Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Not for gold or riches bright,
But for power, darkness, and ancient might.
Above the clouds, where shadows creep,
The Isle's true lords in silence sleep.
Awaken them with sacred cries,
And pay the price beneath dark skies.
“What the fuck?” I muttered. I kept flipping, seeing more images of enchanted forests, moonlit ceremonies, and shadowy figures dancing across the pages, each beautifully illustrated. As I flipped further through the book, a page caught my eye—a dark, twisted retelling.
The Sleeping Bride of the Isle.
The familiar story had been warped into something deeply unsettling, the comforting lull of childhood nostalgia tainted by the Isle's twisted beliefs.
The accompanying image was even more disturbing. The bride lay upon a cold stone altar, surrounded by dense, twisted vines that seemed to grow directly from the floor. Her gown was intricately woven with black lace, resembling a widow's veil more than a wedding dress. Her sleeping face, though serene, held a faint shadow of despair. More masked figures stood in a circle around the altar, their arms raised high in a twisted gesture of reverence as if offering the bride up to the Devil himself. I read the text under the image, and a chill ran down my spine.
Beneath the moon’s silent glow
She lies in wait, the Isle’s shadow.
Diabolus’ hand upon her heart,
From his dominion, she'll never part.
Masked disciples dance, arms raised in glee,
For she’s bound to Carnalis Dominus, eternally.
To the Isle’s lord, her soul is wed,
A life entwined in whispered submission.
The longer I looked, the more I felt like the image was a grotesque prophecy, a twisted version of the future I was being forced into. I slammed the book shut, my heart pounding, trying to escape the eerie feeling that the bride’s fate was somehow tied to my own.
It occurred to me then that I’d overlooked something that had been staring me right in the face since the day I’d woken here. This Isle and its inhabitants, their entire existence revolved around a deeply ingrained belief system. They were nurtured from birth to embrace a doctrine that glorified sin, serving entities they revered as divine. Their faith was the glue that held their community together, a force that propelled the Isle's prosperity. I, along with the tourists, should’ve been the anomaly.
We were the ones out of place.
Unlike them, I was caught in a liminal space, fated to become a part of the society with which they were so enamored. I placed the book back how I’d found it and exited the room, relocking the door behind me, feeling a strange mix of emotions that had my thoughts spiraling. How could I ever raise a child in a place like this? The thought struck me hard, stopping me in my tracks. A son born into this world would be groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps, climbing some sacrificial vine of his own, bound to the Isle’s will. He’d be caught in this web of power and darkness.
And a daughter…
Would she be like me? Chosen, branded, or claimed by someone like Alexander? Would she live her life in service on the Isle, her every move dictated by the same twisted doctrine I was slowly sinking into? My hands trembled as I clenched them at my sides. Even the stories told to children were filled with darkness and obligation.
I shook my head, trying to clear the overwhelming tide of fear. This wasn’t just about me. If I remained on this Isle, Alexander would get me pregnant. There was no doubt or question of that. There would be no escape, no freedom for anyone, especially not for the children that would come from this union. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see such a space. I was even more loathed to admit it was gorgeous. Alexander had deliberately left these rooms accessible, the nursery included.
He hadn't hidden them away, just as he didn’t conceal many other aspects of his life from me. The man was shrouded in secrets, some of which I was afraid to uncover, but he was slowly letting me in and giving me just enough leeway to learn about him and Stygian--in a way that allowed me to process on my own first. It was a little disconcerting how in tune he was with the different facets of my personality.
And what did it mean that he allowed me such liberties? Was it a gesture of trust or a calculated move to further entrap me? What else would I discover? The complexity of my feelings towards him was stuck in a cycle of fear, curiosity, and undeniable attraction that went beyond the surface. I passed the library where I was meant to read and study, making my way to Alexander's office. I stood before the elaborate double doors and debated for a matter of seconds before I pressed down on one of the handles.