The moonbloom wilted by the hour.
I sat at the worktable, staring at its silvery petals as they curled inward, dying slowly in the suffocating heat of Hell. My fingers ached to grind it into a salve, to prove I still had some control over this nightmare. But the moment I touched it, I'd be playing into Lucifer's game.
So I let it rot instead.
---
Exhaustion dragged at my bones. The Hellbrew still sat untouched on the tray, but sleep was no better. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Thornvale—the thatched roofs, the herb garden behind our hut , the way the morning mist clung to the willow trees by the creek.
And Mother.
Gods, Mother.
Had she escaped the demons? Was she searching for me? Or did she think me dead, my body left to rot in some forgotten field?
My throat tightened. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.
Don't think about it. Don't...
A teardrop wetted my cheeks.
Then another.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, but it was no use. The dam broke. Silent sobs wracked my body, my shoulders shaking as I gasped for air. The chains clinked with every shuddering breath, a cruel reminder of where I was.
Hell.
Trapped. Alone.
I muffled my cries in the thin blanket, not daring to let the walls hear my weakness. But the room seemed to pulse around me, the rhythm slower now, almost... soothing.
Like a lullaby.
Like home.
---
I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until the scrape of the door jolted me awake.
My head snapped up, heart pounding. The moonbloom was gone ,cleared away, replaced by a fresh tray. This one held a bowl of thin broth, a hunk of black bread, and a sprig of rosemary.
Rosemary.
Mother's favorite.
My breath hitched. A taunt? A kindness? I didn't know. But the scent, earthy and sharp—unraveled me all over again.
I crushed the herb between my fingers, inhaling deeply. For a fleeting moment, I could almost pretend I was back in our kitchen, the hearth crackling, Mother humming as she stirred a healing draught.
The fantasy shattered when Vhorg's guttural voice rasped from the doorway:
"Eat. The Master doesn't like his pets starved."
I wiped my face hastily, willing my voice steady. "Tell your Master I don't take orders from jailers and I'm not his pet."
Vhorg chuckled, the sound like grinding bones. "Stubborn girl. You'll break."
He left, the door sealing shut behind him.
I stared at the rosemary.
Then, slowly, I tucked it into the folds of my tunic, right over my heart.
A tiny rebellion.
A shred of home.
---
The walls pulsed faster that night, as if restless.
I lay on the cot, tracing the cracks in the obsidian ceiling. The rosemary's scent clung to me like a second skin
Somewhere beyond these walls, Lucifer waited.
Somewhere beyond Hell, Mother prayed.
And here I was, caught between them, neither healing nor fighting.
Just surviving.
For now.
I closed my eyes, clutching the rosemary tighter.
Hold on, i murmured to myself, part chant, part reassurance.