Pushing myself up on an elbow, I slowly take in my surroundings. Sandstone walls surround me on three sides. No windows. The only source of light is coming through the bars, toward the front of the crude cell. Claustrophobia claws at my skin. This prison wasn’t built but carved. Created to keep things from ever leaving.
The uneven floor digs into my side as I shift my weight and try to sit up.
Dizziness comes in heavy waves. I decide to pace myself and try something different. I crawl over to the metal bars and place my face between them, peering out through the openings. The sun beats down in the center of a pit-like room, shining through a large opening over a hundred feet up. The sky is clear and bright. I’m no longer anywhere near Kintoira. That much I’m positive of.
Numerous cells line the outer edges of the circular pit, but if anyone’s inside any of them, there isn’t any movement.
“Hello,” I call out, voice cracking over the words.
The rustle of robes comes from the shadows of a cell a few rows down.
I press my face farther into the bars. “Hello, is anyone out there. I need help,” I whisper through the pain in my throat.
The scent of decay hits me in the face as the figure glides closer.
I push back and fall on my ass, scooting farther back. It stops directly in front of the bars—the same ones that my face was just pressed into—and grips the metal with both hands. Fingers with flesh hanging from the bone wrap around the bars, and black liquid seeps down the metal.
I don’t move. I don’t even blink.
It drops one of its hands and pushes the decrepit-looking hood back from its face. The face of a man, or what was once a man, looks back at me. Dead skin hangs in ribbons along his jaw and cheeks. His eyes are sunken and void of color. They haven’t completely rotted yet, but they look like they’re on the cusp of it. His lips, thin and covered in the thick black liquid, pull back to reveal sharpened teeth, yellow and decayed.
And then he smiles.
The sand flies up as I scramble as far back as possible. I tuck my feet under me and press my back into the jagged rocks.
“So glad you could join us,” it rasps in a voice that sounds like it’s choking on blood.
It spoke.
Wraiths do not speak.
Holy shit.
What in the fuck is going on? What drugs did they give me? Wraiths don’t think except for the sole purpose of feeding. Yet this one not only tried to communicate, it’s now staring at me expectantly like it would like a response.
I shake my head back and forth. “This isn’t real,” I whisper. “This is just a nightmare.”
I’m still drugged and unconscious. This is just my mind playing tricks on me.
I need to wake up.
“I’ll agree, youarein a nightmare,” it chuckles darkly, before coughing and gurgling. “Although you’re wide awake, I’m afraid.” It pushes its face into the bars, flesh sticking to the metal and tearing. The smell is overpowering, and I swear I can taste it on my tongue.
“Where am I?” I ask against my better judgment.
The wraith grips the bars tighter. “In hell,” it says through a sardonic smile.
The loud slam of a door makes me jump. The wraith doesn’t turn around to look, though. His gaze is on my mouth. He’s practically salivating. Without a doubt, he’s envisioning how my soul will taste when he places his rancid mouth over mine. When he feasts on my tongue before tearing my existence from my body and then moving onto my flesh.
Another figure draped in heavy robes comes into view to stand a few feet behind the monster in front of me. I’m not sure why, but for some reason, I have a feeling the monster in the back is ten times worse. They’re of a smaller stature, and their robes arenewer and brighter. The red fabric hangs loose on their frame and covers their shoes.
“Come now, Frederick. You’re scaring the poor girl.”
I know that voice. I recognize it, but I’m not surewhereI know it from. It’s young, boyish even. And Frederick? Who the hell is Frederick?
Sharp rocks continue to dig into my back. I’ve pushed so far back that there isn’t anywhere else for me to go. My limbs still feel heavy and sluggish, making any kind of escape attempt impossible.
The man in the red robes steps forward, directly next to the wraith. Neither the smell nor the threat of the monstrosity at his side seems to bother him. He makes a gesture with his hands, and the wraith backs off, but not before looking down at the man.
