Lurking Voices

Zulin waited for a few seconds, probably a minute - she just didn't know.

She felt like she had waited forever. Ever since she found herself in this desolate place, every minute and second, seemed like an eternity.

But nothing landed on her. She didn't feel the harsh impact or the piercing of thorns on her skin.

She tensed, feeling like maybe she was already dead and just didn't know.

But after a reasonable amount of time, and still, she felt nothing.

She lifted her head and peered out through her eyes, through the hair that fell on her face against her will.

She saw that at some point, the giant had retracted the cane and folded his arms, his eyes fixed intently on her.

Zulin's gaze met his, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

The man's expression was unreadable, a mask of calmness that sent shivers down her spine.

The giant's eyes seemed to bore into her soul, as if searching for something.

Zulin felt a spark of defiance ignite within her, and she met his gaze with a fierce determination.

For a moment, they just locked eyes, the only sound the heavy breathing of the giant and her panting.

Then, without warning, the giant spoke. His voice was deep and rumbling, like thunder on a stormy night.

"You're a strong one, I'll give you that," he said, his words dripping with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "Most women would have broken by now. But you... you're different."

Zulin's eyes widened in shock and confusion as the giant's words hung in the air.

"Most women would have broken by now," he had said. Broken? What did he mean? Did he mean that other women had been subjected to this same torture, this same hell?!

She felt a wave of anger and hopelessness wash over her. "What do you mean by other women?" she demanded, her voice shaking with rage.

"Other women? Is there... is there more people you do this to?"

The giant's response was measured, calculated. "Things like you, trying to exist in this kingdom... actually, you're not the first. I even wonder where you actually come from. Are you sure you're even a princess of this kingdom? Are you sure you're an indigene of this kingdom? And not some bastard your mother had elsewhere?"

Zulin's eyes flashed with indignation. "I am, of course, I am! Princess Zulin, the princess of Azuraea! What are you talking about? My father is the king! And don't you ever speak ill of my mom! What do you want from me? What do you want from us?"

The giant chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he said, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Zulin alone in the darkness, her mind reeling with questions and fears.

As the man left, the eriee silence that enveloped the surrounding became oppressive, heavy with an unsettling stillness.

Zulin's ears strained to pick up any sound, but there was nothing, or so it seemed.

As she listened more intently, she began to make out strange voices, whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

The words were indistinguishable, but the tone was an unmistakable mournful sighing that sent shivers down her spine.

Frustrated and hopeless, Zulin raised her right hand, bound in thick shackles to the iron chair, to her hair, swiping at the tangled locks in a gesture of despair.

As she did, she licked her lips, and the blood from the bruises on her mouth touched her tongue.

A sudden, intense urge seized her - she wanted to taste more of that blood.

Repulsed and fascinated, Zulin realized that she was attracted to the taste of her own blood.

The stench of it hit her nostrils, and for a moment, she thought it smelled nice. Rolling her eyes in disgust, she told herself she must be going crazy.

The flogging, the starvation - it was all taking its toll on her mind.

But as she rationalized her reaction, Zulin couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

She tested her theory, bringing her hand closer to her lip and running her tongue over a deep bloodied bruise.

The metallic taste of her blood exploded on her tongue, and to her horror, she found herself wanting more.

It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to continue sucking her own blood. Zulin was shocked, disgusted, and terrified.

What was happening to her? When did this start? She refused to believe that there had to be more to it.

Not just hunger and starvation.

As she sat there, trying to make sense of her newfound absurd craving, Zulin realized that she maybe losing herself, bit by bit.

The torture, the pain, the hunger - it was all eroding her sense of self, leaving her a shadow of her former self.

And now, this... this monstrous craving for blood.

Zulin's mind was reeling with questions, but no answers seemed forthcoming. She was a human being, a normal one, or so she thought.

She had lived a sheltered life in the palace, surrounded by luxury and comfort.

Nothing unusual had ever happened to her, no strange occurrences or unexplainable events.

So why was she feeling these weird sensations and urges??

Why was this happening to her? What was triggering these strange desires? Is it her desperate need of survival?

Zulin's thoughts swirled with confusion and fear. She didn't know what was happening to her, or what she was becoming.

All she knew was that she felt lost, alone, and terrified.

As if things weren't worse enough, Zulin heard the strange voices again, more clearly like they were whispering in her ear.

They seemed to be coming from all around her, echoing off the cold stone walls.

The words were still indistinguishable, but the tone was same unmistakable mournful sighing that sent shivers down her spine.

Zulin's heart was racing now, her breath coming in short gasps. She felt like she was losing her grip on reality, like she was sliding down a slippery slope into madness.

And yet, despite the terror that gripped her, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was calling to her, something ancient and primal.

What was it? And why did it feel so familiar? Zulin wondered, but she quickly shook off the thought.

Whatever it was, she was determined to resist it. She wouldn't succumb to this strange, primal call.

She wouldn't turn into something she didn't want to become. She refused to believe that she was anything more than a normal human being.

Anything more than a princess who would soon be rescued by her parents once things are probably clarified and return to her promising life as Princess Zulin Lys of Azuraea.

With newfound determination, Zulin's hopes began to rise. She would get through this, she told herself. She would survive.

Just then, the heavy iron door creaked open, and the man returned with a candle in one hand and a tray of food in the other.

The candlelight spilled into the dark cell, illuminating the damp stone walls and the surroundings where Zulin sat.

As the faint rays of the candle light slowly danced across the cell, Zulin blinked, her eyes adjusting slowly to the sudden brightness.

She hadn't seen light in days, except for the faint glow that filtered through the small, high window.

Now, with the candle's warm glow, she could see her surroundings more clearly.

The cell was small, with stone walls that seemed to press in on her from all sides. The air was thick with the stench of mold and decay.

But with the candlelight, the space seemed less oppressive, less like a tomb.

Zulin's gaze fell on the tray of food, and her stomach growled with hunger. She hadn't eaten in days, and the smell of bread and soup wafting from the tray was almost overwhelming.

The man set the tray down in front of her, his features slightly visible in the candle light and Zulin could see he had done scars on his face.

"Eat," he said, his voice low and rough. "You'll need your strength."