Shackles Of The Past

Chapter 13

The greatest danger,

is not being aware of the danger.

~Confucius.

***

With a loud metallic shuffle and crack, the iron bars of the dungeon were thrown back. Hands had taken over Medusa's arm and she was shoved inside. The sounds of thudding footsteps echoed on the waxed boards echoing under the wooden arches as she was pressed to the corridor.

The heavy old gate stopped with shattering jolt. Then it was into another passage, the arm hurting her but not in a way she felt the pain.

They took some unknown route in the cellars, down a corridor supported with crude wooden beams, rather like a mine shaft. The oozing smell of death lingered around the passage, large wooden doors inset beneath a low arch, and bolted shut.

The strong arm grabbed Medusa about her arm. The gate opened. Out of the corner, her eyes fell on a tall and dark shadow illuminating the wall of bricks. The shadow wore a cloak that covered its whole body and that hat that fitted his figure as he held onto the walking stick on his hand. It was a man. His mustache covering his upper lip, and an evil smile that pictured the strange aura emitting among himself.

An icy gust of air rose from the open door. Blackness. The blackness outside her was also within. Her gaze diverted from the shadow to the prison she was pushed into.

Looking through the open spaces in the iron bar, she looked at the place she saw the shadow but nothing could be seen. Like it was never even there in the first place.

What was that?

Then the door slide shut with a loud bang, following the gate. She lay among the hard and jagged things. And when she sat upright, her hand fell on the objects which crumbled, and broke, hiving off a dull ashen smell.

And the jagged things, the crumbling things, were human bones. There lay skulls beside her, sockets staring at her and there another.

Bones so old, and some had turned to ashes. Medusa sat up slowly, hurting the palm of her left hand on something rough. She snapped the light. The light she had taken from Aelin's pocket and hid in her rag. The illumination swelled around her, revealing the small dungeon.

She stood pressed against the cold wall, surrounded with the strong smell of dead and decayed bodies, including the ones with terrible smell like it had been there for ages. The terrible air that polluted the one she breathed. And before and beside and behind her, bones.

All suddenly, her thoughts traveled to the past when she had been locked in a dungeon.

“No, you can't do it!” Medusa heard the distant voice of her master's screaming in the memory, while she scrambled forward into the darkness. “Stop it, you can't keep me here, you can't lock me here!” Medusa heard her pleas, raising her hands to implore them.

“You killed the king,” she heard someone say.

“You killed others in our name,” said another. And there was someone beside him, repeating in a maddening echo of the very same words.

“You besmirched us in the eyes of others,” spoke the first one. “You did unspeakable evil in our name,”

“I confess to nothing-”

“We don't require you to confess. The king died believing your lies!”

“But it's the truth!” roared her master. But she couldn't bring her mouth to be indignant, outraged, whatever it was she ought to be, that they were holding her as prisoner, forcing her now towards her early death.

They shoved her into the cell. “Wait, please, don't! Wait,” she stammered. She begged. “Did the king die? What happened to him? If the king were here, he would exonerate me, you can't really think that someone of the kin-"

“Save your lies for the devil!” shushed the first guard named Harbeson. “All night long, we've examined the evidence. We've spoken to the white-haired goddess. Unburden your soul of the truth to us, if you wish, but don't bother us with your lies!”

They made a turn to leave when she cried.

'Stop! In the name of God, stop! There are things you don't know about the nun, things you simply don't understand. She will cause destruction, the world will slumber. Listen to me; don't let her wash your heads with lies. Do-”

Harbeson walked towards her cell and unlocked it. He grabbed her master about her arm, twisting it while clamping his other hand around her mouth. She kept struggling; knee bent, and foot kicking in struggle.

“It is you we shouldn't let wash our head with lies from hell,” he whispered, covering her mouth with a fabric that prevented her from talking. With a huff, he stomped out of the cell and locked the gate, making his way out of the dungeon. She made incoherent noises due to the fabric placed on her mouth.

The door closed. And she finally screamed.

Medusa slipped back to reality. Her thoughts were preoccupied by the new discovery. Nun? With her vast knowledge, she knew who she was. The poison brought to destroy humans. The person Medyse tried to shield humans from endangering their lives to.

But something didn't add up. If strange memories from the past kept coming, names of strange people and different stories were what kept her thinking.

If eliminating the Lord and proclaiming that possession, would her mission be finally over? The rest would be left for her master for finish? She found herself questioning her thoughts. And her life count would increase.

And thinking about life count, her hand trailed upwards to her head that still bled. Normally, it would heal almost immediately, but the effect of low life count, it takes a long while for the process to heal completely. Slower than that of humans. Depending on how low her life count was.

The life count is a very important and essential part needed for her existence. Just like a fish deprived of water dies, her life count was exactly the same process. Her body would start decaying and her soul would suffer in inferno.

***

Danger lurks in every corner,

but safety lies in caution.

~ Aesop.

A sound woke her up, abruptly. She had been asleep and didn't know how long. Time flew by quickly, that she wasn't able to keep track of the days she had been locked up in an underground prison. The heavy stench of blood had lessened a bit, enough for her to handle.

Medusa squinted at the single shaft of light that fell down upon her. As the illumination swelled upon her, it revealed the small prison and the jagged things like skulls and bones. Her body shrunk over the days she spent locked up, due to the absence of sunlight on her skin. Even if she was a witch, it didn't stop her body from functioning like that of human's.

Realizing the light came from the upwards direction where the little gap space allowed a person to peek into, it was left open for two seconds, after the guard assured the prisoner was lowkey.

She was still seated on the cold floor even when the warm streak of daylight reflected her body and the heat on her skin which could have felt pleasant compared to the cold and tense atmosphere, the door finally opened and the iron bar was pushed aside to fully reveal the two guards.

It had been three days since Medusa were locked up. Those three days, she had been left to starve and sent out at dusk for several torturing tasks that was difficult for one to carry. It was part of her punishment. It exhausted her body, but not her mentality. But those three days had been worth her planning.

Her last encounter with the keeper kept her pondering. How did the keeper appear to the future? So many pasts and she had been in Hell, there was no portal that could send a past soul to the future. The possibility was thin.

The Devil has many tricks on its sleeve but this was far than what she least expected. Every action had its effect; if he had sent her to the future; it could only mean the Devil came across God.

The ancient sacred portal, one that were referred to the Pict of Cobalaith, were destroyed and annihilated after God sacralized death and at the same time redeemed sacralization. Christ's death had not come in battle; the death of a warrior with the sword in his hands, it had been a humble sacrifice for his people, an execution which could not be avenged. A total surrender on the part of man to save his human children. But this sacred portal was destroyed centuries ago.

The only power that had triggered the portal's power before was the condemnation of Christianity, what the Devil did with Aelin. He made her forsake the blood of God, staining her hands with the sins of the flesh. He had used that very same blood, the flesh of mankind, as a downfall that would trigger the opening of the portal. The sins of the flesh, which had caused humans to become monsters in the eyes of their breed and bringing forth full grown offspring. The assumptions were clearly founded upon this conditions which were very obvious.

But that wasn't where the confusion originated from. The question was how did that portal appear after it had been destroyed? He had used her virtue for its vices. She was blinded, or she IS blinded, but that wasn't what disturbed Medusa.

A curse evoked the enclosure of the portal in the past that had cursed the human kind, because it was believed God treasured humans more than other creatures. A curse that had a dreadful consequence which affected them and not the creatures that was known to be not of God's making. Those creatures were known of Satan's, and they only had an illusion to the sight of the portal. A curse that would change human's appearance if passed across this ancient portal. It was a curse that marked the banishment of heavenly beings; Humans, out into the evil sphere of earth.

How then is Aelin not possessed by the curse? Her looks sustained that of humans. No sign of strange powers consuming her, except the prolong survival when she tried to kill her at the stable.

Medusa was cut from further thoughts when the guards drew closer, grabbing her arms roughly. Her blue eyes glittered in anger and as she looked up at them from her seemingly lofty height of about five foot eight inches tall.

They dragged her out of the cellar heeding to the exit of the underground prison. Once her skin was exposed to light, she felt the warm sensation crawl to her skin and spread to every part of her body. The fresh air she could finally breathe, swayed her silver hair that was hanging loose yet splendid, like fax over her shoulder to the movement of the breeze. One would mistake her for an angel dragged as a prisoner to hell.

As they drew closer, passing the flowers that had begun to sprout, as though the garden were singing and rejoicing to the torture about to face the victim, Medusa could feel the glares and gazes coming from each angle.

The slaves stopped their works to take a look at the prisoner being dragged by the guards. Although no one knew what Medusa had done because of the compulsion, they believed she attempted to murder the keeper. The only reason they could sum that up, was if only she planned to escape. Relieved that the not them would be put as the first test for disobedience, but worried as what will happen if their fate turned out to be like that.

Medusa who had been chained to her hands, the shackles reaching her feet made it difficult to move as fast as the guards kept dragging her to the supposed direction.

Handcuffed from hands to her legs, the chain made noises with each step she took, and it was a great difficulty to walk without stumbling and dragged up once more. Then she was pushed to stumble to her knees. Even the rag which was long enough to reach her feet weren't enough to save her from getting scarred. The force was extreme, as blood soaked her garment on the injured part.

Unable to feel the pain, Medusa bit her lips in self-control, feeling of rage work on her. The audacity to be dragged as a prisoner by humans again. She wanted to burn them all. Every one of them and their sickening rule.

Other slaves gathered at the platform to watch the outcome of the punishment. There were murmurings at different corners, some pointing at the girl that was about to be punished. How soon, they thought.

Esther on the other hand walked towards the corner at the right side, not too far and not too close, but enough to watch what could happen. Her mind couldn't help but worry over the situation Medusa was in. It was one thing that could not be prevented.

As much as it didn't suit her well watching the punishment unfold, she remembered her place as a slave with no power. She was nothing but a submission to critical fate.

Dragged to her feet, the guards unchained Medusa, marching her to the wooden pole at the center of the platform. Futile, her body came in contact with the pole while her face scrunched to her side, as she watched them chain her back in the same manner.

Sire Conrad, assured that everything was done in accord, marched forward to the front of the platform with a face arrayed in his usual displeasure and pride. But what one failed to notice was the flicker of amusement which one could see when taken a close look.

The way he appeared and carried himself showed how powerful he was. Not with his looks, but with the way he spoke. "Listen and listen carefully…" his authoritative and timorous voice booming around the platform with the gathered slaves. “Today will be set aside as a day an example would be shown amongst you all. A day a scapegoat would be used as practical to those who seem to have deaf ears and empty skulls. Heed to my warning this day, that henceforth, whosoever decides to disobey the rules of Dragsholm, would not only be whipped but executed depending on his or her offense...” He continued.

***

Word Search; *Sacralization* in religion, means attributing value to practices, constructing them as sacred within their tradition. Hope this had helped :)

A/N; Dearest readers, I wish to remind you that this book is purely fictional. Whatever you read and imagine is my typical work of art. As an author, it's my responsibility to create an interesting piece and I hope you ride along with me through this journey. This book is a combination of mystery, dark, slow-burn romance and most especially suspense. Happy reading!