The faint singe on his knees, persisted as they pressed against the flagstones. He shift uncomfortably. Iron manacles fretted his wrist, his arms drawn wide upon the chains. Around him guttered braziers of bone, their flames, a rich green. Through half-lidded eyes he lifted his gaze toward the high seat, yet beheld nothing but shadows.
From afar, cries of anguish rang out, loud enough to shake him fully awake. In that instant he knew the towering doors on either side yawned unto some subterranean vault of torment. Whether he was granted some cruel favor or he merely awaited the same fate, he could not tell.
He swallowed dryly.
"Nero Achilles, son of Zoran Achilles, prince of Ferns." A voice came from the throne, deep but clear.
Nero frowned into the darkness. "You know who I am, yet you had your men kidnap me? You are bold." Every breath he drew was as if he stood in the middle of a desert, only ten times worse. He jerked his face upwards, craving a single sniff of fresh air, but caught the stale odors instead.
Sweat rolled down his spine.
"I ask again," the voice deepened than the first time. "Where is your mother?"
"And I answer, yet again, I know not the whereabouts of the queen." Nero's amber, doe eyes peered into the darkness. "Who even are you?" He asked.
"Pull the chains," the figure ordered. Behind Nero, chains rattled and in seconds, his feet swayed and his arms twitched. The rattling seized, and the silhouetted figure adjusted in his seat. "Over the years, folks have called me sorts of names." Nero imagined him sneering as he spoke. "But here, I am simply the Punisher."
Nero looked around the darkness again. "Am I..." he grunted. "Am I in hell?" He remembered now. They didn't abduct him; they killed him. He looked down at his hairless chest, his hot breath grazing where the blade pierced deep.
The man gave a short, derisive laugh. "Only just realized, have you?"
"I can't die." Nero said breathlessly. "Ferns is under threat of an attack. My death will be their doom."
The Punisher scoffed. "You mortals do so cling to purpose. But you are dead. The world of men is no longer your concern."
"Let me live again." Nero's arms burned. "I'll give you whatever you ask in return."
There was a short pause. Then the punisher asked. "You've slain quite a good number of my minions. Why, pray tell, do you believe I will let you back into the world of mortals?"
Nero's eye narrowed, confidently staring into the shadows like he could carve a visage on the silhouette. "Because I can accomplish what they cannot. I can find my mother." He could hear a grunt from behind, but he paid it to attention as that was far from his matters of concern. He watched the figure keenly.
The punisher adjusted in his seat again and said, "You're willing to give your mother up so easily?"
Without batting an eye, he said firmly. "She adds no value to my life. I do not care about her." The truth in his words were shallow, but he was unaware of the extent. Since he was eleven, he tried to fashion a reason she'd leave but none made sense. His mother had been an amazing queen. Ecstatic. Loved, by her husband, her children and all of Ferns. Why she disappeared remained a mystery to all of them.
"If you're so skilled in the art of finding folks who've disappeared into thin air, why haven't you found your mother? I'm sure you've sought for her in the past."
"No…I have not."
For the first time since their conversation, the punisher rose from his seat. He jogged down the steps with effortless grace, like it was a usual routine. As the flame's dull light kissed his damn near perfect face, Nero could guess he was in his mid forties. Raven black hair stopped right at his shoulders, matching his silk, leather coat. His stare, as cold as winter lingered as he strode towards Nero. "I have watched you, from boyhood to adulthood. The brave and strong prince of Ferns. Waging war against warriors and kings at your nineteenth year to protect your home."
A ball of sweat rolled from the back of his neck, tickling down his sides.
The Punisher paced a short distance. "A man of your… disposition is of use to me. I have plans for you, Nero Achilles. Though I should make one thing clear—your return to the world of men is the least significant part of them."
An hour had passed since Valerie stood with her fist clenched, her gaze fixed on the small stones set upon the fallen oak. A hand came to rest upon her shoulder. She let out a slow breath and rolled her eyes. Around them, the trees stirred softly with the wind.
"You have done enough, Val," came from behind her. The voice was low. "You should try again tomorrow."
Valerie turned sharply, her eyes meeting his. "No. Nix, my nineteenth birthday is near—less than three months remain. If Fabian or I don't show any sign of magic…" She faltered, then steadied herself. "…you know well what fate awaits us."
For the longest time, Nix hadn't seen Valerie this unsettled. It was only when her gaze slipped from his that she noticed his hand hidden behind his back. "What are you hiding?" she asked.
"It's—nothing." He waved it off immediately.
A smile tugged at her lips. "Show me."
Nix had always had a way of shifting her mood without effort. "Nix…" She reached for him. "Stop stalling."
He chuckled under his breath. "Alright, alright—just wait." Like it was a prize he'd been guarding, he brought his hand forward.
Valerie's lips parted. "A vaesroot?"
He nodded.
Her expression tightened. "You know that's forbidden."
"Relax," he said, softer. "I just want to show you something."
Her curiosity seemed to waver yet she thought she needed to see whatever he wanted to show her. Nix stepped closer, one arm circling her waist, tugging her close. Their breath warmed the golden yellow leaf as its sharp, minty scent filled their nose.
He bit into it. His eyes shut. Under his breath, he murmured the spell.
Dust rolled from the ground, spiraling into a wide, whirling ring. Valerie clung to him, burying her face against his chest. Wind surged around them and her auburn hair lashed wildly.
The sea roared. The atmosphere had changed. They stood on a cliff now and behind them, a meadow stretched into the distance. Before them, the ocean crashed violently against rocks.
Valerie pulled away slowly, taking in the surrounding.
Nix gestured. The earth lurched beneath their feet and now they were below the cliff, much closer to the ocean.
"After Paxton died…" He started. "I couldn't stay. Everything smelled like him. Every corner—every route." He swallowed. "It was like he was still there in the village."
Valerie stiffened. She had been fifteen, but the memory had stayed fresh. How black veins threading through Paxton's skin, darkness swallowing his eyes and the sinister grin he had on most of the time.
The wave below collided against the rocks, throwing mist into the air. Drops of water hit against his hand.
Nix stared out at the sea. "So whenever I find vaesroot…" he continued, "I leave. As far as I can."
A gull shrieked sharply right above them.
"I still feel him," he said. "Sometimes I hear him." His jaw tightened. "But that's not real. It can't be."
Silence stretched awkwardly between them.
"Trying too hard…" he went on, "it changes you. You lose your footing. Start becoming something else." He glanced at her. "What happens when one twin is chosen… and the other isn't?"
Valerie said nothing.
"One rises," he murmured. "The other disappears." Another wave crashed violently. Water splashed on his wrist. "So if your abilities doesn't come to you naturally, then we leave." He exhaled. "Somewhere quiet. A farm, maybe."
Valerie blinked. Her lips parted, but her voice couldn't form words.
A gull cried in the sky above.
Nix went still.
His gaze dropped to the water on his arm, then lifted slowly to the sky. "…Something's wrong."
Valerie frowned. "Nix, I was just—"
"We're in The Loop," he confirmed as the wave crashed against the rock for the third time in the same pattern. "We need to leave. Now." His hands moved frantically over his body. "No… no, no. Where is it?" He dropped to the sand, shoveling with his fingers.
Her stomach twisted. She reminisced her father's stories of this place and even as she hasn't beheld the terrors yet, Nix being so shaken up sent shivers down her spine.
"I assume you're looking for your vaesroot." The voice came from behind them.
They turned. A woman stood there, clothed in a stiff beige gown that looked crudely stitched from sackcloth. The plant rested in her hand as she examined it with peak interest. "They know you're here," she said. Her gaze lifted. "And they're already on their way."