nephalem | alec.l

T W E N T Y - O N E

he had no longer cared about how the sword may possibly kill him, but the feeling the weight of the metal seemed to be a little too much as it started burning his palm, scalding his skin. his face though showed no signs of pain or even a trace of emotions as he looked into the inquisitor's eyes, the light shining from her throne reflecting in his eyes.

although no words were spoken about her identity, Junèthen could easily tell that she is in her 50s'; the way she'd rest her palms on the armrest, the wrinkles around her lips and eyes, and something about her pupils was all shouting out her wisdom and cruelty.

the blonde could feel chills crawling his spine as she opened her mouth to speak, sending shivers through his body. "Junèthen Sangria, do you hereby swear that every word that you speak will be the truth?" the Silent Brother's voice echoed in the minds of everyone present, and the blonde forced a yes out of his mouth.

just when he was about to hand the sword back over to the brother, the woman stopped him. "hold that sword while you speak, Sangria."

yeah, she obviously wants to torture me, Junèthen thought, not realising that the Brother could read his mind.

he started feeling the sword burning its way down into his flesh as if wanting to burn his bones as well. the pain triggered his eyes to change from the calming grey shade to a searing red, and his fangs to grow out of his gums, adding on to the pain. "were you ever in a collusion with Valentine?" she asked, the same coldness evident in her voice.

his lungs started heaving for air as he responded to the effects of the soul sword that has on his body, the cold sweat forming on his forehead. "n-no," he stuttered, anxiety and pain lacing in his voice.

back in the row of audiences, Alec could hear the grey eyed's sufferings from his tone, and it was as if Alec could hear Junèthen's blood sizzling against the surface of the adamas, tissues in his body slowly weakening and his muscles dying away.

"have you ever, even thought about handling the cup to Valentine, if you have it?" Imogen continued to ask.

"never thought about it before, Mam," he answered, gasping for air.

"it's like I could feel the sword destroying every single cell in your body, Sangria," she mocked, a smirk tugging on her lips. he knew the reason why she'd make him hold the sword wasn't because she was afraid that he'll lie, but because she knows how the sword will pain and hurt him. she wanted him to suffer, to be in pain; she wanted to torture him.

however little did she know that the hazel-eyed shadowhunter that was spectating the trial was the one breaking the Nephalem's heart. well, he could definitely tell her true intentions as he stood up and shouted across the room. "this is nonsense! you are torturing an innocent Downworlder for your own pleasure!"

she ignored him as she continued to smirk.

"so you think this is right, treating a Downworlder's life as nothing?" the platinum-blonde asked.

"I'm seeking the truth, Sangria."

"yeah, you know that I've never even spoken to Valentine for once in my life, and you're lacerating me because you like seeing Downworlders suffer, don't you? you probably even wished for the death of Downworlders for your birthday wishes, hmm? you-"

"SILENCE!" her voice erupted the whole room as she slammed the hammer (alright I have no idea what that is called, bear with me) onto the wooden platform. he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

he turned back to face the spectators. "if you need to hear this, I swear by my life that I have nothing to do with that man, and if you want to hear it, I hate that man with my whole existence. and let me tell you this, you Nephilims have no right of treating our lives as worthless."