ARIELLE;
The satisfaction of hearing Euryale's undignified plunge is fleeting. I know that such a simple snare will not hold her for long. I press onward, but curiosity gets the better of me. I need to know if she is truly contained, or if I am simply delaying the inevitable.
Digging through the folds of my gown, I retrieve a small, jagged fragment of silver mirror that I had pilfered from my chambers. It is not much, but it will serve as a makeshift looking glass, allowing me to glimpse what lies behind without risking a direct encounter with Euryale's gaze.
Holding the silver shard aloft, I steal a quick glance backward. What I see sends a fresh wave of panic coursing through my veins. Euryale is already clawing her way out of the pit, her brass hands scraping against the earth, her serpentine hair writhing in fury. She looks like a creature possessed, a force of nature unleashed. The woman has a terrible temper, I swear.
There is no time to admire the spectacle. I must run. I must reach the next trap before she closes the distance.
The forest thickens, the trees growing closer together, the undergrowth becoming increasingly dense. I stumble over roots and fallen branches, my lungs burning, my legs aching, my resolve wavering. This is proving to be far more exhausting than I had anticipated.
Behind me, I hear Euryale's voice, growing ever closer, laced with contempt and simmering rage.
"Are these the best traps you could devise, little princess?" she taunts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Quite childish, I must say! Is this the extent of your Amazon training?"
I grit my teeth and press onward, refusing to be drawn into a verbal sparring match. I may be many things, but I am not foolish enough to engage in a battle of wits with an immortal Gorgon. Besides, I am rather short of breath, what with all the running.
I see it now, the second trap. A series of tripwires strung across the path, designed to release a volley of sharpened stakes from the surrounding trees. A far more lethal deterrent than the first.
I know the location of the tripwires, of course. I had a hand in setting them myself. With a burst of speed, I leap over the first wire, then duck beneath the second, and sidestep the third, navigating the treacherous path with practiced ease.
Behind me, I hear a series of snapping sounds, followed by a chorus of curses. Euryale, it seems, is not as adept at avoiding traps as I am.
But she is not deterred. With a roar of fury, she tears through the tripwires, scattering the sharpened stakes in all directions. She is wounded, I can see that much, but she is not defeated.
"Those were amateurish," she said.
The woman has a point, it seems.
I must reach the third trap.
The forest grows darker, the trees looming overhead like skeletal figures. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. I can hear the rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, the hooting of owls in the distance. The forest is alive, and it is watching.
I run, my vision blurring, my mind reeling. I am exhausted, terrified, and increasingly convinced that I am about to meet a rather unpleasant end. But I refuse to give up. I owe it to my people, to my mother, to myself, to fight to the very end.
The third trap awaits, a test of my strength. It's an uphill, winding path with slick dirt and stone steps. The top is a wooden plank that is old, unstable and quite high to climb. If I can get Euryale to climb up that plank she may well be hurt by that or at least slow her down.
My breath hitches in ragged gasps, my body screaming in protest with every stride. Just when I think I can't possibly run another step, a shadow falls over me, and a wave of icy dread washes over my being.
Euryale has caught up.
Before I can react, something whips around my neck, constricting my throat, cutting off my air. It's Euryale's tail, scaled and cold, tightening its grip with terrifying force. I claw at it, desperate to loosen its hold, but my fingers find no purchase.
Panic surges through me, a tidal wave threatening to drown me in fear. My vision blurs, my head spins, my lungs scream for air. This is it. This is how it ends. Strangled in the forest by a monster with bad hair.
"Open your eyes, little princess," Euryale hisses, her voice a sibilant whisper in my ear. "Look at me. Gaze upon your doom. Let your last sight be the face of your destroyer."
I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to comply. I will not give her the satisfaction. I will not allow her to turn me to stone.
My fingers fumble at the hem of my gown, searching for the hidden pocket where I had concealed a small, silver dagger. It is a desperate measure, a last-ditch attempt to salvage a situation that seems utterly hopeless. I am no warrior, I remind myself, but that does not mean I am defenseless. It simply means I must be clever.
My fingers close around the hilt of the dagger. I draw it out, the cold steel a small comfort in the face of overwhelming terror.
I wait. I wait for the perfect moment. I wait for Euryale to loosen her grip, just a fraction, just enough to give me a chance.
Then, I scream.
It is a raw, primal scream of defiance and desperation, a sound that echoes through the forest, shattering the silence. It is also a distraction, a diversion designed to catch Euryale off guard.
As I scream, I thrust the dagger upward, plunging it into Euryale's tail with all the force I can muster.
A bloodcurdling shriek erupts from Euryale, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. She releases me, her grip loosening as she recoils in pain.
I fall to the ground, gasping for air, my body trembling uncontrollably. The world spins around me, blurring the edges of reality.
I crawl away from Euryale, putting as much distance between us as possible. I must get out of here, I must find safety.
Then, I see them.
A circle of Amazons and men, their shields raised, their eyes averted, forming a protective barrier around Euryale. They have arrived.
I recognize faces in the crowd, faces I thought I might never see again. Azriel, her eyes filled with concern, her spear held high. Arianna, her jaw set with determination, her shield gleaming in the fading light. And… Mother.
Strength floods back into me, washing away the fear and exhaustion. I may be bruised, battered, and terrified, but I am not broken. I am a princess, and I am surrounded by warriors who would die to protect me.
"Hold the line!" I shout, my voice hoarse but clear. "Do not look at her! Keep your shields raised!
The warriors obey, their shields forming an impenetrable wall, their eyes fixed on the ground.
"Draw your spears!" I command. "Ready to strike!"
The spears emerge from behind the shields, glinting menacingly in the dim light.
Euryale, still writhing in pain from the dagger wound, tries to break through the circle, but the Amazons and men hold firm, their shields deflecting her blows.
"Close in!" I order. "Slowly, carefully, close in!"
The circle tightens, the spears drawing closer to Euryale, their points aimed at her exposed flesh. There is no escape. The battle is far from over, but I see it is slowly turning. The shield is tight. Her fate may be sealed.
The forest air fills with a chorus of determined cries as the spears thrust forward, piercing Euryale's scaled flesh. Each strike elicits a fresh scream of agony, a symphony of suffering that sends shivers down my spine, though a part of me, the part that has had enough of being chased and insulted finds a sliver of satisfaction in it.
Euryale's voice is a broken screech, the ground trembles with each tortured cry. It is too much even for my own ears. Is this what it sounds like to be punished by the Gods? A fate for Euryale, it seems.
Amidst the chaos, Azriel's voice cuts through the din, sharp and urgent. "Caith! Now!"
I glance over my shoulder, heart pounding in my chest, hoping to see the familiar sight of my… my rescuer? My betrothed? I am still grappling with these terms, to be honest.
I see Caith. Yes. But something is terribly wrong. The man standing before me is no longer the stoic warrior I thought I knew. His eyes, once a clear, gentle blue, now blaze with an infernal crimson light. Thick, black smoke emanates from him, swirling around him like a shroud of darkness.
The Amazons, sensing the shift in power, instinctively draw back, their faces etched with fear and confusion. They know instinctively that this is not the Caith they know.
The black smoke surges forward, engulfing Euryale in its oppressive embrace. Her screams escalate, reaching a fever pitch of unimaginable pain. The smoke seems to be burning her from the inside out, consuming her essence.
Suddenly, the ground beneath Euryale cracks open, revealing a chasm filled with an unholy, crimson light. The light pulses and throbs, radiating an unbearable heat. It is as though the very bowels of the earth are opening up to claim her.
Then, with a final, agonizing shriek, Euryale disappears. The light fades, the ground closes, and the forest falls silent. The woman has been banished, it seems.
The Amazons stand frozen, their faces pale, their eyes wide with disbelief. I, too, am stunned into silence, struggling to comprehend the events that have just transpired. What in the world just happened?
The smoke clears, revealing Caith still there. But he is different. Changed. Now that the Gorgon is gone I can see him looking at me, now his eyes a familiar blue. The smoke has vanished.
This marriage to come is looking more terrifying than I believed. What am I getting myself into?