The problem with being the "hero" is dealing with the aftermath.

Whether or not Iliana's attempt at taking the attention from Lykos had accomplished anything, the end result was her being escorted to a cell that chilled her to the bone.

Much like the palace entrance, the tower consisted of solid stone. The first level appeared to consist solely of two sets of stairs, and a table occupied by two soldiers. The circular floor couldn't have been more than forty-foot across. Worry flitted through her, and it was only worsened as, after an inaudible talk with one of the soldiers, her guards accepted a set of keys and steered her towards the downward stairs.

The barest hints of panic began to bubble in Iliana's chest as she realized the level she was to stay in was a basement. There were no windows, enchanted stones, or even lit torches in the darkness she was forced into. Her feet dragged, and her head spun as one of the guards broke off from the group, and the faintest sound of a key in a lock met her ears. Metal screeched as a door was dragged open, and she was shoved forward.

There was a grumbled word of childing in a language she didn't understand. Reotakian, perhaps? Whatever it meant, the guard behind her scoffed. Rebellion bubbled in her chest, and she spun around, opening her mouth to sing. This was the time for that, right? She hadn't seen a single female guard. If she was to hope for an early escape, it had to come now.

The first note had barely left her lips before a blow came out of the darkness. Her song was cut off with a harsh gasp, then cough, as she doubled over. Where the guard's fist had hit her, it felt as if a sledgehammer had been swung. Between the still radiating ache in her head, and the new pain, just standing up was nearly more than she could manage, let alone reattempting an escape.

There was what could've been a swear by the tone, and the sound of someone being shoved. The guards were arguing? That screech of metal touched the air again, the sensation of something being swung shut in front of her face. The lock clincked. Feet scuffed the floor, followed by the faintest thud of a fist against flesh, and then a harsh string of rebuking words. As she slowly managed to force air back into her lungs, Iliana struggled to figure out what had sparked the argument. The answer came to her after a moment as she was reminded of what Eumelia had said before.

They weren't supposed to touch her without permission. The one who had shoved her, then hit her when she tried to sing, if Zuher found out they would likely be punished instead of rewarded. Perhaps the other guard had warned them first, then struck when they weren't listened to?

As all of this traveled through her mind, the sound of retreat touched her ears. Then, the click of a closing door. The ache of her stomach was forgotten as fear seized her.

The darkness was a solid, pitch black. From context, she knew there was a cell-door in front of her, but it might as well have been invisible. Her breath caught, panic drawing useless gasps of oxygen into her aching lungs. The air felt heavy. It pressed on her from all sides as she uselessly attempted to strangle the panic.

I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm not a child. I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm not a coward. There's nothing here to be frightened of. I'm not afraid of the dark. I can handle it.

I'm not afraid of the dark.

The mantra circled in her mind, as if it could ward the memories flickering through her like a vivid nightmare. And, somehow, it did. That sourceless fear still consumed her, her heart still felt like it was caught in a vice, but she could breathe, and that was enough.

Gods, she'd only been here a minute. How was she to take hours, or even days of this? She knew the stories, she'd even reflected on them earlier. Many of Zuher's "guests" were housed in the tower. Was the entire building nothing but darkness? Would she be expected to live here, or was this a temporary thing until a room was readied? Logic grasped at her worries, reminding her that the stories told of those who jumped to their deaths.

You can't jump through solid stone. The upper levels had to have windows.

Her heart slowed to a steady pace as she clung to that detail. She had to be right. There was no way for the deaths to have happened if she were wrong. It was fine. She would stand her punishment in the dark, then get moved. That had to be how it worked.

For now, she just had to distract herself. Experience told her that if she simply stood there, letting her mind race, she would break down. She wasn't afraid. She just...knew better, than to be comfortable in the dark. That was all. The blackness would unnerve anyone.

Iliana focused on shuffling forward. She reached out blindly, catching the metal bars with her hands. It was a slow going, difficult process to build a picture of the room in her mind, but she had all the time in the world. There was no way to know how long it took her to run her hands along each inch of the cell door, then the stone walls, the dirty floor, and the few pieces of furniture in the room. But, eventually she had finished.

In her mind, she filled the room with light as she composed a simple picture of what it might look like. A cotton mat laid against the back wall, covered by a thin blanket. It was no doubt meant to serve as her bed. A hole in the ground laid midway along the left side. At first, she'd had difficulty figuring out what it was meant for, as it was too small to fit a body, but quickly put the pieces together when she found no bucket or bedpan. There was an empty sconce on the opposite wall. And, that was it.

For a handful of heartbeats after she'd finished, Iliana simply stood in the center, taking careful, measured breaths. It was all that kept her from being strangled by the panic crawling up her throat. Then, the faintest shuffle of movement, a soft scrap against stone, touched her ears and she scrambled to the back of the room. Iliana shoved her back to the wall as she attempted to place what she'd heard. Her heart pounded and her ears strained to pick up anything in the following silence.

Rats? she wondered. Or could it be...? Oh, gods, please be rats.

"Hello?" Iliana ventured.

Her voice cracked, and was weaker than she would've liked. And, suddenly, Iliana was aware of how dry her mouth was. How much time had passed since she'd arrived? Had the exploration taken thirty minutes? An hour? Or had it taken longer? She'd been taking her time, carefully examining every inch. Was that why her throat felt like a desert?

Or was that her fear?

No. She wasn't scared.

Despite her worry that there might be another person lurking outside of the small cell, no answer came. In fact, her call was followed by absolute silence. It couldn't be a rat. It would've made more noise. But I did hear something, right?

Iliana dropped down on the mat, huddling against the corner of her cell. Her arms captured her legs and she laid her head against the wall. Her eyes searched the endless darkness for something, anything in the black that could soothe her spinning mind. Memories sparked again, reminding her of the last time she'd jumped at every noise in the dark. They filled the silence with voices better left forgotten.

Time stumbled forward. It shuddered and crawled, jumping then halting with no rhyme nor reason. One second, she would be tracking it by slowly counting in her mind, and in the next she had the strangest sensation she'd been sleeping, but couldn't recall actually drifting off.

The memories struck the hardest in those moments.

Her back rested against the sides of the wine racks. The small corner she'd wedged herself into was almost comforting. Even if the darkness pressed in on her from all sides, even if her face ached, nothing could sneak up on her in that corner. Kyril was too large to easily maneuver past the barrels and crates she'd piled up in front of her. They formed a fort of protection that allowed her to drift in and out of nightmares without fear of further retribution.

How was it her fault the tutor left?

They hadn't wanted to teach a streetrat like Iliana in the first place. The first time they'd been left alone, Rouvin had declared her unteachable. He said it was ridiculous to have a top scholar be appointed to instruct the "common rabble." Following that, he'd half-heartedly tossed a few books her way, then gotten mad when she couldn't read them.

Tired of being yelled at, she'd begun to skip her lessons. It was easy enough. She was small, and Rouvin didn't really want to find her. The downside came when the tutor realized he could use her absence as an excuse to quit the lessons, calling her an "impossible pupil."

Kyril seemed calm at first. But, then her sister had been called away for tea with the other peerage and Iliana had been left alone to feel his wrath. She shivered at the memory, her fingers tracing the hot pain on her cheek. She'd been hit before, but nothing quite stung like the hand of the man who was supposed to be her brother.

The sound of the door swinging open met the air. She shuddered, pressing further against the wall as if that could ward off the sound of soft footsteps slowly trailing down the stairs. There was a mumbled, quiet word she couldn't quite make out as torchlight flickered across the shadowed cellar.

"Come out."

The firm instruction dragged her from her hidey-hole with the knowledge that anything but prompt obedience could have her left in the dark for another day. He wouldn't need a healer for her bruise if he simply told Mara she'd done something wrong and left her down there until her skin was its usual soft olive. It was better to meet the witch. Plus, the one calling her wasn't Kyril. The familiar voice soothed some of her fear. He wouldn't hit her.

Leander's dark eyes studied Iliana as she crawled out from beneath a crate. He sighed. "It is a good thing there are no eyes down here, Little Miss. I can't imagine his reaction if he saw you crawling in the dust."

She hadn't considered that she created her fort. The butler sighed again at whatever he saw in her face, but said nothing more as he started for the stairs. She shuffled forward, her stiff muscles reluctant to allow anything but the slowest movements. At the top, she realized Kyril waited for her just beyond the cellar door. His critical gaze nearly sent her skittering back into the unsettling shadows.

He silently reached to seize her hand, and without any real thought to the action, Iliana jerked back.

"For fuck's sake."

Kyril grabbed her shoulder to jerk her forward with a hard grip. His eyes widened as she stumbled up the last step, then lost her footing. Suddenly, she was falling backwards with no one to catch her.

A harsh thud snapped her from the dream, or memory. She wasn't certain if she'd been sleeping. Just that if she was, that ended with the sound of something hitting the wall. Movement shuffled to the right, far beyond her cell. Metal screeched. Something solid hit the ground with a quiet curse. There were more harsh, foreign words.

Then, movement again as a key was inserted into her lock.

Iliana scrambled for her feet as a rough voice filled the air.

"His majesty calls for you."

She slowly stepped towards the words. Eagerness to leave the dark warred with her fear of meeting Zuher once again. While she'd never personally met one before the king, Iliana had grown up to dark stories of demons. Their initial meeting had lacked certain details every cautionary tale included.

Demons were the gods' child created by Kikin. The god of neutrality, war, and disease had given their children as many gifts as they had drawbacks. Which admittedly fitted the agender god's domains. Demons didn't need to eat, or breathe, like a human. They were, for all purposes, dead. Their skin was supposedly chilled to the touch, and sallow, like a corpse. Unbidden, the memory of Zuher's appearance flitted through her mind as she was pulled out of the cell.

His skin had been paler than the average Reotakian. She had been too distracted to notice the temperature of his grip. But, it'd been strong. And it was said that demons, like many gods' children, had enhanced strength and senses. They even towered over the rest by having enhanced speed as well. She nearly shuddered as memories of said speed touched her thoughts. All of this, when combined with his unsettlingly young age and fangs, told her she was utterly correct about the king being a demon. Which made one detail unsettling.

He hadn't bit her.

Demons survived off the energy of the living. Without it, it was said they would slowly lapse into a state similar to death, until eventually their bodies shut down entirely. The easiest way for them to drain their victims was a bite. Even the weakest demons could kill the most dangerous of men if given a chance to latch on like a leech. Stronger demons, however, could do as much with their touch alone. It was said to bring about a pain so crippling that their victims could barely think, let alone try to run.

Legends said most demons preferred biting to the touch, because a helpless victim was no fun.

She shuddered as the cell door was closed behind her, the guards nudging her through the room. Would he bite her this time? Would it hurt more, or less, than his touch had?

The sound of a door swinging open touched the air. Just as her feet crossed the threshold, the faintest of voices whispered from the darkness behind.

"Good luck."

The shuffling before, the sound of something solid hitting the ground when she woke, the memorized, confusing details clicked in her mind.

It hadn't been a rat. Someone else had been sentenced to her level of the tower.

Iliana wasn't alone. 

A/N: Another short chapter, but this felt like the best place to leave off. :) 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I did settle on updating every other week. so the next update will come out Dec. 4th. See you then!