Page 39 of Crowned In Venom

39

ANYA

T he air in the dungeon is thick, suffocating—a mixture of damp stone, decay, and something worse. Something rotten, something long dead but still breathing.

I try not to gag, but the stench clings to my skin, filling my mouth with the taste of ruin.

It’s dark here. The torches flicker weakly, casting jagged shadows against the walls, barely enough to keep the darkness at bay.

And I am not alone.

The thing lurks in the farthest corner.

I can hear its breathing—ragged, unnatural, like something is crawling beneath its flesh, like its very existence is a mistake.

I swallow hard, my back pressed against the cold stone.

The shackles on my wrists are heavy, biting into my skin. I should be focusing on escape.

But all I can think about is Varkos.

His blood was on my hands. His body crumpled into mine.

Is he even still alive?

The Matriarch said she wouldn't let him die, but how could I believe anything that monster says?

My stomach twists violently.

I need to get out. I need to find him.

I take a shuddering breath and push myself up, my legs shaking beneath me.

And then, I do the only thing I can.

I scream.

"Varkos! Guards, I need to see him!"

The sound echoes off the walls, bouncing through the hollow, cursed halls of the dungeon.

I wait.

Silence.

I grit my teeth and try again, louder, more desperate.

"VARKOS! LET ME OUT"

A low, rumbling growl crawls through the darkness.

"Shut. Up."

I go rigid.

It speaks.

The thing in the corner moves, a grotesque shifting of rotting flesh and twisted limbs.

A chill rakes down my spine. What is this thing?

The light flickers again, revealing patches of exposed bone, melted skin clinging to its frame like wax dripping from a candle.

It is not human. Nor dark elf. It’s not anything she has ever seen.

It is not anything that should exist.

I take a step back, my shackles clanking against each other.

"What—what are you?"

It laughs.

A wet, gurgling sound, like something drowning in its own decay.

"What am I?" it repeats, mocking.

It takes a step forward, its misshapen body shifting, something cracking beneath its own weight.

"Who are you?"

I do not answer.

Instead, I move farther against the wall, my breath coming too fast.

But the thing does not stop.

What if it eats me?

I can’t die here.

It sniffs the air.

"You scream for him."

Its voice is deep, grating, as if it has long forgotten how to speak.

"Varkos."

My pulse hammers.

"Why?"

I stare, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Why do you care?"

It tilts its head, too sharp, too quick.

"How does he look?"

My stomach drops.

"How old?"

I hesitate. Why is it asking these things?

"I—I don’t know."

It huffs, its massive chest shuddering with irritation.

Then, it trembles, like something excited.

"He is alive?"

The words twist my gut.

I don’t want to answer.

But I do.

"He saved me," I whisper, my throat tightening.

"And the Matriarch hurt him for it."

The silence that follows is thick, unnatural.

Then—

A roar shatters the air.

The dungeon trembles.

Stone cracks, dust and debris raining from the ceiling.

The monster thrashes, slamming against the walls, howling.

The force of it makes my bones rattle.

"She LIED!" it bellows, voice shaking with pure, unfiltered rage.

It swings at the stone walls, enchantment flaring up, barely holding the structure together.

I stagger back, my heart slamming against my ribs.

"What—" I gasp, stumbling.

The creature throws itself against the magic-barriered walls again.

CRACK.

"What is WRONG with you?" I scream.

It whirls on me.

The madness in its eyes is unbearable.

Something feral. Something broken.

And then?—

It lunges.

A massive, decayed arm swings toward me, faster than I can react.

I barely have time to raise my arms, to brace myself, to?—

Darkness.