The abyss shook as the mysterious woman''s gaze focused on the present; she hummed, contemplating the scenes she spectated. ''A girl thrown into machinations that predate her a thousand years, a will of steel, and a heart of gold.''


    ''After a thousand years, history repeats itself. How unfortunate and cruel for such a young soul. Will you end up like me, I wonder. Tossed pitifully into the endless trials of despair that test your breaking point, only to abandon you in your hardest moment of choosing.''


    The woman bared her pristine white teeth, revealing her defined canines as she thought, ''Surprisingly, Divala''s descendants still proliferate after so many years: traitorous scum, shameless beasts with no morality or loyalty. How dare they strut their foolhardy intentions before me.'' A tinge of anger emanated from the woman, forming a minuscule crack that spread through the void behind her before quickly sealing up.


    The woman restrained her aura, a single thought festering in her mind, ''If you can endure this purgatory''s grasp, I shall help you, child. Endure, and I''ll give you your strongest desire without question.'' Her inscrutable presence shimmered, reflecting the ethereal mist around her in those crystal-like, verdant eyes. Her black hair flowed endlessly around her, crossing through past, present, and future as it whipped around that endless space.


    While the woman considered her plans, Priscilla sifted through the void, her mind and thoughts blurring into a muddled state. "Am I truly dead?" She questioned, with no one in sight to answer her. "Was death always so quiet, so estranged and lonely?" Her words were despondent; the contemplations induced by purgatory threw her mentality for a loop. To her, it seemed as if years had passed by, causing her a sense of insanity that rose within, whereas only days had gone by.


    The space Priscilla found herself in finally began to change once a week had passed since the day of her pyre. Ironic it was, the funeral pyre following her beyond death. Pillars of fiery crimson illuminated the four corners that stretched the horizon of her sight. They burned with a searing wrath, their terror sending shivers through the girl''s body. She cried out, terrified and trembling. Priscilla''s subconscious erupted with vibrant displays, the memories of her execution pyre flooding into her mind. The shivers evolved gradually, becoming a crawling sensation that spread across her limbs and back. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere she could run to. Her fears turned into reality as chains confined her, strangling her flesh against a monstrous mound of bones.


    "Release me!" She screamed and struggled, "I want to live, I want to survive!" Her efforts proved to be in vain as the chains only constricted tighter around her form.


    Terror flared inside of her as pain stabbed at her body— unseen spikes dug deep into her flesh, writhing like gluttonous worms eager for a feast. "No, no, no!" She roared unwillingly, the crawling under her skin disturbing her greatly. "Please, Mother! Father— Anyone!" She begged, tears rolling down her face. Her eyes darted in every direction, and her heartbeat quickened, drumming violently in her chest.


    When faced with one''s fear, that is when a person truly demonstrates the qualities that make them unique. There was no mother''s warmth or a father''s stern care, only a painful solitude. For Priscilla, the pain was the principal burden. The loneliness she had grown accustomed to time and time again, but the everlasting pain of her flesh and mind reliving the moments her flesh burned and the fires gnawed into her flesh— akin to ravenous beasts of destruction.


    "No... I won''t break!" Priscilla muttered haplessly— her mind confuddled with trauma. "Never again, never— ever!" She gritted her teeth, grinding them firmly.


    From afar, the ethereal woman gazed hopingly. She wanted Priscilla to succeed, to face her demons— her nightmares and traumas, and to emerge a freed soul. But the woman knew this was merely the beginning of Priscilla''s trials and tribulations. This place served to cull one of their emotions and attachments, grind them into an empty shell that had nothing left. Priscilla had to face her demons— everyone had to; there had never been a single exception to this iron-forged law of creation.


    ''I hope you manage, child. If you can''t, then everything will become meaningless, Divala''s dogs will run rampant in the world, and nothing pure will remain in this land.'' The woman thought as unease coursed through her chest. She had wanted to intervene, but in this space, it was impossible. It was an infallible law that bound all who encroached upon purgatory''s forbidden land.


    Just as the woman had said, the crisis for Priscilla had merely started. From the bony mound that ensnared her, creatures emerged— their forms no greater than apples as they swarmed the girl''s body. Their limbs were sharpened pricks that prodded the girl''s flesh— the creatures gleefully snickering with sinister grimaces plastered on their faces. Priscilla screamed from the maddening sting that pierced into her flesh— tendrils confined her, and creatures assailed her. It was insufferable— It was insulting, an affront to her mind— one she had to endure.


    ''Mother. Mother. Mother.'' She chanted softly, trying to ease the pain with the only warmth she ever knew. A long-forgotten song rose in her mind as she hummed it softly, letting the tune embrace her soul and guide her toward a better place.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Purgatory, however, had other plans. The shrunken creatures snarled with viciousness, emitting a horrendous sound that cracked her protective shell and thrust her into a world of her memories.


    <hr>


    "You foul-mouthed wench, why can''t you do as commanded?" Valentine''s shout echoed as Priscilla trembled. The sting of pain against her cheek burned as she blinked in confusion. His large hand collided with her face again, leaving her stunned and keeled over on the floor. Priscilla caressed her face with her tiny hand— that forgotten sensation against her fingertips pulsing with numbness.


    "Reply, damn you. Did I raise a damned worthless mute? Did I bring you to sit there uselessly, wasting precious time?" Valentine continued shouting at her like a demon-possessed. "Why, why, WHY!? WHY CAN''T YOU BE USEFUL?" He roared with furrowed brows.


    Priscilla quivered from the memory, ''Was Father always like that?'' She questioned in her mind as she gazed at his towering figure that stood over her furiously.


    "You should''ve died on the street just like your damned brothel-whore mother!" Valentine snapped, kicking Priscilla against the wall. "You disgusting shell." He raised his boot once more, but Maxine grabbed his arm.


    "Now, don''t be so harsh— We still need her." She giggled seductively as her breath tickled Valentine''s earlobe.


    Valentine snorted before kicking her once more; the girl helplessly embraced the darkness as she blacked out.


    Priscilla relived the repressed memory thoughtfully, the pain intertwining with the confusion, ''Did that actually happen?'' She thought, ''Was father so cruel when I was young? They need me, but for what?''


    Priscilla''s memory ended there with her consciousness faded. Forcing her to miss the moment— Valentine dropped his hand down around the woman''s narrow waist and embraced her close.


    "I''m sorry you had to see me like that, Maxie. It has to be those eyes; they make me so uncontrollably angry when they remind me of that bastard." Valentine''s gaze was chillingly emotionless as he stared at Priscilla''s curled-up body plastered against the wall.


    Priscilla''s path down memory lane continued as she jolted into a spacious chamber with countless men and women sitting around her.


    "She must be imprisoned, Lord Valentine! Marquis Varun''s whole family has fallen because of her schemes!" A gruff voice echoed within the illuminated chamber. Just one of many that say there, Valentine''s retinue of aides and advisors, all eager to pass the blame and guilt onto anyone they could find susceptible. "How can there be such a coincidence; just when their boy began to fancy and court her, the whole house falls into ruin!" The man added aggressively, slamming his fist against the marbled table.


    "It''s true! Everything bad happens because of her; how long must we endure this dark cloud perched atop our heads?" A woman added with a disgruntled chide. "You must do something about it, Lord Valentine!"


    Valentine sat comfortably in the largest chair, rapping his fingers against the table. "You all make valid points." He spoke flatly— before he added, "I cannot fathom what has come over my daughter these days. It seems that each and every day there''s some tragedy brewing because of her involvement. It''s truly becoming a nightmare to handle." Valentine sighed, eyeing his people softly, "You have my word that I will do my utmost to discover what evil resides within her, no matter what it takes."


    Priscilla sat there, pincered between two towering men in full-body armor etched with Valentine''s insignia. Her head curled to her knees, the unwillingness to be seen stemming from her innocence fueling her reluctance. ''No, that''s not possible. They told me they went South to their Villa. There''s no way something happened to them.'' Priscilla thought as the pain squeezed at her temple, forcing her to shriek and jolt into another memory.


    Her internal struggles intensified, only serving to further fuel the visions with their soul-piercing toxicity that tore her vulnerable psyche, covering it with tiny cracks. Priscilla heaved and retched; her flesh and soul trembled with eerie detachment. It was uncanny and vile. Her flesh wrestled with the guttural viciousness of the creatures, whereas her mind bounced from memory to memory.


    Priscilla thrashed against that bony mound that restricted her. Unwillingness, aggression, and determination brewed within her, "I will not surrender! NEVER!" She roared, her arms pulled from the mound, the chains clattering like the clash of teeth from the very skull''s her body lay on. She had to fight to survive; she had to escape to know. ''Were those visions real? Or fabrications? If it genuinely happened... I need to understand! Why was father acting so strange? What was it all for? Why did he take me if he intended to treat me like waste!'' Those thoughts gave her the strength to endure as the torment continued relentlessly.


    The woman spectated Priscilla''s suffering, a passenger passively taken for the ride. She could not see into the visions that Priscilla witnessed; she merely watched as the shackles of purgatory ensnared her, and the bonds of life and death gnawed at her flash, attempting to free her from her attachments. A month passed before turning into two, followed by three. Nothing changed— all remained the same, but truthfully, everything did change as Priscilla still endured strongly. Priscilla''s towering determination left the woman in awe, stoking the ember of hope in her chest and giving it life.


    "What a fortune and blessing you may turn into, child." The woman spoke, her soft voice chiming delicately through the space, "Even still, I can''t risk everything just yet. Show me more, child. Show me you''re worth investing in. Endure and face everything this place throws your way, that''s the only choice you have..."


    Bonus Image of Priscilla lingering atop the mound of torment.


    Ft. Midjourney