"A few humans say she is a blood relation of the woman. Her niece. Though I am uncertain their blood relations matter at this point, especially when that girl was ingesting that potion," Lord Fashire answered. "That aside, I found no other family member in the village, but I went through the supposed Aunt's dwelling. It was desolate, and it had been like that for a while."
Lord Lorn cursed under his breath and I stiffened. Why did he not tell Lord Lorn about my father?
"This is vexing," Lord Lorn hissed.
With an air of carefree nonchalance, Lord Fashire replied, "In that case, I must take my leave."
"What?!"
Lord Fashire chuckled. "I am returning to my castle on this realm. I would need my lab, especially when it comes to sourcing out the ingredients for this strange concoction… and I will not be entrusting this to anyone."
Lord Lorn hissed. "Venti—"
"In addition," Lord Fashire cut him off. "I intend to unravel whatever secrets the little lady holds within her body."
My stomach tightened at the mention of a lab and experiments.
'No. No. No. No.'
I didn't want to be a test subject.
The footsteps drew closer and it urged me into action. I dashed forward, scrambling blindly in the dark. My hand splayed across the narrow walls of the corridor and I slowed down. My heart hammered in my chest as I hoped for the door behind me not to open.
I pressed myself flat against the wall, stifling the sobs that racked my body. I couldn't leave. Escape was impossible now. My father was alone and defenceless. And my aunt… where was she? Had this been a trap all along?
My head throbbed as I contemplated the situation. Who was my aunt, truly? And what was she?
My hand instinctively reached out in the dark to touch a wooden surface. A door. Fumbling, I found the knob and twisted it open.
The room beyond flooded with light as I swung the door wide. Raised voices clamoured behind me. I dashed inside the room and slammed the door shut.
The voices stopped and my weak legs caused me to sink to the floor.
It was a circular, enclosed chamber. My eyes took in the closed transparent cylindrical compartment housing a commode and a silver sink, along with a mirror. Taps adorned the sink and bathtub.
Feeling so filthy, I slowly dragged myself to the sink.
I looked in the mirror. I was a mess.
My eyes were bloodshot from crying, and my once tamed curls had transformed into a wild, matted tangle. Dark circles marred the skin beneath my eyes and my sweat-drenched face appeared haggard.
Dried blood coated my skin and dress and my attention shifted to my bloodied shoulder.
I winced at the pain that throbbed and radiated down my arm.
It hurt to even move, but I had to clean it.
My hands lightly trembled as I touched the sink and twisted the tap. Clear water trickled out, and I rinsed my arms before pausing at the wound. I scooped water and splashed it directly onto my shoulder.
The throbbing in my shoulder transformed into a sharp stabbing pain that nearly made me scream. I bit my lip hard and clutched the edge of the sink with my weak arm as I continuously rinsed away the blood.
I chuckled, my short laughter coming out in shuddering gasps as my eyes watered. I closed my eyes tightly, fighting off encroaching nausea. As much as I could delude myself, the truth was evident. I was utterly powerless.
I straightened and faced my sorry reflection once more when something I noticed made me go still.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
I leaned closer while rubbing my eyes in disbelief, hoping that this illusion would fade away.
The once-gaping wound on my shoulder was now covered by a scar. It was a messy and ugly reddish-brown smear against my dark skin. I tentatively ran my fingers over the scar's surface, and I flinched.
The pain was still there despite the visual contradiction.
Confusion crippled my mind.
What was happening?
No wound healed this fast, especially not one this severe.
I doubted the potion could even have done this.
I stumbled backwards, then noticed the slick dark puddle surrounding me. I swallowed hard, my eyes widening at the watered-down blood.
I had made a big mess.
I removed my dress and winced as I attempted to limit the movement of my injured arm, now apparently healed. The throbbing in my shoulder persisted, intensifying with each passing moment.
Hanging my undergarments over my good shoulder, I balled up my dress and started using it to mop up the mess I had created. When I was done, I dumped the soggy dress in the sink and used my undergarments to properly mop the floor clean. My eyes started to water once more as I stared down at my now-discoloured undies.
There was nothing else to wear, and nothing I could do about it.
After washing my clothes in the sink and leaving them there as a wet pile, I moved to the bath tub and filled it with lukewarm water before slipping in. The momentary relief was short-lived as a scalding pain tore through my shoulder when the water touched my scar.
I bit down on my hand, stifling a cry of agony.
My body was exhausted, my mind was frail, and my soul was drained.
I carefully leaned back, and rested my head against the side of the tub. The urge to submerge myself underwater and stay till my lungs ran out of air was strong.
But who would take care of my father if I was gone? How could I even take care of him in this predicament?
The door to the bath chamber opened and I grew rigid as someone walked in.