“Get them,” Procel ordered, and the army ran off into the darkness, Wynn knew who they were after and sank to her knees because she knew she couldn’t stop it.
The shadow army threw the travellers to the ground, and waited in a line behind them for instructions, their shadowy forms blending and changing in the dull grey light of the chamber. Wynn went to run to her friends, but Procel raised a skeletal hand in warning and she had no choice but to stand still and watch, helplessly. Griffin was the first to stand up; his eyes took in everything critically, the Judge and his jurors, the shadow army, the torture chamber and Wynn. His eyes widened when he saw Wynn – they had all thought her dead – but other than that he remained expressionless, if he was surprised at the situation he did not show it, the events of the past days seemed to have hardened him to magic and the supernatural. Through his emotions, Wynn saw how she looked to him, and the rest of the travellers, frail and powerless. As she inspected the travellers she realised Arabella was not among them, her stomach lurched once more in fear for her friend.
“Disarm them,” Procel ordered, and the shadow army stepped forward and took all the newly acquired weapons from the travellers, throwing them into a pile out of reach.
“Why are we here?” Griffin demanded, his voice booming in the chamber. The travellers all possessed a range of powerful emotions, fear, curiosity, despair, and they all mingled together inside Wynn’s mind to form a confusing mixture that she had to fight not to drown in. She felt especially vulnerable without the travellers by her side.
“I am Procel, Supreme Judge in the Spectre Court, and these are my jurors, Bernael and Enepsigos,” Procel boomed, equally as loud, “and you are here to be judged. Those who are not worthy are sacrificed so that we may live again.”
Wynn gasped but remained where she stood, watching Griffin carefully.
“And what is your verdict?” Griffin said angrily.
“It is not my choice, one who knows you well will chose the most fitting sacrifice,” Procel said matter-of-factly, and indicated loftily to Wynn. Wynn watched his arm move in her direction and shook her head in disbelief. The eyes of the travellers bore into her; she fell to her knees and buried her head in her hands. The traveller’s fear consumed her and she gagged at the smell of it. She shook her head at Procel, at the situation, at her life. Life could not do this to her, could not make her choose one of the only friends she had ever had.
Procel, seeing her refusal, motioned to the shadow army and they grabbed the travellers one by one with unnatural strength, and held their arms tightly behind their backs.
“One dies, or all die,” Procel said to Wynn.
“I will not choose!” She cried back angrily.
Procel shrugged and nodded his head in the direction of the travellers, the shadow army nodded in unison and the sound of five swords being unsheathed echoed around the room. The weapons were made entirely of shadows; they swirled like liquid death but retained the long, thin shape of a sword. Wynn would have been fascinated but the realness of the situation would not allow her mind to wander. The shadow army then placed the swords on the necks of the travellers.
“One or all,” Procel said again, “it does not matter to me, one or five, it is the same result. I rarely get such choice and your refusal will feed my army well.”
The travellers watched Wynn, their eyes wide with fear. Wynn took a deep breath to steady her nausea and was glad in this instance that Arabella was not here. It was one less person for her to choose between. As if reading her mind, Procel raised a hand and suddenly tied to one of the chairs sat Arabella, appearing in a puff of smoke. Her mouth was gagged and her hands and feet strapped to the chair. Her face was a vision of pure fury and Wynn cowed from the gaze instinctively. She went to walk forward, intent on aiding her friend but Procel waved a hand in warning, so Wynn sent her mind to Arabella and they linked mentally. They did not need to mention the very fact that Procel matched the death tarot card, it was written across both their faces, Wynn instead got straight to the point.
“
What do I do?
” Wynn cried in her mind, “
I cannot choose.
”
“
One or all,
” Arabella replied, repeated the judge’s words, “
And hurry Wynn we cannot converse this way for long, magic is detectable and Procel may react badly. One or all. I can take the torture but I fear for the others.
”
Wynn’s silent scream of refusal was louder than anything she could have phrased with words. Arabella closed her eyes and severed the link, her emotions tangled together. Arabella understood such a decision and Wynn was glad of her understanding, it meant that Arabella would forgive her for what she had to do. Wynn felt her body trembling suddenly, if there had been more time a solution could have been found but she had only seconds before either she chose someone to sacrifice, or all of the travellers died. As if they heard her Procel stood, Bernael and Enepsigos following suit. They raised their arms high above their head as though expecting a gift from the air.
“It is time to choose,” Procel said loudly.
Wynn then wept, with sadness more deep than she had ever thought she could feel. The room was so vast and yet it choked her, the smell of death and fear lingered in her nostrils. Her skin tingled with dread. She looked at the travellers who had risked their lives by following her, who followed her on the notion that she was prophesised, the Foreseen. Where were her powers now? She couldn’t save them anymore than she could harm Procel. Her magic swarmed through her veins but she had no idea how to access it. It was like being strong enough to break down a door but not knowing how to lift your arms. It is one or all thought Wynn solemnly, and I cannot have the deaths of them all on my conscience.
Her mind raced through the options. She could not kill Braelyn, could not and would not. Braelyn was a sister to her in all but blood. She moved onto Griffin, standing so proudly. She could sense his fear, as keenly as the others, but saw he refused for it to be shown. Arabella locked eyes with Wynn, portraying she accepted it if Wynn chose her, Wynn sensed the unspoken friendship they shared, and knew she could not choose her either.
Procel turned his cloaked head to Wynn, “Now.”
Wynn could not help the tremors that wracked her frame and she held onto the ground to steady herself. Her brain would not work, would not think fast enough and Procel was raising his hand and indicating something. With almost comical slowness – to Wynn anyway – the shadow soldier holding his sword to Theodore’s neck sliced it cleanly across his throat. Theodore did not have time to fear for his life, it was over so quickly, he gurgled something illegible, his body convulsing as pints of blood poured from the wound and down his clothes. Wynn opened her mouth to scream but it died in her throat. Time seemed to slow, and with that slowness Wynn felt each and every one of the traveller’s grief and shock as they watched little Theodore’s lifeless body crumble to the ground, blood still gushing like a waterfall.
The musty air seemed to crush them and their hearts beat purely with necessity. Wynn felt that if her body did not do these things automatically she would have ceased to care if her heart beat any longer. The agony was far fresher than any she could remember, an actual wound to her heart, one that left her rocking back and forward catatonically.
The most sickening thing – and she knew that Arabella felt the same – was that Arabella had predicted death only a few days ago. The Death card was plain in Wynn’s memory, the skeletal figure gleaming white against the blackness of her mind. She had not known, not even considered that the cards held such power. Arabella clearly believed deeply in their truth as that was her culture, but Wynn guessed that even she had never seen a prediction come true so swiftly. Procel was the bringer of death, and had murdered their little ray of sunshine.
Procel cast his eyes upon Wynn, “Now will you chose?”
“Why do you need another?” Wynn spat, “you have a sacrifice. I refuse to obey you any longer.”
“Oh his body will go to the shadow army, and make them stronger, but we still require a sacrifice, chose quickly or another will perish.”
Wynn knew not to dawdle, and scanned the faces of the travellers once more, thinking ‘who can I bear to lose?’ the thought sickened her but she pushed any self loathing away. There would be time for that later. Finally her eyes rested upon Rueben. He was visibly shaking, fear gripping him, but inside Wynn could feel a smug confidence that she would not pick him to die. He still did not repent for betraying them to the army and it was this arrogance that forced Wynn then and there to make the decision.
“I chose Rueben,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands so she could not see the look of betrayal in Rueben’s eyes. She did not need to see it; she could feel it, his fear, and shock. The shadow army dragged him to the stone block and held him while Procel disappeared in a puff of black smoke and reappeared at the altar. He held a knife like the swords, made entirely of shadows. Rueben yelled in fear, and struggled like an animal, self control completely lost. The travellers watched in horror, still held by the remaining army, as Procel ripped Rueben’s thin shirt open and stabbed the knife between his ribs, ripping the knife downwards, opening Rueben’s chest. Blood splashed the altar and dribbled onto the floor, soaking into the stone.
Wynn screamed wordlessly and ran forward, lunging at Procel; she went through him and landed on the floor, a cold rippling sensation covering her as she passed through his shadowy frame. Rueben’s eyes glazed over and Wynn felt his life force pass on, it was so strong Wynn was sure she was the one that had died, she lay incapacitated on the floor for a long moment, before her brain forced her to get up. It was stronger than that she had felt from Theodore, she had not been prepared for his death and his life had passed on almost instantaneously, but Rueben knew his fate.
“MURDERER!” Wynn cried, her eyes wild. Even though she had chosen him, even though she knew he was not a kind and genuine person, not like the other travellers, she could not accept that she had seen both Theodore and him die before her eyes. Rueben was cold and had betrayed them, but he had not deserved to
die
. Procel turned to her, and with horror Wynn saw he held Rueben’s heart in this hand. Blood dribbled down the pure whiteness of his bone. His thin fingers grasped the heart like a beggar grasped his last piece of bread.
“You have saved your friends, and allowed us to live again,” he said to Wynn softly as though comforting her.
Procel lifted the heart to his hood and it disappearing into the darkness, Wynn could hear the sound of teeth chewing through muscle. He was eating Rueben’s heart. Wynn turned around and heaved. Procel then passed the half eaten heart to Bernael and Enepsigos. With a small shudder Procel’s cloak fell away and a young man with a mess of long brown hair stepped free of the garment. He was wearing the clothes of a nobleman, thick cotton breeches, a jerkin and thigh high black boots. Wynn waited automatically for his feelings and memories to flood into her, but she felt nothing but a dull coldness in her soul, Procel was not alive, and he was not dead, he was living on stolen life of those he killed. Bernael and Enepsigos too shed their cloaks and a man and a woman stepped free, wearing similar clothes to Procel. They too left a cold dullness in Wynn’s soul. The shadow army had let go of the travellers and were now standing patiently, waiting for instruction.
“You have given us life, and you are judged worthy to pass,” Procel announced. Wynn closed her eyes and yelled a wordless cry that someone, some
thing
could be so evil. Forgetting caution completely she flung her conscious into her pool of magic and sent it out to the shadow army, unsure what she actually intended to do, but focusing wholly on them so that her magic did not affect any of the remaining travellers. With a small puff they disappeared, the traveller’s weapons clanging to the floor in their absence. Procel’s eyes widened in shock.