Shades of Grey

LOCATION UNKNOWN— DECEMBER 1843

I was then suddenly propelled out of the water and onto the cold, rigid tile of the cell once again. I crawled along the ground, sopping wet and gasping for breath.

I took a moment to gather my strength, touching the Longsword as it sat against my leg. I took tentative steps forward in the muted torchlight and did not make eye contact with the rampant wolf that still stood raging at the end of the hallway. As I walked across the hall to the other cell, I could almost feel the hot breath of the beast on my neck. I set my jaw and walked forward, even stronger this time as the second cell door swung open for me.

However, the further I walked inside, the longer the stone cell seemed to become. Every few feet I would come across a torch, but for the most part the corridor was long and damply abandoned. It seemed to be growing more so the further I went until I arrived in a very large room with a dome tiered ceiling that towered above three levels of prison cells. A large bowl of fire flickered just below the dome, which sent a ghostly light to all the corners of the room and into the faces of the prisoners, creating an air of gross oppression.

“Hallo, have you been sent to entertain us, yer majesty?” marvelled a voice from one of the cells.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, puzzled at the formality.

“Has the Queen taken an interest in us lowly murderers?” reasoned a voice from another cell. “Ooh, has the king been giving you a rough time of it?” he laughed when he beheld my bloody and beaten persona.

“Back off, gents,” barked the only voice that had a visible source. A very tall man in simple clothing approached me, his keys jangling musically with each step.

“Get the keys! Free us all, yer Highness!” hysterical, mad laughter came from a different cell and suddenly all manner of strange voices flew about the room like an accostation of unwanted arrows. I froze in horror and the man with the keys noticed. He laughed.

“Don’t worry, yer Highness, they haven’t seen anybody but me and me guards in ages. Follow me and we’ll get yeh up to the party. What are yeh doin’ down here anyway, yer Grace?”

“What are you talking about?!” I cried, perturbed at the lack of answers. The man turned to and looked at me as though I had lost my mind.

“They’re talkin’ about the fact that you, the Queen, haven’t set foot in this half of the castle since it was built.” He then looked at my uniform. “Been adoptin’ a new sort of fashion, are we, yer Majesty? Must be, iffin’ it covers your stomach like that.”

I looked down at my beaten body and construed that I needed to play up the charade that I was their Queen, despite my current state. It could help me to find Forma.

“Uh, yes. I’ve just finished a call in Scotland as a matter of fact. This is a new brand of athletic suit that the women wear. I tried it out in hand-to-hand combat and lost miserably, I’m afraid.”

He looked at me strangely, his eyes focused.

“What brings you down here, highness? The festivities are up in the ballroom. Shouldn’t you be with your husband?”

I swallowed. He knew I was lying: it was obvious. I then frowned as I realised that this man bore a striking resemblance to the captain of the Beaute de la Mer, Saul Barnaby, which struck me as odd: why would I suddenly think of Saul in such a place?

The man – whom I assumed was the warden — took a step towards me, backing me into a corner. His face was very pointed, as if he was trying to sniff out my true identity. He cocked a smile when he arrived at the truth.

“Imposter.”

He grabbed my wrist and quickly restrained them with cuffs.

“I don’t know what sort of witch you are, or what you were planning once you entered the ballroom, but I assure you, trespassing is not tolerated in the capitol.”

The warden clamped another cuff around my neck and threaded a chain around my wrists and neck, roughly pulling forward as he led me out of the jail.

The prisoners then began beating at the bars over their cells, laughing and catcalling in delight as I passed by. I did my very best not to look any of them in the eyes as we ascended a set of friendlier looking steps that led out of the prison cells and into the large, sprawling corridor of a castle.

“I hear music,” I said out loud for no reason as the cheerful melodies began to dance around me. The warden jerked me forward abruptly and quickly clamped a metal gag over my mouth. He glared at me with a dark hatred that I didn’t understand; it was strange to see on Saul’s face. It was very much Saul’s face, but it couldn’t have been Saul…could it?

“Silence.”

He led me through the hallway toward the music until we came upon large, double oak doors leading to a red and black ballroom full of people dressed in gaudy gowns and flashy suits donning large theatrical masks. All movement immediately ceased as the warden led me through the room. I felt like a game hunter’s prize about to be sold at an auction.

“Who is that?”

“Is it the Queen?”

“How did she do that?”

As we strode forward, the sea of masks parted down the middle to reveal a man and a woman sitting at a throne at the opposite end of the room, each donning the most beautiful and elaborately painted masks of the entire ball — a tall, proud King and a very pregnant Queen.

I began to walk faster and the closer I got to the monarchs, the thicker the tension in the room became. Once I approached the throne, I noticed a tightening of the muscles in the Queen’s body and a curious lean from the King.

“Solomon, what is the meaning of this?” exclaimed the King.

“Your Highness, she just wandered into the dungeons. I brought her straight to you for sentencing.”

The King stood and approached us. He walked straight over to me and examined my face carefully, walking around us and even daring to grab my face and turn it to his fancy.

“How is this possible?” asked the King once more. I furrowed my brow. I recognised his voice…

“I am unsure, Highness,” replied Saul.

“WITCH!”

The shrill voice came suddenly from the Queen upon the platform. She rose with surprising agility, gripping her pregnant belly. “How dare you arrange your magic to resemble me!”

At this moment, she ripped off her mask and exposed her face, which was unerringly similar to mine in every minute detail. My mouth would’ve fallen open if it hadn’t been clamped shut.

“Who are you, exactly?” spat the Queen furiously.

Saul unlocked the clamp around my mouth.

“...Er...m-my name is...Grey Echo...” I stuttered, still in shock.

“No! My name is Grey Echo and I am the Queen! You are a witch, intent on killing me and my unborn child to steal our throne!” she aspersed, clearly fabricating the accusation as she went along, but the people did not seem to care. They gasped in horror anyway.

“What?! That’s ludicrous! I’m only passing through searching for my friend!” I stammered, turning to the King for support. “Please, your majesty, you must believe me!”

The King then turned to a masked man who stood next to them, exchanging several secret words. The king inhaled intensely and reached up to remove his mask. My stomach lurched out of my body in horror.

Lanek, in all his Cambrian splendour, stood before me. His hair was pulled back with a black ribbon, further displaying his perfect features. A golden crown wrapped around his forehead and disappeared into his dark hair, framing a face that looked almost black with narcissism. This was not the Lanek I had come to know back in Acavia: this was a filthy trick from a Kuligari Witch queen.

“Oh Lanek, you must know that this girl is a liar! Throw her in jail with the others!” cried the Queen, cupping her protruding stomach.

“Now, we don’t know that she is as dangerous as the others...” reasoned the King, searching my eyes for a plausible motive to confirm his wife’s hysterical arraignments.

“They are all the same…” replied an arrant voice that I recognised instantly.

I looked over to the masked man that the King had spoken with moments before. He removed his mask and revealed a scarred and disfigured yet still startlingly beautiful face that I had seen only in my nightmares.

It was Evan, the Vanguard.

I gaped in dumb confusion when the Queen suddenly gave another theatrical gasp.

“She’s a Hunter!”

The tone of the room instantly turned cold and I felt the legendary contempt that a room full of Creatures would naturally hold for Hunters begin to sting my confidence.

I looked around and saw that everyone was giving me similar stares through the masks. They all took a collective step backwards, as though I had just educed a pungently unpleasant odour.

“I’m only looking to free my friend!” I cried in the same hysterical voice as the Queen, shaking my restraints emphatically. “Then I will be on my way, I swear!”

There was a pause in the room, until Lanek turned to walk without a sound back to his seat.

“Please, you must listen to me, I—”

In one smooth motion, Lanek turned, drew his sword and held it centimetres from my face, silencing me.

“Guards, throw her into the dungeons with the other Hunters,” commanded the King to nearby guardsmen as he took the Queen’s hand and sat back down at his throne. I gasped as the guardsmen emerged from the crowd of masks and I saw that they were all Treptiks — freely moving around a castle full of humans with a Cambrian King.

“Wait, Lanek, what is this?!” I cried as the Treptiks took my chains and began pulling me backward. “Why do you have Treptik guards? One of my friends died in our attempt to free your people from their grasp! Why would you dare to have that Vanguard scum as your advisor?! ANSWER ME!”

Lanek turned abruptly and in a flash of movement worthy of a Cambrian warriror, held a long thin blade inches from my face before speaking in a low, seething tone of voice.

“Do. Not. Command. The King.”

Solomon followed behind the Treptiks and clamped the gag back over my mouth, the crowd laughing raucously as the doors to the ball slammed behind us.