The Fae. They will continue to be enslaved, and those who resist will be killed until there are no free Fae remaining.
And the magic on this world will die.
Do the vampires even know what they're doing? What they're condemning themselves and everyone around them to? I tried to explain, but they accused me of lying to save my own skin.
It's not my skin I'm trying to save.
Well, not just my skin.
But it doesn't matter now.
All I can do is wait.
Wait for death. Wait for the end.
Maybe this world is better off without the magic of the Fae. Maybe it is better off without me.
Minutes pass. Hours. Days. Time loses meaning in this dank, damp pit of despair. I have no idea how long I have to live. It is an odd thing, to know you're about to die, and to be powerless to choose how you will spend your last moments. There are so many things I have left undone in my life. So many words left unsaid to those I love. And now it is forever too late.
A commotion outside my cell alerts me to the guards changing shifts. They always have one or two watching over me. It started with two, but lately they've reduced the watch to one. Maybe they figure I have nothing left to fight for. Maybe the war rages on with the Fae and they need more soldiers than guards. I tried asking once, but no one would speak to me. So I just watch and think. But today, I am surprised to see a familiar face.
"Marco?"
His dark eyes flick to me, and he frowns, but doesn't answer. He stands in the spot of the guard, just out of reach of my cell, but close enough to see me, his broad shoulders filling the space and blocking out the little light from the orb.
I scramble to the bars, clutching them in my hands. "Marco! Did Fen or Asher send you? Are you here to help me?" There's a desperate pleading in my voice that makes me cringe, but I don't care. This is the first hope I've had since my fate was decided. But then Marco turns away, and my hope plummets.
"Marco? Why won't you talk to me? Please let me out. We must save Fen. We must get out of here. You were my personal guard. You swore to protect me!" I'm nearly frantic now, tears clogging my throat as I speak too loudly in the cavernous space.
He turns to me finally, his eyes cold. "The Fae killed my family when they attacked Stonehill in this last battle," he says quietly. "My parents, who were farmers. My little brother, who loved horseback riding and wanted to be a soldier when he grew up. My little sister, who wanted to be a guard when she grew older. Just like me." He shakes his head, a lock of brown hair falling into his eye and making him look boyish in his sadness. "I can't let you out, Princess. I'm sorry."
I don't know what to say. How can I defend myself? How can I defend what I've done by releasing this magic into his life? Into the lives of the innocent people who live here. Why can't the right choice be easier to see? Why must it all be shrouded in gray?
Marco and I share no more words, and my thoughts turn to the afterlife. Does dying in this world change what happens in the next? Or would I experience the same fate regardless of the world my life ended on?
After a time, my existential crisis is put on hold by more pressing concerns of the flesh. Namely, my growing need to relieve myself. I've been loath to use the pot they provided, with guards watching my every move, but eventually the urgency of my need trumps my modesty. So I pull the pan as far away from Marco as I can and do my best not to make a mess of myself. It's not a pleasant experience, made worse so by the clearing of a throat.
I'm just finishing up when I hear something tap the bars, and I nearly kick the pot over. A man stands at my cell door.
Only the light of flickering orbs illuminates this corner of hell soaked in darkness, but even without seeing his face I know who stands there. Will he really be the last person I see before I die? Lovely. "Hello, Levi."
The Prince of Envy smirks. "Princess Arianna, how low the mighty fall. Fancied yourself queen of everything, did you? But here you are, no better than sewer vermin, and smelling much the same." He wrinkles his nose.
I glare at him. "I seem to have misplaced my perfumes."
He chuckles. "I must admit I respect your spirit. You have a way about you that attracts admirers from all walks of life. You might have even made a great queen, had fates turned out differently."
"What do you want, Levi? I'm busy."
He scowls. "Of course, I mustn't take up too much of the lady's precious time. After all, you have only a few hours remaining of your life. How does it feel, knowing you're about to die? Your tiny mortal life snuffed out in just a few short years? And no mum here to trade her soul for yours."
I'd forgotten that this all started when I died once before. How odd that I'm about to face for a second time something most only ever face once.