2 Chapter 1

Somebody outside was making a ruckus. Something, probably a glass or a plate, broke against the wall next to the window.

Nevetharine opened her eyes as wide as they were capable of. Her heart pounded in her ears and she dared not take a breath or move a muscle.

As she realised that the noise was outside, she relaxed slightly. The candle next to her had burned down completely and her chambers were pitch black. She must have fallen asleep before she could blow it out. What a waste of precious light that was. She heard another loud crash in the hallway, outside her door. She jolted up, staring wide-eyed at the door in anticipation. Something must have fallen over in the hallway, since somebody was being dragged, kicking and screaming across the floor. It sounded like one of the new girls. Unless… Meena!

Nevetharine commanded her tired body to obey, "Get up!" She nearly fell over her feet on her way to the door. She hurled it open and peered into the hall, her own fear evading her completely.

A mountain of a man was dragging a small-framed woman by her hair across the floor, scoffing at her, while drunken men hooted at the bottom of the staircase. It was one of the new girls. Nevetharine was relieved, but she was still distressed for the poor woman. Her screams were one more thing that would haunt her for many nights to come. At least Meena was still safe. She silently turned around and closed the door, making sure that she would not be heard or seen. While she did so, she realised what a foolhardy move she had just made. Such a mistake could have cost Nevetharine her life. What was she going to do to save the woman in any case?

She searched around in the darkness for another candle until she found one between the hay needles that lay scattered over the cold, stone floor. It was only half of a candle, her last half. Outside her chambers, there was no one. She carefully opened her door, and lit her candle with the flaming torch on the wall. Then she closed the door on the drunken sounds that came from downstairs. The candle lit up her bedroom. Her hay bed lay in the corner with goat hide thrown over it and a ragged piece of linen placed over that. This is where she had fallen asleep every night for weeks, probably months, now. Hay beds were the only accommodation made for slaves here, and only for the well-off ones. She moved it closer to the fireplace for warmth on her first night here. When the snow started falling in this wicked place, it was so cold, that no amount of fur could keep someone warm, let alone a shattered piece of linen.

The walls of the fortress were also stone. It was all stone. It was always cold here. Cold, dark, and sinister, just like the owner's heart.

She became aware of how chilled her feet had become from the floor. She felt the cold seep into her veins. Her ragged dress did nothing to keep her warm. She covered her face with her hair. Even though it was white as snow, it thawed her body and made her feel safer almost instantly.

She walked over to the window and looked down onto the streets. A wheelbarrow was turned over with its cargo on the street next to it. Whatever commotion had been there before was now settled.

Like so many nights, Nevetharine closed her eyes and tuned out the constant noise and screaming from downstairs. She willed the noise into the background, just as she did the images of women and children being raped and butchered. Once successful, she opened her eyes to observe the streets. Her chambers were high up in the castle, which made most of the town visible to her.

She was brought here with no recollection of who she was or where she came from. She still had no idea what happened to her before she first woke up in this house of torment. Many other girls were taken. They were to be used for all kinds of dark and dreadful things, from serving as slaves and whores to living sacrifices. Someone was chosen every week as a sacrifice to Magnus the Mad. Their lives fed his power and magic. All of this was his doing. He had all the control. With his formidable power, no soul dared stand against him or his dark army. The dark army was a spawn of demons from the Obsidian Realm, where souls suffer eternal damnation. Magnus brought them here.

Where his magic fell, nothing ever grew again. Everything withered and died.

Nevetharine stared onto the streets as if hypnotised by them. The houses were damaged, ruined, and haunted places.

Appropriately, the people here looked like the walking dead. Most of them were diseased and had resorted to eating their own brethren. In exchange for their worship, Magnus gave them food, but not enough to survive for long. He didn't care about their lives at all. If they died, it was all the better for him. As a necromancer, he was skilled in the art of reanimating the dead. Each dead body added a soldier to his army, so the more the merrier.

Nobody has ever escaped Vudreigh, except perhaps those who were lucky enough to encounter 'the Witch'. She lived in the Hollow Forest a few hundred metres from the town's main gate. The Hollow Forest was so dense that nobody ever found their way out of it, except her, apparently.

Worse still was that the forest lived, but it was rumoured to be evil. Legends claim that it eats its victims alive. The Witch helped some people escape from Vudreigh, although nobody knew where they had gone from here. They never returned, for better or for worse.

In the beginning, the people believed that the Witch was Magnus' ally, since she took the souls of the dead and she was able to command them. However, soon after it became clear that she despised Magnus. She had fought against Magnus' army many times before, while he tried to get past her defences, with startling bad luck. While Magnus enslaved people after their deaths, Meredith, as she called herself, graciously gave the souls a choice to return to their eternal rest, or walk about the physical realm in peace, whichever they chose. She was the only one who knew the Hollow Forest and she alone lived there. She had to be a loner, Nevetharine thought. At least that was one thing they had in common.

She often wondered what it was that made Magnus want to get to the other side of the Hollow Forest so desperately?

Rumour had it that the world was nothing but a barren wasteland. Whatever trees and plant life was left on the planet were like the ones from the Hollow Forest…dead. So, what was it that he could possibly want more? He had all the control. He had everything.

As scary as it sounded, sometimes Nevetharine wished that she could meet Meredith. Perhaps she would have a chance at survival, somehow. Not that she remembered how it felt to live – to really live. Meena would definitely tag along.

Meena. She was the only friend Nevetharine had in this forsaken place. When she first woke up here, Meena was the one who tried to protect her and get her fed and clothed. Meena had always spoken to her as if she was royalty, though she had done nothing to deserve that. As time went on, Meena voiced all kinds of things she believed to be true about Nevetharine. She claimed that she had supernatural power and that she could, and probably would, destroy Magnus if only she remembered how to use it. Nevetharine attributed it to their living conditions taking a toll on Meena's mental health. After all, she had been here many more years than Nevetharine. Oh, how wonderful was the mind that it could make up stories to keep it from destroying itself...