The Crowned Captive
The Face of a God

Tiny bobbing lanterns line the walls of the stairs. Morana studied them curiously as she walked, realising them more alive than the witch lights she had grown used to. Their white-blue flames illuminated the entire journey down to the small golden subterranean room. Every wall and every seat was made of it. Only the floor and the small raised dais in the centre of the room were formed from the obsidian of the walls.

“The royal sanctum,” Cordan explained, standing by the stairs. “Nobody will disturb you here. Only those of royal blood are permitted to use the room. It is meant to be spelled to allow better conduction of prayers to Acheros and allow better reception of his messages.”

“I don’t know if I should receive his messages better than others,” Morana grumbled, walking closer to the dais. Power seemed to thrum through the room, leading her closer and closer to it.

“I don’t make the rules, Morana, I only know to follow them.”

Morana waved her hand at him, ignoring him as she climbed the three stairs to the centre of the dais. Indeed, she could feel raw power here, running across her skin like wildfire. The only place she had felt it with such strength was the cache. She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the feeling, trying to open herself to it. She gasped as the energy moved from her skin to her flesh, biting into her. Without warning, her knees collapsed underneath her and -

His face was full of malice, contorted so much that she could barely pick out the beauty she once saw. Raven hair was slicked back, those sapphire eyes their daughter shared burning down on her with nothing but hatred. She knew an outburst was close, his violence too hard for him to contain. She goaded him, her words intending to force her end. With a smile, she saw the moment he snapped. He barked his order and pain lanced across her neck, and then she was falling into Death’s waiting arms -

She had seen the man’s arrival in her bones and crystal balls. They had not lied to her before, and they had not lied this time. He was Beauty and Death was leashed and at his command. He was her end. She stared at him, unafraid, as his minions closed around her. Death rebelled at that moment, cloaking her and taking her pain as the blows fell. She smiled, knowing she had played her part in freeing the gods once more. There was the flash of a blade and -

She did not know what she had done to deserve this. The man, hair of ebony and eyes of sapphire, looked at her with such disgust she could not comprehend. She could not tell him where Morana had gone, and she would perish for it. She cried out as the first of the pain hit, and Death swept up to cushion her fall -

He was cold. They had drawn every drop of blood from his body yet still would not let him die. Death stood waiting, with open arms and the promise of comfort, yet the blue-eyed man kept carving and carving, never letting it end. He was sorry, so so sorry that he had ever wronged her. But he didn’t deserve this. He had loved her, truly. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve -

He could see his own body. He was looking down on it, his damned hair a mess. The pallor of his skin made him look sickly, nothing like he had in life. He supposed that was the point though; he was dead. Death stood behind him, refusing to take him, insisting he would not until he had no other choice. So he waited, steeling himself against the keening cries of his princess. And then he watched, awestruck, as she did the impossible, and pulled the spell of a god from his soul. Behind him, Death laughed, a sound of shock and pride, and he felt that string that once tied him to his body pull tight -

She recognised him now. Acheros sat before her, still chained and bound. When she had last seen him he had only injuries of his own making. Now, lashings of a whip covered his chest, his shoulders, even his ace. Someone had been relentless in their doling of pain. Morana looked upon Him and knew. Death had paid dearly for refusing to take another from her. Yet he smiled up at her as she looked at him in shock, not knowing how to help.

“My daughter,” Acheros began, his smile turning from tired to proud to wicked.“You know your enemy now. Kill me and disable him. The seed within you is freely given, not stolen. End me, and exact your revenge.”

Morana mere stared at the shackled god. His trousers were dirtied, bloodied and torn. His hair clung to him in greasy strands. He was not the powerful figure she had seen chained in her last dream. No, this Acheros had been beaten and tortured but not subdued. With a shock, she realised that Death had never taken anything from her. Draigh had, controlling a god.

“Kill me,” Acheros pleaded as footsteps sounded in the background. Morana knew if she was caught she would never leave, despite her body being elsewhere.

“No. That would not be just. Another will feel my wrath, but not you.” She spoke, turning to the stairs behind her.

As the vision shattered, the shocked face of Acheros echoing in her vision, Morana tried to make sense of it. She knew, without a doubt, that it had been the true face of the God of Death in front of her then. And she knew then that Draigh had truly been responsible for every death in her past. She had seen it through the eyes of everybody she had loved. Her whole body shook as she added that fact to the tally. She would no longer just kill the Rebellion leader. No, she would tear him apart, piece by piece, and cherish his every scream.

“You’d better keep them safe until I can finish him,” Morana finally whispered, not knowing if the god could hear her any longer.

Behind her, she heard Cordan shift on his feet, and she stood. Her knees stung, the lace of her gown had left indentations in the skin whilst pressed against the cold stone floor, but she cared not. She turned to her friend, her face heavy. Cordan said nothing as she climbed the stairs, her guards falling into rank around her at the top. The dim light of the setting sun streamed through the windows carved into the obsidian and Morana realised just how many hours she had spent with the god.

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