Adrien was yanked from the cold confines of his cell with a roughness that jolted him awake from the numb routine of captivity. The guard's grip was like iron on his arm, dragging him through the winding corridors of the prison, each step echoing ominously against the stone walls. The flickering torches cast long, distorted shadows that danced eerily as they passed, and the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old, forgotten fears.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached a set of massive double doors, carved from dark wood and banded with ancient, tarnished metal. The guard pushed them open with a grunt, revealing a room that was a world apart from the dreary prison cells.
The throne room was vast, its ceiling towering high above like the vault of a cathedral, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting scenes of battles, celestial beings, and moments lost to time. Columns lined the walls, carved from marble that shimmered faintly in the dim light, their surfaces etched with runes and symbols that seemed to pulse with a hidden energy. The floor was a mosaic of black and white tiles, forming a complex pattern that drew the eye in and seemed to shift if stared at for too long.
At the far end of the room, upon a raised dais, was a throne carved from a single block of obsidian. It gleamed with a malevolent beauty, its sharp edges catching the light and reflecting it in harsh, angular patterns. Draped over it was a rich, crimson fabric that contrasted starkly with the dark stone, giving the throne an almost regal air despite its ominous appearance.
Seated upon the throne was the woman in the white robes, her presence commanding and serene amidst the opulence. The robes seemed to glow with a light of their own, casting a soft illumination around her that only heightened the shadows in the rest of the room. Her eyes, those piercing orbs that had haunted Adrian since their first meeting, watched him with an unreadable expression as he was forced to his knees before her.
The guard shoved Adrian roughly, making him stumble forward and land hard on the cold tile floor. The impact sent a shock through his body, but he refused to cry out, biting down on the inside of his cheek to stifle any sound. He could feel the guard's eyes on him, a silent threat that warned against any sudden movements.
The room was silent save for the faint crackling of torches set in sconces along the walls. The air was thick with a sense of power, an undercurrent of something ancient and dangerous that thrummed just beneath the surface.
"Leave us," the woman's voice cut through the silence, soft yet commanding. The guard hesitated for a moment, his grip on Adrian tightening as if reluctant to release him.
"You heard her," she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. The guard grunted in acknowledgment, releasing Adrian and stepping back with a wary glance towards the throne. With a bow that was more a curt nod, he turned and exited the room, the heavy doors closing behind him with a final, echoing thud.
Adrien remained on his knees, his heart pounding in his chest as he slowly lifted his gaze to meet the woman's. The weight of her stare was almost physical, pressing down on him with an intensity that made him feel exposed, vulnerable.
The throne room, with all its grandeur and foreboding beauty, seemed to close in around him as the silence stretched on. The woman did not speak immediately, merely observing him with those inscrutable eyes, her expression calm and unreadable.
Finally, she leaned forward slightly, her robes shifting like liquid light around her. "Do you know why you're here, Adrien?" she asked, her voice smooth and controlled, like a blade sliding through silk.
Adrian swallowed hard, his throat dry, but he met her gaze with as much resolve as he could muster. "No," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "But I'd like to find out."
A faint smile played at the corners of her lips, but it was a smile devoid of warmth, a mere gesture that hinted at something far darker. She rose from the throne with a grace that was almost otherworldly, descending the steps of the dais slowly, each step deliberate and soundless.
As she approached, Adrien could feel the air around him grow colder, the atmosphere thickening with a sense of anticipation. The woman stopped just a few feet away from him, her gaze unwavering as she studied him.
"You are not like the others," she said softly, almost to herself. "There is something different about you. Something… more."
Adrien froze for a second, trying to comprehend what she just said. How could a normal peasent child like him be.. different? If anything, he thought he had been mistaken for a noble or something. He did have the looks of one. But no, this lady wanted him here for something different, so much so she sent someone as scary as that pale man to come grab him up. But wait, how did she know he would be in the village at the time, or at least going that way? Something wasn't adding up. It was like she knew about him all along, his plans and aspirations for life, heck, even plans that he made on a whim. Wait, that was rather strange, wasn't it? He had only came up with the plan to see Dawndelle Village a day before he asked and set out. How could she have known he would be there?
Adrien's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, a sudden and inexplicable fear clawing at his insides. Different? What does she mean? he thought, the pulse in his ears growing louder with each passing second.
He felt a jolt of recognition, a flicker of something buried deep within his memory, something that had once defined him, but now lay just out of reach. It was as if a fog had settled over his mind, obscuring the edges of a truth that he knew was there but couldn't quite grasp. The sensation was maddening—he was on the cusp of remembering, but every time he reached for it, it slipped away like sand through his fingers.
What am I forgetting? His thoughts raced, trying to latch onto that elusive feeling. He knew there was something about him that set him apart, something important, but the harder he tried to focus, the more it eluded him. All he knew was that it terrified him, this sense of otherness, of being marked by something he couldn't understand.
His heart pounded against his ribs, and a cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.
The woman in white robes observed Adrien intently, her eyes scanning him like a specimen under a magnifying glass. She seemed to relish the fear in his eyes, the confusion that clouded his thoughts.
"You're a rare find, Adrien," she began, her tone softening just enough to be unnerving. "Anti-magick is a force that disrupts the natural order, something that nullifies even the most powerful of spells. It's not just a power—it's a weapon. And in the right hands, it could shift the balance of power in unimaginable ways."
She paused, letting her words sink in. Adrien could feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on him, the sense that he was no longer just a person, but a tool she was eager to wield.
"You've already proven that you're capable of wielding this power, even if you don't fully understand it yet," she continued. "And that makes you valuable. Extremely valuable. But raw power without control is dangerous, both to yourself and to those around you."
Adrien's heart raced, the implications of her words clear. She didn't just see him as a curiosity—she saw him as a resource, something to be harnessed and directed.
"My plans for you are simple," she said, her voice cold and calculated. "You will be trained, molded, and refined until you can control your abilities. Until you can use them on command, without hesitation. And then, when the time is right, you will serve a purpose far greater than yourself."
Refusal isn't an option," she said, her voice edged with steel. "You either cooperate and become something greater, or you resist and are crushed under the weight of what you've unleashed. Either way, your fate is sealed."
*****
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