See? Chapter 8, like I promised. Yes, I
know
the last chapter was very upsetting! I promise it's not over for Claire just yet. Have faith in me, people. I couldn't kill her off. That would make all of us miserable.
*
She refused to move, barely even daring to breathe. Not that she really could move, anyway. Claire simply declined to give the mist any small feeling of strength or triumph by struggling. Laying still allowed her to have some small semblance of control over her now hellish life. Silently, she dared it to attack her, baiting it with her stillness.
It likes me because I'm new and exciting. Let's see how fun I am when I don't cooperate.
For the moment, her plan worked. The mist had been expecting her to fight, to struggle for her life and call out to those she cared for. Instead, she lay still, offering no entertainment or surprises. She'd confused it. One moment, she was fighting tooth and nail to protect her lover; the next, she lay motionless inside its soft swirls. The mist raged at her once again, confounded by this human girl's incredible ability to drive it insane.
Claire cracked a small smile. Knowing her captor was unsure of what to do with her made a small flicker of pride start to burn in her soul. It wanted her for control, for the ability to mask its intentions from the world. Walking around, she was able to decipher its darkest secrets and alert those in charge to any plans it may have. Trapped here, she was unable to be the alarm to any uprisings the mist had in mind. Here, she wouldn't be a threat.
A long, painful silence deadened her soul. Despite her stillness and refusal to fight back, the mist still planned on finding a way to break her. Closing her eyes, she could hear the broken, indistinct whispers of its mind. Nothing clear or valid came through, but Claire nonetheless stayed alert. With her away from her lovers, without Darrow or anyone else to protect her, it had free reign over her fate. It could kill her if it wanted, break her into tiny pieces or shatter her soul completely. Being so completely at its mercy made her gut twist.
An icy coldness brushed against her arm, making her body jerk away automatically. The chill followed her, pressing hard against her skin, refusing to lose contact. She twitched again when the coldness began to seep into her skin, sinking through her flesh and into her bones. Her flesh tingled with the contact, drawing a harsh gasp from her throat as it sunk further into her skin.
Fear flowed through her, though she still remained silent. Realization followed soon after, the awareness that the mist was slowly soaking
into
her, becoming part of her. This must be what Tarrin had gone through when the mist took his mind. And now she was suffering the same fate: the possibility of becoming another mindless puppet it could use to wreak havoc. She shivered, pity, anger and fear melding together in her mind.
Oh, poor Tarrin. Not even that shithead deserved this.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, the horror and sorrow finally breaking through to the surface. She was terrified of losing herself, of losing everything she was to this awful, malicious coldness. She hated it, loathed it, wished it dead more than she'd ever wished for anything. She began to cry, her façade of strength and silence finally beginning to crack.
But through her fear, a small flame of happiness glowed softly. Even though she would lose herself, at least her lovers were safe. She'd let them go at the last minute, sparing them the same fate. Yes, they would weep for her and swear revenge upon the mist for taking her, but they would recover eventually. They'd find a new girl, someone who would make them just as happy but without the heartache and pain she'd caused. They'd be fine. Grief-stricken, but fine.
Another rush of cold swept across her back, sending a shiver up her spine. Again the cold sank into her skin, becoming part of her bit by bit. She felt her heartbeat starting to slow. Her breathing became more labored. Her eyes slowly began to close. She was losing herself, her soul being broken down into a useless pile of memories and dreams.
I love you. Take care of yourselves for me.
A final brush of cold shattered her completely. Taking a final deep breath, Claire sank down through the mist, settling gently onto the soft peat of the marsh. Her thoughts dissipated, leaving her mind an empty husk. Her eyes, once a warm gray, slowly faded to a sickly white color. Though her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm and her heart still beat, her body was now an empty shell of its former glory. No life, no fire, no passion now existed inside her. She was as cold and hollow as the mist itself, but lived without the malice or ideologies of her new owner.
"Yes." A soft voice, lighter than air and quiet as the wind, whispered by her ear. "Good girl. So compliant and gentle. You're perfect, just as I'd imagined."
Claire remained motionless, unable to respond or move.
"Sit," the voice commanded.
Moving slowly, almost mechanically, Claire rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. She rested on her knees, her slender hands folded in her lap. Small clouds of hot breath slid from her mouth, stained white by the chill of the mist.
"Excellent. You're more malleable than I'd imagined." A thin strand slid up the length of her spine, caressing her skin with its icy chill. "Oh, the things I could do with you."
Claire nodded silently.
"Now stand."
Slowly, she pushed herself up from the ground. She stood on her feet, wobbling slightly as her now soulless body regained its balance.
"Good. Spin for me."
She nodded again, turning slowly on the balls of her feet. She spun around and around, her nakedness on full display as she turned.
"Ah, yes. Perfection. Small and slender, but perfect." The voice, still soft and low, had hints of lust and desire mixed within the whispered words. "You may stop."
Claire stood completely still. Her pale eyes peered out into the marsh, staring at all yet seeing none.
In the shadows, dozens of human souls cowards behind the skeletal remains of trees, staring at her with horrified eyes. The old woman who had attempted to warn her days ago, the one who had smiled at her when she'd dropped grapes down into her withered hands, cried silently for her. The innocent she'd tried to protect had been lost. Those around her did their best to console her grief, yet they also watched the girl in horror.
The poor thing
, they thought,
she won't survive long here.
Claire stared at them silently, waiting for instruction. Tendrils of mist wrapped lovingly around her arms and waist, caressing her gently as flashes of crimson and gold flickered across the silver surface.
"Ah, yes. The old hag," The mist growled through her mind. "Do you remember her?"
Claire nodded slowly.
"Good. She's been a nuisance for me from the start. Always keeping me from claiming more delicious souls like yours." The voice purred in her ear and another tendril slid around her waist. "I want you to teach her a lesson for me, my dear. Teach her not to interfere again."
Claire's eyes narrowed, her mouth twisting into a disgusted grimace. Her body tensed, the lean muscles in her legs tightening, preparing for flight. Her fingers twitched restlessly. Her breathing quickened as excitement rushed through her veins. Her skin itched in anticipation, her thoughtless mind now focused solely on crushing her target.
"Go. Show that old witch the reason I rule this marsh."
Claire snarled and leapt forward, charging across the quagmire and straight towards the old woman. Her eyes were wide with rage and joy, her chestnut hair flying wild behind her as she rushed forward.
Other souls scattered to the shadows, desperate to dodge her attack. The woman stayed where she was, never daring to move an inch. Recognizing Claire was no longer
really
Claire, she decided to take her punishment in silence. She quietly muttered prayers of solace and apology for the girl, hoping with the remainder of her heart that she may have a chance to break away. She gasped in surprise when Claire crashed into her, losing her breath when she fell to the ground.
Growling softly, Claire crawled forward and straddled the woman's chest, her weight nearly crushing the fragile ribs. Pinning her former friend to the ground, Claire began dealing a series of blows to the woman's face, giggling with insane laughter as tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks. Fresh sprays of blood erupted from the woman's mouth with every blow, staining her own face and hands a deep red. Claire's smile turned feral, joy flooding her mind as she watched the woman's strength fade through lifeless eyes.
She squealed with laughter after every hit, her cackles turning more manic with every spray of liquid ruby. Any sense of logic, reasoning or morality had left her the moment the mist had claimed her mind. She no longer felt guilt or pain; hunger and anger had replaced her old emotions. Spurred on by the screeching cheers of the mist, she continued to crush the old woman's skull with her fists.
A strand of sticky rope shot through the clouds of mist, latching on to Claire's hand an instant before she dealt the next blow. It pulled her wrist back sharply, nearly hauling her off the woman's chest. Claire whirled around, screaming in rage as she clawed at the sticky substance. Another rope latched onto her free hand, jerking her sharply forward. She pitched headfirst onto the ground, still howling with fury.
"Damn you! I should have known better than to leave her unattended with you watching!" Kerion's voice roared through the dark.
The mist screeched again, this time out of rage. Threads of silver lashed out, slicing at the webbing the held her wrists. They sliced through bit by bit, only to find that new strands would shootout of the dark and wrap tighter around her limbs. Gently but quickly, the strands of webbing dragged Claire forward, hauling her though the clouds of mist. She struggled fiercely, using her teeth to bit through one of her restraints. A final wisp of web covered her mouth, silencing her furious cries as she was pulled back.
