Into the world

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CHAPTER ONE

H

elewise jerked awake as the door to her cell burst open and moaned in pain as consciousness came rushing back. Everything hurt; she couldn’t imagine how much more they could do to her. She could hear two people speaking, but she couldn’t make out much of what they were saying. She could hear ‘whore’ occasionally and hoped whoever they were, they would leave her alone. An icy breeze blew in through in the window, and Helewise curled up tighter despite how much it hurt, hoping to quell her violent shivers.

Helewise could hear steps approaching, and if she weren’t afraid of being beaten for it, she would have cried. The curates considered tears an admission of guilt, and every sin and misdeed was to be punished. The bruises she could feel on her torso reminded her of that every time she took a breath. The steps came closer and closer, and Helewise tensed when she felt a bony hand grab her hair and pull. Helewise cried out in pain before she could help it, stumbling onto sore feet and grabbing at the fist clenched in her hair. The curate shoved her face-first into the wall, locking her hands above her head with one hand. Helewise shook with fresh pain and fever, and he tsked, running one bony hand down her body. Helewise felt her stomach roll.

You feel like you need to cool off. Was this cold room not enough? Helewise’s skin prickled with horror when she realized who was pressing her to the wall, running his hands casually over her body like he owned it - Reginald Ambrose, head curate and lifelong lecher. I don’t understand how he’s aroused by me- I’m little more than a skeleton. However, Ambrose was essentially attracted to anything that had legs and breasts and took disturbing delight in the pain of others - a dangerous combination. We should take care of our guest, shouldn’t we Bastian? His voice reminded Helewise of an eel, oily and hair-raising, a sound you wouldn’t want anywhere near you. She felt like she needed a bath every time he came near her.

Bastian, go and fetch the basin from the storeroom and bring it back here. This whore will finally be broken of her foolish infatuation. Helewise despaired when she heard steps withdrawing and the door bang shut. Ambrose quickly flipped her around, pressing her physically into the wall. Helewise hissed in pain as the gouges in her back ground against the rough stone. Ambrose leaned closer, his breath fanning across her face as he tried to catch the scent of her hair. Helewise shuddered and tried to turn her face into her arm, but Ambrose removed his hand from her hip and grabbed her chin, forcibly turning her face back towards him. She tried to wrench her head out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into her jaw. Helewise’s eyes watered.

Those pretty eyes won’t save you from what is to come, princess, and selling your body to sorcerers won’t stop you from burning. Ambrose pressed his lips to hers, grinding her back against the wall as punishment for her lack of response. Helewise cried out in pain before she could help it, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue into her mouth. She tried to move her head, but his hand on her chin forced her to stay where she was. Ambrose pressed closer, putting more pressure on her back, and he groaned appreciatively when she whimpered. I don’t know how they can dare to call Dornan a beast when they behave like animals themselves, Helewise thought. Her back was throbbing anew from his aggression, her lungs were starting to beg for air, and yet Ambrose showed no signs of letting up. Helewise followed her first impulse and bit down on his tongue. He jerked back, spitting onto the floor. Helewise coughed weakly, leaning heavily against the wall and trying to catch her breath. Ambrose’s hand suddenly whipped out, striking her solidly across the face.

Helewise sprawled onto the floor, scraping her elbows and the sides of her legs on the rough stone. That was very wrong of you, you harlot. You will have to be punished for your disobedience. He pulled an iron rod out from the folds of his robes while he was speaking, sneering when she did not beg him to spare her. Ambrose loved hearing people beg, getting satisfaction from denying them again and again. He swung and struck her wrist, breaking it instantly, and Helewise bit her lip to contain a scream of pain. He kept swinging again and again, rage peeking through his carefully maintained façade.

She almost sobbed in relief when the door creaked open again, only to feel her heart sink when she saw a couple of the younger curates come in. Ambrose straightened, fixed his robes, and turned from her to order them around. A couple of them leered at her before their attention was drawn back to Ambrose and his orders.

While they were all busy, Helewise inspected the damage to her wrist, her stomach turning at the mangled sight that greeted her. The fingers were all bent at awkward angles, and the bones in her wrist were poking out of the skin, dripping blood off their jagged edges. It would take a miracle to regain full use of her hand. Helewise could see curates moving in and out of the cell, a sloshing sound often accompanying the steps. Each one grinned maniacally at her if she caught their eye, except one. The servant, the one Ambrose called Bastian, glanced pityingly at her before quickly looking away. Watching him, Helewise supposed he might have been very handsome, had he had a chance at life outside the curates’ monastery. Like all of the others condemned to the curates’ care, he had obviously been tortured. He humped over oddly and one side of his face was swollen almost beyond recognition. Helewise caught his eye a few times, but his expression never changed. He looked sad.

Finally, the curates stopped and the small room became unnervingly quiet. The atmosphere, which previously seemed to be humming with tension and excited energy, stood still. Even the wind stopped for a split second as Helewise waited for whatever Ambrose had planned.

Bring the harlot, Bastian. Her will will be broken. Helewise dimly heard Ambrose order. Helewise tensed as she watched the man walk unevenly towards her, expecting the rough treatment that had become the norm. Her head ached constantly, and she wished the curates would just leave her alone, if even for a day. She was surprised when instead of hands yanking her up by her hair, Helewise felt rough hands lift her arm and set it gently in her lap. When Helewise hissed at the pain of the rough fabric rubbing against the protruding bone, a voice gently quieted her before lifting her up off the ground. We’re waiting. Helewise watched sadness and disgust flicker across Bastian’s face before going back to a calm mask. He hesitated, cradling her against his chest. Bastian, bring her over here!

Yes, master. Bastian sighed. Helewise tried to tamp down her fear when he turned to reveal a group of the curates clustered around a metal tub filled with what looked like snow. Helewise’s eyes snapped up to see all the curates grinning maniacally at the look of horror she was sure was on her face. At Ambrose’s impatient gesture, Bastian drew forward reluctantly, holding her over the tub like an offering.

If you answer our questions satisfactorily, or if you give up on your sorcerer lover and declare your obedience to us, you can be spared this punishment, dear one. Ambrose explained. You may only speak to answer us. Helewise tried to struggle out of Bastian’s arms, fear filling her stomach.

Still her! Hands clasped on her wrists and ankles, feeling particularly painful on her broken wrist. She squirmed slightly when Ambrose leaned closer, grinning maliciously at her. You won’t be dropped if you answer my questions satisfactorily. Helewise glared at him, wishing she could smack the smirk off his face.

Let’s start- do you retract your love for the Shadow? Ambrose asked, drawing back. Helewise could feel the curate’s hands loosen and her weight sagged down. You may answer now.

No. Helewise said, thinking about Dornan.

Ambrose gave a tight nod and suddenly there was nothing holding Helewise up. She gasped as her skin made contact with the snow, trying futilely to lift herself out. The cold encased her limbs, making them near impossible to move. She whined in pain when the cold snow seeped into her rough shift, wetting the gouges in her back. Her fingers and toes were just starting to numb when Ambrose nodded his head and she was lifted back out, the cold breeze merciless on her wet skin.

Shall we try again? Do you retract your love for the monster Dornan? Ambrose asked.

Helewise lifted her head, looked him in the eye, and without blinking, replied, No.

Ambrose nodded and the torture began anew. However, instead of lifting her out, Ambrose commanded them to leave her in the tub. The questioning went on and on, until Helewise could scarcely speak for chattering. She tried to wrap her arms around herself, or curl up tighter to preserve some body heat, but the curate’s hands prevented her from moving. Helewise was so tired. It was only her love for Dornan and her unwillingness to give Ambrose what he wanted that kept her eyes open and her answer unchanged.

Ambrose was nearly yelling now, frustrated by her fortitude. He had tried to threaten her, and when that had not worked, tried to break her hope- saying that the Shadow would never come for her, that he would never know she was there, that he wouldn’t come for her even if he did. Men don’t rescue their whores. Ambrose taunted, Monsters certainly don’t either. Helewise refused to let his words break her, believing beyond all reason that Dornan loved her too and would help if he only knew she was here. She had to believe that.

Helewise glared defiantly up at Ambrose from frigid water, waiting to give him the answer he didn’t want to hear. Her dress was sticking uncomfortably to her body and her lank hair fell in moist tendrils over her bony shoulders, curling slightly as it dried- she was sure she looked a sight. I’ll ask one more time, whore. Will you give up your love for that sorcerer? Ambrose demanded.

No. Helewise chattered. Ambrose’s fists clenched, the knuckles whitening, and Helewise tensed for the blow she expected when there was a knock on the door. What is it? Ambrose asked. He motioned for her to be lifted out of the tub, and Helewise breathed a sigh of relief as Bastian lifted her out of the tub and set her down gently against the wall.

The sorceress has been spotted in one of the towns near our border with King Emerys. A voice from behind the door said. The curates grinned, murmuring quietly. What would you like me to do?

Prepare the horses. We will finally catch up with her. Ambrose ordered before turning back to the other curates. Go prepare yourselves, brothers. I will join you shortly. After the curates filed out, Ambrose spoke to Helewise. Perhaps some time in isolation will change your mind, harlot. To Bastian, he said, Do not speak to her and do not help her. I will come to her when we return- three days is enough time for her to reflect on her sins. At this, Ambrose rushed off, slamming the door behind him.

Helewise shut her eyes, curling up as much as she could to combat the icy breeze still blowing in through the window. So tired... Helewise was only slightly conscious when she felt warm fabric settle across her shoulders, its thickness shielding her body from the cold, and then everything was finally, mercifully, black.

CHAPTER TWO

H

elewise finally gained consciousness to find Bastian holding a cup against her lips, allowing the cool water to flow in. Helewise swallowed desperately, but he pulled the cup away. Just a little bit, miss. More water will hurt your stomach. I’ll give you more in a few minutes. Helewise nodded and allowed him to help her sit up, pulling the cloak tighter around her self-consciously.

Who are you? Why are you helping me? Helewise asked. Nothing here came without a cost, and she was anxious about what he would demand for his kindness.

He pulled a loaf of bread out of the bag by his feet, occupying himself by cutting it into small slices before he answered her.

I’m Bastian. He replied, handing her a small slice of the bread. Helewise ignored her impulse to eat it as fast as she could and settled for taking small bites. I used to be in your position before Ambrose decided I would be of better use helping him. He fell silent, avoiding her eyes as he held the cup to let her drink some more water. I know you were probably wondering how all this, Bastian gestured to his deformed body, happened. Helewise nodded sheepishly. My parents were magick. That was enough reason for Ambrose, I guess.

I’m sorry. Helewise said, reaching out to tentatively put a hand on his arm. He jumped in surprise, and she felt saddened that he was so accustomed to violence and abuse that a kind touch would