"Ugh…"
She groaned, feeling as if a wet blanket was pressing down on her as she propped herself up on her forearms, which felt weak and numb. Slowly, she opened her eyes, but her room was shrouded in darkness.
Not even a sliver of moonlight made it through the window as it usually would in the dead of night. The old nightlight from her childhood—the decrepit one—wasn't even working, even though it had never turned off in all the years before.
'Was there a power outage?'
Her first instinct was to reach for her phone. It should've been on her nightstand—or at the very least somewhere around her since she tended to fall asleep while using her phone late at night. But when she stretched her hand out, she felt nothing. Not the edge of her bed. Not her blankets. Not even the wall or the headboard.
The only thing beneath her fingers was cold, damp tile.
'…Tile?'
That didn't make any sense. She'd slept on a bed, and even if she fell off, there should've been a thick rug under her or even her blankets, plus her floors were made of wood.
'What if I've been kidnapped?' The thought made her shiver. If she was kidnapped… what for? She didn't have any debts, and as far as she knew, neither did her father. She didn't have enemies either—none that actually mattered, anyway. She took a deep breath as she forced herself not to let her thoughts spiral into outlandish, worst-case scenarios, and instead to cling to what little logic she had left.
That was when she heard it.
A noise. Somewhere nearby.
It sounded like footsteps, but not just one person. Maybe two. Or three. The owners might be men, judging by the sounds of their steps. They might also be incredibly muscular, since their footsteps carried a lot of weight, or maybe they were carrying something incredibly heavy. Who knows?
"I heard it's tonight," a voice started. "They're finally going to kill that wicked Saintess."
'Saintess?'
"It's a shame, though," another voice, "it's a private one. Just some high-ranking Church officials."
'church officials?'
"Obviously! She was still the saintess even though she was corrupt," another voice joined in, and the other two hummed in agreement.
'Saintess?' she thought to herself. 'And she's about to be executed?'
A cold chill crept up her spine as her body began to tremble violently at the thought. She opened her mouth to scream, but the only thing that came from it was a raw, burning sensation, followed by sloppy, wet, ragged gurgles that were supposed to be her voice.
"A-aah!"
Fortunately—or unfortunately—it wasn't loud enough for the people outside to hear. She couldn't speak. It felt like something was missing from her mouth, and whatever it was made it nearly impossible to make any sound, let alone form words.
"A-aah!" she screamed again, making the group freeze, finally hearing her before continuing on their way in haste as if they were on their way to meet someone. She quickly forced her soft, numb hands beneath her body and pushed up until she was sitting upright.
She wanted to walk closer to the footsteps and tell them to come back.
With more caution than before, she placed both hands on the floor and pushed with all her strength through her arms and into her legs to stand. Just as she straightened and was making her first step to the door—
Clank—
She let out a sharp gasp as she stumbled and fell face-first onto the ground, the impact knocking the wind and strength out of her, and causing her nose to burst with blood. For a moment, she could only lie there, dazed. Then, forcing herself to breathe through the sting, she rolled onto her side and drew her legs towards her chest.
The noise coming from her legs made her freeze; it was the sound of metal clashing against stone.
'Huh?'
She lay on the floor in stunned silence, the echo of footsteps fading into a distant memory—suddenly far less important than the situation she now found herself in.
'Chains?'
'Is that not overkill?'
In an already bad situation, why would there be chains? And who even uses chains for kidnappings these days? Especially chains that are this heavy! She can barely even lift her feet! Let alone feel them!
'Aren't ropes the default expectation for kidnappings?'
She groaned, tears brimming in her eyes as she tried and failed to make light of her situation.
'This is insane!'
She tried to get up again, but she had already used up what little energy she'd had the first time. Her arms now trembled uselessly beneath her, and she could do nothing but flop back and forth on the hard, cold floor, thrashing weakly like a fish on land.
Once the long-overdue severity of the situation truly sank in, all the fear she had tried to laugh off came rushing back in relentless waves, even fears she had no business feeling.
She quickly used her fingers cover her nose and mouth before her breath became ragged and uncontrollable with panic. She breathed into her hands to slow down her breathing and gently massage her nose and cheeks, trying to calm herself down in whatever way she could.
'Breathe….'
"Hoo…" she breathed out, the burning sensation flaring in and across her mouth once more, but this time she forced herself to ignore it, swallowing back the growing discomfort.
'Let's try again.'
She forced her hands under her chest and tried once more to push herself up, her palms slipping and sliding against the cold, wet floor as she tried to steady herself, but before she could gather any real momentum, the door swung open.
Streaks of light flooded the room in a sudden, blinding rush, shattering the suffocating darkness that had surrounded her for what felt like ages, and because she had been in the dark for so long, her eyes stung quite a bit from the sudden exposure.
"Have you been well?" A somewhat gentle but cold voice caressed her ears. A tall man with long blonde hair walked in, wearing a well-tailored white robe—if not for the situation she was currently in, she would've loved to get to know him.
She quickly opened her mouth to speak.
"A-aah…?"
The only sounds that escaped her mouth were a garbled, gurgling mess, a string of noises barely recognizable as words, if they could even be called that.
"Oh… look at you," the man drawled with a sneer, crouching low before her. He gripped her chin tightly, forcing her face upward as his shadow loomed over her. "How pitiful!"
"H-Haaa!"
She let out a broken cry and clawed at his robe, her fingers curling desperately into the coarse fabric as if trying to hold on to him.
The man caught her hands almost immediately, enclosing them in his grip. "What happened?" he asked, his tone shifting with pseudo-sympathy as he held them with a steady and firm grip. His grip was so strong it almost hurt. It was strong enough to damn near break her hand.
"I-i aah!"
"Eden…" he began, but the rest of the words caught in his throat. He hesitated, his grip tightening ever so slightly as a chill settled over his expression, the brief comforting softness, though fake, vanishing behind something far colder and wicked.
'Eden?'
'Who's Eden?'
She looked at him in confusion.
The name echoed in her mind, unfamiliar and unsettling. It didn't belong to her—she was certain of that. Yet the way he had said it, without hesitation, as if he had known her personally and believed she was this Aelita, it made her pulse quicken.
"Where's your tongue?" he asked, feigning shock, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his angelic features as his eyes traced her expression, searching for a reaction she couldn't give. He looked almost devilish.
'What.'
"Don't ask her what you already know."
Another man stepped in behind himThe only sounds that escaped her mouth were a garbled, gurgling mess, a string of noises barely recognizable as words, if they could even be called that. His hair was long and dark. It fell low enough to shadow his eyes and frame his jawline. The sharp lines of his well-tailored suit stood in stark contrast to the grim setting, as though he had stepped into the wrong scene entirely—yet belonged there more than anyone else.
"Just get it over with," the black-haired man said with a sharp, impatient sigh, his glare cutting straight through the blond man. "Not everyone has your type of time."
'Get what over with?'
"'Fine… whatever,' the blond man muttered with a long, weary sigh, grimacing in obvious frustration as he slowly reached into the folds of his robe and carefully withdrew a heavily decorated, ornate dagger that gleamed under the dim light."
'H-hold on! Is that for me?'
He slowly began to unsheath his weapon; the movement was deliberate, precise, and unnervingly calm, each inch revealing the glint of cold steel that promised nothing good.
"Eden, for the crime of attempting to poison the Crown Princess and humiliating the temple, you are hereby sentenced to death by hanging. However, as the Saintess, you have been granted the mercy of a private execution."
'No!'
'Please, I don't want to die!'
She screamed, lunging toward him with desperate pleading, every ounce of dignity and pride stripped away as she pulled on his clothes and grovelled at his feet.
"Aaah!" she cried, hysterical sobs wracking her body as tears streaked her cheeks like a never-ending waterfall. She clasped at the blond man's clothes, trembling and begging for mercy, with what was supposed to be her voice breaking under the weight of intense fear and panic.
'I swear I didn't do anything!'
'You have the wrong person! I'm not Eden!'
'I'm not the Saintess!'
'I've never poisoned anybody! Please!'
'I don't wanna die.'
She wailed in panic and fear, clawing at his clothes, her hair a disheveled mess, and sobs racking her body. She probably looked as miserable as she felt, but that didn't win her any sympathy from the two men.
"As the High Priest, it's my duty to punish you," he continued, his voice low and cold. He obviously tried to sound aggrieved, but it only sounded like taunting to her, and maybe it was. "It'll only hurt for a moment. I swear."
'No!'
'Please!'
The dagger hovered just above her back, poised over her heart. For one long, breathless moment before he struck, she caught a glimpse of his expression. A wicked grin curled his lips, and a cruel glint shone in his bright green eyes. Then the blade drove forward. A sharp, strangled gasp escaped her as pain and shock washed over her, and the world seemed to tilt beneath her.
"Rest in peace, you wicked villainess,' the blond man sneered, his voice icy and cruel as crimson marked his hands and slowly stained the pristine white of his clothes. He quickly clasped them together in a brief, solemn prayer. 'May you rest in paradise."
She felt her strength steadily draining away, warmth seeping across the cold stone beneath her. The floor pressed harsh and unyielding against her as she lay there, barely conscious, her body trembling with pain.
"Are the funeral cords ready? What about the coffin and grave?" the blonde man asked as he forcefully yanked the dagger out of her back, causing more blood to surge out. He quietly and quickly wiped the blood from the dagger before sheathing it and putting it back in its proper spot.
"Yes, all we need to do is prepare her body," the black-haired man answered calmly, as if he were talking about the weather.
"Good." The blonde man gave a faint, cruel smile before turning and leaving the room.
The black-haired man lingered for a moment, his eyes fixed on her. "…Some priest he is…" he muttered quietly, then walked away with a cold, indifferent air.
'It hurts.'
'It hurts so much.'
She felt her tears mingle with the warmth on her skin, a dull ache spreading through her. Then, darkness swallowed her completely.