CHAPTER#5:The beginning of the nightmare? Pt-2

He carefully laid her on the bed. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a simple bed and a small table. He did not sit beside her but instead leaned against the table where food and medicine had been prepared. Luciana dared not speak. She stared at the rough stone floor, her mind reeling.

"More of an imposter than a princess? Silver eyes instead of gold?" he mused aloud, raising an eyebrow. His imposing figure loomed over her, casting a shadow across the room.

Imposter? The word unsettled her deeply. "What did he mean by golden eyes?" she wondered, trying to piece together what was happening. Was she truly so unaware of her own situation?

"You seem confused," he remarked, his tone softening. He removed his black leather gloves, revealing brass knuckles equipped with trench blades—stealthy weapons designed to avoid attention. He sheathed them calmly, his posture relaxed.

"So, why were you sent here?" he asked, his voice casual, but the question ignited a fire within her. Rage surged as she thought of her father's betrayal, the doubts she had suppressed now swirling in her mind. She wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out—but more than anything, she longed for someone to listen to her.

Desperate, she looked around for something to write with, hoping to communicate despite her inability to speak. Her legs were sore from the cold, the room devoid of warmth or a fireplace. She gestured for a quill and paper, but he didn't move.

"Relax. I've enclosed this area with magic. You can write with your hands," he said indifferently, unmoved by her silent plea.

Luciana was stunned. Magic? His words hung in the air, and when she hesitated, his eyes narrowed. "Have you gone deaf as well?" His sharp tone sent a chill down her spine.

Swallowing her fear, she waved her hand as he instructed, her fingers trembling as they traced letters in the air, slowly turning blue from the cold. She fought the urge to faint, knowing that losing consciousness might mean facing a fate worse than her current situation.

He read the message aloud, his voice low. "Where am I?"

A laugh rumbled in his throat as he looked at her. "At least a false bride should know where she is," he chuckled. He sighed, then finally replied, "This is the Abyss."

Her eyes widened in horror, and the life seemed to drain from her face. The Abyss? The word alone overwhelmed her, and she collapsed, unconscious.

"Hey, don't pass out again," he muttered, rushing to her side. Her body was delicate and cold as ice, trembling from both fear and the frigid air. He frowned. "Perhaps her kind isn't accustomed to the cold."

Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the cell. As he strode through the dark, damp underground tunnels, a soldier approached.

"Commander?" the soldier called out, sounding uncertain. "Where are you taking the prisoner?"

The man glared at the guards who had gathered behind him. "Prisoner?" he growled. "She is the bride of the crown prince, the future queen of this land. How dare you question the imperial order?"

The guards flinched, immediately bowing in apology as they stepped aside, allowing him to pass. He continued through the tunnels until they reached a narrow passage leading to a basement. The air was slightly warmer here, but Luciana's body still trembled in his arms.

They emerged into a more opulent part of the building. Servants, all dark-skinned like the soldier, bustled about. As they entered, a well-dressed man with black hair and wings greeted him.

"Welcome back, my lord," the man said, bowing with respect.

The commander frowned. "How many times must I remind you not to fly inside my mansion, Jafar?"

"My apologies, my lord," Jafar replied, though his tone was urgent. "But there is an emergency—"

"Not now," the commander interrupted sharply, cutting off his aide.

Jafar adjusted his frameless spectacles, clearly dissatisfied but maintaining his composure. "My lord... Have you not dropped your peculiar habit of picking up strays?" he asked with a sigh.

"And you've yet to grow out of your habit of making baseless remarks," the commander retorted, his voice icy.

Jafar sighed again, though this time with resignation. "As you wish."

The commander ignored him and continued down the corridor, stopping in front of a large set of black wooden doors etched with gold.

"Are you planning to let her stay in your room, master?" Jafar asked, raising an eyebrow but keeping his tone respectful.

The commander paused for a moment before nodding and stepping into the room. The doors opened with a quiet hum of magic, revealing a lavishly decorated space. Tall windows reached up to the ceiling, casting soft light onto rare wood furniture and gold accents. The bed, set near a large fireplace, was draped with luxurious silk and velvet sheets.

Gently, he laid Luciana on the bed and covered her with a thick quilt, his gaze lingering on her delicate form. There was an ethereal beauty to her, one that seemed almost otherworldly, as if she had descended from the heavens.

He pulled off his mask and moved closer to the fire, breathing in deeply. The warmth soothed him, though his thoughts remained focused on the woman in the bed. Time passed, and the healing incense placed nearby began to take adverse effect, though her breathing remained uneven.

Suddenly, Luciana groaned, her body drenched in cold sweat. Her pained breaths quickened, and he immediately rose to his feet, alarmed.

"Jafar, summon the physician at once!" he commanded. As he stepped into the hall, he ordered the passing maids to attend to her, his usual composure now replaced with a growing sense of urgency.