Drip
Drop
Drip
Drop
A beam of light poured through a little square opening, like the last rays of hope.
Malformed rock high above served as a ceiling. Little drops of life, seeped gently from on high.
She had memorized the beat.
The flow was just enough to keep her face wet.
If she desired another source of water, she would have to draw it out of the air itself.
Of course, it had taken years of isolation.
"Vatak"
"Masd"
"Wasaf"
"Nyula"
Her hoarse whispers filled the cell, synchronized with the rhythmic drops. A stench like rot stood strong all over her skin, punctured with scars and wounds. The stench didn't bother her. If anything, the fact that she could still smell was a blessing.
The water fell upon her face, rolling down her sunken cheek, touching the corner of her cracked lip.
It was salty.
At least, it used to be.
She couldn't quite tell anymore.
Her eyes stuck to the light. It bathed the ancient wall before her, describing every nook and cranny upon its rough surface.
Sunrise.
As time passed, the light shifted downwards.
It reached the steel placements planted into the wall. The glint of a loop of metal chain reached her eye.
To her, whoever had designed the chamber was just the right amount of merciful, surprisingly enough.
He had left a single hole, positioned in such a way that one would always be reminded of the fact that one was alive.
And exactly an hour later, one would be reminded of her current state.
Imprisoned.
She slowly raised herself. Her shoulder blades jutted out from her back; her skin pressed against her ribs. Dull cracks emanated from her arms as she stretched them. The chains clinked gently.
Black strands of hair laced her back.
She felt the creaking of her neck as her bones slowly shifted.
Slow, unsettling breaths came out from her lips, like weak rasps of a rusty swords.
Her body shook with every beat of her heart.
It was almost breakfast.
The low echoes of footsteps creeped into the cell.
They rung alongside the drops.
Dull clangs rose angrily.
They ended abruptly at the door of the cellar.
There was a short pause.
Mass of air stood still.
A loud clack rung, along with the shred of wood; a latch sliding open.
Dark eyes scanned her behind a layer of cold steel.
A voice blurred,
"Good morning, Miss Blood Witch…"
Yet another day had come.
The voice ceased.
A minute later, another latch opened at the base of the door.
It slid open, and a piece of bread rolled its way in. Coming to a stop at her side, it wobbled upon the hard stone floor. A small patch of mold coated its dull cream, porous surface.
Nekea's eyes fell upon the slice.
'Oh, it's him today…' she thought.
'The schedules have changed.'
Nekea had marked the guards as 'days'.
Yesterday was Tuesday.
Today was supposed to be Wednesday.
Rather, Friday had taken his place.
Raising her bony hands her fingers touched the bread. She lifted it to her lips, the remnants of her biceps on the verge of shuddering.
Taking a bite, she chewed slowly.
Minutes passed. She was done with the meal.
Another piece of bread rolled its way in, gently landing at her side.
She took it once more, chains clinking as her hands moved. Drool left her lips, leaving trails down off her little meal.
She consumed it.
The latches closed in reverse order.
Friday was a rare one. He was actually a bit considerate.
Nekea brought herself to the cold stone once more.
Her head slowly rested on a little projection of it.
She wasn't sure whether she had carved a groove in it.
Or it had carved a groove in her skull.
Either way, it had stopped hurting a year ago.
"Wa…ta…shi…wa"
"ka…mi…da"
"de…us…su…m"
"sa…ra…sy…n…ce"
"ou…p"
Her whispers graced the air once more, with every exhalation.
The sounds seemed to dance in the air, syllables that made no sense to the soldiers standing guard outside the cell.
For all the time he had spent guarding the Blood Witch, she had always behaved like this.
In the beginning, her voice had that effeminate tone in it.
Now, it was mere air.
Never had he heard her repeating syllables. Maybe his comrades who took his post had heard differently. But he didn't let his mind wander too much.
His daughter had given him a wonderful necklace. He marked it, underneath his Karakhian armor.
Within Nekea's cell, the beam of light shifted across the cell, drawing an arc.
For the whole time the sunlight touched her, it felt like faeries dancing on her broken body. Laughing with one another. It was a grace upon her, compensating for her sight.
Nekea knew it was day because of the silence. Flames didn't crackle. Footsteps were dormant.
She raised herself at specific periods when she knew her 'meals' would come. After eating, she would rest once more,
While the sun took its seat, the darkness was far off.
The real activity spiked when it retired across the horizon.
Darkness quickly crept over the cell, as the sun disappeared. The last of its rays graced the wall to her left.
Night came quickly. The only source of illumination was the flickering torch that hung within the corridor, outside her cell.
The darkness shifted with the waltzing flame.
Holes where eyes would have been, like a bottomless void, sat still.
A world forever black, she dwelt in.
Her active hours were about to begin.
Her brow soon twitched.
With the heightening of her other senses, things like that happened.
Someone was drawing close. Nekea knew exactly who it was.
The dull sound of slow footsteps barged close. It was accompanied by the distinct jangling of keys.
The guard turned.
"Master Triek," he greeted, his arm on his chest.
His heart raced; a short-hunched man, in his late middle ages, passed him.
Unblinking, his eyes were like spears. He bore a striking likeness to one of the Erref.
Strange contraptions were in his grasp.
The soldiers eye caught the glint of metal in the firelight.
He had spent enough time there to know exactly what was going to happen. Every night, it was the same. His comrades always whisphered about it.
Those devices were for farm animals.
Lord Triek stared blankly at the wooden door of the cell.
Still unblinking.
The soldiers gaze fell forwards. He knew the order. After three years, it had been ingrained.
It was horrid. Cold. Inhumane.
Frustration drew on his face. He harbored a deep hatred for his duties.
However, there was a single rule regarding insubordination.
'Once bitten…'
No one had ever lived to find out the rule's end.
Lord Triek grabbed the keys dangling from his belt, holding it to the soldier.
He had every capacity to open the cell himself.
For some reason, he always made the soldiers do it.
The soldier hesitated.
Looking into the Master's eyes, his arm shook. He extended it, taking the keys.
Facing the door, he stuck the eerily shaped key into the keyhole.
First click.
Second click.
Final click.
There was a pause. He could feel murderous eyes staring through his soul.
He was glad he wouldn't be there tomorrow.
He opened the door.
Darkness escaped. The flame shuddered.
Lord Triek grinned. He entered, taking the keys from the guard.
The door creaked as it closed shut.
There was a long silence.
The soldier could only hear muffled speech. Indecipherable.
Suddenly, there was a sharp thwack. Then another. Another.
Again, and again.
After that, muffled struggles. Faint sounds, escaped.
The cries of a woman in pain.
The soldiers' eyes widened.
He touched the necklace his daughter had given him. It held the last of his sanity.
Each second seemed to stop, look at the soldier, sneer and then continue.
The screams grew louder, more audible.
More bloodcurdling.
Insane.
Choking. Coughing afterwards. Then choking again.
Searing screams.
The soldier's teeth rattled.
The noise in his mind provided him the only escape from his misery.
If even listening could make him that miserable, he could only imagine what the Blood Witch had been going through.
Every night. For three years.
"You're nothing! Nothing! NOTHIIIINNGGG!!!!"
Each roar was followed by a deafening slap. They continued afterwards. There was dead silence on the part of the Blood Witch.
An hour passed.
And then another.
The noise ceased.
The soldier braced himself.
Lord Triek opened the cell door, stepping out.
His garments had been tussled. A horrid stench was upon him. Tears flowed down his face, as he clenched his teeth.
His grip on the devices tightened. Blood stains were upon them.
With slow trudges, he moved away.
Keys jangled once more.
The sound of clinking keys slowly faded.
There was silence.
Apart from the continuous rattle of the soldiers' teeth.
He couldn't take much more. No one could.
He wondered
'For how much longer, should she suffer, Lord Triek? Haven't you done enough?'
He wished he could spell out his thoughts to the Lord's face.
But of course, he couldn't.
Within the cell, Nekea continued her mutters.
It was a good thing she couldn't cry anymore.
"An…aye…lu…ba"
"n…ga…an…a…mu…"
"n…gu…na…ya...x…di…"
"o…sa…tw…a"
She drifted to sleep. Inconceivable destruction filled her empty sockets. Fiery blue eyes. Innocent amber ones.
Soon, she came to once more.
Yet, another day had come.