Chapter 139 In the Abyss: a cry unheard

Chapter 139 In the Abyss: a cry unheard
The fall felt endless. Wind roared past Anastasia's ears, tearing at her clothes and biting at her fragile skin. Above her, the faint glow of Aeliana's magic vanished, replaced by crushing total darkness.

She braced for the end.

Instead of solid stone, she crashed through a dense canopy of ancient vines. The vegetation snapped and tore under her weight, whipping across her face and arms as she fell.

The vines slowed her descent, catching and dragging at her before she broke through the last layer, and hit the damp ground.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs.

Anastasia gasped, her back arching off the cold ground as her body screamed in protest. She sucked the air that tasted of wet soil, rot of ancient decay. She lay flat on her back in the pitch-black pit, her chest heaving, waiting for her vision to adjust. But there was nothing to adjust to. Darkness surrounded her. It pressed in from every side. She tried to push herself up. Her right arm trembled and buckled. A sharp pain shot through her left ankle. She had landed badly, twisting it in the mud. Her injuries were only getting worse.

Her blood was already weak, her immune system barely worked anymore. The bruises on her skin from the slightest touch. No lying at the bottom of the shadow-rift, she felt something unfamiliar spreading through her veins.

A knot of fear tightened in her chest. Her trembling fingers brushed her left forearm. The skin had been torn open.

The jagged roots she had crushed through had cut deep into her flesh, leaving behind a thick sap that seeped into the wounds. At first, it was only a dull ache. Then the burning began.

Pain spread through her arm so quickly that it stole her breath. It felt like fire crawling beneath her skin, moving higher with every heartbeat. Anastasia cried out and clutched her arm to her chest. She curled into herself on the damp cavern floor, shaking as the burning grew worse. Something was inside her, and whatever it was, her weakened body couldn't fight it.

The pain hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Sweat drenched her skin, soaking strands of hair against her forehead, yet an unnatural cold gnawed at her bones. Her teeth rattled uncontrollably as violent shivers tore through her battered body.

“Help… “ she rasped, the word so faint it was swallowed by the endless darkness. "Someone…"

There was no answer. Only the slow, relentless drip… drip… drip… of water echoed through the caverns, each drop of cruel reminder that she was all alone.

Her survival instinct refused to surrender.

Fighting through the haze of fever and poison, Anastasia forced her eyelids open. She blinked into the suffocating blackness, seeing nothing. She couldn't stay here. If she lay still much longer, the freezing cold would claim her before the poison ever could.

With a strangled gasp, she rolled onto her stomach. Pain exploded through her battered body, stealing her breath. Her trembling fingers dug into the damp, loose soil, clutching at it as if it alone could keep her alive. Every inch she moved sent searing agony through her muscles and broken ribs. Anastasia’s shallow breath scraped against her chest, making her vision blur. Gritting her teeth, she pushed with her other uninjured leg and dragged herself forward, inch by painful inch, she crawled deeper into the darkness, refusing to let the cold or the poison claim her.

Anastasia slumped against the damp rock, pressing her forehead to its icy surface as ragged breaths tore from her lungs. The stone was slick with moss and slime. She ran her hands blindly up the surface, searching for a handhold, a ledge, anything that she could use to climb back to the surface.

She pushed herself to her knees, ignoring the sharp spike of pain from her twisted ankle. She reached higher, her raw fingers scraping against the stone. The wall was nearly smooth. There were no cracks wide enough to grip, no ledges to stand on, no slope to climb. It rose straight into the endless darkness above, disappearing into the abyss.

Desperation clawed at her throat. She gripped a thick, protruding root anchored into the rock face and tried to pull herself up.

There was a crack. The dead root splintered beneath her weight. Anastasia cried out as she crashed backward into the mud. The impact rattled her bruised ribs and sent excruciating pain racing through her poisoned body. White-hot sparks exploded behind her eyes, leaving the world spinning around her.

She lay there, half-submerged in the cold mud, unable to move. Her chest rose and fell in fast uneven breaths as the last of her strength bled away. Then the tears finally came, spilling hot and relentless, they carved cleanly through the dirt smeared across her cheeks, disappearing into the mud beneath her.

“Please. Help anyone. Help me."

The cruel irony of her situation settled like a stone in her chest. Once, a wall of earth and tangled roots would have been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. At least, before she could have commanded the vines to weave themselves into a ladder or persuaded the stone to rise beneath her feet and carry her back to the surface. But that was before the sickness.

She closed her eyes and reached inward, searching for the familiar spark or maybe the fragment of her magic. She begged for even the faintest flicker – enough to light the darkness, enough to save herself.

There was nothing. Only an empty, aching void where her power had once lived – the hollow left behind by the leukemia – and beneath it, the savage burn of Fae venom coursing through her veins, devouring the little strength she had left.

Anastasia dragged herself sideways, keeping her back pressed against the curved stone wall of the pit. If she couldn't climb, maybe there was a tunnel, and the rift could lead her somewhere else, anywhere, out of the absolute darkness.

“Is there anyone?" She rasped. Her voice sounded impossibly small, swallowed by the cavern's oppressive darkness. “Please…”

She crawled blindly through the mud. Sharp rocks cut into her palms and tore through the fabric of her dress. The cold of the under-realm seeped through her clothes, numbing her extremities. The venom made her incredibly nauseous, her head spinning so fast she couldn't tell up from down.

“Lord Liam. Help me!" she screamed suddenly, pouring what little strength she had left into the cry. The effort tore at her raw throat, leaving a taste of copper and dirt on her tongue. “Lord Liam! Help me please! I'm down here!"

She waited, her chest heaving as she listened for a voice, or any sign of rescue. But there was no echo. No answer. Only the suffocating, heavy silence of the pit.

Minutes bled into hours. Time lost all meaning in the absolute dark.

Her movements became sluggish, each one slower than the last. She felt the metallic taste at the back of her throat. She knew what it was. Blood was flowing out of her nose. Her tears flowed uncontrollably again as she cleaned them with the back of her wrist.

Dragging her body through the dirt became an almost impossible task. The leukemia had already kept her hovering on the edge of exhaustion every day. Now, whatever reserves she had managed to cling to were gone, drained completely by the poison, injuries, and the cold. Her arms gave out. She collapsed face-first into the damp soil, too weak to catch herself.

She managed to turn her head to the side, fighting to keep her airway clear of the mud. Her breathing was ragged, shallow, and terribly uneven. The venom throbbed in time with her failing heartbeat, a toxic drum in her ears.

“Help me," she whimpered weakly into the dark. Hot tears spilled over her lashes, mixing with the cold mud in her cheek. “Somebody… please. I don't want to die here.”

Anastasia closed her eyes, her body trembling against the cold stone. She was not dead yet, but if she was to die, she wanted to at least die in his arms – William's arms. As the darkness pressed down on her, she could feel herself fading, slipping further and further away into the cold, poisonous dark.

\~~~

The silver-lit corridors of the Fae Palace were breathtaking, carved from pale marble and woven with luminescent ivy. William's footsteps echoed against the polished Stone floors as he made his way toward the Western wing.

As he walked, passing servants they immediately stopped, lowering their heads in deep bows.

William offered a brief, polite nod, but he did not slow his pace. His mind was focused on where he was going – the guest quarters. It had been hours since he last saw Anastasia. Given how weak her body had become, he felt so eager to see her. A strange unexplainable tightness coiled in his chest. He needed to see her, to hear the fragile, steady rhythm of her heartbeat, to make sure she could survive without using her herbs till they went back.

He turned the final corner leading to her wing, only to find Prince Eryndor standing in the center of the arches' hallway. When he saw William, a smile carved on his lips. He approached William, offering a graceful, sweeping bow.

“Ah, Lord Liam," Eryndor greeted with a friendly smile. "I hope there's no problem?”

William tried to continue past him, but Eryndor subtly blocked his path. William suppressed a sigh of impatience. “Prince Eryndor. If you will excuse me, I am on my way to check on Anastasia."

"Of course, of course,” Eryndor said, stepping aside but continuing to speak, his words filling the quiet corridor. "However, you might want to save your steps, Lord Liam. I was walking through these halls just a short while ago, I happened to see my sister quietly pulling the door shut to Lady Anastasia's chambers."

William felt uneasy at the mention of Anastasia. Eryndor continued completely oblivious to the sudden tension rolling off William.

“She had attended to Lady Anastasia, and she had finally fallen to a deep, peaceful sleep. The healer's tea works wonders, it seems.”

William looked confused. Back at the castle he knew how Aeliana treated Anastasia. The thought of her being inside Anastasia's private chambers made his instinct scream that something was wrong. He didn't trust Aeliana with Anastasia.

“I appreciate the information," William stared, masking his rising suspicion. "But I will check on her myself.” He stepped forward, intent on reaching her door.

“Lord Liam!"

A voice echoed down the corridor behind them. William stopped, exhaling a sharp breath of pure frustration. He turned to see two guardsmen marching toward them. One of the guardsmen stopped a few paces away, bowing deeply.

“Lord Liam," the guard said quietly. “His Majesty requests your presence in his private quarters… immediately.

“William nodded. "Okay. Tell his majesty I will come at once.”

"He stated it is a matter of great importance.” The guard said.

He looked from the guard to the hallway leading to the guest quarters. He was just a few dozen yards away. The guard seems serious, like he doesn't want to go back alone. He wasn't worried about that, but King Caelen was his old friend, and to ignore a direct summons from the Fae king was impossible.

William looked back at Eryndor. “You are certain she was asleep?"

“Soundly," Eryndor promised with a polite smile. “Rest assured, Lord Liam."

Torn between duty and instinct. William gave a stiff nod. He turned his back on the guest wing and followed the guard.