Not Sacred

The following day, Celeste and Amelia were present at the dungeon's gate that had been built behind the castle, surrounded by countless giant trees. Even though it was not dusk, the entire place was so dark. Only a few flames had litten the tract.

"Celeste, just apologize, okay?" Amelia strived to persuade her best friend. No matter what she treasured Celeste's life. "Say that you were drunk and didn't realize the shits you were saying."

"Oh, shut up, please." Celeste's utterance enunciated her anticipation. She had been too eager to allege a fresh ordeal. Or perhaps enslaved herself in an enclosed habitat that would disguise the monsters she fought with. Amelia, her best friend had the proficiency about her misery but not everything she encountered.

"Next."

The call of a female had been noted from inside after the door creaked open and a man stumbled out. His face conveyed fear, pain, and revulsion.

Before Celeste hopped inside, the stain that dripped down from one of his fingers dilated her eyes. His thumb's nail-fold had been sliced which traced unbound blood. Something far worse than fear clashed through her body.

"Celeste... it's the last warning for you..." The last thing she heard before the gate shut was her best friend's warns. There was nothing to blame Amelia for her concerns. She has grown up with motherly love such as being excessively concerned and worried for nothing.

"I will be fine." Even though her inaudible whisper did otherwise, arousing tension in her body, she sank her head into a courage pool and boosted her confidence.

The smell of blood and sweat contorted her nose. Darkness had engulfed the place. There was no window or any proof of life in the straight narrow path, only old stone walls filled with dust and moss.

"What's your name?" The harsh tone almost got her frightened. She wouldn't have known there was someone else except for herself too.

"I am Celeste." Whirling left to the voice, Celeste replied. A middle-aged woman stood there, body fully covered by a black cowl maxi and hood.

Her face remained shadowed when she began shuffling inside the murky path without uttering a word.

Celeste had a hard time following her. It felt like she was a breath prey and busy consuming all the air around. A few steps afar, the darkness was finally curtailed by the flames that hung on either side of the narrow spiral staircase.

The unknown woman didn't stop and continued her pace until she realized Celeste had frozen behind. She looked back and right then, Celeste could note a few features of her face. She had a long, thin cut that went straight from her wrinkled forehead to the tip of her dull lips. "Do you need an invitation to come?" The woman asked.

Celeste immediately shook her head. "How should I address you?"

"You won't need to address me." She turned around and glided down the stairs carefully.

The scarred woman. Celeste decided to call her that when she added. "Milord is waiting for us." An alarm to resume.

Behind the woman, Celeste landed on the ground and found herself enthralled at getting a glimpse of the dimly litten long, gloomy stone corridor which led them to the hall. In every few steps, she encountered the guards holding their swords and sabers. Then it started at once–screams and growls of the beasts, the vicious sound of fire burning and whips that landed upon fleshes, the crying of souls and body organs tearing apart. Every merciless torment echoed across, disputing her about the decision she'd made with each step closer to the torture cells.

"What am I going to do?" As soon as Celeste asked the question and glanced forth, something inhuman raced at her to its fullest and before she could realize, it jumped, its wings flattened and flew in the air whilst its bloody eyes confronted hers. With the long ears, and dark grey hair, the form it had was so similar to a wolf, at least to Celeste until its body slowly became transparent except for those red eyes that hold her in place. She should scream or should run away but instead, she did nothing as if magic had grounded her.

Those eyes wanted to tell her something, but the luminous color only set blankness in her head. Suddenly dust was thrown in the direction and once, those red eyes blinked in defense, they faded at instance forming smokes.

"To survive as a trainee, you must be brave and wise, lady."

Hearing upon the cold, male voice, Celeste snapped and met another pair of odd eyes. Tristan, the Prince–he was busy rubbing the dust off his hands. The black coat he wore over the linen shirt had fitted his delicate body well with those flat trousers and boots. "Milord!" As she straightened her back after a bow, her brain evaluated the scarred woman's absence. She was nowhere in the hall. "What was that a while ago? And where is the woman now?" Celeste mumbled as her breath became ragged.

"You won't need to know. Just follow me quietly."

She nodded no matter how rigid her mind went. These people, this place were even more bizarre than she thought they would be.

Tristan walked her into an investigation room where a blonde guy in a nice black suit who was the security chief of Winderfell and warden of this dungeon summed her weight and height before he finally asked. "You are the girl who lives in the eyot alone. The unmarried girl. Isn't that you?" As Celeste nodded, his pupils dilated. "Are you sacred at all?"

The question baffled Celeste. "Pardon?" She blinked. It was really tough to estimate the meaning of the word 'sacred'. She wasn't used to this word. Actually, she wasn't used to people asking her questions like this.

"Are you a virgin?" It was Tristan who had asked, mortifying the awkward moment.

Now... that was too personal. Celeste heaved a deep sigh and shook her head firmly. It wasn't something she could hide or lie about although the relationship with Riggs had been confidential. She never regretted this unnamed relationship, not when it always gave her a little pleasure in her exhausting life.

"Do you have a man at home?" The Prince again asked after he held the long sword blade that had been offered by a young man who entered from the second door and bowed.

From the bright, glazing metal which was certainly sharpened a while ago, Celeste swung her attention back to the question he had asked. A man at home! Earlier, the officer mentioned she lives alone and he heard it. Either he really didn't give much attention or he wanted to pick on her so badly.

"No. He is a friend." replied Celeste.

"You are in love with him?" The blade caressed his tough skin slowly as he assessed its edges.

"No." Celeste sighed. She knew nothing about love. Yes, she liked Riggs undoubtedly but love? That word itself sounded so heavy and messy.

The hardened muscles across Tristan's forehead relaxed. He looked over to the young man who was a swordsmith and then flexed the blade before pointing it sharply at him.

The next moment, Celeste gasped noticing the blade gliding in the air toward the man's direction.

Stiffness glued the swordsmith on the spot, his face paled as the pointed blade ran past through the gap between his right shoulder and ear and docked on the wall, slightly having its edge thrust into a stone tile.

Celeste put her hand on chest which was beating loud. She wouldn't wish to witness an innocent man's demise for nothing at all. Why the heck this Prince had to be so harsh? What did he want?

When the blade dropped to the earth after a few seconds, Tristan frowned and her riddle was deciphered regarding his discontent as he added coldly. "Make something that cut through boulders, not only some stupid human bones that are already weak."

The swordsmith stopped himself from shaking and immediately left after a bow.

Gazing down the disdain on Tristan's face, Celeste wondered why he had such a low impression on humans. Regardless of being one himself, he didn't have any right to humiliate the entire beings. That's just absurd.

Her eyes followed his attention falling upon the piles of files on the desk before the chief. "Have you prepared her oath statement yet?" He asked.

"I am on it. But... are you sure, Milord? She is unmarried and not virgin." replied the man whilst jotting something down on the paper.

The Prince found himself a file and nodded. "Even despite that, she isn't sacred enough, Chief Conor."

His confidence in that affidavit ridiculed Celeste the most. Sacred or not; she was brave enough for this freaking job. And how do they expect an innocent man to do things like this anyway?

"You need a sacred person to commit sins like slaughtering?" In disbelief, she almost snorted.

The chief was the one to nod. "That's the rule here."

Rules. This kingdom had too many of them. Another bizarre point. But if the rule had to be upheld, Celeste would hold no chance. A sigh left her lips as she shifted her eyes on the chief. From his left, she could discern the similar features of his with Riggs. She was too invaded in Riggs's alike nose and jawlines until the Prince declared.

"I am breaking it."