Imprisonment

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the sprawling Zorene Palace. Its marble walls, once glowing with the brilliance of the day's light, now seemed to hold a sinister sheen in the twilight.

I stood on the balcony of my chambers, gazing out at the darkening landscape. My heart was heavy with a sense of foreboding I couldn't shake.

This day, I noticed that my father, King Thaddeus, was a bit different. His usually warm demeanor was replaced by a cold, unreadable expression.

I hadn't seen him like this since the death of my mother, Queen Elysande. The memory of her gentle touch and soothing voice brought a pang of sadness, mingling with my growing anxiety.

"Your Majesty, Princess Xenia," a voice called from the doorway. It was Sir Reginald, the captain of the royal guard and one of the few people I trusted implicitly.

"Reginald," I greeted him with a faint smile. "What news do you bring?"

"Your father wishes to see you in the Great Hall," he said, his tone unusually grave. "He's gathered the entire court."

My heart skipped a beat. The entire court? Something serious was happening. I nodded and followed Reginald through the grand corridors of the palace, my mind racing with possibilities. The palace, with its opulent decorations and portraits of my ancestors, felt more like a prison tonight.

As we approached the Great Hall, the murmur of voices grew louder. The massive wooden doors swung open, revealing a sea of faces turned towards the throne.

King Thaddeus sat at the center, his eyes fixed on me as I entered. To his right stood Lady Malvina, a noblewoman known for her ambition and cunning, her eyes glinting with something that made my skin crawl.

'Strange. Why the is that conniving hoot standing so close to father,' I say to myself, bewildered and annoyed already.

"Father," I said, bowing my head respectfully. "You summoned me?"

"Xenia," my father's voice was harsh and unfamiliar. "Step forward."

I obeyed, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. The court was silent, an oppressive air hanging over them.

"Xenia," the king began, his eyes hard. "You are accused of treason against the crown."

The words hit me like a truck. 'Treason? Me? Hello, I'm the princess.'

I looked around, bewildered, at the faces of the courtiers.

Some looked shocked, others were whispered among themselves, but many wore expressions of cold satisfaction. Apparently aware of the situation.

"Father, I don't understand," I stammered, noting the darkness in his usually light eyes. "What treason? I have done nothing wrong."

King Thaddeus raised a hand, silencing me. "Evidence has been brought to my attention that you have conspired with our enemies. Lady Malvina has provided us with undeniable proof."

My gaze darted to Malvina, whose lips curled into a smug smile. "That's impossible!" I exclaimed. "I am loyal to Zorene, to you! This is a lie that conniving witch has come up with. Father, please, believe me."

"The evidence speaks for itself," the king said coldly. "You will be taken to the dungeons to await your trial."

Two guards stepped forward, their grips firm on my arms. I struggled, my mind a whirlwind of panic and disbelief. "Father, please! You must believe me!"

But the king's eyes were devoid of any fatherly warmth. "Take her away."

As I was dragged from the hall, my mind raced. This had to be a plot, a scheme to remove me from power. And I had a good idea of who was behind it.

///

The dungeon was a place of nightmares. Cold stone walls closed in around me, and the darkness felt alive, pressing in on all sides. They had clapped Magica dampeners on my wrists, cutting off my connection to mana. Every day was a battle to stay sane.

My body grew weaker as the days turned into weeks, the scant food doing little to sustain me. I lost weight rapidly, my once vibrant hair dulling, my skin growing pale and gaunt. I was a shadow of my former self, nothing like the girl I had been.

I cried often, tears of frustration and helplessness streaming down my cheeks. At times, the despair was so overwhelming that I screamed, my voice echoing through the empty corridors.

Rage consumed me, not just at my enemies but at my own inability to understand what was happening. I slammed my fists against the walls, even though the dampeners sapped my strength.

Each blow made the dungeon shake, despite the magic's suppression. My vision would sometimes flash with bursts of pink, adding to the disorientation and fear.

Soon, footsteps echoed down the corridor. It was too late. Guards burst into on th this level of the dungeon of held on. They unlock my cell, it being the first one on the level, and drag me to my feet.

"Hey, be careful. I am your princess and I command you to release me this instant."

My complaints fell on deaf ears as I knew these soldiers are trained not to react to prisoner's words. A set of high heels reverberated throughout the long corridor. Their steps, measured and steady.

'Oh, I hate this hoot so much!'

Those heels belonged to none other than Malvina. She stood before me, her ice-blue eyes cold and unfeeling. They seemed to look right through me, as if I was nothing more than an insect she could crush at any moment.

Her raven-black hair fell in glossy waves, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying. She had high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, giving her an almost predatory look that made my skin crawl.

She wore a dark gown that clung to her figure, adorned with intricate patterns and gemstones that seemed to suck in the light, making her look even more sinister. The way she moved, with such grace and confidence, only added to her intimidating presence.

Her voice was smooth, yet there was something in it that sent shivers down my spine. It was the voice of someone who took pleasure in cruelty, someone who enjoyed seeing others in pain.

When she spoke, her words dripped with malice, and I felt the full weight of my helplessness in her presence.

There, Malvina stood with a dark potion in her hand, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Drink this," Malvina commanded, her voice filled with malice.

I resisted, but the guards forced the potion down my throat.

When the potion was forced down my throat, it was as if liquid fire had been poured into my veins. The taste was acrid and bitter, burning its way down into my stomach.

Almost immediately, a searing pain erupted from my core, spreading outwards with agonizing intensity. My skin felt like it was being torn apart from the inside.

Muscles twisted and contorted against my will, each spasm sending waves of torment crashing through my body. My bones ached as if they were being reshaped, a deep, grinding pain that seemed to echo through every fiber of my being.

I screamed, but the sound was raw and guttural, barely recognizable as human. My vision blurred, filled with blinding flashes of pink and white, the colors swirling in a chaotic dance that made the room spin.

The pain was relentless, unyielding, each second stretching into an eternity of suffering.

My face, my hands—every part of me felt like it was being remolded by unseen hands. My features shifted, my skin prickling and burning as it adapted to a new form. It was as if I was being sculpted anew, each change accompanied by a fresh wave of agony.

I clawed at the floor, my nails scraping against the cold stone, desperate for something to hold onto. But there was no escape, no relief. My body convulsed violently, and for a moment, I thought I would be torn apart by the sheer force of the transformation.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the pain began to subside, leaving me gasping and drenched in sweat. My body was still trembling, my muscles weak and unresponsive. I could feel the changes, the difference in my form, but I was too exhausted to fully comprehend them.

I lay there, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the last echoes of pain fading into a dull, persistent ache. The potion had done its work, and I was forever altered, my identity stolen along with my appearance.

Adding to my torment, every day brought a visit from Lady Malvina, a noblewoman with a name as dark as her soul. She came to ridicule me, to revel in my suffering. Her presence was a constant reminder of my helplessness.

"Look at you, Xenia," Malvina sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "A pitiful sight, isn't it? How does it feel to be so utterly powerless? To have your entire identity stolen from you?"

Her words cut deep, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. "You're a monster," I spat back, though my voice was weak.

Malvina's laughter echoed through the dungeon, cold and cruel. "Oh, you have no idea," she said, leaning closer. "This is just the beginning. Soon, everyone will forget you ever existed. Your doppelgänger is doing a wonderful job playing the obedient princess."

Rage flared within me, a fiery beast I couldn't control. I lunged at the bars, my hands gripping them so tightly my knuckles turned white. "I'll make you pay for this!" I screamed.

Malvina smirked, unbothered by my outburst. "I doubt that. Look at you, Xenia. You're nothing now."

She reveled in my torment, and sometimes, she would inflict physical pain to match the emotional wounds.

Sometimes, she would use small, insidious spells that the dampeners couldn't completely block, making my skin feel like it was burning or causing searing headaches that left me writhing on the floor.

"You'll break eventually," she whispered one day, her face inches from mine. "And when you do, I'll be there to watch."

I don't know what came over me, but an instinctual, almost foreign response escaped my lips.

"When I do, that will be the day you die. That, I can promise you."

It could've been me, but when I said those words, Malvina flinched slightly, shocked that sweet little ole me would ever let those words come out of my mouth. With a nervous laugh, she left.

Malvina's next visits were even more twisted. Her acts of cruelty left me weaker each visit. Despite my resolve, there were moments when I felt myself slipping, the fight draining out of me. During one particularly brutal session, she let slip a piece of her plan.

"You see, Xenia, your kingdom will soon be ours," Malvina said, her fingers tracing a line down my cheek, leaving a trail of searing pain. "With you out of the way, we can control the king, manipulate him to do our bidding. And your precious Zorene will crumble."

I glared at her, my vision blurred with tears and flashes of pink. "You're insane."

"Perhaps," she said with a shrug. "But I'm also powerful. And soon, you'll be nothing but a forgotten memory."

Her words haunted me, echoing in the silence of my cell long after she left. Each day, I grew thinner, weaker, my spirit fraying at the edges. My hair, once a cascade of dark waves, hung limply around my face.

My skin, which had glowed with health, now stretched taut over my bones, pale and sickly.

But despite the physical and emotional torment, a spark of defiance remained. I clung to it, a lifeline in the darkness. I would survive this. I had to.

The dungeon walls seemed to close in tighter each day, and the flashes of pink light in my vision became more frequent, more intense. They were disorienting, but they also reminded me that something inside me was still fighting, still resisting the darkness.

One night, as I lay shivering on the cold floor, the cell door creaked open again. I sat up, expecting Malvina's familiar, malevolent presence. Instead, a figure cloaked in shadows stepped into the dim light.

"Xenia," a soft voice whispered, filled with a warmth I hadn't heard in weeks.

I blinked, trying to focus. "Who… who are you?"

"A friend," the woman said softly, her face becoming somewhat visible as she stepped closer.