Chapter fifteen
The legend of Dolores the Evil
Josephine stared at them for a while and finally turned to whisper to one of the severe-looking women patrolling around the hall.
Then, Elizabeth suddenly remembered one of them, the waitress who served them in the Alutic Aquarium.
What was she doing here?
Murmurs swept across the hall; now, everyone knows there was an imposter lurking between them.
Elizabeth felt an uncomfortable hush envelop her body. Her head was aching as if warning to split over, and her fingers grew numb under the heavy pressure he put on herself; her vision blurred with thickening redness as blood rushed upwards.
Elizabeth didn't know why, but as if Josephine could read minds, she kept glancing toward Elizabeth and winking at her.
Did she know that Elizabeth was up to no good?
What will she do if she catches her?
Will she end up in a cell like Victoria's?
Elizabeth clenched her fists until ropey veins bulged all over her hand, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep those thoughts out of her mind. However, no matter how hard she tried, it was no use at all.
In a moment or two, she even tried to push through the crowd and dash out of the hall and hide.
But she knew that would only make everyone even more suspicious. Elizabeth remained rooted to the ground, a cold sweat forming on her forehead.
She refrained from wiping it, fearing that someone might perceive her strangeness.
Just then, Josephine's head snapped up, and Elizabeth almost flinched in surprise.
"Well, you'd better go to the main hall to wait. I've got a lot on my plate." She announced, her hands trembling slightly under her sleeves.
The crowd began to descend toward the corridors, but Josephine beckoned Elizabeth over.
"Don't do anything stupid. And don’t get caught.” She muttered in Elizabeth's ears, just before Elizabeth could say anything, Josephine disappeared in a pop.
Wondering in the corridors, Victoria's words swirled back into her head, "Follow the moonlight."
What the heck was that supposed to mean?
It was hauntingly quiet.
The only sounds being the soft hum of machinery.
Penelope stared blankly into the shadows that pooled across the room.
Her wrists were restrained by unforgiving metal cuffs.
The flickering light had somehow made time stood still.
She tried to move her hands, but the cuffs cut into her flesh.
Days had melded into nights, despair seeping into her bones.
She waited.
Memories of warmth and laughter clung to her like ghosts, their voices fading.
Hopelessness pressed down.
It felt like a tombstone.
But shadows couldn’t claim her.
A thread of defiance held her. A flicker of rebellion sparked.
Laughter echoed in her mind. Storms had come, but she had held on.
This couldn’t be her end. She would survive--no matter the cost, no matter the toll.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps reverberated through the corridor outside, each thundering stride echoing ominously.
Penelope’s heart thundered in sync with the footsteps.
She straightened in her chair, every nerve in her body urging her to seize this moment.
This could be her only chance—everything hinged on it.
When the door creaked open, a cold draft swept through the room, sending shivers down her spine.
A figure stepped inside, exuding an unsettling confidence as he sauntered toward her, his posture relaxed yet predatory.
“So, you are the one who delayed our ship,” he declared, his tone smooth with a hint of condescension. His eyes glinted with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“Your son is late as well,” Penelope shot back, her voice laced with defiance, growing stronger even in her captivity.
“That’s different,” he replied dismissively, as if her retort was nothing more than an irritating buzz.
“Different? That’s not how this works,” she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling as she tested the chains that held her.
“You still have chances,” he continued, leaning forward, his gaze piercing as he appraised her. “Lucius believes you possess a certain…uniqueness.” “Chances?” Penelope’s voice rose, thick with bitterness as she struggled against her bonds.“You bastards killed my mother—how are you going to pay me for that?
A cruel smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “She deserved it—nasty as you are.”
“Why don’t you just kill me?” she challenged, her resolve hardening into a blade.
He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth.
“You’re still… useful. Potentials like you are not wasted. Not yet.”
“Useful? Like I’d ever lift a finger for your twisted agenda!” Her eyes blazed with defiance, refusing to give in to the chilling atmosphere he had cultivated. The man remained impassive, his stare unnervingly evaluating, as if he were surveying a prized possession rather than a person.
“From his perspective, I can completely understand. You are indeed special.”
“Special? Hell, I’m not going to see your goddamned way,” she spat, refusing to back down.
“Try it,” he warned, lowering his voice to a menacing whisper. “You might find the consequences more severe than you imagine.”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The door creaked open once more, and a younger man entered, his expression anxious. He leaned in, whispering something urgent into the interrogator’s ear. The man’s face contorted with disgust.
“Well, well,” he sneered, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what spell you’ve cast on my son, but he thinks you can attend our class—where we mold future Head Officials. You really do have potential, kid. Don’t waste it, I haven’t tried anything on you yet, but know this: if you fail me, then you’ve lost your value to us.”
Elizabeth walked tentatively along the silent hallway, her boots crunching on the thick mattresses below.
Surrounding the corridor, white columns rose to the ceiling, huge chandeliers swinging in the breeze, and beams of sunlight sprinkled on the mattress, casting a golden glow throughout the corridor.
But then, something else caught Elizabeth's eye. An eerie-looking marble staircase led right to the darkness below, and hanging above, a crystal chandelier shaped like a moon.
As she stood there, her eyes widened in an almost trance-like state, as if some mysterious force was beckoning to her from the depths of the shadows. The air around her felt charged with anticipation, and an inexplicable pull drew her gaze toward an unseen presence, igniting a mix of curiosity and trepidation within her.
Elizabeth reached out cautiously and stepped onto it, not knowing that this seemingly inconsequential decision would rewrite her dull fate and her entire life, more adventurous yet much more dangerous than ever.
Suddenly, the staircases gave a hard wiggle, and the lights went out, leaving Elizabeth stumbling alone in the darkness. She felt something knocking softly against her chest. As she glanced down skeptically, she noticed in shock that Victoria's necklaces were glowing feebly over her neck.
Gaping in astonishment, Elizabeth brushed her trembling fingers over the intricate surface of the necklace, and from the opal at its center, a radiant beam of silvery moonlight burst forth, casting an ethereal glow.
Compelled by an unseen force, she instinctively followed the shimmering stream, descending the spiraling staircases that twisted downward into a dim abyss. Shadows loomed large, and grotesque sculptures and eerie images of ghoulish figures clung to the corners, their malevolent eyes seeming to beckon her deeper into the unknown.
The staircases, steep and slick with a damp, mossy residue, clung to her boot with every cautious step, as if they had lain undisturbed for decades, perhaps even a century. With each turn, the ancient steps began to creak ominously, and Elizabeth felt the very ground shift beneath her, the cracks widening as she clung desperately to the handrail.
As she descended further, a shudder ran through the staircase, an ominous warning, and with a bone-rattling jolt, a segment beneath her buckled, sending her tumbling into a shadowy chasm. It unfurled into the depths, a dark underworld barely illuminated by flickering candles that hung precariously along the banister, casting an eerie greenish light that danced along the walls. After what felt like an eternity, the staircase rocked violently once more, sending Elizabeth sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. Gasping for breath, she rose to her feet, disoriented, and found herself in a desolate hallway awash in an enchanting emerald glow that flickered alluringly from the far end.
A mix of dread and curiosity swirled within her as she glanced over her shoulder—only to find the staircase had vanished, swallowed by darkness. Heart racing like a wild drum, she edged toward the light, her breath coming in ragged gasps, each step echoing in the suffocating silence.
As she approached, the source of the radiant glow revealed itself: a half-open wooden door, its edges aglow with vibrant emerald hues spilling out into the hallway. The silvery moonlight from her necklace intertwined with the verdant brilliance, and with a violent tremor, the door swung open with a creak that reverberated through the air, as an unseen force propelled Elizabeth into the mysterious chamber beyond.
Panting slightly, Elizabeth looked around curiously. She was now quivering in a hidden chamber, and the emerald lights she had seen previously were emitting from a large painting hanging on the wall opposite.
Inside the painting, a golden cradle was depicted, draped with elegant tassels hanging from surrounding curtains. An infant with golden hair was awoken from what must be a very sound sleep earlier. Playing with the pendants suspended above with her tiny hands, her large sapphire eyes gleaming maliciously toward Elizabeth.
Upon closer examination of the painting, a small tablet was observed hanging from it.
"Dolores the Evil, the missing infant."
Elizabeth raised her hands aloft and slowly reached for the painting. She touched the fabric softly and sighed. Yet just before she decided to leave this creepy place as soon as possible, she felt a sudden force drawing her into the artwork.
In an instant, she was immersed in the painting.
It felt like emerging through a pool of clear water. Then, with a nauseating crunch, she landed face-down on a quilted bed.
Rubbing her throbbing wrist vigorously, Elizabeth rose to her feet. She found herself inside a room constructed of glass, with vapor rising and falling around her. Just as she was about to leave, the door suddenly burst open, and a woman cloaked in black entered in a hurry. Her ethereal golden hair flowed over her shoulders, yet her eyes reflected exhaustion. She was clutching an infant tightly in her arms. Elizabeth stepped back, but the woman paid her no mind. She placed the child on the bed and left without a word.
Elizabeth approached with a sense of trepidation, her heart racing. The infant in the cradle captivated her attention: its curly golden hair gleamed like sunlight, and the large, sapphire-blue eyes seemed to hold secrets untold. On the mattress, three shimmering words gleamed ominously: ‘Dolores the Evil.’
Sinking into the plush armchair beside the bed, Elizabeth became aware of hushed voices drifting through the slightly ajar door. Curiosity piqued, she moved closer, pressing her ear to the cool wood of the doorframe.
A tall, slender woman spoke in a tone that was both soft and tinged with urgency,
“My lord, the prophecy, remember?”
A sharp retort sliced through the air from another woman, whose voice brimmed with disbelief,
“Nonsense!”
The first woman persisted, her voice rising slightly as desperation seeped through, “My lord, you cannot allow them to destroy your kingdom like this—the illustrious nonblender realm!”
A third voice, deep and composed, resonated with authority. “The Ginnunga must be summoned. Bring Dolores and Joanna there; let her experience the agony that follows her betrayal of the mighty Fairy lord.”
This voice belonged to a burly man with a thick, mushy beard, an imposing figure adorned with a glowing crown that seemed to pulse with a mysterious light beneath the extravagant crystal chandelier hanging above them.
The agitated woman interjected, her voice laced with anger, “Her Majesty? The duchess is innocent! It’s you who’s been orchestrating this chaos—”
Yet, the man remained silent, a heavy tension hanging in the air. Elizabeth cringed as the sound of shattered silverware echoed through the room, followed by a piercing cry of pain.
In an instant, her vision wavered, and she felt herself being whisked away once more.
Before she knew it, Elizabeth found herself flailing in a vast pit. Golden liquid oozed from the walls, its incandescent glow transforming into a mesmerizing swirl of multicolored vapor that danced in the air, creating an ethereal sight.
Next to her, a stern-looking woman—the duchess—was chained, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes filled with a mix of despair and defiance. With a sudden, faint pop, the familiar figure of the first maid materialized, clutching the infant once more.
The woman hesitated as she reached for her child, her trembling fingers revealing a striking ring. Engraved on it was a soaring eagle surrounded by twined olive leaves, a symbol of something far greater.
“Soulblenders are concealed within my kingdom,” the man hissed, twirling a dagger menacingly in his hand.
“Joanna, even you, my dear.” The fury in his voice was palpable and suffocating.
The duchess sobbed, “Leave my child alone! I will forsake you and your kingdom forever—just give me my child!” Her anguish echoed, but the man's resolve remained unyielding.
“I shall leave you here, letting the darkness of Ginnunga consume you,” he whispered, his tone steely. “You will confess and repent for your misdeeds.”
“Then give me my child!” Joanna cried, desperation and defiance mingling in her voice.
With a flick of his wrist, the man made the infant disappear into thin air. A sinister grin crept across his face as he declared,
“I shall raise Dolores and purify her soul.”
He tossed a seed into the pit, and in an instant, he and the maid vanished into nothingness.
The duchess's voice echoed with fury,
“You may attempt to destroy me, but my bloodline shall rise again. Three will turn against me, yet the rest will reclaim your kingdom, retrieve the Interstellar Jewels, and awaken their true magic. When Dolores reaches the age of twenty-two—”
With those words, she faded into the shadowy depths of the pit. In the blink of an eye, Elizabeth’s vision spun once more.
“Are you certain Joanna is dead?” a voice questioned. “Of course she’s dead—” the other voice faded into silence as Elizabeth found herself back in a spacious living room.
The man from the pit was pacing anxiously, his footsteps heavy, while the maid burst in, breathless and trembling with fear.
She knelt beside him, her voice quaking as she reported, “My lord, Dolores—she has vanished!”
With a jolt, Elizabeth awoke, collapsing to the floor beneath the ominous painting, gasping for air as her heart raced. Instinctively, she reached for the painting, but as her fingers made contact, she was taken aback.
It was shrinking within her grasp, rapidly becoming small enough to slip into her pocket. Tension coiled within her as she stared at the painting, and a memory flashed through her mind.
The glass tube of Yggdrasil—the endless pit—
What if this was the very pit depicted in the painting?
Suddenly, the echoing footsteps in the hallway sent panic surging through her chest.
Elizabeth pressed her quivering lips against the opal amulet she wore and murmured a fervent prayer. In a brilliant flash of silver moonlight, she vanished from the chamber just as the door swung open with a deafening bang.
Josephine rushed into the room, urgency propelling her forward.
Yet, she froze midway, her eyes wide with shock.
The painting was gone.
With a sigh of relief, she pressed her hands against the wall, but soon her steely gaze narrowed with fury as she reached into her inner pocket.
She produced a golden ring, its engraving glowing faintly—a fierce eagle entwined with olive leaves—