before:https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1333431809 next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1352731187/ Chapter two Croía The Crimson Echo. The name’s a little angsty if you ask me, though I like it. Thinking about it, everything about the Shadow Regime is angsty, or mysterious, or just flat out awkward. I’ve already helped distribute the food, everyone getting at least a hunk of bread and a couple pieces of dried meat. I savor my food, chewing slowly, the panging in my head syncing up with my heart beat, creating a rhythmic pattern. I lean my head against the stalagmite behind me, relieving the pain slightly. I sigh through my nostrils, rubbing my temples gently. The last thing I remember is eating with Brakor, apologizing quietly for my previous ‘rebellion’ as he called it. I'm not sure what happened after, or how I got here. "It's alright, love," he had said, his voice unusually calm. "It's just never going to happen again, isn't that right?" I had nodded, my head low, "Of course not, I don't know what overcame me." The girl was using dangerous witchcraft illegally, It’s my job to ensure that my people are safe from people like her. I had told myself. He had smiled from across the table, softer than normal, "Why don't you try the dinner? I had it specially prepared, just for you." He had nodded towards the plate in front of me, the scent of the barbecued lamb having filled my nostrils. I had given him my best grateful smile, and had picked up my dinner fork, bringing it to my lips. I had kept my head low as I chewed, then swallowed, patting my lips with the cloth napkin on my lap. "It's delicious." He had grinned now, taking a long sip of his wine, never touching the lamb. "I'll make sure to tell the chef." After dinner we had both sauntered towards our room, him opening the door for me as I held my skirts, nodding a thanks as I stepped in to change into my nightgown. My head had throbbed, the pounding sharp, like a burning sensation, scorching from the inside out. "Brakor?" "Yes, love?" I had swallowed, my throat going dry and scratchy. The air had become thick, sounds of the servants cleaning the windows near-by becoming muffled, my heart beat slowing, the world seemingly spinning. I had leaned on the entryway, blood rushing to my head, my legs becoming cold and numb. My dark chocolate brown hair fell into my face, I had moved to tuck it behind my ear though my arms seemingly stopped working. The world had started to tilt to the side, and what had at first only been muffled, had floated away, like sand in the wind. I had opened my mouth to speak, though nothing had come out but a choked mumble. My vision had become heavy, my eyelids drooping. I had tried to focus my gaze on Brakor, my brows furrowing at his grin. My legs had given out, my body falling into his arms as my eyesight had started to darken around the edges. "Don't worry love,” He started taking on the job of brushing the hair out of the way. “After you come back we can forget all about your little revolt, we just can't have you fighting back, can we now?" He had looked down at the lavish ring adorning my left hand. He had slipped it off my ring finger, before shoving it in his pocket.“And don’t think you’ll be keeping this either.” I swallow my bite of food, my thoughts fade back to reality when I notice a girl no older than sixteen looking at me, her eyes wide with curiosity, dried fish in her hand. She tilts her head to the right slightly, her portuguese accent thick. “You’re she… no? You’re the Knight Commander’s wife? Dame Sterling?” Knight Commander… is that what he’s telling people? I nod. “And you are?” I ask sweetly, my smile matching the tone. “Dame Iolanda de Albuquerque at your service, senhora! I was the youngest gaja to be knighted in all the kingdom, and was the top squire in my group!” She practically shouts, drawing a few gazes. She grins wide with pride, reminding me of myself when I was young. I use the stalagmite to bring myself to a squat position, my legs still wobbly. “Well then dear, you must be quite the knight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were promoted to Baronetess soon.” “I really hope so! But I'll have to get out here first—wherever here is.” Iolanda says, bringing back the reality of this situation. I place my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure my husband will find us soon, or someone else must realize we’re missing and we’ll get out of here. Wherever here is exactly..” She gives me a grim smile and shrugs, then turns her attention back to the dried fish in front of her. Wherever here is. The words dawn on me. This ‘regime’ took forty people of different ages, genders, background shapes and sizes—hell, species even—and knocked them out to shove them into some crammed caged underground, in which we don’t even know where we are. I grit my teeth, even though the ‘Shadow Regime’ may have us captive now, day always comes, casting out the dark.
