He’d bound her magic with vigor and vice.
Unable to summon a light of her own, she slipped on the remnants of the dress he’d shred into near ribbons hours ago and took hold of the lit candlestick that sat at his desk. She couldn't decipher the many scrolls littering the shelves, his swooping handwriting creating ancient runes that she'd neglected to study during her school years.
She had always favored charms and defensive spells, yet nothing had been able to save her from war, or herself becoming a spoil of it.
Keeping a protective hand before the weak tongue of fire, she made certain her feet were a whisper against the cool surface of the floor as she walked out into the darkened corridor. His quarters were at the end of the hall, so she continued along the path that she knew well enough after traversing back and forth between the bed sheets and the great hall that housed his looming throne.
She checked every door along the way, frowning deeply when each refused to budge, their locks in place. After creeping down the flight of sweeping stairs, instead of taking the right that led to the side entrance of the throne room, convenient to the palace’s only inhabitants, she veered left.
The feeble flame cast flickering shadows in every direction, but when none took hold of her exposed ankles, she found she could breath easy.
He preferred the company of darkness over the living.
Continuing down the hall, she passed tapestries difficult to discern with only a single flame to light their entirety. Yet she could make out the writhing, hedonistic rituals that she had no doubt Viscardi would love to have her partake in. Swallowing bile that threatened to creep up her throat, she shook her head of the thought and came to a stop in front of an open doorway.
A chill kissed her skin as she stared down the stone stairwell. If she were feeling sane tonight, she’d turn and scurry back underneath the coverlet of Viscardi’s bed, but foolish bravery hummed through her blood, urging her to investigate. To find a weakness she could exploit.
Taking in a breath, she clasped a hand around the railing and began her descent. The air grew colder and thicker as she grew restless and fearful. It was entirely plausible that this was where he had disappeared to, not to the library or out on a midnight stroll across the bloodshed lands he’d claimed his own.
She shuddered and glanced once over her shoulder to reassure herself he wasn’t a heartbeat away.
As soon as the stairwell came to an end, stones slick with moist beneath her feet, the flame extinguished and she hurried to brace herself against the nearest wall. The courage that had carried her down fled, leaving her with the urge to either run back or hide. Viscardi may not outright kill her, but he had many methods of punishment.
Gritting her teeth in a final attempt to grasp onto any remaining threads of nerve, she squinted her eyes to take in her blackened surroundings.
And let the threads slip from her fingers.
