Leyade's hell

Cold.

Nothing but cold.

That was what Leyade felt. Cold against her skin, and a hard, rough surface beneath her back.

‘Am I...’ she thought. ‘Dead?’

Leyade could see nothing.

She tried to lift a hand. Something heavy encircled her wrist. Puzzled, she drew her hand towards her body. A metallic sound accompanied the movement, and she had barely moved her arm before something stopped it short.

She tried her other hand, but the result was the same.

‘What is this? Chains? Have I ended up in hell?’

The thought filled Leyade with both resignation and sadness.

‘I deserve it. I swore to save my village, and then I died. How could they let me ascend to join the gods?’

She tried to raise her head and at least sit up, but a sharp pain pierced her neck like a red-hot nail.

“Aaah... Fuck. They really weren’t joking about suffering in hell...”

With an effort, she managed to press her hands against the floor. Doing her best to ignore the pain running through every inch of her body, she pushed herself into a sitting position.

Suddenly, a faint light appeared on one of the walls, allowing her to see at last.

Ahead, black bars separated the room from the darkness beyond. She looked around. Five walls of rough stone surrounded her. Two steel chains were anchored to the floor, each ending in a shackle around one of her wrists.

She was alone in the cell, with only the little magical light in the centre of one wall, a narrow bed with a straw mattress and a sorry-looking sheet for bedding, and a copper chamber pot beneath it.

The elf looked down at herself.

She wore a white dress fastened up to her neck, with long sleeves fitted at the wrists and a hem that reached her knees. Her archery bracers were gone, as were her cloak and everything else she had been carrying.

She sighed and tried to assess her condition.

Her head hurt worse than it ever had. She touched her belly. The wound was gone, but she still felt a stab of pain beneath her fingers. Her waist, legs, torso and arms all ached. She was probably covered in bruises of every colour.

Afraid of what she might find, she swallowed and felt the state of her throat. It was raw, burning and painful when she swallowed, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding.

“Well, I suppose they only keep whatever will serve as eternal torture here, don’t they? After all, they say pain is the guilt that follows us, reminding us of our sins...”

She sighed and fell silent. She shuffled backwards until she reached the wall, then slumped against the cold stone.

Time passed slowly. In that place, she could not tell whether hours, days or only a few seconds had gone by. Although she belonged to a long-lived race and was more than used to time stretching out, being there was like falling into a bottomless pit.

Leyade’s ears twitched slightly. She could hear a noise deep in the darkness.

She listened more closely.

The sound was steady and rhythmic, echoing in the distance.

‘Someone’s coming,’ she thought, trying to see farther into the darkness. ‘The footsteps are getting closer!’

Little by little, the sound became clearer as it approached.

Footsteps.

Leyade tensed as the glow of a torch began to light the distant passage. The figure seemed to take an eternity to approach, but at last she could make out a small silhouette floating down the corridor.

“I see you’re awake.”

A little, high-pitched voice rang out near her cell. The faint light on the wall and the dancing glow accompanying the figure finally allowed the young elf to see her.

She was a small woman whose hair was straight at the top and curled at the ends, held back at the sides with clips. She wore a purple robe with a pink ribbon that wound around her long, wide sleeves and rose to cross behind her neck. A belt of linked metal circled her waist, with charms bearing symbols Leyade did not understand hanging from it.

Behind her, translucent lilac butterfly wings fluttered gently.

“A fairy?” Leyade asked hoarsely. “I didn’t expect hell to be run by fairies...” she murmured, looking at her.

“I see you’re still confused.”

The fairy fluttered over and settled between two bars. The elf’s gaze was vacant, and her voice was heavy with resignation.

“I’m not confused,” she replied. “I’m dead, and this is hell,” she explained slowly. “And I imagine you...” She pointed at her. “...are a demon who’s taken a form I recognise so that I’ll... let my guard down?”

The ranger shrugged, making the chains clink.

“This isn’t hell, elf,” the fairy said indifferently. “And fortunately or unfortunately, you’re not dead.”

She stared at Leyade, swinging her feet.

The ranger watched her in disbelief.

“How do I know you’re not a demon in disguise, trying to trick me so you can use my soul?” she demanded with what little voice she had.

The fairy gave a weary sigh.

“If I were, I’d have traded you away by now instead of wasting my time here.”

The elf tilted her head, narrowing her green eyes suspiciously.

The fairy rolled her eyes.

“Never mind,” she said flatly. “I’ve come to tell you that if you confess to stealing the sword, the queen will be merciful and won’t sentence you to death.”

She said it as casually as if she were giving directions.

“So, under fairy law and with the queen’s permission, blah, blah, blah... I recommend you hurry up and confess so we can finally get this over with.”

The fairy gestured listlessly. It was obvious that she did not want to be there at all.

Leyade looked at her for a few moments.

“Does that accusation follow me even into hell?” she huffed wearily. “You should look more closely at my sins before coming to make me pay for them. I’ve made mistakes, but being a thief isn’t one of them.”

The fairy huffed too.

“This is going to take forever...”

She flew over reluctantly.

“Look, elf.” She pointed at Leyade. “I don’t feel like spending my entire morning here dealing with you. Would you please get a grip?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips.

Leyade looked at her blankly.

“Why don’t you just torture me and get it over with?”

The fairy sighed again.

“Riiight...” She gave Leyade an exasperated look. “I am not a demon. I’m a fairy. Fayla, the queen’s envoy. And I’m not going to torture you,” she explained as though speaking to a madwoman. “Though I’m considering it right now,” she muttered.

She narrowed her eyes sulkily.

Defeated, Fayla looked at her and shook her head.

“I give up. I’m not wasting my time trying to convince a madwoman.”

She turned to leave, gesturing in frustration as she spoke.

“I’ve done my part. No one can say I didn’t try.”

Fayla continued on her way and slipped through the bars again.

“I’ve told you what they asked me to tell you. What you do now is up to you, elf,” she said without turning around.

Then she disappeared with her light into the depths of the darkness, still muttering things like “I don’t get paid enough” and “People are getting madder by the day.”

Silence settled over the cell again.

The elf remained still, staring after Fayla. Though her eyes stayed fixed on the place where she had vanished, her mind was elsewhere.

“I’m dead,” she repeated. “There’s no reason I wouldn’t be,” she told herself. “Why would any god want to prevent it? Why would fate?” she wondered. “I wasn’t even strong enough, or clever enough, or even useful enough...”

Her words sounded hollow, but beneath them lay a bitterness that rose from deep within her.

Leyade fell silent again, staring into nothing.

“I deserve it.”

Once more, time slipped through Leyade’s fingers. Neither her gaze nor her posture changed in the slightest. Her soul was empty and her heart was broken. She had neither the will nor the strength to do anything else.

Her body, however, disagreed.

A rumble came from within.

She was hungry.

Leyade stirred, puzzled.

Could you feel hunger in hell?

Gluttony was a sin, so those who had committed it would be condemned to feel hungry forever. But in her case, if she had been accused of stealing, she ought to feel something connected with greed: a sense of losing power, of emptiness despite owning things, or something like that.

But hunger?

Leyade looked into the darkness.

“How strange.”

A little while later, the same sound of fluttering wings echoed from deep in the darkness.

In the distance, she could make out a little fairy with blue hair tied in a ponytail. She held a bundle over one shoulder, larger than a fairy seemed capable of carrying.

She approached the elf and passed through the bars into the centre of the cell. There, she set down the bundle and pushed it towards Leyade.

“Here’s your ration,” the fairy said, keeping a cautious distance.

Leyade looked at her in confusion. That really threw her.

She reached out to touch the bundle and pulled it towards her. Through the cloth, she could feel little wooden boxes. She sniffed warily. It smelled good; a sweet, fresh scent seemed to rise from the fabric.

The elf’s stomach growled.

“Eat. I’ll wait here so I can take the containers away,” the blue-haired fairy added, keeping her eyes on Leyade.

“You’re feeding me?” the young elf asked in surprise, tilting her head.

“Of course. Prisoners are entitled to food.”

Her tone was gentle but official. It was clearly a line she had learnt by heart.

Leyade still watched her suspiciously, but her hunger was stronger than her confusion. Carefully, she placed the bundle in her lap and slowly unwrapped it.

Inside were three little lacquered wooden boxes, each with a wax seal bearing a label in Sylvan: “first course”, “side dish” and “dessert”.

Leyade decided to open the main course. Inside the leather-lined box was a mixture of mushrooms sautéed with leek, celery, endive and tomato, all cut into fine strips or very thin slices and dressed with what seemed to be vinegar and oil.

The side dish held carrots and potatoes dressed with olive oil, vinegar, chopped garlic, parsley, salt and paprika.

The elf’s mouth watered.

She looked inside the cloth again. There was a spoon for her to eat with. It was not ideal for that meal, but it was a common precaution to avoid giving prisoners anything they could use as a weapon.

Leyade grabbed the spoon and began eating as though there were no tomorrow.

The fairy watched in silence as the young elf ate. When she saw that Leyade had finished the main course, she took a little wooden cup and a waterskin from her satchel. She filled the cup with water and brought it over, just as she had done with the food.

Now even thirstier than before, Leyade drained it in one gulp.

“Could you answer something for me?” the ranger asked, setting down the cup and spearing a carrot.

The blue-haired fairy nodded.

“Where are we?”

A puzzled silence filled the cell. The fairy gave her a strange look.

“In the dungeons of Liarieth.”

The elf nodded with her mouth full, spearing another piece of food.

Silence settled between them again, uninvited.

Leyade placed the empty side-dish box beside the other one before picking up her dessert.

“So...” she began again, without looking at the fairy as she lifted the lid. “This is the capital of the fairy kingdom, isn’t it?”

The fairy tilted her head, watching her closely before answering.

“Yes, it is.”

“I see...” Leyade murmured, beginning to understand.

The little dessert box contained a wild fruit salad with a berry sauce that looked truly delicious.

Leyade savoured her dessert, then gathered the boxes and replaced their lids. She wiped her mouth with the cloth, tied everything up again and returned the bundle to the fairy.

She picked up the cup and drank the water again before sliding it back to its owner.

“Thank you very much for the food,” she said, full and satisfied.

The fairy bowed her head before collecting the containers. She wrapped them up again and put everything away.

“I’ll come back with more water later,” she said, returning the waterskin and cup to her little satchel.

She lifted the bundle onto her shoulder and took flight.

Leyade watched her until she disappeared into the darkness. Then the elf leaned back against the wall.

“So...” she murmured to herself. “I’m not dead?” she wondered thoughtfully.

She had been thirsty and hungry, and instead of leaving her to suffer, they had brought her food and water. Not only that, but they had said they would do it again.

Leyade looked around, caught in a tangle of feelings she could not quite make sense of: confusion, anger, emptiness, disappointment, fear and... hope?

She pressed her hands against the floor and stood.

She knew she was telling the truth.

The young elf began pacing around the cell as far as the chains would allow. The clinking steel sounded more real now. The cold against her body, the pain, even the roughness of the walls seemed more real.

“What if what she said was true? What if this wasn’t hell? What if I hadn’t actually died? What if... I was alive?”

Leyade stopped dead.

That would mean she had not failed yet. She still had a chance to save them. She still had to...

“Kalindra!”