Stone Prison (Twisted Tales #1)

Stone Prison (Twisted Tales #1) Page 4

I gasped. My hands flew to my mouth to drown out my scream. The heart was no larger than a child's fist. It beat once, as if it was dying and then shuddered another beat. A tiny drop of blood dripped onto the golden box from the heart. Then it beat no more. The witch took her finger and pressed it across the crimson drop. She raised it to her mouth, placing the precious drop on her tongue and swallowed.

I'd never seen her do this before. In the fifteen years that I'd been in her care, I never knew the source of her power. She said, I will accompany you this evening, for this night is unlike the others. You are of age, and that will change things. But first, I must alter this. She gestured to herself. She was more terrible than I'd dreamed. She drank blood from the heart of a child!

Before I had time to consider anything else, the old woman's appearance began to change. I'd seen her alter her appearance years ago, though I'd never seen how she did it. I'd never witnessed the magic firsthand. Now that I was, I wanted to get as far away from her as possible. The source of her magic was deplorable! Where did the heart come from? Who did it belong to?

My heart banged against my ribs, as a wave of emotions slammed into me. The air was stiflingly hot. White haze thick like fog surrounded the witch, distorting her ancient form. It molded her body back into that of a younger woman. The witch's hair sprouted from her scalp in thick waves of gold and fell down her back. Her weathered skin smoothed, adding curves to angular bones that had been protruding from sagging skin. The sorceress looked old enough to be my mother, but not my grandmother. In no way did she resemble the old hag that had stood before me moments ago.

Within seconds, the magic transformed her completely. And the woman who killed my father was standing in front of me.

She arched a dark eyebrow at me as she folded her arms across her chest.

I stared at her. Then at the box. I didn't know what to ask. I wanted to berate her. I wanted to hammer my fists into her face for what she'd done to me. The memory that stole my childhood and all my hope was alive and standing in front of me, and all I could ask was, What was that?

Her voice was different. Younger. Lighter. You know very well what that was, Ella. And, you know that adult hearts are larger than that one, so yes it was from a child. A powerful child. One that disappeared nearly twenty years ago. Her ruby red lips pulled into a smile.

My throat tightened, as I stared at her in horror. There was a famous story that spread through the land. I'd heard it every year at the ball. There was no way to live in this place and not be aware of it.

I answered, Twenty years ago the prince's brother disappeared in the woods. They found his little body torn apart by wild beasts. They'd devoured his organs, and taken his heart... But as I spoke, I knew I already knew what she'd done. There were no beasts. It was her. She was a murderer.

Even before she met my father, she had killed an innocent.

What she'd done was an act of pure evil bestowed upon a child.

She laughed like it amused her. The witch turned her back to me, moving to the small mirror in my room. Her hands worked quickly, piling her thick golden hair on her head. To some we are beasts, but to others of our kind we are gods, Ella. She turned to me suddenly. Her gaze was intense. They were too cowardly to do it. They would have never harmed a royal, but not us. That is why we survive and they have been destroyed. Blood is power. She turned, and continued to twist her hair and pin it. Beautiful loops and twisted golden locks were piled on her head in an elaborate style.

I continued to stare at her, trying to fathom the depths of her dark nature. But out of all the things she'd said, only one thought kept floating to the surface. She compared us, but I didn't know why. I was a good person, torn from my family stolen from the people who loved me and taken to this retched place. A's she pinned another lock of hair, I felt bold and angry. It came out in my question. I no longer cared if her hand flew.

Why do you keep saying us? I am not like you. I moved across the room and stood at her back. I have no power. I'm no witch.