Amira found an empty room at the end of the path. The dampened stone walls were left bare and no furniture filled the large empty space, just a dark alcove in one corner and nothing else. Thinking she had made a mistake, Amira was about to turn back when she heard a voice coming from behind the wall facing her. She moved closer and pressed her ear against the cold stone.
“Where should we put them?” said an almost boyish voice.
“Lay them on the table. His Majesty should be here soon.” This voice, on the contrary, seemed older than the palace itself. Amira couldn’t even decide if it was coming from a man or a woman. “You should leave now,” continued the ancient voice.
Amira almost took the order for herself, but the sounds of swords clinking indicated that the voice was referring to the guards’ presence. She heard them coming closer to the wall. Quickly, she tried to find a hiding spot. The decision was easy to make, given the emptiness of the room. Just before they opened the wall, she rushed to the alcove, hoping that the darkness would hide her away.
The stone on the back wall started moving and soon, a space large enough to fit a tall man appeared in front of Amira’s amazed eyes. The four guards she had seen earlier came out of the hole and made their way back to the exit without even glancing in her direction. As soon as she heard their voices fading away, she rushed to the hole in the wall while trying to make the least amount of noise possible.
Peering through the opening, she realised that the room it was leading to was split in two parts, separated by a heavy dark blue curtain. Hearing the stones beginning to move around her, she made her choice. She snuck into the new room. There, she found that the walls curled into two symmetrical alcoves right next to the curtain. She went there to hide. From her spot, she could move the curtain just enough to see what was happening on the other side of the room.
What she saw made her stomach turn. Illuminated by torches hanging on the wall, a large stone table was the first thing she noticed. The two bodies had been laid there and a woman was busy undressing them while muttering to herself. Amira noticed that the woman was limping around the table. She had her back turned to Amira, hiding her face. All that was visible was her grey hair curled into a flat, low bun.
Amira took note of the numerous shelves on the walls stocked with strange-looking jars and pots filled to the brim with what appeared to be magical ingredients.
Next to the two bodies, multiple sharp instruments were arranged on a small table. To Amira, they looked like torture instruments. She hoped she was mistaken. But the most dreadful part of the room was the floor, soaked in so much blood that it had turned the stones a deep burgundy. The weathered aspect showed that someone had tried very hard to clean the blood, but it had infiltrated every little crevasse of the stones.
Amira closed her eyes, trying to avoid the dark spectacle of the red floor. She opened them immediately when she heard the stone wall opening again. Hiding in her corner, she saw Karwyn and Saydren, the royal healer, open the curtain and enter on the other side of the room.
The woman had finished undressing the two fae and she turned around to face Karwyn. Just before she plunged into a deep bow, Amira had time to see her face. Her dark brown skin was marked by fatigue and sadness and her almost black eyes indicated that she was not fae. Her eyes lacked the vibrant, glowing light of the fae. She raised her head again and Amira saw her hollow cheeks and fragile neck. She didn’t appear that old, just completely drained.
Yet she smiled at Karwyn with forced joy. “The spell worked as usual, Your Majesty. They still have their magic,” she said.
“Good. You know how angry I would have been otherwise,” Karwyn replied.
Amira could see the woman shiver as a shadow passed over her eyes. She had to be Karwyn’s personal witch.
She took a step back to let Karwyn and Saydren approach the corpses. Karwyn walked around them, deep in his thoughts, while Saydren and the witch remained silent.
Karwyn pointed at Mylner. “Toss this one aside. He is merely a level one, useless.”
“Should I dump him with the others?” Saydren asked.
“I do not care. Get rid of him however you wish. Bury him for all I care.”
Amira stopped herself from gasping. Karwyn knew very well that a buried fae would never find peace in the sky.
The bodies needed to be burned and the ashes turned to the wind in order for them to reach Caelo in the sky, otherwise their souls were going to be trapped here forever. They would be cursed to forever haunt Liraen, waiting for salvation that would never come. Burying the bodies meant Karwyn would further punish them even in death, forcing them to never move on. Even if she wasn’t the most religious, Amira still believed in heaven. It was the worst possible fate to be denied entrance.
Amira could sense Karwyn’s agitation. A veil of sweat highlighted his tense forehead and his eyes kept looking away from the bodies. She stared in horror as Saydren grabbed Mylner’s corpse and swung it across his shoulder, showing a surprising strength for his frame. Without saying a word, he walked away with the body, leaving Karwyn alone with the witch. The king stared at the woman, who expectantly looked back at him.
“Well, Cirny, do not just stand there,” Karwyn said. “Get to work.”
“Of course, my king. Right away.” There was no sarcasm in the woman’s tone, only a painstakingly obvious desire to please.
She ran to the shelves to grab a few weird-looking jars and took out their contents right next to Sydna’s exposed corpse, revealing a dark red crystal and some herbs. Cirny waved her hands above the three elements, her eyes fluttered closed in concentration.
Amira had never seen a real witch at work, but her brother had told her many tales about these cursed beings. He revelled in relating the most gruesome details and Amira had spent a lot of sleepless nights as a child thinking back on the twisted stories. When she saw Cirny’s eyes turn even darker, she couldn’t help but feel sick. Her insides turned upside down and she fought back a scream. This truly looked like the work of a cursed being.
Amira understood why some fae, upon learning that they had some witch ancestry, decided to never have children in fear of passing on the curse even if it had jumped their own generation. Who would wish to bring more cursed beings into this world? She was actually glad Wryen had always insisted on not keeping any witches in Amryne’s palace. Unlike Karwyn, he didn’t rely on witches and cursed spells to do his bidding.
Next, Cirny took a large jar and a long knife and carved open Sydna’s body. As if she was still alive, the dead fae’s blood spurted out of the wound, splashing Cirny’s face and Karwyn’s outfit.
Amira felt her own blood rush from her face. Her vision swam and her cheeks tingled.By Caelo...The smell of it was bad enough, but she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She was going to faint. She braced herself against the wall.
“Be careful, you halfwit,” Karwyn said as he wiped at the blood on his jacket.
“I am deeply sorry, my king.” Cirny pressed the jar she was holding next to the cut and let the blood fill it. Amira’s stomach started to turn as the metallic smell of blood in the air increased. She repressed a few gags, but it was too much. If she stayed here any longer, it would be the end of her. She would pass out and someone would surely discover her then.
