Page 119 of Daughter of the Serpent

Her lips quirked.

There wouldbe no mercy.

She would be a slave no more.

Sylvie was jolted awake by the sound of a sharp crack, followed by the pummel of something crashing against the floor. She opened her eyes, light still humming from the palms of her hands as she inspected her room, now in shambles. Shelves lay in shattered fragments, their contents strewn haphazardly across the floor, the sole table and chairs were on their sides, one of the chairs snapped in two. Though it was just a dream, yet her whole body was ignited, chaos thrumming through her being ready to be released. She clenched her jaw against the primal scream of anger that threatened to escape her throat, her fists tightening as she fought to regain control amidst the tempest of emotions swirling inside her. She took a swift intake of breath and held it, in attempts to regain her composure.

It had been four days since her sister’s life was so needlessly taken.

Four days since her mother had been tied up in the stocks for her insolence.

Four days that she had been kept away and hindered from doing anything about it.

Sylvie had tried everything, to go to her mother, to offer comfort, to dosomething- but Haldor stopped her. His grip had been firm, his voice unwavering. “If you show compassion, you’ll only make it worse - for both of you.”

And she hated every word, because every word was true.

Any display of sympathy toward someone who had spoken against the temple would be seen as a defiance that demanded further punishment.

Likewise, there would be no time given for mourning - not when such death was an honor to the gods.

A true believer wouldn’t feel sorrow. Wouldn’t grieve. Wouldn’t ache with the weight of loss.

They would be grateful.

And she would now be expected to be so - each time she walked the temple halls, whispered her prayers, or passed her fellow brothersand sisters of the Light. Because if she didn’t, she feared her mother would pay the price.

Rederick had already shown the depths of his cruelty - how far he was willing to go to remind her of his power. If he wouldn’t come for her directly, he’d focus on the people she cared for.

Despite Haldor being foolish enough to call her lucky that she wasn’t suffering the same fate, she knew the truth.

She hadn’t escaped; she’d merely delayed the inevitable.

Rederick’s hatred would catch up with her in the end. And when it did, she would be powerless to stop it. Powerless against the temple’s will, its laws, and its cruelty.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t come for her yet. Because he knew what she was living through now - was punishment enough.

And he was right.

Her mother’s and sister’s screams still ripped through every darkened dream, every waking hour, a torment she could never outrun, and never would. Her heart bled without end, her thoughts, her emotions a tumult that would swiftly overtake her - and there was no escape.

The gods offered no sanctuary. Her prayers brought no peace. There was only the anger. Tightening, twisting - coiling in her gut like a serpent waiting to strike. And every time Rederick’s wretched smirk curled in amusement, it took all her strength not to drive her blade straight into his heart.

The mask she had worn for so long was cracking.

She felt it splinter, piece by piece, and she teetered on the edge of something dark, something so consuming she wasn’t sure she would ever come out.

Rising from her disheveled bed, Sylvie navigated through the chaos of her room, stepping over scattered items and crumpled furniture without a second thought. She couldn't summon the energy to care. With a resigned shake of her head, she retrieved her fighting leathers from the floor, thankful that at least they had survived her wrath. Pulling them over her body with effort,Sylvie adorned herself with a fur pelt for added warmth against the lingering chill of the spring mornings. The breeze still held a bite, and she welcomed the protective layer around her shoulders. Securing her dagger to her thigh, she prepared herself for the day's early training session.

Each morning unfolded in the same ritualistic fashion, with Sylvie rising before the sun to seek solace in the routine of combat. Though Axel had awaited her there each day, they had trained in silence. She hadn’t wanted to think, speak, nor eat - only unleash her frustrations with her blade and body. As she made her way to the training grounds, her eyes fell upon her target - a wooden post adorned with the countless marks from her dagger.

Grateful Axel was not yet risen, she let out a sigh of relief.

She preferred to face her demons alone.

She prefered he not see her in this condition, nor see her vulnerable at all.

After holding her back when her sister's life was taken - she couldn’t understand why he bothered to train her at all.

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