Chapter 3
769 Words
The mountain storms had raged for days. Thunder rolled through Hastings Keep like the growl of some beasts, shaking stone and steel alike. Alice lay restless on the cold floor of her cell, her eyes following the shifting darkness as her head guttered in their brackets.
She had begun to learn the fortress’s rhythms. The guards changed shifts with full predictability. The kitchen slaves brought meals with downcast eyes, careful not to look at her too long. And Edmund.
He visited without warning. Sometimes every day, sometimes not for nights at a time. Always with that unnerving calm, always with words to test his resolve. He wanted to know what she feared, what would make her fold. Alice gave him nothing but sharpened retorts, though each exchange left her chest tight long after he was gone.
Tonight was different.
She woke up to the scrapes of metal against stone. At first, she thought it was the guards. But the corridor beyond her bars was empty. The sound came from above, a muffled crash, a door slamming open. Then a voice, harsh and ragged, echoed down the stairwell.
His voice.
Alice pushed herself upright, pulse quickening. She pressed against the bars, straightening to hear.
The noise drew nearer. Boots pounded the corridor, uneven, stumbling. Then Edmund himself appeared at the far end, shoulders heaving, cloak half torn from his frame. His skin glistened with sweat despite the chill. In the flickering torchlight, she saw the black veins running up his neck, spreading like cracks in marble.
His steps faltered. He caught the wall with one hand, claws of darkness flickering where his fingers gripped the stone. For a heartbeat, Alice could not breathe. The rumors had been true. The curse was not just whispers; it lived in him, raw and ravenous.
Edmund, she whispered before she could stop herself.
His head snapped toward her, eyes burning red in the torchlight. Not gray, not human. Something else looked out through him, vast and merciless.
Stay back, he snarled, though she had no chains to step beyond. His voice was distorted, two tones woven together, one his, the other something darker.
Alice’s heart pounded, but she forced her voice steady. What is happening to you?
He staggered closer, then stopped short of her cell, dragging both hands through his hair as if to rip something out by the roots. Control… I have to… control it. His breathing was ragged, broken.
The sight was wrong. Edmund Hastings was supposed to be unshakable, a warlord carved from iron. But here he was, trembling, his curse tearing at him like a beast on a leash.
You’re dying, she said. It was not mockery, it was truth.
His gaze snapped to hers. For an instant, she thought he might rip the bars apart, drag her out, and crush her where she stood. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the cold iron, shadows licking across his skin like smoke.
Not dying, he rasped. “Becoming”
The word chilled her more than any threat. She swallowed hard, trying to mask her fear. And what happens when you finish becoming, Edmund? What will be left of you then?
He let out a shuddering laugh that sounded nothing like amusement. Nothing you would recognize.
The veins receded slowly, retreating beneath his skin. His breathing steadied by painful degrees. He looked up at her again, and this time his eyes were human gray once more, though hollow with exhaustion.
You should not have seen that he said.
Yet you came here, she countered, seizing the crack in his armor. Why? Why stumble to my cell when your curse is tearing you apart? Do you want me to see you like this?
His silence was an answer in itself. He turned abruptly, his hand braced against the wall, and staggered toward the stairs. At the threshold, he paused, shoulders taut.
You think I am a monster, he said without turning. Perhaps you are right. But remember this, Alice Collymore Monsters are not easily slain and stopped, for they are born of darkness and fed by fear, power grows with every scream,wrath is unleashed upon the innocent and
darkness spreads like a plague..
Then he was gone, swallowed by darkness and storm.
Alice sank back onto the floor, chains rattling softly. Her body trembled, though she pressed her nails into her palms to still it.
He was cursed. Broken. Vulnerable.
And for the first time, she felt the balance of power shift not toward freedom, not yet, but toward knowledge.
If Edmund’s mask could crack, she would be ready when it shattered.
- Writer
