For the past three months, Siora had survived by eating the roots of the trees or licking on the moss. She had grown weak and gaunt and pale. She had used the well of her power to cut through the spells that they had cast around her and now her magic was just a flicker of what it used to be.
She crawled to the bars of the prison and then using them as support, she somehow got to her feet to open the lock that had rusted all these months. The magic finally sliced. She pushed her hand in between the narrow bars to reach the lock and as soon as she reached it, she tugged it open. It took so much effort to perform the simple task that she was out of breath. Siora slumped down the bars, panting heavily, excited that she had finally made it. A weak smile crossed her face. Only one last magic spell was left and after that she would be free.
After taking a moment's rest, she crawled out of the dungy prison. Her clothes were tattered, she stank so much that she choked on her breath and she looked like a wraith. Slowly, she reached out.. Her throat was parched. She needed water. She needed food, and she needed a bath. Siora found her way to the kitchen but all she encountered were empty racks and damp wood. Winters were harsh. Snow had coated every surface with a thick layer. She felt like a ghost in this fortress. But she would find a way out… soon.
It took a long time before she found a semblance of clothing—a discarded shawl, torn tunic and slacks in which rats had made holes. Even though the water was freezing, she needed to take a bath, to remove all the stench, to remember what they did to her and to plan next. Her stomach grumbled. She needed food… desperately… to survive one more day. She was a forgotten demoness. No one was bothered about her. No one came to find her, not even her daughter. She was going to take revenge from all of them. She was going to free her sons. But first—
With gargantuan effort, she reached the portcullis of the fortress and used her one last flicker of magic left in her to lift the veil that cloaked the fortress. And Siora walked out.
Her first plan was to hunt for food. The forest was covered in so much snow that it was impossible to find anything. The trees were covered with icicles, and the animals must have hibernated. She cursed her luck. But she knew where to find the sleeping ones. She pillaged at the roots of the trees and found two wire thin squirrels. She was so hungry that she ate them raw.
Siora trudged through the snow forest for the whole afternoon, and reached the outskirts of Galahar by the time it was evening. All she wanted was to go to her trusted people, who had always been with her.
As she walked through the village, she couldn't help noticing that lights burned from every house. And there was no smell of wax or oil that was used to burn the torches, they were glowing within glasses. Yellow orbs fixed to the walls. Her eyes were wide and her mouth dropped to the ground. What kind of magic was that? In the distance, she heard windmills roaring to life as gusts of wind swayed the trees.
She remembered how most villages were plunged in darkness when her husband was the king. Only the royals and a few nobles could afford this kind of luxury. But now as she walked through the town, with her face covered with a hood, she watched the transformation.
A yelp, a squeal, a bark of laughter—happy sounds, healthy kids, barmaids hurrying up and vendors calling their clients. The whole scene changed drastically. She had witnessed darkness in Galahar for thousands of years and that was what she thought was normal, but this… this was abnormal. She gritted her teeth. She was sure that her son had given away the treasury money to these lowly villagers. A flush of adrenalin tingled through her body and she clenched her fists with anger.
A few hours later, Siora reached the house of the man who had remained loyal—her guard at the palace. When she knocked at his door, she couldn't help noticing all the lights that lit his house all around. There were happy noises coming from the inside. She waited for him to open and then knocked again. This time when the door opened, she smiled at him. "Barte!" she said in a hoarse voice.
Barte stared at the woman in front of him, his eyes widening by the second. "M'lady?" he bowed to her but at the same time, instead of allowing her to come in, he closed the door behind him. "W— we all thought you were d— dead!"
She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, my son had left me to die. But here I am back. Ready to take what belongs to me!"
Barte flinched and she saw that. "H— how can I help you?" he asked, glancing at the door behind him nervously.
She jerked her head back at his hesitation to help her. She didn't want to waste her time and now she was suspicious of him. "I need a place to stay."
Barte paled. His blood drenched from his face. His breath hitched. "Please follow me, m'lady," he said and started walking towards the back of his house. When they reached the stables, he led her into a small room beside it. He turned to look at her and said in a low voice, "You can stay here for the night, m'lady. But after that you have to leave. I am no longer in the army. And I have no intentions of betraying my king. However, for you, I can spare one night of rest and protection." He turned to peer at the door of the room to see if there was anyone else. When his gaze settled on her again, he said, "I would like you to leave tomorrow before the dawn breaks." He rubbed his neck. "Keeping you here is very dangerous. I can be charged for treason and although the king is very generous, he has issued orders that if he sees any threat to his wife, he would not have second thoughts in taking strict actions. So, please m'lady, my advice to you would be to leave Galahar." Saying that he pursed his lips, took a deep breath and left her. Siora stared after him for a long time.
One thing was very clear—if her loyal guard was not going to help her, then no one in the kingdom would. She would leave Galahar for sure, but not without a plan. That night Siora was covered in hay and a stinking blanket but that too was like luxury for her after three months in the prison.
Next day, before the break of dawn, she got up. She found a small saddlebag in the corner that smelled of food. She knew that Barte had done this for her. So, Siora picked up the bag, and walked to the horse she had identified. She tied the bag to it. An hour later, she was on her way to where she knew Aed Ruad would be.
