Dancing with the Devil

CH 1. Revive

The downpour persisted for two days, yet, fortunately, no pursuers came. Kalista remained curled up in the cave amidst the rocks, surviving on a few wild fruits and the rainwater she collected from Lancelot's pocket.

When the rain finally ceased, she emerged from the cave for the first time. She had constructed a modest grave for Lancelot, fashioning a makeshift headstone from a piece of dead wood and engraving his name on a broken sword. It was the final gesture she could offer him as both a princess and a friend, and it marked the end of her obligations to him.

Lancelot, a valiant knight, had kept his vow to safeguard the princess until his dying breath, yet Kalista was unable to bestow upon him the medal he so rightfully earned. In haste, she had to improvise a grave to lay him to rest. She buried the remnants of the scabbard that had been his companion throughout his life, and she clutched the broken sword to her chest.

A sudden gust of wind stirred the trees, sweeping away the rainwater that had collected on the leaves, creating a rustling sound.

Without turning back, Kalista stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Lancelot's tombstone. A moment later, the movement of the leaves ceased.

Kalista, too, sensed the sudden change in her surroundings. She took Lancelot's broken sword in her hand and turned to face three men clad in griffin cloaks.

Surrounded by three royal knights, Kalista understood that escape was futile. She stood tall, lifting her chin to preserve the dignity of a princess, even in the face of death. Her blonde hair, matted with mud, and her cheeks, streaked with blood, did not diminish the resolute sapphire eyes that met the knights' gaze.

She spoke with a voice that carried the weight of her regal heritage, "You have slain the king and queen, and your rebellion is plain to see. But should God spare me His wrath, my spirit will haunt you, your children, and your children's children."

The royal knights remained unmoved by her words, their faces Stoic as they drew their swords. Kalista laughed, neither cowering nor pleading for mercy.

With a swift movement, she leaped with all her might, taking Lancelot's broken sword in both hands and driving it into the side of one knight's neck. The knight's blood splattered across Kalista's face, and in the next instant, she was struck with a forceful kick, crashing into a tree stump. She rolled several times, her head hitting a rock, and her forehead and cheeks swelled from the impact. Her body felt as if it were coming apart at the seams, but her laughter did not cease; it grew louder and more piercing.

She cursed them all with a loud voice, their fathers, their brothers and their children, and cursed them for a bad death.

As the final glimmer of awareness faded, Kalista tightly grasped the antler pendant that hung around her neck.

Kalista awoke abruptly, her eyes obscured by a black cloth, her hands and feet securely bound, rendering her immobile.

The thunderous sound of horseshoes clattering over the debris drowned out the faint sobs of fellow captives. The stiffness in her shoulders and neck, coupled with the pervasive ache throughout her body, confirmed that she was alive. To her relief, in her clenched fist, she still held the antler pendant that had once belonged to her mother.

If she was still breathing, there was still hope. Her immediate task was to ascertain her location and devise a plan for escape.

The hard stakes pressing against her back and the occasional wooden splinter piercing her flesh led Kalista to deduce that she was confined within a cage, aboard a moving prison wagon. She was not alone; most of the other captives were young women. Their accents suggested that they were strangers to Serafinia.

Her last memory before losing consciousness was of a desperate act: she had risked everything by stabbing a royal knight. According to the law of the land, she was entitled to a trial by a judge in Serafinia. However, the Royal Knights, implicated in the regicide, were unlikely to adhere to the proper legal procedures. She feared that she was being transported away from her home to an uncertain fate.

The young girls around Kalista whispered to each other, their voices a mixture of hushed tones and soft sobs. Kalista listened closely, trying to discern the origins of their accents. Although she could understand their words, the distinctiveness of their speech patterns eluded her.

"Don't cry, Lena," a voice that sounded older and more experienced offered comfort to a weeping girl. "At least Avaloria is much safer than the Lena Valley."

The girl continued to sob, "But I heard that the Count of Vladimir was terrible. He lived for hundreds of years, and he would sneak into girls' rooms at night and eat their livers..."

"Hush! Don't mention the count here!" a voice hissed in warning.

The crying girl immediately fell silent, her sobs stifled.

They spoke of "Avaloria" numerous times, which Kalista inferred was the name of the region to which they were bound. Despite having no memory of the place, she was equally unaware of who "the Count of Vladimir" was or what they spoke of. The most peculiar aspect was that she had not once heard the term "Royal Knights" mentioned.

Suddenly, the wagon slowed to a halt. Kalista heard the grinding sound of a massive iron gate being opened, followed by the jarring bump as the wheels turned a corner and came to a stop.

The guard unlocked the cage and roughly pulled Kalista out. The rope binding her wrists was severed, and the black cloth covering her eyes was removed. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, struggled to adjust to the dim light of dusk. She blinked fiercely, and when she looked up, she was abruptly frozen in place.

The sight before her was a majestic castle, its towering spires stretching towards the heavens, adorned with mythological sculptures on every facade. Stained-glass windows graced each opening, casting a kaleidoscope of colors, while a quaint garden sprawled from the first floor, an idyllic spot for an afternoon respite.

With her eyes shut, Kalista could vividly imagine every nook and cranny of the castle, for it was the home she knew most intimately—the palace in Serafinia.

Her mind was a whirlwind of buzzing thoughts, her heart heavy with sorrow and bitterness. She wondered if Lancelot's valiant efforts and selfless sacrifices had been for naught. Had she wandered aimlessly, or worse, returned to the enemy's fold? No, she couldn't be gone. She couldn't.

As if Andrew's arrows might emerge from the shadows at any moment, Kalista gripped the metal buttons, cautious with each step she took. The attendant beside her shoved her roughly, sneering, "What's there to see? Move along, peasant!"

The blonde girl in front of Kalista, who was moments away from toppling over, nudged her gently, halting her struggle. Kalista murmured her gratitude and looked around, taking in her surroundings.

There were peculiarities about the place—the path leading to the side hall was lined with fine stones, not the rough stone she remembered, and the vegetation on either side was distinctly different in both type and arrangement. Furthermore, the attendants who were guiding them to the castle had youthful appearances and did not wear the distinctive uniforms of Serafinia's royal attendants.

How long had she been unconscious? Could it have been long enough for Andrew to replace all the plants outside the palace and alter the attire of his attendants? No, it couldn't be. The injuries on her abdomen and cheeks contradicted her suspicions, and the absurdity of the situation sent a shiver down her spine.

This sensation intensified as Kalista and the other girls were escorted onto the wing. The wall tiles and carpets within the palace have been replaced with northern-style patterns and embroidery, bearing the marks of prolonged use. This did not resemble the "home" she had once known.

According to the hushed conversations of the surrounding girls, the castle belonged to "the Count of Vladimir," a figure who was rumored to have eaten the livers of young girls.

Someone had constructed a castle in the "region of Avaloria" that was an exact replica of the royal palace in Serafinia? This was the most plausible explanation Kalista could think of at the moment.

Yet, there were still too many unanswered questions.