Avarice, page 2
Catching her reflection in the mirror, she ran a hand through her loose, tangled hair and freed a quivering breath. That wretched necklace still hung around her neck, but her dress had been replaced by a modest, light pink nightgown.
She broke out in even more of a sweat at the thought of having a scar or lacking underwear. Having a scar meant having proof, proof that her spine had once glistened in the light of a chandelier. The underwear explains itself.
Trembling slightly, she turned her back to the mirror and lifted up her nightgown. She still had her underwear on, and there was not a scratch to be seen.
Where am I? she wondered, furrowing her brow and dropping the garment back into place.
"Why, you’re in Avarice, of course."
She whirled to face the very same man who’d recently plunged a dagger through her heart. Upon seeing him, she immediately took a few steps back.
Smirking and still wearing all black, he leaned against the wall. “You must have a lot of questions, Allison," he said. “Questions such as—‘What do you want? Who are you? Why am I here?’” He leaned forward. “‘How are you so handsome?’”
“It would be nice to get some answers, yes,” she said, eyeing him.
He pushed himself off the wall and strode towards her, and she immediately backed away.
“What?” he asked, coming to a halt. “Are you afraid that I'm going to stab you again?”
“Well, you don’t exactly have the most caring demeanor,” she ground out.
He chuckled. “Would it make you feel better if I told you my name?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m Callister.”
She raised a brow.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I like you, Allison,” he said. “You surprise me.”
“The feelings aren’t mutual.”
He faked a pout. “And here I was hoping we could be friends.”
“I still have questions.”
“Couldn’t I have just wanted to meet a princess?”
“Not one that you pretended to slaughter, no.”
He sighed. “Fine. The truth is, you and your sister are incredibly special."
She didn’t want to encourage him to use Abigail as leverage, so she kept her mouth shut about asking where she was and if she was okay. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she questioned instead.
“That you’re more than just Aumvens.”
“Oh, we don’t have any abilities.”
“Dont lie,” he spat, startling her. “I know that you can command others.”
“I’m not lying,” she lied, taking another step back, “and Abigail doesn’t have any either.”
He sighed as though every question she asked were this exhausting chore. “Allison, I need an heir. The gods have a bet and they . . . they . . .”
“They what?”
He sighed again. “I’ll explain later.”
This infuriated her. He was acting like a coward, like he needed time to process or something.
What the fuck? she thought, striding towards him.
Once their bodies were mere inches apart, “Spit it out,” she said, tilting up her chin.
He rolled his eyes. “Allison, you’re one of my heirs whether you like it or not. If it makes you feel better, when I was still considered an Aumven—”
“Don’t you mean as an Aumven?” It sounded like he was trying to call himself a god.
He met her gaze. “I was once just like you, Allison.”
“No, you are just like me.”
“Ahh, so you know many Aumvens who can shapeshift into the elderly then?”
Her eyes widened, and he laughed.
“I just couldn’t help myself,” he said.
So what if that was him? she wondered. I’m not dead. I’m not in Avarice. I just have to waste time. That’s right. Waste time.
"Any more questions?" he asked, grinning.
“H . . . how did you get me into this room?” She gestured towards the space. “There aren’t any doors or windows.”
“There are. You just can’t see them.”
“Why?”
“It's easier this way.”
She glared at him.
He chuckled. “What? Does that offend you?”
“No, I just think it’s pathetic that you’re keeping me here.”
His smile fell.
“What? Does that offend you?” she asked in her sweetest, most singsong voice.
His eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched. He was silently ordering her to be quiet. What scared her most, was the fact that she obeyed.
“I think it’s time we go see your sister,” he said.
She gulped. “How?”
He jerked his head towards the wall behind her.
She turned to discover that a door had appeared.
“Through that.”
* * *
Abigail woke up covered in sweat. Her nose was squished against a doughy pillow, soft sheets were strewn over her body, she’d been changed into a simple nightgown, and the scent of fresh candles burned her nose. Her room was the same as Allison’s, the only exception being that the painting above her bed was of a dappled mare, not of a jungle.
“Hello, Abigail,” a familiar man drawled from across the room.
Yelping, she instinctively scrambled off the bed and bolted to the wall farthest away from him. “Wh. . . what do you want?” she asked.
He held up a hand. “Don't bother. I’ll wait until you're calm.”
She pressed her back even further up against the wall. It was warm. “I’m sorry, I—”
He strolled towards her and didn’t come to a halt until they were mere inches apart.
“You're like a little puppy,” he noted, staring down at her and cocking his head
“Please, sir,” she choked out.
He bent down, and her breath caught in her throat as his warm hand lifted up her chin and their eyes met.
“I'm Callister,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a feral grin. “Welcome to Avarice.”
A door appeared out of the shadows like a corpse floating to the surface of a murky lake. He then led Abigail out of her designated room and into the adjacent hallway. Her palms were dripping with sweat and she felt like her lungs were constricting, but she obeyed.
Once out of her room, she almost ran right into Allison. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other.
Abigail hated those eyes. They were the same pale green as their fathers, and she’d often longed to rip them out of her face like they were the pit of a fruit.
The twin’s rooms were the first two on the floor. Allison’s came before Abigail’s, and after Abigail’s came countless others. All of their doors were closed.
A spiraling staircase lead down to the first floor. It twirled in the somber light like a spider web, entrapping winged candlelight using its black, metal banister.
There were two halves of the second floor. They stood on the left one. Both had countless rooms and a couple elegant stairwells buried deep within their walls. Separating the two halves was a vast expanse of air and, hanging from the tall ceiling, an elaborate chandelier. It was large yet tasteful and reminded Abagail of a full moon on a clear night.
Allison wanted to ask Abigail if she was okay. She just needed Callister not to hear.
“Would any of you like a tour?” he asked, snapping their attention back to him.
She lifted her lip and recoiled. “What the fuck? No.”
His smile fell, and his expression hardened. “I am afraid to say that it’s not a question, my dear. I will, in fact, be giving you a tour, you will shut up about it, and you, Allison,” he spat, “you will listen.” Without another word, he strolled down to the first floor of his castle.
After gulping and glancing over at each other, the twins had no choice but to follow him. They descended the stairs side by side, and it didn’t take them long to reach the heart of his spacious entryway. Once there, they couldn’t help but admire his castle’s beauty.
Behind them loomed a massive wooden door. Ahead of them, a candle dancing upon its glossy surface and a white rug laying squashed beneath its feet, slumbered a godly wooden table. There was a large kitchen at the far end of the floor, and to their right, conspiring with its twin through the eerie squeaks of floorboards, spiraled the second staircase.
“You,” Callister said, wagging a finger in Allison’s direction as she stared up at the foreign staircase, “are not allowed up there.”
She only lowered her gaze until it fell upon the large fireplace burning in the corner and shrugged. Poised shadows leapt across her face.
“And if you disobey me?”
She didn’t even look at him, just scoffed. “You’ll what?”
Not a second later, she cried out and crumpled to the floor, one of his daggers embedded in her gut.
“Don’t cross the line,” he unconcernedly said, strolling over to her. “You can be the greatest terror that Avarice has ever seen and lie to everyone, including yourself, but let’s just see how far that gets you.” He crouched down beside her and leaned in until his lips grazed her ear. “I know what you truly are.”
Her vision waned, a puddle of blood already beneath her. She was yet to notice that Abigail had fled the castle.
“You’re afraid,” he said. “You’ve played this abhorrent role for so long that not even you can see yourself through all this filth. Now I have to go and find your sister, who, might I add, is a damn fool for leaving. It’ll be a miracle if she can still function.”
Her heart slunk to a halt right as he strolled away.
* * *
What have I done? Abigail wondered.
She’d torn open the fortress’s door and stumbled into the heart of Avarice. As though playing a trick, it now slammed shut behind her.
A parched wind lashed her flesh. Ash smothered the charred, rugged land, everything reeked of kindled flesh, and the sky was a stormy red. There hung no sun nor moon.
In the distance, thousands of the condemned trembled beneath a massive, decomposing bridge. It was slimy with mountains of guts, and flesh clung to its belly like vines. They were covered in scars and either naked or wearing tattered clothes.
Abigail was just about to flee back inside the castle when, “Hello,” a gravelly voice said from just behind her.
Yelping, she spun.
A once living thing had spoken. I say thing, for stitches of red yarn kept its mouth pulled into a nauseating grin and its back was so disfigured that it nearly had to walk on all fours.
“You’re one of Callister’s heirs, aren’t you?” it drawled, standing just in front of the castle door.
“N . . . no,” she stammered, backing away. Her heart beat so fast it hurt.
It limped closer. “Now, I can’t kill you, only your sibling can do that, but,” its grin widened, “that doesn’t mean I can’t still hurt you. Ain't that right?”
Just behind the creature, as though the air itself had carried him there, Callister suddenly appeared. Utterly deadpan, he struck it in the head with a rock, and it collapsed to the ground with a hollow thump.
“Oh gods,” Abigail choked out, scrambling away.
He said not a word, only steely jerked his chin towards the castle’s wide open door.
She did as she was told and rushed back inside his fortress.
He strode in moments later, and the door slammed shut behind him. She could’ve sworn that she saw fire in his gaze.
“Head up to your room,” he ordered, breezing right past her. “Allison is already in hers.”
She obeyed silently.
6
Allison woke up in her designated room’s bed without a scratch. There was a door nearby, but she didn’t get up to check if it was locked. After groaning and rubbing her face, she merely abandoned the bed to go sit against the wall. She figured that if Callister wasn’t going to give her what she wanted and just keep relying on tricks, she might as well stop putting in so much effort.
He arrived minutes later.
“What, no hello?” he teased, standing before her and faking a pout.
She refused to answer.
“Allison?”
When she still didn’t respond, shaking his head and sighing, he sulked right back over to the door. “I just came in to tell you that dinner’s ready,” he whispered.
Just as she finally looked up at him, her brows furrowed, he walked out.
What is he? she thought, lifting her lip. Five fucking years old?
She eventually tottered to her feet, popped her back, and reluctantly followed him out into the savage world ahead.
* * *
By the time that the door to Abigail’s designated room swung open and she gathered up the courage to creep down the stairs, Callister and Allison had already seated themselves at the kitchen table, a feast skillfully arranged in front of them.
Her heart pounding, she sat down on Allison’s left.
“Glad you could finally join us, Abigail,” Callister said.
“Thank you,” she whispered, already staring down at her lap.
“Pass the potatoes, would you, Allison?” he asked.
Allison looked at him for a moment, as though hesitating, then scoffed. “Are you serious? You just stabbed me a couple hours ago.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
She looked at him expectantly but didn’t glare.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Many, many years ago, there were two Aumvens just like you. The gods made a bet to see which one was stronger and pitted them against each other. Every five thousand years since then, they’ve created two Aumvens, most often related, and repeated the process.
“The rules are simple. To win, one sibling must kill the other. You can’t die of any natural causes such as thirst or starvation, but due to your natural habits, you’ll likely still feel inclined to rest when given the chance or drink water when you're hot. Any scar or wound, no matter how severe, inflicted by someone other than your twin will heal almost instantly. ”
“You know that Abigail and I are half-twins, right?” Allison asked. “We have the same father but different mothers. We just happened to be born on the same day.”
Abigail found it odd that she would bring this up for multiple reasons, one being the fact she’d never done so before, not to anyone.
Callister shrugged. “Twins, half-twins, it doesn’t really matter. You still meet all of the requirements.” He sipped his wine and paused for a moment before carrying on. “The bet typically lasts about three days. If it were any longer, the heirs would no longer be able to perform to the gods' standards.”
“And what about those who lose the bet?” Allison asked.
“Well, they have to grant the stronger heir, who then gets to rule Avarice, some of their powers.”
“And what happens when the stronger heirs time runs up?” Allison questioned.
“Just like the loser, they die for real.”
“So that’s it? It’s all just a stupid bet?”
“My dear,” he purred, “that’s not even the half of it. You see, it's my job to decide who goes to Avarice and who doesn’t. Well, that and punish them, of course. Because of this, I’ve always been encouraged to keep a very close eye on Earth. For the last few months though, I’ve been paying extra close attention to the two of you. It’s all about making me the most effective . . . well, at this point I’m really just a babysitter, aren't I?” He chuckled.
“What does that mean for us?”
He looked over at Abigail, who’s gaze refused to lift. It was locked on her fidgeting hands as though only they could keep it safe.
“It means that I know everything,” he said, still staring at her.
“Just admit you’re going to torture us,” Allison snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “Well, the gods are the ones who created the bet so technically they,” he held up a finger, “not I, will be the ones to torture you.”
She glared at him.
“Fine, Allison. I’m going to torture you. Happy?”
“Not quite. ”
He groaned. “Well, the trials start on your eighteenth birthday. That's why I didn’t bring you down here until now. Let’s see, what else is there? Oh, I also killed and carted you down here under the gods’ order, for one of my amplified powers is that I can transport anything I desire anywhere I desire.”
Abigail’s hands were shaking so bad that she had to grip the arms of her chair, but nobody noticed.
“One of your powers?” Allison asked.
“I was born with the ability to steal, if you know what I mean.”
“So you take abilities from others?”
“Pretty much.”
“And how did you win the bet?”
“Similar to how you would predict, I guess.” He shrugged. “My sister was killed pretty early on.”
“What’s her power?”
“It’s similar to yours actually. It allows me to make others see, feel, or believe anything by putting images or sounds in their head.”
This implied that he could’ve made her see a door, a staircase, a room, or even a twin which, in reality, wasn’t even there.
“I’ve acquired around forty abilities,” he calmly explained, “most of which came from the Aumvens down here. As long as I do my part, the gods don’t mind. If anything, it just makes me a better king.”
Three men suddenly shambled out of the kitchen, and Abigail gasped upon catching a glimpse of them. They were trembling and covered in scars. Barefoot and dressed in ratty clothing, one had a nasty limp, whereas the other two were splattered with dried blood. They bowed at their king before beginning to clear the table.
“Other people live here?" Allison asked, slightly disturbed and leaning away from them.
He shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but they’re nothing more than well-behaved criminals, maids more than guards really.”
The twins could only nod and bite their lips.
“Well, unless you have something else to add,” wiping his hands on a white napkin, Callister stood up from the table, “I suppose it’s time that you head back up to your rooms.”
