Page 61 of She Who Holds My Wrath

DAISY

I’m not sure how long I’ve been hanging here.

Time feels like it’s frozen solid, dragging me out of my sanity, one breath at a time. The cold has settled deep into my bones, crawling through my veins like ice water. The small rattle of the chains my only company, painfully reminding me that I’m still alive, still trapped, and still waiting for whatever hell is next.

It feels like I’ve been here for days, the only tell tale of any time is when bowls of slop, and ice-cold water are occasionally forced down my throat. My arms are screaming in protest, and the metal cuffs around my wrists have rubbed my skin so raw, I wouldn’t be surprised if all that was left was bone. The blood has stopped trickling—it’s just dried into thin, dark rivulets that sting whenever I dare move.

Nobody’s coming for me. I know that now. But how could they? Aran can’t travel here, and it wouldn’t be safe for Velentha to use the Gate. I’m officially as good as dead.

I feel weak, both mentally and physically. I wasn’t created to sustain torture, I was built to scream at cheer rallies and sprinkle sunshine into people’s storms. Not this. Not hanging from chains in the dungeon of a different realm, awaiting my death at the hands of a madman.

When did my life go so fucking wrong? Oh, that’s right. The day I summoned the seven-foot demon who took the claim to my soul from my useless father.

I feel the warmth of a tear tracking down my cheek as I continuously think over everything I’ve been through. Soul contracts, assault, wedding contracts, kidnapping, immortality. Just trauma stacked on trauma. How does one soul go through so much and survive? I survived then because I had Korithax. I had him by my side, chasing away the demons of my nightmares. Because how could the demons from my nightmares be so bad, when I had my own demon prince protecting me?

But not anymore. Not now. Because he’s gone.

“I am still here with you, little flower.” The voice is so real that it sends a shiver through me. It’s low and rough and familiar enough to make my heart seize. I swear I feel it. The ghost of a hand brushing away my tear. “You just need to be my strong girl for a little while longer. You are going to be okay.”

A sob breaks out of me, shaking my entire frozen body as the chains overhead rattle. “I wish you were here, Korithax. I need you.”

“I am here.”

“No,” I whisper hoarsely, the words breaking in my throat. “You are a figment of my imagination caused by severe stress.” I sniffle, remembering my psychology classes with Professor Doyle. How he spoke about the lengths the mind will go to when under severe distress. “This is just stress-induced psychosis. You’re not real.”

“I am not a figment of your imagination, little flower. I’m here, I promise.” I feel the ghost of his fingers against my hand, just above where the shackles relentlessly rub. “Just hold yourself together a little while longer. Remember what I said on our wedding day?”

I shake my head, more tears falling as I feel my chest ache. I can’t think of anything, I can’t remember anything. My memories of Korithax all cloud together to form the image of him dying in my arms.

I flinch as I’m sure I feel his breath flutter against my ear. So warm, so real. “I’ve lived twenty thousand years in darkness. And never once did I crave the sun… until you. You make me wish I had lived a gentle life, just so I had cleaner hands to hold you with. But I promise to spend the rest of our lives keeping you safe, loved, and worshipped.”

He recites the words like poetry in my ear, and the memories of that day flood to me. I’m transported back to a time when life felt so much kinder, despite everything I had faced even then. Images of how incredible he looked in his suit flutter through my memory. How beautiful the wedding was, set up by Sariya and her people. And how my heart had skipped a beat at his words.

“But you can’t keep me safe anymore,” I sob, reality hitting me hard.

“Maybe not with my hands,” he murmurs, “but with my will, my power, my love? Always. Just stay strong for me.” A whisper of warmth, like his soft tender kisses, brushes my cheek. “I love you, Daisy. I am with you. And you are strong.”

“I love you too,” I whisper. And then—nothing. The air feels empty again. Whatever part of him was here, is gone. Or maybe my mind has finally exhausted its last refuge.

I take a deep shaky breath, and exhale. Once. Twice. Again. I do it until my pulse steadies, until the tears dry and my spine straightens against the relentless pull of the chains. For Korithax, I will stay strong. I won’t let Kaelith beat me. He may drug me, he may torture me, he may even kill me. But I will face him with the grace of a queen that would make Korithax proud. And if I die here, so be it. Because somewhere beyond this place—beyond the cold and the chains and the cruelty—the love of my life waits in the dark, ready to burn the universe down to reach me again.

I don’t know if I passed out after my brain exhausted itself conjuring up Korithax as a comfort, but I’m abruptly awoken by the sound of the dungeon doors swinging open.

Heavy footsteps pound against the stone floor, the torchlight flickering in his hands, casting shadows against the walls. It’s unmistakable, the deep thud of Kaelith’s presence, deliberate and predatory.

My body bristles instinctively, tension crawling up my spine as my eyes fixate on him. He prowls towards me with a dangerous grace, like a predator who knows its prey is helpless. Although this time, he’s not alone. A smaller silhouette trails behind him, carrying something in their hands.

As my vision slowly adjusts to the harsh brightness of the torchlight, I recognise the figure trailing Kaelith—the VeliNymph who greeted us when we first arrived. Her silver-grey skin shimmers in the glow, the contrast against her dark attire striking in the stark light. She looks almost ethereal, but the tenderness in her gaze is absent. Her eyes avoid mine, staring down at the stone beneath her feet as she approaches.

I try to catch her attention, willing her to see me as more than just another pawn in Kaelith’s sick game, but she doesn’t look up. She holds a silver tray in her delicate hands, her knuckles a shade lighter than her hands as she clutches it tightly. On it, lays a singular syringe, the needle glinting with the promise of horror. I force myself not to show the terror that spikes in my chest. I have to stay calm. But I can’t hide it, not from myself. My breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding like a drumbeat as Kaelith’s low chuckle fills the air.

“Ah, that?” He gestures towards the syringe with a lazy flick of his wrist, his voice dripping with malicious amusement. “Just some more power suppressant with a hint of Dream-root. Wouldn’t want you going all crazy fire-bitch on us now, would we?”

I lift my chin, staring into his wicked eyes. The darkness in them stares back, so cold and calculating it makes my stomach twist, making a cold sweat break out across my skin.

“I thought you would’ve handed me over to The Six by now, Duskwalker,” I mutter, unable to hide the bite to my words.

He shrugs casually, “I haven’t told them about your arrival yet. I want to have a little…” he pauses, eyes glinting as a smirk creeps across his face, his tongue running along his lower lip. “Fun.” The way he punctuates the word lets me know that the fun he’s speaking of, will only be enjoyable for him.