I still deeply hoped that tomorrow would be kinder than yesterday. The trouble was, it wasn't. It was every bit as dreadful—perhaps worse. The nightmares that pursued me in sleep had slipped into my waking mind, and my head throbbed unbearably. Horrifying thoughts tormented me without respite. Images of my siblings' dead bodies, Father's beaming face, and my own severed wings kept flashing before my eyes.
Slowly but surely, I was giving up. Part of me even wanted to humble myself, to go to the architect of this torment and beg him to finally end it. My perfect creator was playing a cruel game with me. I no longer wondered why he hadn't killed me outright—he had clearly prepared something worse than a quick death.
A woman's hand rested on my hair. I half‑closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.
I lay in Jeliss's lap, utterly exhausted. My siblings were flipping through the old, dust‑covered books in the library, searching for answers that might help me. Their faces were solemn, their movements silent and perfectly synchronized.
I felt Jeliss's palm glide gently through my hair, combing it, trying to soothe me. Although I fought against sleep, my body slowly betrayed me. My eyelids grew heavy. Images of fear and pain flickered through my mind, and then came a quiet plunge into the unknown.
I slept, but the sleep brought no relief—only another shadow.
I found myself in a cold chamber. There was no light here, only grey shapes flickering at the edge of my sight. My knees buckled, my body shook with exhaustion, yet something inside forced me to walk on. I knew something was there—something that watched me, waiting to drag me to hell.
The door behind me was locked. I tried to go back; it was impossible. I wanted to scream, but I had no voice.
Suddenly, I saw a figure in the corner of the room. I wasn't even sure it was a person.
It turned toward me. It had a face, but it was blurred, as though a transparent cloth had been draped over it. I could make out no features—only eyes filled with rage and pain.
"Losiela," a voice whispered, as though it came from deep inside me. That voice… it sounded like mine.
"What have you done to our angelic soul? How can we stand before God now?" the creature asked, creeping toward me. I refused to believe it was me.
I backed away until at last there was nowhere left to retreat.
When scarred hands seized me, I awoke with another scream. My eyes flew open and the world spun. My head reeled and I still felt those steady, icy hands gripping me. And then I saw her.
Mother towered above me.
She still looked like an apparition. Her hair was dishevelled, her face pale as death, and her eyes… those eyes were empty.
Without a word, she bent over me. Her hands coiled around my wrists and, before I could react, she snatched me up and pulled me from Jeliss's lap.
My sister shouted my name, but it was useless. Mother, though she did not look it, possessed enormous strength we could not resist.
Her magic flung my three siblings aside and literally pinned them to the floor.
So much for our training… we couldn't overpower even a woman who hadn't practised for years and was scarcely sane.
"No! Let me go!" I cried as Mother dragged me across the room. I tried to fight back. My feet skidded over the floor; no matter how I braced, nothing stopped her.
She headed for the stairs and hauled me down them without mercy.
"Where are you taking me?" I sobbed, but no answer came. She did not say a word, did not pause, did not look at me.
On the ground floor she turned toward another staircase…
I knew where we were going, and that frightened me more than anything else.
The cellar.
I had been there once, long ago, when I was a child. I never entered again. Even then I had understood that everything evil my father and mother had done was hidden in that cellar.
When we reached the door, my heart pounded so hard I felt every beat in my ears. Mother opened it without a word. Only the creak of old wood broke the silence. A black mist drifted out of the room, rising into the hallway like a dark veil.
"Please…" I whispered, but she did not listen. Without hesitation, she shoved me down the stairs. I hit the cold floor. My face struck the damp, musty earth and the stench of mould and rot took hold.
"No," I breathed in a trembling voice, struggling to stand. My legs shook and my body refused to obey. "Please don't lock me in her… please," I begged, but my words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer.
Mother did not even look at me. With her hands, she made a small but inexorable gesture brimming with magic. The door slammed behind me and I was alone. An unnatural fog surrounded me, smothering every sound.
"Let me out!" I shouted desperately and began pounding on the door with my fists. Yet the blows were swallowed by endless silence. No one answered. No one heard.
Memories of that childhood night when she first brought me here flooded back relentlessly. I had been only six. Every detail resurfaced. It had taken hours before anyone found me. All that time I had spent in absolute darkness, curled into a ball, lost in a space where neither light nor time existed.
But they were there… Father's creations.
Dead and yet alive. His experiments.
They stood against the wall as if nailed to it. Their faces were corpse‑pale, parts of their bodies rotting, and their eyeballs rolled ceaselessly. Their mouths were frozen forever in a scream of agony. Wings had been sewn to their backs, nails driven through them. I did not understand what they were, nor how he had trapped their souls in decaying flesh. All I knew was that their eyes begged me to free them.
How could I?
I was only a child—a helpless child who never recovered from that sight, a child who eventually came to believe the same fate awaited her.
And now… were they still here? Were they waiting for me? Waiting to avenge my weakness, because I had left them in this hell?
I did not dare find out. I lacked the courage to push aside the curtain that would reveal the answer. Again, I was that powerless little girl, trapped in an adult body.
The cellar was deadly cold. My heart raced wildly. I felt I had to fight, yet my strength was gone. When my eyes finally adjusted to the dark, I began to look around slowly.
I needed light.
Candles! There had to be some here. I started searching the area carefully, avoiding anything that might be dangerous.
I knew Father had hidden not only his experiments here but also his inventions—things he had concealed so no one could steal them. Inventions he was proud of, yet for which he would have faced instant execution. Objects capable of unleashing hell upon all Noxalora. I certainly did not want to be the one who loosed his baleful plague upon the world.
After a while, my hand touched something cold and smooth—wood coated with a layer of dust, but it was something! My heart leapt when I realised it was a candle.
Focus, Losiela!
I was on the verge of collapse. Normally conjuring fire would have been easy for me; now it was different. I closed my eyes, tried to calm my mind and focus on a single goal. I commanded the candle to ignite. I felt the energy stir in my hand, yet the candle remained motionless—cold and dead.
I tried again and again. Sweat ran down my forehead, and my head rang until I thought I would faint.
What if Mother left me locked in this cellar forever?
As if answering my anxiety, a deep, icy laugh echoed—sounding as though it came straight from the shadows around me. Utterly exhausted, I slid to the ground, leaned against the wall, and buried my face in my hands. I tried to banish fear and nightmares.
That was when I heard it. A whisper.
It did not sound like a normal voice, more like an alien tongue crawling straight into my head. I jerked upright and a quiet, desperate "No!" slipped from my lips.
I opened my eyes and then I saw it. On a shelf opposite, a wooden bracelet suddenly began to glow. At first glance, it was nothing special, yet its glow was hypnotic. And that whisper… it seemed to come from it, inserting itself into my mind.
I tried to avert my gaze, but it was useless. The more I fought, the more I felt it calling me. Fear turned to pure panic.
Help! I screamed inwardly.
I wanted to run, but my body refused. Instead I walked toward the bracelet as though something invisible guided me. No, no, no! I repeated in my mind. My will was too weak. I felt myself slipping under the influence of this strange power.
A chill raced down my spine. This cellar held countless inventions, tools, and mysterious objects, any one of which could be deadly.
Yet even my fear could not stop my body, which moved against my will. The bracelet was only a few steps away, and I felt as if I stood on the brink of an abyss, voluntarily walking forward. My mind cried for help, but my body had become a puppet controlled by something powerful and unknown.
I could not prevent it. I reached the trinket. My hand rose of its own accord; I stood on tiptoe and lifted it from the shelf.
Up close, I examined it better. The bracelet looked hellishly old—like some long‑forgotten piece no one had touched for centuries. It seemed cheap and shoddy, as if a child had made it during a first attempt at jewellery. No woman would wear it of her own free will. There was absolutely nothing beautiful about its appearance.
And yet I slipped it onto my wrist against my will.
In that instant, everything changed. The voices in my head fell silent. The nightmares that had hunted me vanished as though they had never existed. A wave of peace flooded me—the kind I hadn't felt in years, like sunlight bursting forth after a violent storm.
I felt invisible ramparts forming around my mind—solid, impregnable. After all the torment, I was finally able to draw a deep breath. I collapsed onto the cold floor.
I could not control it. Even though I was still in the cellar, my eyes closed of their own accord. This time, however, I was not swallowed by nightmares but by peaceful dreams.