The Fallen Heiress: Red Blood, Cold Revenge

Chapter 2: The Dark Prison

The walls of the ancient royal chamber seemed to be closing in on Diana, as if they intended to swallow her alive. In the four corners of the room, heavy and antique brass torches coughed out thick, black smoke like a dying beast. The wood fueling these flames was no ordinary timber; it had been soaked in a peculiar mixture of cheap kerosene and pungent oils, filling the air with a heavy, suffocating stench that made the atmosphere unbearable. Since childhood, Diana had been repulsed by such smells—an allergy that made her feel as though an invisible hand was squeezing her throat, or a massive stone had been placed upon her chest, crushing the very breath out of her. She pressed her trembling hands against her nose, but the bitter, toxic odor pierced through her senses, leaving her head spinning and her body weak with exhaustion.

She sat huddled in a dark corner of the floor, a picture of helplessness, with a sea of tears in her eyes and her heart heavy with worry for her father. She was still reeling from her circumstances when suddenly, the silence was shattered by a terrifying thud. The heavy iron doors of the chamber burst open as if someone had kicked them with brute force. Diana startled like a bird caught in a predator's gaze, reflexively closing her eyes tight, as if trying to shut out the cruel reality before her.

When she finally gathered the courage to look, Lord Cedric stood there. A triumphant pride was etched onto his face, and in his hand, he gripped the royal staff—the very symbol of dignity and justice that once belonged to Diana’s father. Standing right beside him was Isabella, holding her expensive silken robes with an air of immense arrogance. There was no trace of sympathy in Isabella’s eyes; instead, she looked down at Diana as if she were not a royal heiress, but merely a lowly maid or a common servant to be crushed underfoot.

Cedric stepped into the room, the sound of his boots echoing sharply against the floor. He scanned the room with a poisonous smile before turning toward Diana. "Oh! My dear niece Diana..." he began. His voice was sweet like honey, but the cunning behind it was as lethal as a viper’s strike. "We were quite worried that you might be frightened here all alone, but seeing you now, it seems you have compromised with your fate. Do you not like this chamber? You seem to be living here in quite a 'royal' fashion."

Diana, whose breath was already hitching due to the fumes and the suffocating air, struggled to stand, leaning against the cold wall for support. Her voice was faint, yet laced with hidden pain. "Uncle... I cannot breathe in here. This foul smell is suffocating me. I cannot stay here for even another moment. What is my fault? Why have you imprisoned me like this? What have I ever done to you?"

Cedric looked at Diana’s pale, trembling face and then exchanged a mocking glance with Isabella. "Did you hear that, Isabella? Our Highness feels suffocated. It seems she does not find this royal chamber or its atmosphere to her liking."

Isabella let out a loud, contemptuous laugh that echoed off the stone walls. She walked right up to Diana and, with a mocking finger, touched her tangled, messy hair. "Oh, my innocent and foolish Diana! How naive of us to think you would appreciate such a grand place. Father, the Princess is complaining. We must take better care of her, mustn't we? After all, she is the 'last' heiress of our line."

Cedric leaned in close to Diana’s face, the greed and brutality hidden in his gaze now starkly visible. He spoke in a terrifyingly gentle whisper, "Do not worry, my child. If you feel suffocated here, I have a cure for that. Let us move you to a place that is even 'better.' A dark, deep cell where no sound of the world will ever reach you. There will be no smoke there, and no noise... only eternal silence and peace."

Diana’s body turned cold as ice, and the color drained from her face. "A dark cell? No... that’s not what I meant, Uncle. For God’s sake, have mercy on me..."

But mercy was a concept unknown to Cedric. He gave a cold, dry signal to the two towering, cold-blooded guards standing outside. "Take her away! Throw her into the farthest, darkest cell of 'The Base'—where even the rays of the sun fear to tread. Keep her there until her stubborn tongue loosens and she reveals the secrets I wish to know."

The guards lunged forward like wild beasts. Without any regard for her royal status, they grabbed Diana’s delicate arms with their iron-like grip. Diana screamed, struggling to break free, but she was like a straw before their strength. To humiliate her further, the guards began to drag her across the floor.

The journey was like a descent into a living nightmare. The guards dragged her out of the beautiful corridors of the palace and toward the stairs that led deep underground. For nearly twenty minutes, they pulled her through dark, damp, and foul-smelling tunnels. As they went deeper, the air grew colder and heavier. The smell of moss clinging to the walls and the oppressive darkness made Diana’s senses reel. She felt as though she were being buried alive in her own grave.

Finally, they reached a small, wretched cell with iron bars. The guards unlocked the heavy chains and mercilessly shoved Diana onto the cold, filthy floor. Before she could utter a word or regain her balance, the heavy iron door slammed shut with a resounding boom, leaving her in total darkness.

Hours passed. Diana lay on the cold floor, weeping as she thought of her father and her fate. The darkness was so thick she could not even see her own hand. Suddenly, the very faint sound of footsteps reached her ears. Someone was approaching her cell in total silence.

A soldier, his face half-hidden by a black mask, came to a halt outside the bars. In his hand was a small cloth bundle, which he held with great care.

"Princess... eat this. You need your strength," the soldier whispered in a heavy yet incredibly kind and sympathetic voice. There was a sense of pain in his tone that Diana couldn't quite identify, yet it gave her a strange comfort.

Diana asked in a frightened tone, "Who are you? Why are you helping me? Did Cedric send you to spy on me?"

The soldier looked around nervously to ensure no one was watching, then leaned closer to the bars. "You must be brave, Princess. This is not the time to break, but to strengthen yourself. You are not alone; many are with you. And... I have good news. Your father, the King, is still alive. Cedric is giving him bitter medicines to keep him constantly unconscious, but he is still breathing. I am stationed right outside his room."

Tears of hope welled up in Diana’s eyes. She peered through the darkness into the soldier’s eyes behind the mask. Suddenly, a blurred memory flickered in her mind—the way he stood, his mannerisms, the deep sympathy in his gaze... it all felt like a shadow from her past, like a familiar face from her childhood. It felt as though she knew him, as if he were one of her own. But the memories were too scattered for her to be sure.

"You have seen my father? Truly? Who are you? Do I know you?"

The soldier adjusted his mask nervously and began to back away. "I am just a simple soldier stationed here for your protection. Just remember, as long as I am here, I will let no harm come to you."

The soldier vanished into the darkness, leaving Diana with the bundle of fresh mulberries and a newfound hope. As she ate the fruit, she felt a surge of energy within her. The identity of the mysterious soldier remained a riddle, but he had ignited a fire of revenge in Diana’s heart—a fire that was now stronger than ever.