The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 1

Chapter Seven

Rok studied him with suspicion evident in his earthy eyes. There was something undeniably unique about this elf, assuming that Onyx's father was indeed an elf. Yet, he had never encountered golden eyes in an elf before. Nor had he really encountered gold eyes in any kin; Onyx was the first. But it wasn't only his eyes that caught Rok's suspicion, it was his stories. Something didn't make sense, lies were being told, or secrets were being held—regardless, something was off.

"When I first arrived at her kingdom, she imprisoned me with these cuffs," Onyx explained, her voice carrying a hint of bitterness as she rolled up her sleeve to reveal the plain, iron cuffs that adorned her wrists. The only markings decorating the cuffs were swirled lines, carved in the iron.

Dezenym leaned forward, his gaze focused on the cuffs, a mixture of curiosity and concern in his golden eyes. "Cuffs of bindment," he muttered, his voice laced with a tinge of anger, that was until he reached and touched Onyx's hand, then he went completely still, and silent.

Onyx, looked perplexed and worried as she shot a quick, questioning glance at Rok before returning her attention back to her father.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly, however Dezenym didn't respond immediately. Instead his golden gaze remained fixed on the cuffs, as if he had lost the connection to the world.

Then suddenly, almost as if a statue came to life, he snapped back, abruptly withdrawing his hand from Onyx's and leaned back in his chair, his demeanor shifted to one of deep concern, and that, more than anything, made Rok uneasy.

"They're weakening you," he finally spoke, his voice quivering with worry. "You can't survive with them off, can you?" the air became still, filled with concern as the cuffs ugly truth slowly came to light.

"No, Demeter took them off once and it was like–"

"Blades in your skull, a sharp pain that only got more intense with every passing second?" Dezenym cut Onyx off, finishing for her.

Onyx looked at him with a disturbed look, "Um... yes" she responded quietly.

Rok's gaze remained locked on Dezenym, his earthy eyes narrowing with suspicion, "What does this mean?" he demanded, his voice tinged with urgency. He didn't like the sound of this at all. He never saw Onyx as weak, she was strong and full of life, and he didn't want to see her as anything other than her lively smile, and her determined gaze. Ever.

Dezenym leaned forward again, his golden eyes fixed on Onyx's with an intensity that sent shivers down even Rok's spine. "What do they know about who you are?"

-ooooo-

Young. Innocent to the evils lurking in the world. For now. A tall, imposing, winged figure dominated the air with her breathing alone. Demeter walked the hall of cells, trailing behind her was a child. A child whom looked to be no older than nine, with raven black hair and the eyes of a golden flame, hungry for freedom. She was scrawny, small, and wouldn't last a day in the horrors of the arena. Still Queen Demeter led the child to the only home she would ever know, a cell.

The other prisoners watched with vulture-like eyes, like scavengers, hungry, watching a dying animal. But also with something more, something stronger—fear.

"Where are you taking me?", the child spoke, her voice wavering, her golden eyes darting around.

"A place that will keep you hidden and safe, until I can teach you how to fight and survive," the Queen responded, her voice cold and detached as it always was. After all she was cold blooded, naturally. Well part of her was.

"Why? I don't understand why here, it is so... dark", little Onyx asked, her voice a small squeak compared to Demeter's.

"Because it is the last place anyone would look for a gem like you. One day you will understand, and you will hate me more then you already do–", the Queen turned and glared into Onyx's gaze, "–But that is what I need, your pain, one day you will see little mutt... and you may even thank me, I will bring out the best of you, just watch"