The Underworld..
Castle of salvatoris...
The Gallery Corridor..
The long hallway is lined with ancestral
Portraits, each one restored so that the figures' eyes seem unnervingly alive.
In between the portraits hang glit - framed mirrors, their reflections distorted by age.
And there he stood.
Dressed in a robe made with black silk,fine enough to ripple with every step, layered over a thinner under robe of crimson damask. Sleeves slit at the elbows to trail in ribbons, each ribbon tipped with tiny onyx beads. Serpents entwined in endless knots, embroidered with dark gold thread.
A slender belt of black leather, buckled with a carved obsidian plate. Around his neck hangs a chain of polished jet stones, glimmering faintly. His hair rested freely on his shoulders, the tip he dyed dark green.
His forest green eyes like that of a python stared at a portrait.
His mother's portrait.
The second prince.
Lord Lucas.
The one who controls the prison yards in the Underworld.
The one who holds the death list.
" My Lord"
An official came in. His footsteps trembling.
He went on his knees and bowed deeply.
Not to lift up his head unless told.
" Speak" Lucas said flatly,his eyes still fixed on the portrait.
" The boy has been sent to prison yard 15 as ordered . But....."
His voice trailed off. Fear began to set in.
" But what?" Lucas finally looked at him.
A dwarf. The official in charge of the prison yards in the capital. He sensed his fear.
" The boy... he.. he is a whisperer!"
The official said. His voice trembling.
" A whisperer?" Lucas frowned.
" Really?"
" Y..yes my lord! Whisperers are extremely rare and their immortality is shortened. But no secret is kept hidden from them. They know it all. I've never seen one until today."
Lucas frown deepened.
" If you haven't seen a whisperer, how then are you able to recognise one?"
" The Aura. He... he has a killing aura. As you know whisperers are born mute. They can't talk. This boy hasn't uttered a word since birth."
The fear in him grew as he spoke.
" How should we dispose of him?"
Lucas squatted to his level and whispered in his trembling ears.
" Look at me" his voice seductive yet dangerous.
The official began to shake his head vigorously.
No. Not his eyes. Those eyes of his are terrifying. No .
He couldn't look at him.
Lucas raised his chin with his index finger
The official slammed his eyes shut.
Unable to meet his gaze .
" Are you afraid...?" Lucas sniffed his neck
" You're afraid of that little boy? You're afraid he's going to reveal your secrets. My secrets ,our secrets . Am I right?"
" Yes,my lord." His pale lips trembled.
Lucas stood up.
He turned to his mother's portrait and said
" Execute him before the end of tomorrow"
" Yes, my lord!" The official replied sharply.
He stood up ,bowed and left.
" Mother" Lucas whispered to the portrait .
" Cage thinks he can win the throne."
Lucas laughed softly.
" Well, that's too late cause.... I've written his name on my death list"
Prison Yard ....
No. 15...
The iron gate screamed as it opened, loud enough to silence the prison yard.
Chains stilled.
Voices died in throats.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
Every prisoner turned as if some unspoken instinct warned them that this was not a common soul being dragged in.
Two guards hauled the newcomer forward.
His wrists and ankles were shackled.
His eyes flickering with something unsettling.
Not madness.
Not fear.
Something colder.
From the galleries above, a guard struck the gong. The hollow boom echoed like a heart beat through the stone summoning the predators. Other prisoners shuffled closer dragging their chains.
They were killers, thieves, traitors and yet some slowed their steps, their eyes narrowing in suspicion.
" This is....."
" A boy?..."
Some laughed.
" What crime could a child like him commit?"
" Did you steal money from a noble eh?"
" He doesn't seem bothered "
" He's not even saying anything "
" A prisoner is a prisoner no matter the age or size . He probably killed someone "
One of them. A scarred brute whose forearms were branded with execution sigils, snarled and spat at the newcomer's feet.
" What did do you that brought you to this hell of a place eh?"
The boy's lips curved faintly, almost a smile.
But did not utter a word.
Up in the galleries one guard muttered to another, not quite low enough
" They said we should chain him twice,and cut his tongue. Didn't want him whispering "
The word ' whispering ' slipped into the prisoners' ears like poison, setting them on the edge.
Whisperers are dangerous!
Sorcerers and blasphemers Whispered.
Men who could call shadows, bind spirits and breath paths.
The new prisoner lowered his head again, as if weary. But his eyes remained fixed on the withered yew tree in the far corner of the yard. The way he stared at it—hungry, knowing—made the oldest inmates shift uncomfortably. That tree had stood longer than any man here, rooted in stone like a witness to every crime and execution.
It reminded him of the forest.
The Lydaeus forest.
It reminded him of his brothers.
His brothers are coming for him.
He could feel it.
He could almost hear them.
Whispering to him.
And though no one else heard it, the prisoner's lips moved, soundless, shaping words not meant for mortal ears.
The guards thought they had thrown another wolf to the den.
They had not.
They had delivered something far worse!