Page 44 of Monstrous Grave

“It’s impossible,” she tells me.

“Who are you?” I demand, confusion marring my features.

She doesn’t answer, her gaze locked on the ground as if lost in thought. Frustration wells inside me as I realize she offers no answers. Tearing my eyes from her, I scan the room for any means of escape, but I come up empty in this room of barren walls.

A whimper escapes me as I tug at the chains, ignoring the pain as they tear through flesh. Desperation fuels me until the pain becomes unbearable, and the realization that I won’t get out of these godforsaken chains fills me.

“I told you so,” the voice mutters, and I shoot her an annoyed glare.

——————

The creaking of the door from above snaps me back to consciousness, my heart racing instantly. Straining my ears for any sound, I’m met with silence, leaving me staring at the ceiling. Disorientation fills me, and I realize I must have woken up from sleep.

“They always come and go,” the soft, feminine voice floats across the room, her eyes trained on mine.

She looks different now, her hair untangled without any visible dirt on her. A faint scent of soap lingers in the air, and I frown at her in confusion.

She sighs exasperatedly. “If you’re obedient, they allow you to clean up.”

Disbelief coats my words. “What the hell?”

She merely shrugs, as if this is an everyday occurrence for her.

“Who are you?” I press further, but she offers no response. “What brings you here then?” I try again, but her gaze remains fixed on her clean nails while avoiding mine.

“They came to collect a debt,” she finally reveals.

Her words are cryptic, leaving me more confused than ever. There’s a profound sadness in her eyes that reflects years of pain and suffering, mirroring my own struggles. I recognize that look—the anguish of pain etched into her soul.

“Do you know where we are?” She remains silent, retreating into her mind to escape the cruel reality we’re in. “Hello?” I call out again.

Before she can reply, a loud noise echoes through the space, causing her to tense.

“Keep quiet and look down. Do not disobey them,” she hisses, right before a man in uniform steps into the room.

His stance is imposing, sending a surge of fear racing through me like a violent thunderstorm as he approaches, each step like a doom to an inevitable confrontation. My eyes travel from his pointed shoes to his black slacks, giving way to a buttoned-up shirt. Finally, his face comes into view—features I never want to see again.

I flinch at the sight of my foster father’s smirk, his expression conveying my insignificance, as if I’m about to be crushed like an ant in his path.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my beloved Arcane,” he sneers, crouching before me while belittling me with his cruel presence. “I knew I would one day see you again, daughter.”

Without hesitation, I spit on his face, saliva dripping down his cheek. He backhands me just as quickly, my head snapping to the side while a fiery sting spreads across my cheek.

His eyes narrow into razor-sharp slits, but I maintain an indifferent expression, knowing that predators feast on fear, and I refuse to fuel the fire.

“Where am I?” I manage to ask, masking my emotions.

The laughter that follows is cruel and taunting. “Your pathetic ‘family’ betrayed you,” he mocks. “You’re alone, Arcane. No one cares about you, and no one would ever love you enough to stay.”

His words cut deep, carving a wound in my soul. I hold myself perfectly still, refusing him the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

I trusted them, and they betrayed me.

Inside, I’m screaming from the agony tearing me apart, but on the outside, I merely blink at him.

“How?”

“I suspect you already know the ‘how,’ my darling daughter. You simply refuse to admit it. They’ve been working with us all along.”

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