CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the dark basement, Lila laid on the floor, her skin pale and gritty. She looked haggard. Crimson smeared clothing and the metallic scent of blood.
The sound of loafers sliding against the bloodied marble made her snap her eyes open. The same pain, everyday.
Freya moved, the chains clattering as she hid away, trying to reduce her presence. She looked like a mess. A skin once glossy was a scarred mess, a body once clean was now covered in blood.
" Hmm, what a pleasant sight" a taunting voice rang out. Heavy on the air.
He had come, again.
Lila forced her body up, her hair cascading down in dirty strands. Her blue eyes were cold, with a flicker of fear.
" You will regret this" she spat, her voice weak and fleeting.
A short, sharp laugh tore through the air, the sound taunting Lila and crushing down on her. She would kill him, she had sworn, she would end him once she left here. Slowly….painfully.
" What are you ? Lila Blackwell, the most beautiful heiress in England?" The guard scoffed, " right here darling, you are nothing …nothing but a chained rat–and I can do anything, anything I want to you" he pressed out, word for word, his face closer to Lila's, his hand clutching onto her chin.
Lila's throat burned, her chin hurting from the pressure. She bit her lips, not saying a word. She had gone against her father and slept with Kieran. She would rather sleep with a merchant than get closer to Allistair, not even on her father's stead.
But, here she was, grovelling in her own blood with a fleeting hope of salvation and an impending doom.
She didn't deserve this ! She didn't do anything wrong! She didn't design any other part of the city with paints – yet, here she was, chained like a dog, battered and abused by someone she knew absolutely nothing about and for a reason, she didn't understand.
The guard stood up, grabbed onto an iron rod. Lila caught sight of it, her heart sank.
She noticed Freya shrinked into her bottomless shell of fear, shivering like she was electrocuted.
The guard pulled up the iron and pressed into a burning coal, his lips curled into a wicked grin. Lila swallowed, her heartbeat accelerating. She had thought she would be used to this pain by now but ..she was wrong.
" Ah!" She shrieked as the guard burned her thigh. Her entire body exploded, her blood boiled from the pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, pain.
" I …why..y are ..you doing this?" She asked and the guard smirked, lifting her chin once again.
For a split second, she thought he looked familiar. He smirked, " I enjoy Blackwell's pain" he said, tracing her sweaty face. " Especially one as beautiful as you. I wonder what you'd look like once I take away these beautiful eyes of yours" he shook his head in feigned pity. His gaze bearing no trace of warmth, " what a shame"
He brought the hot iron to her thigh once again. Her face paled, her hands trembling as she awaited the pain.
He brought it slowly towards her, as if creating a suspenseful effect. " Please" she begged, but the words tasted bitter in her tongue.
He smirked and pressed the iron once again, she moaned in pain, refusing to scream as tears streamed down once again.
She felt her vision turn blurry, her heartbeat faster than usual. No! She couldn't die here.
***
Meanwhile, Caedmon appeared in front of Ten Aufrigad, his eyes flashed with satisfaction, blood bubbling down to the pit of his stomach in utter excitement. He got hold of the locket. Years of waiting, planning, killing. And in just one move, he got hold of his mission.
He smiled, " you should be proud, father. Your son would live longer than you" he said with a slight edgy smile
He walked towards the large mansion, every step felt like a dream come true. Every breath felt like freedom he never believed he could have. Freedom from a curse–an illness that waited for the right time to outmanoeuvre him.
" Lord Caedmon, please a VIP card" a black cladded guard requested, stiff with a bow. He handed the card to him and walked right into the mansion.
Ten Aufrigad featured books, magazines. Every literal work. A very good facade for an establishment that hid the cure to every disease.
" Well done Monroe, you really lived up to your name as the richest and most calculative merchant" he breathed, staring at the large tower of books and art, a sarcastic smile on his face, " such a shame, your son doesn't even know yet" he added.
He walked towards a hidden door, pressing a few numbers and the door opened. Before him was a small pathway, its walls were of steel metal, an invention only a Pevensie could come up with. He walked into it, the steel door locking behind him.
The scent of metal wafted into his nostrils, heavy with lots of safety before him. He should have felt anxiety but instead, he felt fulfilled.
He reached for the locket and pulled it out. The locket clinked, turning into a thorn like key , the same way he heard a beeping sound coming from a single direction. He smiled, the locket had found it's safe. Even this invention was outstanding.
He placed the key into the safe, twisting it slowly, his smile deepening with each twist. It clicked…
There it was– or so he thought, as his expression hardened, a look of disbelief laced on his face.
No medicine, just a small envelope with silver patterns.
His blood boiled– a flicker of hope flashing in his face, what if it was the way to make it, to create the medicine.
He grabbed the envelope and scanned through, his expression darkening as he read ….then he paused.
His eyes widened, impossible!
The last sentence, " they would come after your blood once they knew–i always loved you"
Realization came c
racking down through space as it dawned on him. Allistair was …a walking cure.