My eyes fluttered open in a dimly lit room, the bed cocooned by thin, blood-red curtains. The air was thick and heavy, pressing down on me with each breath. I cautiously sat up and surveyed my surroundings. The walls were bare and made of rough stone, giving the room a damp and musty smell. As I moved towards the door, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. It loomed over me like a prison gate, made of solid iron and secured with a heavy lock. I reached for the handle, but it wouldn't budge, taunting me with its immovability. In a moment of desperation, I kicked at the door with all my might, but it remained steadfast.
Panic began to rise within me as I realized there were no windows or closets in the room—no possible means of escape. My breathing echoed loudly in the silence of the room, each inhale becoming more ragged and desperate. The bare stone walls seemed to close in around me, suffocating me with their emptiness. The scent of must and sweat filled my nostrils as my breaths came quicker, my anxiety rising with each second. It was as if the room itself was holding me captive, trapping me in its stale air.
The room seemed to shrink as I frantically scanned every inch of it, looking for any hint of a way out. My mouth felt dry and parched, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth with fear. It was as if the room was sucking all the moisture out of me, leaving me with a bitter taste of hopelessness.
Trembling, I ran them along the rough stone walls, feeling the cold and unforgiving surface. A primal scream of anger tore from my throat, likening myself to a foolish fox caught in the hunter's trap.
The sound of my scream echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with a deafening silence. For a moment, I stood there, panting and sweating, my heart pounding in my chest. I had the impression that there was no hope of escape and only despair. I was nothing more than a prisoner in a cold, unforgiving cell.
As I stood there, frozen in my despair, the door creaked open, startling me out of my stupor. Derek was standing in front of me, his once-friendly face now hidden behind a mask of icy, resolute determination. He looked me up and down, his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and triumph.
"You don't know what you're doing, Kyla," he said, his voice cold and unemotional. "You're just a pawn in a much bigger game."
Derek's face was twisted with a bitter smile. "Believe what you want, Kyla. I didn't come for you out of some newfound sense of family or loyalty. I came because the darkness commanded me to, because it saw an opportunity to use you against the gods." His voice dripped with disdain as he continued, "You were always the favored one. The one with power. And I was always left in the shadows."
Tears welled in my eyes as I listened to his words, feeling the weight of his pain and resentment. "Derek, please, you don't have to do this," I pleaded, my voice trembling.
He shook his head, his expression hardening even further. "It's too late for that now. The darkness has its hold on me, and there's nothing left for me but to obey."
Suddenly, a booming voice filled the room, emanating from nowhere and everywhere at once. "Derek," it sneered. "Bring her to me. I will be in the throne room. Do not make me wait!"
"You promised me power. Hold your end of the bargain." Derek replied, looking over his shoulder.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I heard the voice of the god of darkness. My heart raced as I realized the gravity of the situation. This was the one who held my brother captive, the one who had caused all the suffering in the world.
Derek's cold, calculating eyes bore into mine, devoid of any emotion. As he nods, his lips curl into a sinister smile, revealing a glint of teeth that seem sharper than they should be. He leads me out of the cell, and I take in the dimly lit corridor, with candles flickering and casting eerie shadows on the walls. As we approach the massive wooden door, the intricate carvings depict scenes of darkness and despair.
The door opened, and a musty scent wafted out—the smell of old wood and stone mixing with the faint aroma of decay and death. The air was cold and damp, prickling at my skin and making me shiver. The air buzzed with a palpable sense of malice, and I could feel the wickedness seeping into my bones. The wood was rough against my fingertips as I reached out to steady myself. The cold air nipped at my skin, each step sending a chill through my body, like walking in the snow without proper clothing.
The throne itself was a towering structure, made of twisted black metal and adorned with jewels that glinted in the dim light. Its back is supported by two towering statues of dragons made entirely of black obsidian. Above the throne, a massive crystal chandelier dangled, casting ominous shadows across the room. And upon it sat the god of darkness himself, a figure shrouded in darkness and dripping with power. His eyes were piercing and seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. A cruel smirk played on his lips as he spoke.
The darkness stood at the foot of the throne, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. He was tall and imposing, his robes flowing around him like a tempest. His eyes, as black as night, seemed to hold the secrets of a thousand lifetimes.
The room was filled with other dark figures, much like the ones who destroyed my village and the horrible beasts that feasted on my loved ones. Some were tall and imposing; others hunched and snarled. Their eyes glowed with malice, like embers in the darkness, and their fingers ended in sharp claws. They stood as ominous and foreboding as gargoyles, their twisted forms and piercing eyes betraying their allegiance to the god of darkness. Their presence evoked a sense of terror and despair, a constant reminder of the destruction and death that followed in their wake.
My mouth was dry and my throat choked with fear as I took in the terrifying scene before me. The taste of bile and bitterness lingered on my tongue, a reminder of the horrors I witnessed and that I would never forget.
The security around the god of darkness was impenetrable. The guards were armed and armored, their weapons glinting dully in the low light. They stood at attention, unflinching, and ready to attack at any moment.
My brother walked to his master and bowed. His face was a twisted reflection of his own despair. He seemed lost, as if he were not even present, his body betraying the will that drove him.
"Welcome, Kyla," the darkness spoke, his voice a sinister hiss. "I am glad you could join me at last."