteps as they turned a corner, hauling her into a small, sparse interrogation room.
The unforgiving chill of the room seeped into her bones as they cuffed her to a cold wooden chair, the metal biting into her delicate skin. One of them reached up and rang a tarnished bell hanging from the ceiling, the sound echoing throughout the grim room.
A white curtain rolled up, revealing a figure stepping through from the adjacent room. A man entered with an unsettling calmness, his hands raised in a dismissive gesture towards the guards. They shuffled out, the door clanging shut behind them.
The man approached her with deliberate slowness, his piercing, eagle-like eyes scrutinizing her every detail, assessing her with an unsettling intensity that made her skin crawl. He drew out a chair, its legs scraping against the stone floor, and lowered himself into it with a predatory ease.
Stroking his well-groomed mustache, his voice dripped with condescension as he proclaimed, “I hope the cell suited you perfectly.” Elizabeth met his gaze with seething defiance, her eyes narrowed into slits, yet she bit her tongue, withholding a torrent of rage that threatened to erupt.
“Midgard is your home,” he continued, his tone smooth yet tinged with menace. “You can go nowhere else.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing further, gauging her reaction. “I’m not going to torture you unless you give me a reason to.”
Her silence resonated in the air between them like a challenge. The man leaned forward slightly, and his voice lowered conspiratorially. “Remember, you were arrested because—”
“—You made a dumb mistake—” she interrupted, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.
The man rose from his seat. He approached the sleek device on the table, its surface glinting under the soft overhead light.
With a steady hand, he pressed the vibrant red button located on the side of the charger. A faint beep echoed in the room.
Without warning, a surge of electricity coursed through her, igniting her senses in a blaze of unbearable pain. She bit down on her lips, blood filling her mouth as she struggled to stifle a scream, her vision blurring and merging with a haze of red. Through the chaos, she forced her eyes to remain fixed on the man, who simply smiled, the corners of his mouth curling upward in delight.
“I warned you, I’ll only punish you if you remain obnoxious.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Elizabeth managed to spit out, her voice hoarse but unwavering.
“You murdered the highly respected Head of the Student Council. Yet the merciful Fairy Lord—our leader—granted you life for a reason. Locking you here is for your own sake.”
Just as she opened her mouth to retort, a loud knock echoed sharply from the doorway, cutting through the tense atmosphere. The man turned his attention to the door, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features.
“Looks like someone’s here to explain,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Enjoy.”
He stood and sauntered toward the door, swinging it wide open, inviting another impeccably dressed man to enter. They exchanged curt handshakes, the interrogator allowing the newcomer to take the seat opposite Elizabeth.
“Well, daughter,” he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, devoid of any trace of warmth, “you’ve taken a life.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, her heart racing as disbelief tangled with horror.
“D-dad?”
He waved a hand, dismissing her confusion as if it were mere annoyance, his expression an unyielding mask.
“You won’t find a way out of this easily.”
“Father, they tortured me—the interrogator—” she pleaded, desperation clawing at her voice.
“They failed to break you completely, didn’t they?” he shot back coldly. “They couldn’t force you to admit to anything, could they?”
“Father, I’m your—”
“I am not your father,” he interrupted, the sharpness of his words cutting deeper than any blade. “You’ve disappointed me.”
“Please—just listen to me—tell me you’ll help,” Elizabeth wailed, her voice breaking, sorrow twisting through her veins. “I didn’t do this!”
His gaze was unreadable; it held no flicker of compassion.
“Help?” he echoed, a cruel smile creeping onto his lips. “Why should I? You’ve proven yourself to be quite resourceful in the most dangerous ways. Perhaps you’ve just become more… interesting.”
“But I’m your daughter!” she cried, the betrayal hitting her like a physical blow. “You can’t turn your back on me!”
“Ah, but you see, this wasn’t the daughter I raised. This... this is what you’ve chosen.” His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotional warmth. “You’ve become a stranger to me.”
“Please,” she gasped, anguish spilling over, “don’t do this.” He stood there, unmoved, his cruelty a cold blanket wrapping around her despair.With a languid disregard, he leaned back and pressed a button on the wall.
Electric shocks surged through her body, each pulse igniting a raw, searing pain that tore a scream from her throat, echoing through the confines of her dark prison.
As her world exploded into chaos, she fought against the agony, yet it was the knowledge that her own father was the architect of her torment that twisted the knife deeper into her heart.
Amidst her suffering, a sudden, fragmented memory flickered back—an echo of a pain she thought she had buried long ago.
It was hauntingly familiar, not from this cruel dungeon, but from a time lost in the shadows of her mind—a memory that transcended the bounds of time and space.
Just when she thought she could bear no more, as abruptly as it had begun, the pain receded, leaving behind an aching emptiness.
In that silence, the weight of betrayal hung heavy in the air, a bittersweet reminder that her torment was not only physical—it was woven into the very fabric of her existence—binding her to the one person she longed to trust the most.
Christopher, her father, unfastened the cuffs binding her to the chair, gripping her arm with a vice-like hold as he pulled her out of the room and across the cold, cavernous hallway leading back to her cell.
“You failed me,” he growled.
His grip tightening on her shoulders.
“Running around, hearing things you should never know. Reading those mythologies, witnessing phenomena that should remain hidden—you unsealed them.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The intensity of his hold felt as if it would crack her bones.
“Now you call me father?”
He shoved Elizabeth back into the cell with a forceful motion, slamming the door shut behind her. She heard the chains rattling as they locked, sealing her in darkness once again.
Despair blossomed within her, and the weight of her father’s cruelty sank into her bones.
Days bled into one another, a relentless cycle that stretched beyond the grasp of time. In that stifling cell, the world outside felt like a distant memory, fading into a whisper as shadows crept languidly into every corner.
No windows broke the gloom; no light dared to disturb the darkness.
The clanking of chains echoed.
As the hours crawled by, the very walls of the cell seemed to inch closer.
Elizabeth’s vision wavered, blurred by the haze of hunger and despair that clung to her like a second skin.
Days without food melted away into weeks, and with each passing moment, reality slipped further from her grasp.
She had lost count, lost care; the only truth left was the gnawing ache in her belly and the suffocating silence pressing down upon her.
No one came.
No voices echoed.
No steps approached her door.
Alone, a darkness consumed her thoughts, twisting them into bitter reflections of her past.
If only she had chosen differently, stayed upstairs.
If only she had kept her distance from Janet.
The weight of her regret bore heavily upon her, suffocating hope like a weed choked by weeds. With trembling limbs, Elizabeth pushed herself off the ground, palms raw and bruised from their futile grip on the cold bars.
Defiance flickered in her heart—a fleeting ember against the consuming darkness. She longed for something, anything, that could pull her from this nightmarish limbo. But hope remained elusive, a distant dream that slipped further from her reach with each unchanging day.
As she leaned against the unforgiving wall, tears surged, hot and stinging, ready to break free.
In that moment, a strange sensation teased her spine—a shift, an awareness that whispered of something amiss. In a heartbeat, she froze, heart pounding in rhythm with the sudden urgency of discovery.
Turning slowly, her breath caught in her throat as she beheld a long groove etched deep into the stone. It pulsed with a mesmerizing blue light, ancient yet alive, crackling softly as it beckoned her closer.
The illumination danced along the edges of the groove, weaving a tapestry of potential in the midst of her despair.
And in that instant, Elizabeth knew.
With a soft click, the light seamlessly slid into the wall, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, sunlight poured into her cell, bathing it in a golden warmth that felt almost foreign.
She blinked against the brightness, reality shattering around her as she stared, her breath quickening. Something ignited within her, a raw instinct demanding action.
Chapter four
Dream or Reality
Gingerly, Elizabeth stepped into the tunnel, her heart pounding with an exhilarating rhythm that surged through her veins like a tempest unleashed.
Each heartbeat sang of freedom, an intoxicating blend of fear and exhilaration that coursed through her.
The damp walls loomed ominously around her, their rough surfaces a canvas adorned with intricate carvings of the northern gods.
With every step deeper into the tunnel, Elizabeth felt her spirit swell, a relentless surge of freedom echoing off the ancient stone walls.
The thrill coursed through her veins, tightening around her like a cloak woven from the threads of defiance, igniting a fierce determination that kept her moving forward.
Hope bloomed in her chest, a pulse that transitioned from a mere heartbeat to a roaring inferno, fueled by the sweet ache of longing for a life unshackled.
Dark memories flickered through her mind like ghostly wisps of the Northern Lights—glimmers of laughter shared with childhood friends.
But intertwined with those joyful moments was the shadow of Balder, his tragic story twisting through her consciousness like a dark ribbon.
The tunnel constricted around her, dark and ominous, yet she pressed on, driven by a visceral hunger for more than just survival—a longing for connection, freedom, and the fierce joy that lingered just beyond the shadows of her past.
Each echo of her footsteps was a promise to herself: that she would emerge from this darkness, not just alive, but alive with purpose.
The carved visages of the gods provided a strange comfort—Odin, with his piercing, all-seeing eye, perched upon his throne, wielding wisdom like a sword. And in that moment, Elizabeth felt the weight of her choices bearing down on her, a fierce determination igniting in her soul, urging her onward, deeper into the unknown.
The sight of him sent a shiver through her—could she not too gather the courage to forge her own fate?
But then, as if the tunnel itself conspired against her, a void loomed ahead, flickering with a mysterious allure that beckoned her closer. It pulsated like a heartbeat in the dark—a haunting melody of promise and danger intertwining.
Her breath caught, and a thrilling chill ran down her spine.
What wonders—or perhaps horrors—awaited her in that shimmering abyss?
A realm of secrets, where shadows twist and whisper, With each ripple a promise, each glint a surprise.
Would she dance with the light, or face the dark skies?
Glimmers of beauty or nightmares that creep, an echo of freedom, yet depths that run deep, as the waves weave a tale that pulls at her core.
In that mesmerizing void, what fate lies in store?
With a trembling hand, Elizabeth reached out to touch the enigmatic emptiness that hung just beyond her grasp. The moment her fingertips met its surface, an electric shock coursed through her, igniting her senses and heightening her awareness.
The void stretched wide, a gaping maw that seemed to call her name in a whisper both sweet and sinister, pulling her into its depths.
Elizabeth slowly fluttered her eyes open, the dim light filtering through the curtains casting soft shadows in the room.
As she blinked to adjust her vision, she took in her surroundings—the familiar bed, the colorful poster of her favorite band plastered on the wall, and the cluttered nightstand topped with a stack of well-thumbed novels and an empty mug that still emitted a faint aroma of coffee.
A lingering sense of disorientation washed over her, and she wondered if she had merely been lost in a dream, perhaps a peculiar one at that.
In a sudden burst of clarity, she sat upright, her heart racing, and scanned the room with an anxious gaze. The vibrant colors of the poster seemed to dance in her mind, and the details of the nightstand suddenly felt overwhelmingly significant.
It was unmistakable—she had jolted awake from a bizarre dream that left her breathless, yet vivid fragments still lingered.
Elizabeth snatched her phone from the table, her heart racing with anticipation as she dialed her best friend Victoria.
“Vicky, you won’t believe the weirdest dream I just had—”
But her excitement evaporated in an instant. Her voice faltered, and her gaze fell to her dress, suddenly horrified by what she saw.
With wide, trembling eyes, she gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as shock washed over her features.
The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor in a loud crash that echoed in the tense silence of the room. She stood frozen, staring down at the splotches of mud and a deep, dark coffee stain marring her once pristine dress.
“No, no, this cannot be happening, no—” she murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief and mounting dread.
The messy chaos on her outfit screamed at her instinctively. And in the pit of her stomach, she knew all too well who was behind it—Miss Bianca.
Elizabeth ran toward the door, but then she saw a piece of newspaper stuck through the gap in her bedroom door.
She picked it up tentatively, but what she had seen made her nearly faint.
She dropped the newspaper on the floor with her hands trembling uncontrollably.
The headline, written boldly in crimson ink, read,
'Murderer in the university, we caught the culprit at last!'
It proclaimed that Janet Jasmine, the student council president, had been murdered publicly in front of the senior class.
Witnesses alleged they saw Elizabeth Jordan wielding a dagger and stabbing Jasmine at the end of the school day.
Jordan had been summoned to court but remained silent, which resulted in a life sentence.
Meanwhile, condolences were expressed for the victim and gratitude for the capture of the perpetrator.
Elizabeth's mind went utterly blank, as if a switch had been flipped off. She sank back onto her bed, her body heavy with an invisible weight, lying there as if entranced in some hypnotic state.
Drawing the quilt over her head, she let the tears spill quietly at first, their warmth contrasting starkly with the chill of her surroundings.
Memories of relentless bullying at school flooded her mind—taunts, laughter, and isolation—and the harrowing conviction as a juvenile murderer clenched tightly around her heart.
The pain was suffocating.
Yet, amid the storm of despair, a singular thought struck her with the force of a lightning bolt, bright and blinding.
What had happened before she set off to school that morning?
The memory felt more like a shadow, teasing her from the edges of her consciousness.
Suddenly propelled by a sense of urgency, Elizabeth rose from the bed with a start, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she tried to dredge up the details. But it was as if someone had erased those moments from her mind entirely; she was left grappling with nothingness.
Feeling a growing tension in her chest, Elizabeth dashed to the window, flinging it open wide. The gentle breeze wafted in, brushing against her flushed cheeks. In an instant, fragmented memories began to surge back, brighter and more vivid than before.
Shreds of scenes flashed in and out so quickly that they left no trace.
Elizabeth attempted to grasp these memories, but the more she tried, the faster they seemed to disappear, slipping away just as quickly as they arrived.
It felt as though they were dissolving into the air, leaving her even more puzzled and frustrated.
Just when she was about to surrender to the haze of confusion, a voice whispered from the depths of her being, warm yet haunting,
“Remember, your dream—the time you fell asleep, all the experiences you had within it. Do those memories resonate with you?”
Startled, Elizabeth spun around, scanning her room, but there was no one in sight. The silence felt heavy, pressing against her from all sides.
Gradually, panic gave way to a strange calm as she began to repeat under her breath, like a mantra, that there had been a dream, without a doubt—a vivid, unsettling dream of her last day at school.
Instinctively, she reached for her smartphone, fingers trembling slightly. The screen lit up sharply in the dim light, and her heart raced as she opened a message from the school.
A photograph materialized before her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat.
It depicted her surrounded by a throng of students and police, a scene so horrifyingly familiar.
Her dress was splattered with blood, a silver dagger lay ominously at her feet, gleaming menacingly in the harsh light of day.
This was precisely the same scene that had played out in her dream—a terrible echo of her subconscious.
But what could this mean?
Was it merely a coincidence, or was fate intertwining her reality with her nightmares in a sinister dance?
Yet, what Elizabeth failed to notice, the detail that slipped past her distracted mind, was the figure standing beside Miss Bianca in the photograph, a shape that seemed to rise from the very depths of her nightmares.
It was Janet Jasmine, her presence unnervingly placid as she rested her head on Miss Bianca’s shoulder.
A disconcerting smile played on her lips, one that lacked warmth and carried a macabre edge. Janet's eyes, wide and fixed, locked onto Elizabeth’s gaze through the lens of the camera, sending an icy chill coursing down her spine as their pupils pierced through the photo as if reaching out to her directly.
What was the secret between Janet and Miss Bianca? What was the mystery they forbade Elizabeth from getting a heads-up on?
And where were her parents prohibited her from going?
Elizabeth got up, but her mother was nowhere to be found; her parents’ recording had been deleted.
Everything was so weird and even a bit eerie, speaking of which.
Elizabeth drew her glance downwards.
She could barely make out the faint silhouette of the setting sun on the horizon.
But what struck her as particularly odd was the fact that, despite the clock inching closer to afternoon, not a single resident could be seen wandering the pavements. The streets, usually animated with the buzz of life, lay hauntingly still, as if the town itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold.
And the nearby noticeboard just beyond her window was—
No way.
The entire board was a chaotic collage of posters showcasing her image, each one promising a tantalizing prize for anyone who could track her down, adding to the air of desperation that clung to the air.
Elizabeth’s skin prickled with unease as she instinctively reached into her pockets. But as her fingers brushed against something unexpected, a wave of dread washed over her. Instead of the familiar smoothness of her smartphone, a cold, blood-stained silver dagger emerged into her palm, its wicked edge glinting menacingly under the dim light.
A scream tore from her throat, laced with terror. In a panic, she stumbled backward, her heart racing.
Just then, a voice pierced through the fog of fear, calling her name from outside of her bedroom.
She spun around, her breath catching in her throat, but relief flooded her as her eyes landed on a familiar figure.
Chapter five
The Party that Bled
“Darling?” The gentle voice sliced through the shadows that clung to her thoughts like a fog.
Elizabeth stared, the tension in her shoulders melting.
“Darling, what a bizarre dream you’ve had. You’ve slept for a whole week up in your bedroom.” Her mother’s voice trailed into her ears, a mixture that left Elizabeth with more questions than answers.
A whole week was damn right.
Yet asleep?
Their syllables echoed in her mind, each one an anchor pulling her deeper into the confusion.
She glanced down at her wrist, noticing that the reddish imprints left by the cuffs were gone, replaced by smooth skin. Her clothing, crisp and clean, was a stark white that felt foreign against her flesh.
Maybe Selena was right; perhaps this was all just a bizarre dream.
Groggily, she pushed herself up, her mind still foggy with sleep.
Her thoughts trailed off as she reluctantly dragged herself out of the comfort of her bed, the cool air brushing against her skin. She stood hesitantly in front of her bedroom door, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling within her.
She wanted desperately to know what awaited her outside those four walls, but a nagging fear crept in—what if Selena had been deceiving her all along?
With a deep breath, Elizabeth threw open the door, her heart racing.
In an instant, a pair of strong hands grabbed her and pulled her beyond.
The family room was a tableau of normalcy that felt unnaturally out of place in the midst of her disarray. There, on the large, cushioned sofa, Christopher lounged casually, the remnants of half-drunk coffee cradled in one hand, while a magazine lay spread open on his lap, its pages fluttering lazily in the breeze from an open window.
But no amount of warmth could erase the sharp, stinging memories that flickered in and out of focus in Elizabeth's mind—her father’s harsh interrogations, the electric pain that had settled like a shroud of dread around her brain.
Was it all just a damn figment of her imagination?
Christopher's gaze met Elizabeth’s, and he shifted in his seat with a smile that seemed to radiate comfort.
“Greetings, darling,” he said, his voice smooth and syrupy.
He stood up and crossed the distance to her, enveloping her in an embrace that felt stifling.
Instinctively, fear rippled through Elizabeth like ice water coursing through her veins. She flinched, every part of her screaming to flee, but somehow, she found herself constricted within the warmth of Christopher's hold.
“You’re trembling, kid,” he observed softly, concern lacing his words as his hand patted her shoulder, which only intensified the tumult inside her. She turned sharply away from his touch, feeling a rising tide of anger and fear bubbling within her.
“What’s wrong, my dear?” he probed, the tenderness in his voice only fueling her desperate desire to escape.
“Nothin',” she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips.
Selena stepped forward and enveloped Elizabeth in a tight embrace. The sweet scent of her mother’s perfume—a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine—temporarily quelled the whirlpool of anxiety churning inside her.
Damn it! What was happening to her?
For a moment, she allowed herself to drift, her thoughts wandering to the strange events of the past week. The way her father had looked at her, his eyes shadowed with something unspoken. The feeling of warmth mixed with fear when he held her too tight.
And the so-called dream—damn, he had been so ruthless to her.
It was as if a switch had flipped inside her—now, he was acting like a completely different person.
What if her father was just pretending? What if he—
She shuddered, pushing the thoughts away like an unwelcome guest.
Damn it—she wanted to escape the heaviness, to break free from whatever strange cocoon was wrapping around her.
But deep down, she sensed that Fate had other plans in store for her.
Christopher got up and clicked open the door leading toward the living room.
The fragrance of baked goods and floral perfume wafted inside.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, struggling to adjust to the vibrant scene before her. A raging party was unfolding, the lively sounds of laughter, music, and chatter filling the air like a whirlwind.
At least half of her class showed up.
Her breath hitched.
Her cousins moved in a blur of color and laughter, the energetic atmosphere hanging thick with excitement. Bright streamers dangled from the ceiling, swaying gently with each beat of the music that pulsated from unseen speakers.
She could see balloons, some shaped like animals, others simply colorful orbs, bobbing around like cheerful little clouds.
“Look who finally decided to join!” someone yelled as she pulled Elizabeth into a tight hug.
The warmth of the embrace momentarily melted Elizabeth’s unease, but the feeling was swiftly overshadowed by a knot of apprehension in her stomach.
As the night unfolded, Elizabeth found herself caught up in a flurry of activities. They moved to the pool, laughter ringing out as they cannonballed into the cool water. Elizabeth hesitated at the edge, the water glistening under the party lights, before finally joining in, splashing and squealing with delight, if only to drown out the whispers of her own mind.
The energy was contagious, and she felt herself slip beneath it, if just for a moment. The merriment continued with board games scattered across tables as they engaged in friendly competition. Elizabeth played, but her mind would occasionally drift, back to the moment when she first stepped into the party.
A shadow crossed her mother’s face when she saw Christopher slip away toward the kitchen—an unsettling brief tension that passed between her parents like electricity.
But she shook it off, caught in the momentary laughter surrounding her.
“Anyone for another round of charades?” someone shouted, and a wave of eager nods and cheers followed. Elizabeth joined in, attempting to mimic an exaggerated monster while her friends giggled uncontrollably, the joy lifting her spirits.
Damn, it felt good to let loose!
Yet, in the midst of the laughter, an unsettling thought flickered through her mind—was Christopher behaving differently?
He had been present but distant, his laughter not quite reaching his eyes, as if he were a ghost haunting the periphery of her celebration. Each time he entered the room, Elizabeth felt a shift in the air, like the pause before a storm. But she buried the thought, prioritizing the bliss of the moment over her anxieties.
As midnight approached, the party swelled with energy, voices rising in a chorus of cheer. The room thrummed with life; yet, as Elizabeth danced with her friends, she glanced toward the dining room, where Christopher had inexplicably disappeared again.
Tension prickled at her skin, but she dismissed it, intent on living in the moment. She spun around, losing herself to the rhythm of the music, the pulsating beat seemingly seeping into her very bones. The laughter and screams of joy enveloped her completely.
Damn, maybe this was exactly what she needed.
Then, without warning, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye—wings, bright and silver, shimmering against the backdrop of the party.
Her heart raced.
Her vision blurred.
She blinked.
But when she focused, there was nothing.
Just her friends, lost in their celebration, oblivious to the flicker of magic she thought she had seen. The clock in the corner ticked steadily toward midnight. Just as she felt truly lost in the mirth, Christopher appeared again at the doorway, his laptop tucked under one arm.
Without a word, he slipped out of the house—a shadow escaping into the night.
A chill ran down Elizabeth’s spine as she watched him disappear, a part of her wanting to follow, to uncover what lay behind his unspoken intentions. She hesitated, torn between the warmth of the party and the cold pull of curiosity that beckoned her toward the unknown.
With a sigh, she felt her heart racing faster than the lively beats of the music, a swirling mix of confusion and apprehension churning deep within her. Against the backdrop of laughter and revelry, something was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
And Elizabeth was drawn into the mystery that enveloped her—caught in a web she had yet to fully understand.
Curiosity flared within her, igniting her instincts. Elizabeth followed him, her heart racing in her chest. They walked through the dimly lit street, her father moving with a purpose, his form etched against the soft glow of streetlights. She struggled to keep pace, glancing around, the night air prickling her skin as she sensed a growing unease settle in her gut.
Christopher's steps quickened, and he turned the corners with an agility that made him seem almost otherworldly. There was a rhythm to his movement, a dance of shadows against the backdrop of the night. Elizabeth pressed on, determination compelling her, even as trepidation coiled tightly around her heart.
Finally, he arrived at a deserted arena, the silence swallowing them whole. Here, the noise of the party faded into a distant memory, replaced by the haunting stillness of the place. Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as she stood there, waiting.
Chapter six
One should’ve gone blind
Christopher paused mid-stride, his heart racing as he pulled his laptop over the large, jagged rock. With a deliberate motion, he knocked three times on the surface, each thud resonating against the stone. Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembled violently, cracks spider-webbing across the earth as a profound chasm opened up.
Dark, swirling smoke poured forth, and within its depths, a figure emerged. The man stepped forward from the mist, a shrouded aura of authority surrounding him. Without a word, they sank down onto the cold, hard ground, the air thick with anxiety.
“What am I gonna do?” Christopher's voice trembled, the desperation evident in each syllable. His eyes darted nervously around their surroundings, searching for an escape.
“The tree-descending was the last time; she won’t be able to catch it again,” the figure replied with a calm yet ominous reassurance, his gaze steady.
“She broke out of jail! I can’t believe they locked her in the wrong cell—goddamned it!” Christopher hissed, frustration boiling beneath the surface.
“That’s alright. Just tell her it was all a bad dream. Lock her in your house. She won’t get out that easily; she has no desire to be tortured again,” the man suggested, his tone almost casual despite the gravity of their situation.
“I don’t know about this... bitch,” Christopher spat, bitterness lacing his words.
"Honestly, how do you manage to invite so many kids to that party? They can’t stand her—but I’ve seen how they all act so friendly around her."
“A hundred bucks each can make them to see things your way.”
"But what's the party for? Why is it?"
"To distract her, to keep her anchored here…”
“Good. The lord has failed once; you can’t make him fail twice. It’s just nine months. Don’t tell me you can’t keep her under control for that long! He needs her—we can’t let them seize control. She’ll be our doom or our future. That all depends on you—crash her. It’ll be easier for us to handle it that way.”
“Yes, sir,” Christopher acquiesced, a heavy weight settling upon his shoulders as he spoke the words solemnly.
“And, Christopher,” the figure continued, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “pierce her eyes, blind her. I’m aware they’re trying to reach her, trying to draw her to their realm—or whatever it is they want.”
“Yep, sure,” Christopher nodded, his mind racing with the implications.
“Just her twenty-second birthday—it's not that far away. Tell me you can do this,” the man pressed, his eyes locking onto Christopher's with an intensity that suggested more than mere urgency.
“Yes, sir, I swear,” Christopher replied, his voice steadier now, though doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. In a swift motion, the two men slid into the tunnel that gaped below them, and as they disappeared, the ground sealed itself with an ominous thud, leaving behind a heavy silence.
A moment later, Elizabeth burst onto the scene, her pulse pounding in her ears. She spotted the laptop, cracked it open, and hastily navigated to a folder labeled ‘Truth’. Her mind went blank as she clicked it open.
Haunting pictures appeared in the foyer that stole her breath away.
The image depicted a giant tree, its trunk wide and gnarled, stretching endlessly towards the sky, with a crescent-shaped logo perched among the top branches like an eerie sentinel.
In the next photo, her heart dropped—Christopher knelt beside another woman, Bianca, who held cups brimming with blood, the dark liquid shimmering ominously in the light. A wave of nausea rolled through Elizabeth, and she felt the very essence of her being begin to melt under the weight of this sinister revelation.
She should’ve known it was all a manipulative trick from the start.
At that moment, with a wisp of smoke, Christopher reappeared.
He looked shocked to find her there, and the concern on his face was quickly overshadowed by a hard edge.
“Did you hear anything?” he asked, his voice a low growl, laced with anxiety. Elizabeth, gripped by fear, found herself too terrified to respond.
She spun on her heels and fled, her heart racing as she heard her father drawing a knife behind her.
She pivoted on her heels and dashed away, the chilling sound of her father unsheathing a knife echoing in her ears. She didn’t want to lose her sight for the rest of her life—or for the last nine months of it.
“My darling, you are so wonderful,” Christopher’s voice echoed through the dimly lit forest, warm yet laced with something darker. But Elizabeth kept running, her feet pounding against the earth, lungs burning with desperation.
“Just stop! I promise I won’t hurt you! Can’t you see? I’m only trying to help!” he called after her, his tone a mixture of sweetness and menace, redoubling his efforts to catch up.
Yet, Elizabeth didn’t dare to halt.
“Think about the moments we’ve shared—those whispers under the stars, sharing secrets, how I held you close when you shivered from more than just the cold. Doesn’t that mean something to you? You can trust me, darling. After everything we've been through, you know I'm the only one who truly understands you.”
Those memories flickered in her mind, igniting warmth before it was swiftly extinguished.
Elizabeth steeled herself against the tide of nostalgia.
“Stop for just a moment,” he urged, his voice a velvet knife cutting through the tension.
“You know deep down that I would never truly harm you. We’re bound by something greater than fear. It’s love, Elizabeth, love. It's the world outside that's dangerous, not me.”
Panic surged through her as she cast a glance back, her heart pounding like a drum. Christopher was gaining ground, a predator closing in on his prey. The moonlight caught the blade in his hand, glinting ominously, a chilling reminder of the danger she faced.
“Remember our nights? How safe you felt in my arms? That’s what I want to give you again. You know you can’t survive out there without me. Who will keep you safe? You’d be lost.”
A wave of confusion engulfed Elizabeth as she felt a sharp, lingering pain radiating from her upper forearm, where the forceful grip he had used to drag her to her cell days earlier.
Was it a nightmarish dream, or a real experience that her memory refused to let go?
It felt as if it should’ve been a nightmare, she could've believe it, but she couldn’t deny the reality of it. It was all too real.
“Isn’t it better to trust me than to run into the unknown?” he continued, the manipulation dripping from his words like poison. “I would never let anything hurt you. I just need you to see that all I want is to protect you, to love you. You know I’m right.”
Those words slithered through her thoughts as her instincts screamed for her to run faster when suddenly, a pair of strong hands clamped down on her shoulder.
Her heart stopped.
Her legs gave way beneath her.
She crumbled to the ground.
Her breath hitched.
“Elizabeth,” Christopher murmured as he crouched beside her, his grip unyielding, his voice dropping to an unsettling serenity.
“You are so wonderful, kid.”
“Please—Father—don’t—” Her voice quivered, laced with desperation.
He remained silent, an eerie calm spreading over him as if he’d already made a decision, and words were just carrying the order on.
“Please—” she pleaded again, grasping at any shred of hope.
“I know,” he replied, his tone dispassionate yet heavy with unspoken emotion.
Elizabeth’s hands gripped the sleeves of his jacket, her nails grimy, fingers clawing.
A wave of helplessness washed over her.
She flinched, terror gnawing at her insides.
She had never thought this would happen—never prepared for what was to come.
As the knife glinted menacingly above her, Christopher pressed the blade against her forehead, his nails digging painfully into her skin.
Silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating.
“I know,” he repeated, unyielding, as he drove the knife toward her eyes with a swift and silent motion.
In that moment, time froze.
Elizabeth’s eyes bulged.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
Her mouth was tore open.
No sound came out.
The grip on his sleeve tightened, held, then released, and the hand fell back to the dirt with a sound that was too small for what it meant.
Blood trickled down her cheeks, a vivid crimson against her pallid skin, splattering onto the ground where it mingled with her fading hope.
She knelt there, paralyzed by the silence that enveloped her.
Christopher stood up, a long sigh escaping his lips as he wiped the blade clean against her clothing in a swift, ruthless stroke.
The world around her was painted in crimson silence as he gazed down at her, a nonchalant observer to her agony.
Elizabeth sensed the darkness creeping over her vision, a horrifying reality as she raised her trembling hands to wipe it away, only to feel the warm, sticky liquid pouring over her palms.
Her knees buckled, sinking into the dirt, a raw scream clawing its way up her throat—too silent, too painful.
This, she thought, was how it was all going to end.
Christopher approached her, and she felt the weight of his footsteps crushing the ground beneath him.
In an instant, her world shattered. Everything she had known crumbled away.
Elizabeth blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the darkness that enveloped her.
Another blink brought forward a blur of red that seemed to surge from the depths of her brain.
It all felt surreal—she could see glimpses, yet somewhere deep within, she understood this was just her mind conjuring illusions.
Blindness threatened to claim her, but she refused to succumb to it.
She rubbed her eyelids, parched and dry, willing sight to return.
Nearby, she sensed Christopher had cuffed her hands, dragging her down the hill like a rag doll. An ember of determination ignited inside her—she couldn’t allow herself to be killed.
With a determined effort, Elizabeth willed her eyelids to flutter open once more, her heart aching with the hope that they would obey her plea. Suddenly, bright, swirling bursts of color that flooded her vision--a beauty she feared she might never truly grasp again—how she longed to recall its vivid details, to pretend she still possessed the sight that once brought her so much joy. The thought lingered painfully, casting a shadow over her heart as the vibrant colors began to fade, leaving her in darkness once more.
She blinked again.
Chapter seven
The last tree-descending
Elizabeth focused, visualizing the world around her, imagining she still had her sight.
Gradually, the blurring images sharpened.
Trees loomed on either side of the treacherous path, their branches swaying gently, watching the chaos unfold with indifferent eyes. Inches away from her gaze, her cuffs sparkled.
She could see him—her father’s face now clearer than ever, his hands unrelenting, pulling the chains taut around her wrists.
She had to escape; she wouldn’t allow herself to be a mere victim.
Then it struck her—the knife—the very tool he had tried to use against her was still hidden in her pocket.
With trembling hands, Elizabeth drew it out, the steel glinting with promise as she sliced at the chains binding her. An unexpected surge of energy coursed through her fingertips as the metal links shattered beneath her blade.
Without a moment's hesitation, she darted toward the tree that had become her focus, instinct taking over.
Heart racing, she plunged her knife deep into the rough bark of the trunk, the metal biting in with a satisfying crunch that echoed her resolve. She gripped the hilt tightly, feeling the familiar weight of it grounded in the wood as she hoisted herself upward.
With a surge of determination, she yanked the knife free, the blade glistening momentarily in the dappled sunlight before plunging into the tree once again.
Each thrust brought her closer to the canopy above, higher away from the danger that lurked below. The sharp scent of pine filled her senses as she climbed, the rough bark scraping against her palms, but she welcomed the discomfort; it grounded her in this exhilarating moment of survival.
In her peripheral vision, Christopher’s frantic form came into focus, panic etched into his features as he realized she was escaping. Despite the fear washing over her, a spark of exhilaration ignited within her.
Climbing with urgency, she sought a glimpse of salvation and soon spotted a rope hanging invitingly from a sturdy branch above her head. She stretched her arm towards it, the thrill of the risk propelling her forward as her fingertips barely brushed against the coarse surface of the rope. As she grasped it tightly with one hand, she anchored herself to the branch with the other, heart pounding as she hung on with dare life. The world around her blurred in slow-motion, adrenaline coursing through her veins like wildfire.
With a steadfast grip on the rope, she considered her next move.
An idea ignited in her mind, a fierce determination to pay Christopher back. In one fluent motion, she expertly tied the rope into a wide halo. With a determined flick of her wrist, she sent the rope soaring toward a sturdy branch of a colossal tree across the path. It caught with a satisfying thud, settling into place as she braced herself.
“Christopher!” she called, her voice ringing out with a defiance she had never known before. “You can’t just pretend that everything is fine. You thought you could lock me away and silence me, didn’t you? And now you’re calling it a dream?”
His expression shifted to one of defensiveness. “It wasn’t like that, Elizabeth! I was trying to protect you!”
“Protect me?” she scoffed, stepping closer. “Is that what you call it? You thought shoving me into a corner and pretending I didn’t exist would keep me safe? You failed, Christopher! I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He clenched his fists, frustration etched across his face. “I just wanted to help you see! You were in a dark place, and I thought—”
“Thought what?” she interrupted, fury lighting her eyes. “That controlling my life was helping? You call it a dream as if it makes your actions less real! You tried to take away my freedom, and I won’t let you rewrite that as if we’re just characters in some fantasy!”
“Stop twisting the truth!” he shouted, his voice echoing around them. “I was scared for you! You were spiraling, and I thought—”
“Thought what, Christopher?” she interrupted again, her voice trembling with rage. “That locking me away would solve everything? You don’t get to play the hero when you’ve been the villain. I fought back for my life, for my voice, and you can’t just erase that because it doesn’t fit your narrative.” He looked at her, visibly shaken but defiant.
“You don’t understand what I was trying to do.” “And you don’t understand the damage you’ve done!” she fired back. “I will not be your prisoner again, not now, not ever!”
His gaze snapped toward her, and she could see the confusion turning to fury as he barreled forward, heedless of the trap she had set. Time slowed as the rope ensnared him mid-stride, wrapping around his waist and yanking him back with a ferocity that sent him crashing against the gnarled tree trunk.
In that instant, the world fell silent.
Elizabeth felt a strange surge of vindication as he spun helplessly, caught in the very trap she had crafted.
With agile grace, she slid from her perch and raced toward him, the thrill of the chase surging through her veins. The ropes twisted around him, their shimmering golden light pulsating with a magical energy, binding him tightly even as he struggled against its grasp.
Without a moment's pause, she knocked the knife from his grasp, the blade clattering to the ground as it fell from his defeated fingers. Her heart pounded with adrenaline, a fierce exhilaration washing over her as she embraced the power she had reclaimed.
In one swift, liberating motion, Elizabeth delivered a hard punch right across his face, the satisfying thud resonating in her ears as she felt the weight of her newfound strength. With a triumphant grin, she dashed away into the trees, the taste of freedom sweet on her lips as she left his stunned form behind.
Elizabeth slipped into the shrouded stillness of the night, her heart racing like a distant storm. She felt as though she were chasing shadows, searching for something that lay just beyond her grasp.
In her mind's eye, a gnarled tree emerged, its twisted branches reaching out like long-forgotten secrets begging to be unearthed.
As she sprinted past indistinct figures lurking in the darkness, a glimmer of recognition pulled her forward—a crescent logo carved into the weathered signpost beside the winding road. It was the very emblem she had seen flicker to life on Christopher’s laptop, etched into the depths of a file that had haunted her thoughts. Without faltering, she surged ahead, the sign fading into obscurity behind her.
Each footfall quickened her pulse, and soon she found herself breathless, the night air thick with anticipation.
Then, just as she passed a carpet of fallen leaves, the logo caught her eye again, this time inscribed into the very ground, almost as if the earth itself had whispered its presence to her.
Fueled by an intense adrenaline rush, she pressed on. With every step, the silence deepened, holding within it the weight of untold mysteries, as she felt the night watch her every move, urging her to uncover whatever secrets lay hidden beneath its veil.
Panting heavily, she suddenly felt the presence of something looming ahead—a heavy shadow that seemed to pulse with an ominous energy, drawing her closer.
The evening shadows danced around a gnarled tree, its contorted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers against the fading light. It held an air of mystery, almost as if it had witnessed countless secrets whispered beneath its ancient canopy.
Or, at least, it seemed like that—the very same tree in the photo—was it merely a tree?
Suddenly, a frayed rope unfurled from the heights above, dangling like an invitation to the unknown. Slowly, a figure began to descend, each movement deliberate, as if they were emerging from another world. As the figure touched the ground, it revealed itself to be Victoria Vincent. She stood there, momentarily frozen, a portrait of exhaustion and resilience. Her hair clung to her face in damp strands, and rivulets of sweat glistened against her skin, intertwined with the dark streaks of crimson that slid down her arm from a jagged cut.
“What is this tree?” she asked, her voice soft yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency.
“Not our destination anyway,” came the reply, marked with an enigmatic tone, as though laden with hidden meaning.
“What happened?” Elizabeth implored, concern etched deeply across her features as she instinctively stepped closer, drawn to the palpable fear and determination radiating from Victoria.
“I'd like to hear your thoughts on that as well. I can see—he tried to pierce your normal eyes with a knife, trying to take your sight away. Look at you now; you can see again. Our eyes now glimmer with magic, reflecting the journey we've been through. You've come so far, and that strength will not go unnoticed.”
“Now, Vicky, stop baffling.”
“Nothin’, let’s go.” Snapped Victoria. She was in a very bad mood, Elizabeth could tell at once, but Victoria's jaw suddenly tightened.
“Come on, Elizabeth, the last ride, the tree-descending, we must hurry.”
“What? What the heck is a tree-descending? Where are we going?” asked Elizabeth, running a bit to catch up.
“You’ll find out when we get there.” Smiled Victoria, and she sped up.
“Wait, what about my mom? What if she finds out I'm missing?” choked Elizabeth, gasping for breath.
Yet Victoria said nothing more; instead, she seized Elizabeth's wrist and, without hesitation, took off.
They rushed across what used to be a bustling crossroad, now resembling a forgotten arena, darted past an extremely narrow stream, hurried through a quiet lawn, ascended a steep hill, and then descended as if carried by the wind.
Elizabeth nearly slipped into the deep lagoon beyond, unable to determine how to slow down in such a short span, especially since Victoria was not revealing their destination.
No one was passing by, and the only sound whooshing in their ears was the dull gale.
Victoria suddenly skidded to a halt in front of a gigantic tree.
Looking up, Elizabeth gasped.
The tree's branches stretched into the sky, and its trunk was so massive and ancient that Elizabeth felt as if this tree had existed since the dawn of time.
Victoria scanned the tree trunk frantically, her fingers running through the rough bark, as if searching for something hidden between.
Subsequently, she stroked the tree trunk three times with her forefinger.
“Yggdrasil is hiding even deeper. That tree you came across earlier is actually just a replica, meant to trap beings like us.”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open in surprise as the bark disintegrated, forming a small hill on the ground. The trunk then split down the middle, parted as if pulled apart by an unseen force, revealing a luminous, faintly golden light from within. The splitting ceased, leaving a narrow gap for two individuals to enter.
“Come in,” whispered Victoria. She suddenly grabbed Elizabeth's wrist and pulled her into the glowing, feeble lights.
Elizabeth's vision blurred; she blinked and found herself standing inside a large glass elevator inside the tree, and golden liquid was sliding down from the bark. Gazing up, she could see the branches entangled above; staring down, she saw a large pit, pitch-dark and eerie.
Before Elizabeth could do anything, the trunk began to close in around them slowly, more like a door, shutting them inside.
“What’s this? Where are you taking me?” asked Elizabeth tentatively, but Victoria merely smiled; she didn't answer.
Victoria snapped her finger. Elizabeth could see blue flames erupt from her fingertips.
Elizabeth gasped.
She backed away until her back was pressed against the glass wall, trembling in fear.
Victoria didn't throw her glance back; she was humming inexplicable songs, and the flames began to dance with the rhythm, burning so brightly that the whole elevator was glowing in mysterious blue light.
“Alutic Aquarium,” Victoria whispered, the magical flame extinguished with a click.
Before Elizabeth could ask anything, the elevator gave a hard yank, and it began descending into the pit below.
“Vicky?” asked Elizabeth tentatively, her hands were shaking.
“It’ll be alright, Eliza. Wait, did I scare you? I’m so sorry, I’m trying to bring you back to your homeland. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Victoria whispered worriedly.
She walked toward Elizabeth and took her hands.
“Eliza, we are in the tree of the birth, the Yggdrasil.”
Elizabeth gaped in surprise.
She had heard about the Yggdrasil, of course, the legendary tree in Norse Mythology, the anima of all living, the soul of all creatures.
“Tell me you are joking.”
“No, no. I’m serious, Eliza, look around, does this place look familiar?”
Elizabeth observed her surroundings inside this abyss, yet it was not frightening; the walls oozed multicolored liquids that evaporated into mist upon contact.
Mists swirled ethereally, both within and outside the elevator, their surfaces pure white and delicate. Elizabeth reached out and grasped toward it. It felt like silk, cool and smooth. As she squeezed it, melodious music echoed in her mind, clear and solemn.
She had definitely listened to it somewhere else before.
Water drops appeared vaguely in and out of the glass, making everything feel so unearthly and occult. But Elizabeth got a feeling that she had been here once before, but when?
She couldn't remember; all she could think about was that something terrible had once happened here, to her and her real family.