Chapter 107: Vessel In Drakwyne
Rowena woke up with a dull ache. She tried to open her eyes, but the world seemed like a smear of dark colors. Everything was blurred as if she was looking through a thick glass. She tried to move her hand to rub her eyes, but a deep, solid resistance held her wrists in place. She pushed the other arm. The same. She tried to lift her head, but a wave of dizziness hit her, making her skull feel too heavy for her neck.
Rowena blinked several times to fight through the blur. The room slowly came into view. The ceiling above her was high and dark. The light that brightened the room came from a single wall-mounted torch.
Far from the bed, near the edge of the room, stood a masculine figure. He was tall and unmoving, dressed in a long, black cloak that pooled on the stone floor. His face was hidden beneath the hood. And the only thing clearly visible was a green glow at his chest. A pendant hung from his neck, shining like something alive.
Rowena’s breathing quickened. She tried to kick with her foot but realized her ankles were also bound. Thick iron chains wrapped her wrists and legs, leading to heavy rings bolted into the frame of the bed. She pulled against the restraints again, harder this time. But they did not give.
Panic rose within her. She kept yanking at the chains, but they were stronger than her strength. "Where am I?" She demanded, her voice rough and unsteady.
The figure at the end of the room moved. He turned slowly to face her fully. The pendant on his chest glowed green.
"You are awake, child." The voice was low, smooth, and baritonic. It filled the room without being loud. "Welcome back to the land of the living."
Rowena’s mouth was dry. She tried to swallow hard, forcing moisture into it. "Who are you?" Her voice came out as a croak. She pulled at the chains again, the iron biting into her skin. "Why am I chained?! Let me go!"
The figure did not answer immediately. He began to walk towards her, and each step echoed against the stone floor. And as he drew closer, the glow from his pendant grew brighter, filling the space around the bed with green light.
Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears. A deep knot formed in her stomach when he stopped beside the bed. "Why am I chained like an animal?!" She demanded.
He let out a dry, humorless sound. "Questions. You ask many questions for someone who nearly tore this place apart."
"I don’t know why you are talking about." Rowena snapped. She pulled at the chains again, harder this time, ignoring the sting in her wrists. "I shouldn’t be here. I was—" Her voice faltered as memory rushed back in fragments.
Blood. Screams. Her own hands are clawing at skins and draining their souls. Men falling around her. All dead. Her last mission. She was on her way to get help for her mother. That was all that mattered. She had never intended for any of this.
"Permit me to introduce myself to you." His long-fingered hand, pale and scarred, came up and grasped the edge of the hood. He pulled it back.
Rowena gasped, her stomach feeling a twist. The left side of his face was wrinkled, with a strong jaw and pale, unmarked skin. The right side of his face was a ruin. It was scarred beyond recognition. His skin burned and twisted, as if it had melted and hardened again. His right eye was glossy red, unblinking, reflecting the green light unnaturally. The left eye was entirely black, the pupil indistinguishable from the rest of it.
"My name is Zareth." He said. The ruined side of this mouth moved awkwardly with the words. "I am the Dark Lord of Drakwyne."
Her breath caught. "Drakwyne?" she whispered. Panic surged through her as the name clicked into place. She threw her weight against the chains, not with strategy but with pure terror in her eyes.
Rowena had heard the coven mention the dark lord once, and they had promised she would meet him eventually. Her mother had never really mentioned anything about this place or the dark lord.
Eirene had always made sure Rowena was left in the dark. She had preferred to do the dirty work to fulfill her plans rather than involve her daughter. But from Rowena’s findings since she accepted to be a vessel, she had realized Drakwyne was a place of exiles and dark powers.
"This is our realm," Zareth continued. "The place between what wolves fear and what they refuse to name."
Rowena shook her head violently. "No! I don’t want to be here. I didn’t agree to come here! I don’t belong here! Let me go. I need to get help from my mother! I need to save my mother!" She struggled harder, anger and fear mixing until her chest burned. The chains rattled loudly, but they held firm.
Zareth watched her struggle. He showed no signs of alarm or anger. He waited until her frantic movement subsided into panting exhaustion.
"Child, you have a purpose to fulfill. The time for running to others for help is over." He said.
"I don’t want a purpose!" She spat. "I am not a vessel anymore," she said, her voice rising. "I renounce it. I don’t care what you think I’m meant to be." She shook her head. "I want my mother. I want to go home." The words were a plea, a denial of the heat she could still sometimes feel in her veins.
"Child, that choice was taken from you long before you understood what it meant."
Rowena glared at him. "You don’t get to decide my life."
"You cannot renounce what you already are. You are feeding. The connection is made. The Witch-Queen has accepted you as a host. You’ve felt her power over and over again. It’s in you now."
She froze. A cold weight settled in her chest. "No," she whispered. "That’s not true. I can renounce it."
"You cannot renounce what’s already alive inside you." He stated firmly.
