Forsaken by Shadows 8--Desolation

~8. Desolation~

Kitty, age 20

When the door to the cleric’s ritual room opened, Kitty’s head popped up as hope sprang to life in her soul. “Rismyn—!” she began, before the hope withered and decayed in her chest. 

“Now why would you think that?” Toloruel asked, shutting the door behind him. His hand turned the lock without ever taking his blood-colored eyes from her. 

“M-m-master,” Kitty stammered, as she beheld her tormentor. He was bare-chested, his ebony skin gleaming with the sheen of sweat, his muscles corded and taut. He carried a black-bladed sword in one hand. It was a look Kitty recognized: he had just come from the training yards, which meant he was already in a killing mood.

And if there was one thing Toloruel hated, it was his training being interrupted. 

She scurried back into one of the octagonal room’s points, trying to cover her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry...I was cleaning and I—” 

“Are you really going to lie to me, Kitty?” He stepped forward, sheathing his weapon and coming to stand over her. “Ashlyrra came to make use of this room, and found you groveling in it.” 

“I…” Kitty trailed off. She hadn’t noticed Ashlyrra, the youngest daughter of House Tear, opening the door. Surely she would have noticed. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to be afraid. It would just be a beating. She had endured a thousand beatings and more.

“I’m still curious to know why you thought I would be Rismyn,” Toloruel said, kneeling down and snatching her chin. “And I am quite curious to know where this came from.” He turned her face aside so that the bruise turned to the light. “I do hope they’re related incidents.”

Kitty trembled under his scrutiny, but otherwise remained still. She was careful to keep her eyes focused straight ahead. Toloruel tilted her face from side to side, lifted it back, then examined each of her arms. When he finished, he released her and stood. 

“No other marks,” he said. “Surely one little strike from my brother wouldn’t have devolved you into this wretchedness. No, something else has happened. Tell me what it is, and I will be gentle with you.” 

He wasn’t lying, and that was the worst part. She had learned to tell when he lied. He wanted something more than her blood, enough that he was willing to lessen her punishment for being found weak and crying in Lolth’s presence to get it. Her heartbeat quickened as the obvious answer came to mind: he wanted something to condemn Rismyn for. 

And he would get it, too, if she said anything at all. 

Carefully, Kitty leaned forward and knelt with her forehead pressed to the floor. “Please forgive me for abandoning my duties,” she said. “The weight of my life circumstances overwhelmed me. I am weak and worthless.” 

“That did not answer my question.”

The whole cavern ought to have been shaking with how violently she quaked. “Please forgive me,” she said again. 

She was wrenched to her knees by her hair. Toloruel’s face loomed very close to hers. Even so, she was careful to keep her eyes as far averted as she could. “I already know what happened here, you trollop,” he hissed. “I want to hear you say it.” 

Kitty tried several times to catch her breath enough to speak. It was a lie. He couldn’t really know what happened here. He didn’t know everything. He didn’t.

All the same, she was tempted to tell Toloruel everything, if only to avoid the worst of the pain. She didn’t have to tell the whole truth of it. Only that Rismyn tried to hurt her. But even as she frantically concocted lies that wouldn’t get Rismyn punished for un-drow-like behavior, her thoughts fell into shambles. 

Fear made her senses sharp, her blood hot. Even after all these years, her body screamed for her to fight. Only the memory of what happened to her when she tried to fight in the early days kept her small and obedient. She had never really learned true submission, only careful manipulation. But this scenario she could not manipulate. 

She didn’t have to fake her terror, as she sometimes did to keep Toloruel from hurting her worse. She was totally and completely afraid. She wasn’t sure which terrified her more: the thought of what Toloruel was going to do to her or the thought of what Toloruel would do to Rismyn if she confessed. 

And then, suddenly, something clicked in her brain. 

Why? 

The small, three letter word dripped into her mind like water from a stalactite. 

Why? 

It brought sudden simplicity. Sudden clarity. 

Why? 

Her trembling ceased. 

Why was she so afraid? Why was she allowing herself to be a pawn in the game between elder and younger brother? Why did she insist on protecting Rismyn, after what he had done? What did she gain from it besides misery and terror? Her future stretched before her then, bleaker than the darkest caves of Menzoberranzan. It stared at her through Toloruel’s crimson eyes. 

Endless days of pain. Endless days of loneliness. Each moment visiting new grief upon her. She had forgotten what this listlessness was like, for in Rismyn she’d found a spark of joy. She began to look forward to the moments they shared together. She had found purpose, something to live for. Now those moments had run out, and all those that had passed were tainted by the memory of what had happened here today. 

All she had left of Rismyn was a bruise on her cheek. And that, too, would fade with the endless cascade of time. 

The coals of her rage were smothered under a blanket of ash which used to be her joy. Fear relinquished its embrace. And, in the midst of cool melancholy, she found the wondrous peace of no longer caring. 

Her eyes flicked to Toloruel’s and held his gaze. “No.” 

Toloruel’s eyes widened with shock and he actually dropped her. “What did you just say?” 

Kitty stared up at him, looking him squarely in the face for the first time since she was eight. “No. I will not tell you what you want to hear. I will not play your games anymore.” 

His fist connected with her jaw, in the exact spot Rismyn’s had. His strike was stronger, however, and Kitty hit the ground. “How dare you raise your eyes to me!” he snarled. “I offered you kindness, and this is how you repay me? Never again.” 

Slowly, she picked herself up. “You offer me a bargain of lesser pain instead of greater pain. Either way, I ache. No, I don’t care anymore. You might as well kill me.” 

His fists began to fall like rain, but no matter how he threatened, promised, or cajoled, Kitty refused to speak. She even refused to scream. 

Instead, she laughed. 

---

When Kitty awoke, she stayed very still for a very long time. Part of her marveled that she had awoken at all, but only a small part of her. The rest of her despaired. She thought for sure she had provoked Toloruel into finishing her for good. The Spider Queen could have her heart, for all she cared. It had done her no good at all. 

She lay on a stone floor, staring at a stone ceiling, but she couldn’t bring herself to wonder where she was. Normally she awoke in her corner or on a cleric’s table. So far as she could see in her periphery, the room she lay in was barely big enough to contain her, stretched out as she was. But it didn’t matter. Wherever she was, Toloruel had decided he wasn’t done with her yet. She would just have to wait until he returned. 

She lay still for a long time, until finally her idleness grew tiresome. Hunger gnawed at her belly and her throat felt as dry as the stone around her. She sat up and took in her surroundings, blinking slowly. 

She did know where she was. She knew exactly where she was. Little chalk drawings along the wall identified the room, though it was now devoid of the odd ends and supplies Kitty had come to know it for. 

It was her broom closet. Her sanctuary. A spike of sorrow threatened to pierce her armor of apathy as the realization made her think of Rismyn. Not Rismyn as he was with her here, gentle and sweet, even laying his head in her lap as she sang to him of flowers and birds and periwinkle skies. Instead she remembered Rismyn as she last saw him: wild-eyed and fervent, pinning her to the wall and stealing kisses from her skin. 

She shuddered and turned away from the chalk drawings she had designed to illustrate some of the surface world’s beauty to Rismyn. There were flowers in the Underdark, but not like the surface. She had wanted to show him beauty which didn’t poison. 

She wondered idly how she had come to be here. Perhaps Rismyn had found her after Toloruel discarded her, but even as she thought it, she dismissed it. He was done with her. He had only wanted one thing, and she had denied him. Her worth to that drow was spent. 

Again, sorrow threatened to bombard the shell that had grown around her heart, but she dispelled it. Another detail had just caught her attention, one that thoroughly put to death any lingering hope that Rismyn had put her here. 

The door was gone. 

Kitty knew where she was, and she knew she wasn’t disoriented. The wall that should have held the door was nothing but smooth, solid stone. She ran her hands along it, just in case. Then, she ran her hands along all the walls, smearing her chalk garden without remorse as she went. After a few minutes of investigation, she came to a disturbing conclusion. 

She was trapped. 

At first, this didn’t bother her. This was just a new scheme of someone to try to torment her. But she wouldn’t allow it to touch her. She was done being used by dark elves for their own amusement. But as the minutes turned into lonely hours, Fear, her old adversary, tried to invite itself back into her life. 

What if Toloruel had thought she was dead, and buried her here to be rid of her? It didn’t make sense, for how could he have known what this place meant to her? Was it just a coincidence? He needed a tomb and this room was empty? 

No, that didn’t make sense. He would have just thrown her on the ever-pyre with the rest of the corpses Menzoberranzan attracted like flies to fodder. Perhaps Rismyn—no. No, Rismyn was gone from her life. If not literally yet, then physically soon enough. 

So if this wasn’t a tomb, then it was a game. A cage. A new torture to her mind. But how could Toloruel have known to put her here? It had to be a coincidence. It had to be a cruel twist of fate. There was no way he could have known; she had been so careful. 

Unless...unless he really did know everything. 

It was impossible to believe. If Toloruel had actually known she had been sneaking away to be here with Rismyn, he would have had the proof he needed to condemn his brother long ago. Just by listening to her songs, Rismyn had committed heresy against Lolth. Toloruel could have justly accused him before his mother and if not had him executed, at least crippled his chances of beating him in any competition of favor. There was no way he could have known about this sanctuary and not used it to destroy them both. 

There had to be another reason. 

“This won’t work!” she shouted, as she ran her hands around the walls again. 

But it was already working. She was hungry, she was thirsty. The small closet seemed smaller than she remembered. Had she and Rismyn really come here together? It didn’t seem plausible that they could both fit. Were the walls closing in on her? She struck at the stone but it didn’t give. She struck again and again, until her knuckles began to bleed. 

She struck and she raved until her energy was spent, until every insult and defiant cry she could fathom trickled away. Finally, defeated, she slumped on the ground again, all her efforts wasted. 

She’d been abandoned here to die. Buried alive under a trillion tons of rock and earth, forsaken by the sun. No one would ever know, and no one would ever care. Her sanctuary had become her grave. 

She curled up into a ball and cried herself to sleep. 

---

She awoke again, and this time, she was not alone. 

Toloruel stood over her, staring down at her form with arms crossed over his chest. Kitty should have scrambled up just to prostrate herself properly, but she lacked the energy or the motivation. Apathy had coated her soul like a dusting of snow. She merely stared up at him from where she lay on the ground, blinking. 

“He’s gone,” Toloruel said. 

Kitty blinked again. “What?” 

Toloruel’s eyes narrowed with contempt. “Rismyn is gone. You’ve been unconscious for five days.” 

“Oh.” 

It was clear that her lack of reaction frustrated him. He drew his sword and dropped the tip to her throat. “Get up and show me the respect I deserve.” 

Kitty just stared at him, wishing the sword would continue its course and finish her off. Please, she prayed silently to whatever deity might hear and have mercy. If this is the best life is going to get, please just let this end. 

Toloruel’s face contorted with fury and he tossed his blade aside. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her like a ragdoll, smashing her back into the wall. “Don’t you want to know why I’ve brought you here?” 

“No.” 

Slam! Her head hit the wall again and her vision swam. 

“This is it, right?” he taunted. Or at least, tried to taunt. Her shield of apathy had no trouble keeping his attacks at bay. “This is where your little trysts happened. Blasphemous communion.” 

“No,” Kitty said, simply because it wasn’t true. Yes, she had met Rismyn here. But nothing about their shared time could be considered a “tryst” or blasphemous to anyone except Lolth. And since Kitty refused to acknowledge the Spider, her opinions didn’t count. Her head hit the wall again and after her jaw clenched, she sighed. 

Which earned her a smack. “You really think I am that stupid?” Toloruel asked, and Kitty chose to assume that was a rhetorical question. “You think I didn’t notice you vanishing when you ought to have been in your corner? Or the change in your demeanor? And his? You think I believed that little brat really came to throw acid on you? Please. I’ve known about this since the day you started disappearing. I know about everything.” 

Kitty was silent for a moment, as she let the words settle into her mind. It was hard to believe he knew anything at all, yet here they were in her sanctuary. But he clearly didn’t know everything, or he would have cited his knowledge going back further, to before they had claimed the broom closet for themselves. It was a strange, and oddly liberating, feeling, knowing things that Toloruel didn’t. “If you actually knew any of what you claim,” she said, “then you would have stopped it long ago.” 

She expected another strike, or to meet the stone with her skull again. Instead, Toloruel’s lips spread in a slow smile. “Why would I do that, when I knew it would implode on itself so magnificently on its own? Ah, I see you still don’t believe me,” he added, as her brows drew down with skepticism. “Let me clarify, then. Was that not why I found you in such a state of misery in the cleric room? Lover’s quarrel, was it not? I assume he told you he was leaving, and you begged him not to go. Or,” his smile turned viscous, “you begged him to take you with him. Maybe even tried to coerce him into setting you free. How much did it hurt, when he refused? How much did it burn to know, after all you had given him…” his eyes flicked down her body and back, “that he regarded you less than you believed?” 

The narrative was false, but the point was true. The words stung like barbed wire around her heart. The pain must have shown on her face, because Toloruel laughed. 

“I thought so,” he said. “Don’t worry, my pet. There’s nothing I can do about him now. We’ll see in ten years, however.” He leaned forward and sneered, “I’ll be sure to avenge your virtue.” 

Apathy briefly failed her as hatred burned through. With a snarl, Kitty slammed her head forward, cracking her brow into her tormentor’s. Unfortunately, she lacked the momentum to do anything but hurt herself and annoy her master, who cursed and threw her to the ground. 

“Defiant little witch,” he growled, looming over her as she tried to pick herself up. “I see you need to re-learn your manners.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she gasped, rubbing her forehead. “I won’t scream for you ever again. I’m done.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Toloruel said, as he pulled a knife from his belt. 

—

Every time Kitty awoke, there were two things in the room. The first was a bitter black potion which kept her hydrated and fed. Desperation made her grab it and choke it down every time. The wretched taste would linger for hours afterwards. The second item was a healing potion, which she absolutely refused to take until Toloruel returned and forced it down her throat. 

This cycle repeated itself three times, and after each healing potion, Toloruel began his torments anew. Each visit grew more viscous, more deadly, as Kitty refused to scream. 

It wasn’t even hard. There were moments she cried out in pain, moments she gasped or lost her breath. She didn’t endeavor to remain stone-faced through it all. But she never screamed, for she was no longer afraid. The worst he had to threaten her with was death, and it was death she longed for more than anything else. It was just a matter of waiting for him to grow tired of her. 

She awoke again for the fourth time, wet with her own blood. Groaning, she rolled onto her stomach and reached out for the black potion, only to discover it wasn’t there. Neither was the healing potion. She blinked slowly, her head still groggy from her previous visit from Toloruel. Perhaps she had awoken too soon. Perhaps there never had been any potions at all, and she was just hallucinating. 

As she lay there contemplating it, the outline of a rectangle appeared on the wall in purple light. Kitty shut her eyes against the brightness as the door appeared and Toloruel entered, sealing the space again with magic she couldn’t comprehend. Then she peered at him through scraggly hair, before letting her head flop down on her arms. 

“You might as well just kill me,” she said, as she had said each time before. “I’m done.” 

She expected to feel his hand rip her up by her hair again to force the healing potion into her mouth, but no such thing happened. Instead, she heard his footsteps stop just before her, and then the sound of adamantine freeing itself from its scabbard. 

Surprised, she looked up and found the point of his sword at her chin as he stared down at her, disinterested. 

“As you wish,” the prince said. “You bore me. I have no use for a slave who will not obey.” 

Kitty was so shocked she managed to push herself the rest of the way up, staring in disbelief at her drow master. The sword followed her movement, never straying from her throat. 

“Now, now, I thought you wanted this,” he said, pressing the blade into her skin just shy of breaking it. “Stop moving around so much. I would certainly hate to make you suffer.” 

Kitty was still struggling to think, weak and aching as she was from the last battering. She gazed at him intently, trying to read his face for lies or deceit, but she could find none. Slowly, she leaned her head back further, exposing as much of her neck to him as she could. She tried to stay very still, though tears welled in her eyes. Not sorrow, but relief. It was finally over. Perhaps she would see her mother and father again. 

“You should know,” Toloruel said, as the blade found her pulse, “I’ve been to Tier Brech. I’ve gained permission to join the next surface raid. Perhaps your replacement should be younger than you were when I took you. I haven’t decided. I do relish the memories you have of losing your mother, but a younger child will know of nothing but me. I can prune the defiance out of her before it takes true root. She’ll never remember a surface world even existed. I will be her only reality. I think I’ll call her Dove, after you.” 

Kitty frowned, absorbing his words one by one. Her mind was reacting too slowly for the meaning to fully seep in. Why was he telling her this? What did his actions matter to her now, when death was so imminent? She didn’t quite get it, until he said the word “Dove”. 

Her mother had called her that. It conjured happy memories, warm memories. She found a mere second of solace in those thoughts until true comprehension sunk in. 

Toloruel was going to replace her. He was going to crawl up to the surface world and snatch another little girl from her family, after slaughtering her kin like rothé. Another child would be swallowed up by Menzoberranzan to become a plaything for Toloruel’s violent temper. And that little girl wouldn’t have a Rismyn to hold her when things got too hard. Toloruel was right. She would only know him and suffering. 

All because she had chosen to give up. 

For the first time in days, fear lunged out of her gut and wrapped around her heart. She gasped and cried, “Wait!” just as Toloruel struck for her head. She flinched but it was too late. The blade flashed through the air and—

—just missed her. 

Kitty looked up but didn’t wait to see if it had been a mistake. She fell down on her hands and grasped his feet. “Wait, please! I don’t want to be replaced!”

Toloruel said nothing, nor did he move. 

“Please, master,” Kitty begged. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good Kitty again. I promise. Please don’t replace me. Please!” The last word came out as a sob, and she curled into herself, unable to stop the tears as she imagined the sweet, hypothetical girl whose life was going to be ruined because of her. After a moment, she felt his hand touch her shoulder. 

She flinched, but his touch remained gentle. His other hand slipped under her chin and lifted her face. 

“Now, now, my pet,” he said, soothingly. He shifted and adjusted until Kitty suddenly found herself pulled against him, cradled in his arms like a child. The hand that wrapped around her shoulders reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Of course I forgive you.” 

It was the most frightening display of kindness she had ever received, and she shook violently as she waited for the spider to show its fangs. 

She didn’t have to wait long. 

“But,” he said, and his free hand pulled something green and glowing from the pocket of his piwafwi, “you’re going to have to prove your words.” 

Kitty’s eyes were riveted on the substance as he raised it high above her chest. The top of the vial was designed to only release a few drops of the scalding acid it contained, one at a time. She watched in horror as he slowly tipped the vial towards her, as three green droplets fell freely through the darkness. 

It took no effort. She screamed. 

—

The session was over shortly after, as she was already broken from the previous one. When Toloruel released her to fall onto the blood-soaked floor, Kitty curled up and traced her fingers over the still burning flesh above her sternum, weeping silently. She suspected she knew the design he had chosen this time, but wouldn’t know for sure until she had a chance to see it. 

“You’re disgusting,” Toloruel said, wiping his own hands on a handkerchief. “My standards have not changed. Go clean yourself, and when you finish, clean this room. It is your home now.” 

“Yes, master,” Kitty said, though she wanted to gag on the word. Despite her fear of him replacing her with another innocent child, her recently kindled defiance hadn’t completely gone away. She didn’t even quite catch the full depth of his words. 

“As I said, I have forgiven your transgressions,” he continued. He dropped a red healing potion onto her, so it wouldn’t break. Kitty obediently snatched it up and drank, shuddering as her wounds knit themselves together. “We will continue as though this incident never happened. After you clean this room, shut the door to seal yourself inside. You will spend one more night in isolation before returning to your duties tomorrow.” 

“Yes, master.” 

“The door will appear each morning, and seal again when you return in the evening. Do you understand?” 

Kitty nodded. It was just like before, only now she had a cage instead of a shackle. A cage that had once been her refuge. 

“Gather your things from my room, but don’t let me see you again this day.” 

And then, he was gone, but this time the door remained open behind him. Kitty picked herself up and felt the familiar comfort of apathy envelope her. She would endure this, but only so another didn’t have to. She would play the games and give him what he wanted. 

How long did half-elves live? She didn’t want to think about it. She might break if she knew how many centuries she had to endure Toloruel’s company. So instead, she focused her mind on the task ahead of her. She would wash the blood out of her hair and take one day at a time.

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