Agonizing screams of pain filled the chamber, cold stone walls echoing as a girl, shaking, cried out hoarse and broken, "Let me go, please," her voice marred with blood that oozed down from her back to the floor. The air hung heavy with the stench of fear as her desperate pleas were drowned out by the cold, unyielding silence afterward.

"'Tis the Empress' command," one of the guards uttered, his tone even, though the hand wrapped round his whip bespoke cruel intention. *Smack!* Sharp was the leather which cut the air and sounded.

"Please stop!" The girl wailed, and such pain entered through her, tearing her asunder from the inside out.

"Well, well," an icy voice breathed from behind; the clicking of heels upon the cold stone floor was like the approach of death. And there in the doorway stood the Empress, her figure framed in the doorway, a sly smile curling upon her lips. "Look what we have here. Didst thou miss me?"

"Please, let me go," whimpered the girl, the weakness of her voice barely above a whisper and tinged with despair.

"Why should I?" the Empress sneered, her eyes cold and calculating. "After all, thou hast committed a grievous crime against the kingdom—though of course, you know not what crime that be, for your wretched sister has whispered falsehoods into my ear, poisoning thy reputation."

"I have not committed the crime," the girl pleaded, raising her head to look at the Empress, her eyes wild with pleadings, but the woman in front of her was unmoved, unyielding in her cruelty.

I think not," the Empress responded, her tone venomous. "I shall not free thee. But I came to bring glad tidings." Her eyes softened, to grow cold once more. "I am with child," she said, coldly laying a hand upon her swollen belly. "And of the child? It is not thy husband's. Nay, 'tis my husband's child. I wanted thee to know this, for thy husband, the Emperor, is no longer thine, but mine."

A wry smile had crossed her lips-a knowing, venomous grin. "Since I carry his heir, I have no further use for thee."

The air seemed to grow thick, the very presence of it conspiring against the girl as it condensed into an oppressive presence. The Empress's hand closed tightly around the whip, her fingers wrapping around its handle with a sinister intent. With twisted elegance, she raised that weapon high above her head, eyes aglow with sadistic light.

"Fare thee well," the Empress breathed, her voice cold as ice. She whirled the whip with the force of a tempest. *Smack! * *Smack! * The sound boomed within the chamber, with each strike sharper, louder, and crueler. The girl's scream was fragile at the best of times, now nothing more than a guttural cry of pure anguish.

Each lash cut into her flesh, the pain beyond mortal endurance, until finally the sound of her screams dissolved into nothingness. The room was conquered by a gruesome, repressing silence-as if even time had stopped upon an advance of torment.

"This is my first-ever novel-a journey through darkness, mystery, and terror. A story of a girl torn between shards of the past and an undefined future: broken memories and spiraling deep into the unknown as she finds out, the real fight to be seen in her trying to leave all those terrors in the past-oh, God-is far scarier than anything else in this world.

This is a story of how the line between memory and madness blurs, and with each twist, more questions arise than answers. Secrets locked deep in the mind, monsters from reality and the imagination, and the truth that will not stay hidden-all are waiting.

Is this where you want to go, into a world where nothing is as it would appear, and every scream makes you scream out for more?

Nay, nay! Prithee, cease!" the maid cries out in terror, As if even the air did stand thick with some dreadful weight. Her heart doth beat in frantic haste, her trembling frame a sight, As though asunder were her soul torn.

My Lord, my Lord!" the maid cries out, quite frantic, importuning him in such a manner that one might think, should the dream not pass, the heavens themselves might fall.

The girl stirs, her eyes fluttering open, wide and clouded with confusion, her breath erratic. "What. what is this? What hath befallen me?" she exclaims, rising from her bed as though some unseen force hath torn her from a slumber too wicked to remember. She doth sit upright, her hands clutching the bed's edge as though it might offer solace to her tormented heart.

Thou hast had a nightmare, Your Grace," the maid whispers softly, her voice low and soothing but laced with concern, as she smoothes the covers about the girl's legs, her hands shaking in sympathy.

The girl blinks, still caught in the remnants of the nightmare, her gaze unfocused. "Felicity." she stammers, her voice breaking, a cry of disbelief. "Thou art alive?

"Aye, Your Grace," says the maid in a quavering yet clear voice, "I live. I stand here before thee, as real as the dawn."

The girl stares at her maid for a very long, doubtful moment, before her arms fly to hold her maid in a desperate embrace. "I thought I had lost thee forever," she whispers, her voice fragile, as if the very act of speaking might cause the fragile reality to fracture. She clings to Felicity as though her very life depended on it.

Felicity strokes her hair with trembling hands, offering what comfort she may. "I am certain 'twas naught but a nightmare, Your Grace," she soothes, her voice soft, though her own heart doth flutter with uncertainty. "Here, thy meal is prepared, Your Grace.

She takes a bowl of broth from her maid's hands; hers shakes while she stirs the liquid inside, though her mind is somewhere very far away, adrift on a sea of shadows. "A nightmare?" she says, though her tone is vacant, as if that question did not have any real answer. "Perhaps it was but a dream, after all.

"Ah, Your Grace," Felicity doth interrupt, her voice turned to a whisper. "The emperor doth come to finalize the dowry arrangement." And she presents the fine silks and garments for the girl to wear, arranging them with delicate hands. "His Majesty cometh anon, to settle all matters. The day is upon thee."

The girl doth shudder, her breath catching in her throat. "The emperor…," she murmurs, her voice faltering, as she grips the sheets tight, her heart racing with a fear she cannot name. "He cometh?"

"Art thou well, Your Grace?" Felicity asks, her brow furrowed with concern as she doth see the girl's pale visage, the trembling of her hands. "Is aught wrong?

Aye," she repeats, her tone barely a whispered word, which shakes and has no certain decision. "I. am alright," she had lied, as the words beneath the weight felt brittle, like cracked concrete for the truth unspoken. She looks elsewhere; her thoughts swallowed by some deeply hidden place and space that existed far from the present. "I will be well," she mutters, though her heart whispers otherwise in her mind's ear.

Felicity steps back, her eyes lingering with worry. She prepares the girl's gown, her hands quick but a shadow of unease hanging in the air. Her mind runs with questions she does not dare ask, as she knows the girl would not speak of them yet.

The emperor." the girl whispers again, her voice trembling with some unspoken fear. Her mind whirs, yet she is unable to make sense of her thoughts. It's as if the very room itself closes in on her, the walls pressing in tighter with every passing moment.