Chapter 124: Whispers of Madness
Adele’s Point of View
My master had an incomprehensible fixation with rare bloodlines, a fascination that bordered on obsession. Unlike some of his peers, he lacked the prophecy bloodline, a fact that seemed to gnaw at his very core. To compensate,
very core. To compensate, he devoted countless hours to the meticulous study of astrology. His efforts were painstaking, and even 1, who held little respect for his pursuits, managed to glean some minor accomplishments from the stars. Yet, it all felt hollow, just another layer of artifice in a life filled with manipulation and deceit.
How irritating it all was. Perhaps my frustration stemmed from leaving a certain insignificant person alive. Yes, I should have let her fall into that fiery volcanic abyss. I should have watched. as she perished, her cries swallowed by the molten depths. It would have been poetic, a fitting end to a life that dared cross paths with mine. And yet, I didn’t. I regretted that decision with every passing second, a dull ache that refused to fade.
Why didn’t I finish her off when I had the chance? I didn’t know. Regret gnawed at my insides, a constant reminder of my failure.
The volcanic crater became a recurring theme in my thoughts, almost like a twisted bedtime story. I often imagined what had become of that desolate place. What did the stone house look like now? Was it cracked from the unrelenting heat, or had it crumbled entirely? And what of the scarecrow that once stood in its shadow? Had it lost an arm or perhaps a leg? I couldn’t help but wonder about the girl, too. Surely, she was in a pitiable state by now. My mind conjured images of her suffering, but the satisfaction I sought eluded me.
After a while, I couldn’t bear to look at the stars anymore. Their cold, indifferent brilliance mocked me, reminding me of everything I wanted to forget. I averted my gaze, retreating into the solitude of my thoughts.
Time passed in a blur. Perhaps it was midnight; perhaps dawn was near. Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the tower where I was confined. The sound grew louder, eventually halting just beyond the door.
“Are you still awake?” a woman’s voice called out, loud and clear.
The voice was familiar, though it took me a moment to place it. Ah, of course, it was Thelma Zane or Master Mary, as she was sometimes called. I ignored her, unwilling to engage in yet another meaningless exchange.
She wasn’t one to be deterred by silence. Without waiting for a response, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Her presence filled the space, heavy and unwelcome.
“Hey! This is so rude!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms in mock indignation. “I’m going to call for help!”
“Don’t play the fool,” Thelma said, her tone as calm as ever. “The curse in your head won’t turn you into a simpleton, little girl.”
I laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “How comforting,” I muttered, turning away from her.
“I have to give you a check–up,” she announced, her voice matter–of–fact. “You have no right to refuse. Will you cooperate, or should I call the guards to restrain you?”
The thought of resistance barely crossed my mind. I had no fight left in me, no strength to oppose her. The last remnants of my defiance had been spent long ago. Now, there was only emptiness, a void that consumed everything. What was the point of resisting? Revenge?
Rebellion? Proving a point? None of it mattered anymore.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed when Thelma finished her examination. She stepped back, a look of muted concern on her face.
“Can you stop time?” I mumbled, my voice barely audible.
“Forty minutes have passed, witch,” she replied, her expression unchanging.
“Don’t be so serious, old lady,” I quipped, a weak attempt at provocation. “You’re using sorcery too, aren’t you?”
She didn’t dignify my words with a response. Without another word, she turned and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.
Boredom settled over me like a shroud. I found myself longing for the sharp, searing pain that had once defined my existence. At least pain reminded me I was alive. Now, there was only a suffocating void.
The night deepened, the moon hidden behind a thick veil of clouds. Its light was absent, and with it, a small semblance of solace I hadn’t realized I craved. I stared at the obscured sky, the absence of moonlight a bitter reminder of my isolation. The hours dragged on, the darkness unbroken.
When dawn finally arrived, I felt no relief. Sleep had eluded me, but fatigue was a stranger. now. I drifted in and out of my thoughts, losing track of time. The door creaked open again, and Thelma returned, accompanied by a woman didn’t recognize. She introduced herself as Tracy and announced she would be conducting a test.
How tiresome. Another test, another pointless intrusion into my hollow existence. Yet, resistance felt like a foreign concept, a word I no longer understood. I sat still, letting them do as they pleased.
Tracy’s gaze lingered on me, her expression unreadable. I felt a surge of anger rise within me. Was it pity I saw in her eyes? The very idea enraged me. How dare she pity me?
I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at her. “Don’t look at me like that! Get out! Get out of my darkness!”
Chapter 124 Whispers of Madarsa
Thelma and Tracy tried to calm me, their words a blur. Guards were summoned, their heavy footsteps echoing ominously as they entered the room. My vision blurred, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t understand why I was crying. What were these tears for?
In my frenzy, I clawed at my face, the rough fabric of my cuffs scraping my skin. Blood mingled with my tears, painting my cheeks in streaks of pink. Pink. I liked pink. But I hated the red that followed, the crimson of my own blood.
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The guards restrained me, their grip rough and unyielding. I screamed, my voice raw with desperation.
“Release me! Get out of my darkness! Let the moon come! Ask the moon! Go ask the moon!”
Through the chaos, I found myself detached, an observer watching from the tower’s roof. I saw the guards‘ hands on my wrists, the blood dripping from my wounds. The scene was surreal, like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.
Tracy turned to Thelma, her voice hushed. “I think she’s suffering from a mental breakdown.”
Their words felt distant, irrelevant. Madness? Was that what they called it? I laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the emptiness.
“I am not crazy!” I screamed. “You’re the ones who are crazy!”
I thrashed against my restraints, my eyes fixed on the tiny skylight above. The clouds still blocked the moon, denying me its light. The world was cloaked in darkness, a reflection of my own despair.
“Look at me! Look at me! Come to my darkness!
Blood seeped into my eyes, staining my vision pink. I screamed until my voice gave out, my words fading into silence. The moon never came. It never looked at me. It never answered.
And in that silence, I realized the truth. The moon’s indifference mirrored the world’s. I was alone in my darkness, abandoned by the very light I had once sought.
huuy: 124 Shadows of the Night
isolation.
The night had always been my enemy. From the very beginning, I had feared the darkness. It was in the dark that I had been devoured, consumed, and scattered. It was in the dark that my master had bound me to his will.
Now, the darkness of the tower seemed to close in around me, a reminder of my helplessness.
For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to dream of freedom. What would it feel like to stand under the open sky, unburdened by chains or curses?
But such thoughts were dangerous. Hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
Instead, I let the cold and silence envelop me, a bitter reminder of my reality.
The stars outside continued to glimmer, indifferent to my suffering, And for the first time in a long while, I felt the sting of hunger.
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