There were chains on her wrists and ankles, tight enough to dig into her skin if she tried to move.
There was no light in the room and barely any other sounds except from her breathing.
There were no colours, no smell, and no people.
Those were all the things Bloom managed to figure out upon waking up and realizing she was no longer in Alfea. Her head was pounding, as if she had been hit and her muscles ached.
Her eyes struggled to make out the shape of her body with the lack of light, so she tried to palpate around the floor, hoping to get any sort of new information. The chains were cold to touch and when she tried summoning her powers to remove them, they wouldn't budge.
She could still feel them, but it felt like they were weakened, subdued. Her mind went to Valtor and despite the disgust that followed the thought, she tried to focus on the link between them.
Nothing.
Bloom's breathing started to quicken, heart beating faster. A cry was stuck somewhere in her throat as she sat on the rough floor. She didn't know where she was or what was happening. And the only thing that had always been her own, she now couldn't feel.
She was still transformed, but her wings felt so fragile on her back. Biting back her pain she tried to stand up, her ankles burning. She wanted to scream as the iron ripped her skin and drew blood. Carefully, Bloom tried to raise her wings, but they were stiff. She gave it another try and felt them resist as if they had been chained too. But there wasn't any pressure holding them down.
Bloom breathed in and out, attempting not to start panicking. Her breath became uneven, rapid. Sweat gathered at the edges of her face, on her palms. It was too cold in the room one second and too hot in the next. And the pit in her stomach opened up to consume her bit by bit. Rising her slick hand to her back, she had to push back a sob. There was a texture on it, moist that had her fingers sticking together.
Her wings-
They had glued her wings.
Bloom vomited four times before she could straighten her neck again. Her insides were burning, her throat filled with an acid feeling. She inhaled through her nose, pushing the air all the way through to her lungs. And again until she could ease her body.
But as soon as her thoughts wandered to the liquid on her back she started throwing up again. After the first few her stomach had completely emptied out and now the only thing coming out was bile. Her face was covered in sweat and tears. She didn't dare to try and remove the glue, afraid to damage, or worse, rip the wings.
She wanted, so desperately to undo all of it. If only she had listened to Valtor and stayed at Cloud Tower. If she had never acted recklessly and simply figured out a proper plan. It was far too late for that now.
And Valtor, her head hurt to even bare an echo of him. He had to, he simply had to prove that he was still a monster. Have her hate him for it even more than she already did after seeing her parents' last moments.
She wiped her mouth with her hand, dragging herself a few inches away from the vomit. The smell twisted her guts, and she had to fight the gagging and the wish to throw up again. She felt so weak as if not a single ounce of energy was left in her muscles.
She had to get out of there.
Suddenly, the ground beneath her started to move. She felt her hands rise as if pulled at by the chains around them. She hissed at the scratching and blood now leaking along her elbow. The steady movement became abrupt and she was jerked up into a standing position. Bloom screamed as she was lifted into the air, her arms and legs stretching.
Her throat was already raw from vomiting and now she was sure it too might start bleeding from the pressure. She was shaking, spread within the cold air, unable to see anything around her. All that she knew was that the manacles were too tight on her, meaning they were made that way for her on purpose.
She made herself close her mouth, even when she wanted to beg whoever there was to blame to stop.
"What a nice presentation," came a rough male voice from somewhere in the darkness. "Julius please, allow the lady to see." A second later the lights glazed throughout the chamber and Bloom realised in horror that she was in a proper dungeon.
Her eyes were still getting used to the sudden brightness when the man walked over and tugged at one of the chains. Bloom couldn't help it, she screamed again as the pain soared through her. She recognized him now as one of the members of the Council.
"Funny, it took the Trix much longer to break," he said and shot a wave of power towards her shackles. Next to the ripping of skin, an electric wave now surged up her spine and Bloom honestly thought she would die right there. A wail tore along her throat and she cried out, probably tearing her vocal cords.
"Please," she whispered, the attempt of speaking hurting her too.
"You don't get to beg me for anything," the man said and summoned an unfamiliar object into his hands. It was long and thin and the second when Bloom recognized it, he struck.
The whip left a bloody mark on her thigh first.
Then across her rib cage.
The back of her legs.
Her palms.
The wounds flared up instantly and Bloom knew that no amount of healing magic would be able to stop them from scarring.
"Now tell me," he said slowly, dragging out the words. "How can we defeat Valtor?"
Bloom shook her head, unable to form words.
He rose the object again and when it sliced through the air Bloom instinctally closed her eyes.
A high-pitched, ear-piercing sound erupted through the room, coming straight from Bloom's throat.
Her wings.
The whip had struck her wings.
The agonizing feeling seemed to tear her from the inside out. The pain was white, and the dizziness overcame her head. She wasn't sure if anything else she had endured could be measured with this. She wouldn't be able to fly again. No regular healer could mend torn wings.
"Let's try that again," he went on as if nothing happened. As if he didn't destroy parts of her future with a simple move.
"Valtor. What's his weakness?"
She opened her mouth, but only cries came out. "I don't-"
He hit her again.
Each time she couldn't speak out, form a sentence properly or give any answers.
35 times the whip connected with her skin.
"Maybe we should try something else, more effective," he continued and the whip got replaced with- Bloom thought she suffered enough.
In his hand was a brander.
She jerked her body violently even if it was of no use. "No," she whimpered somehow, hoping that it was only a threat and that he wouldn't go that far.
But the tip was blazing orange and she didn't have to feel to know that it was raging hot. He brought it closer, towards one of her legs. The heat radiated onto her in large amounts. It began to hurt rather quickly.
"All of this can stop if you just tell me the truth. What are his weaknesses?"
"He doesn't-" she coughed, pleading him with her red eyes. "-have one."
"Wrong answer," the man replied and forced the brander to her skin.
The dried blood began to melt into the burning flesh and the smell got into her nose before she could even register the torment. Her stomach rose to her mouth and more bile, mixed with blood, fell to the ground.
She didn't have any voice left to shout, so her protests turned into silent screams which still tore her vocal cords.
She wasn't sure if she had passed out, but when her eyes opened again the man was gone, but she still hung in the air. None of her injuries were treated, and none of the blood was removed.
It would get infected and it would slowly kill her. If the blood loss didn't do it first.
She could feel the exposed, still open wounds aching every time she took a breath. Bloom wanted to cry, but by that point, even her tears had dried, her eyes red and burning.
Desperate, she tried to feel her magic, any trace of it. And there, quietly awaiting was her Dragon. But it was so far away and she couldn't reach him.
Please, she begged.
I need you.
The creature seemed to wince.
She could find a way to work with that.
Gone. She was gone.
Her magic was nowhere to be felt, her absence like a hollow shadow inside his mind.
Valtor added the last ingredient into his potion and watched it turn into a muddy shade of brown. He flung the glass bottle and watched it shatter against the wall.
He stepped over a corpse in the hallway, making his way towards the dungeons. None of his locator spells were working. None of the potions. As if whoever took her had completely obliterated her. Once before Valtor would thank them while being jealous he hadn't been the one to do it.
He realized he shouldn't care, but the thought of someone else having access to her powers touched places in his mind that he didn't like thinking about.
It was his, she was his.
Maybe not yet, not completely, but soon. He gritted his teeth as one of the witches approached him.
"Master Valtor, you have a visitor." He recognized the witch up close, it was the Lucy girl who developed a friendship with Bloom during her stay. "Tell them to leave before I rip them apart." He went to walk past her, but Lucy stood in his way. "Miss Faragonda said it wouldn't be wise to refuse her."
Valtor's brow went up. Faragonda coming to Cloud Tower probably meant that the crone was free of Bloom's mark, most likely one of the last people who have seen her. He teleported to the bridge of the castle and saw the image of Faragonda shimmering in the air.
A hologram.
Pathetic.
"Faragonda," he grunted, eyeing her suspiciously.
"It must pain you, doesn't it?" she said, returning his gaze.
"Are you that afraid of me that you have to hide behind artificial technologies?" the end of his mouth went up in a cold grin.
"You are never going to find her Valtor."
Something inside of him twitched. He pushed the feeling away.
"I will tear through the entire Council to get her, Faragonda. Do not think your pathetic staff can stand in my way." With that, he sliced through the hologram and watched it glitch until it disappeared completely.
He smashed open the doors of one of the rooms where witches lay still. He pointed to one of them who instantly rose and walked toward him. "You are going to be perfect."
Layla brushed out the twists in her hair, tying it back into a ponytail. She watched her reflection in the mirror, angry than steady. She exhaled and stood from her bed. One day at Alfea now felt like a thousand anywhere else. And she was so tired of being unable to put an end to it.
She peeked out into the common space of the suite and found it empty. All of the girls were still asleep, as she should probably be, but lately, there seemed to be too much energy in her body. So each morning she would go run a couple of circles around Alfea's courtyard. She exited the main building, saying a passing greeting to Griselda who usually went to check on Faragonda at the same time.
Layla exited the building and saw a murky shape of something outside the main gates. It looked like a person. She took a few steps closer, trying to inspect whatever or whoever it was from the safe distance. Upon a closer look, Layla could make out curls of auburn hair and the skinny appearance of a girl. The Princess of Andros summoned morphix into her left hand just in case as she approached the gates.
"Please, help me," the girl said in a quivering voice. Her posture was all wrong, so thin as if she had been starving, cheeks gaunt with hazel eyes that seemed hollow. Layla didn't like this, especially as she took in the girl's clothes. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, but she was dressed the same as the rest of the witches from Cloud Tower.
"Wait here, I will go get help."
The girl only began to nod, frantically at that.
Palladium and Faragonda were by her side in less than five minutes. They had wanted to help the girl, but all of them were afraid that it could just be another one of Valtor's tricks. So Layla transformed, ready to step out first and use her fairy dust to cleanse any possible curses.
The doors lowered and Layla did as instructed, letting the glittering particles spill over the witch's hair. Nothing happened as they waited. "What's your name?" Faragonda asked as she offered her a blanket. "Miranda," the girl muttered, still shaking. She looked like a mere wind could shatter her.
Layla wondered if she had looked similarly when she strayed out of the woods in front of the Winx last year. And remembered the intense care and warmth the girls offered. Now she wanted nothing more than to do the same and aid to this girl.
"I am Miss Faragonda. We are here to help you," the Headmistress said, looking to Palladium who carried a bag of recovery potions. Layla had never been that interested in the craft, unlike Flora, but she knew the essentials. Like how to brew a liquid which would warm you and heal smaller wounds.
Palladium took a step closer, opened his sack and pulled out one of the glass bottles. It contained a translucent potion that looked like water. Miranda eyed him wearily and then looked to Layla with a plead.
"Um, I think she would be more comfortable if it came from me, right?" Miranda nodded.
So Layla opened the bottle carefully and brought it to Miranda's hands. They were as cold as they looked. The witch sniffed the inside first and inhaled sharply before drinking it all in a single gulp. The witches might have had similar potions in their classes.
Miranda smiled then, as if relieved. Layla watched her eyes fill with warmth.
Before she started to clutch at her throat desperately as if choking.
Palladium was next to her instantly, performing healing and detection spells, but it wasn't working. Miranda started to cough and blood poured from her mouth. She started to cry, kneeling on the floor and still holding her hands to her throat. In a panic, Layla used the fairy dust again, but the witch still sobbed in pain.
Until her body went still and she collapsed to the ground. Palladium pressed two fingers to her throat and his eyes fell as he found no pulse. Miranda was dead.
Layla didn't realize she was shaking until Faragonda placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What-" her voice trembled too. "What just happened?"
"Look," Palladium said, pointing to Miranda's limbs. Sets of red, blood-like letters started appearing along her hand.
One by one Faragonda.
The Headmistress watched the message carve itself, drops of blood now pooling around the letters. "He will kill them all," she whispered and Layla could swear she sounded afraid.
"Faragonda, we need to go there, we need to free the witches," Palladium said, colour draining from his face as another message started to appear, this time on her leg.
She may be next.
"Headmistress, who is she?" Layla asked, trying to stop her stomach from turning.
"Griffin. He will kill Griffin," Faragonda answered, face as pale as the wall behind them. Layla shook her head. "Why? Why now?"
Faragonda's reply was simple and expecting.
"He wants Bloom."
The Princess of Domino knew she was dying.
She had almost died more than a couple of times before, but this time it felt final. While a prisoner of Darkar she knew that throughout all the torture, in the end she would live because he intended to use her. In Omega there had been the sparkle of energy keeping her from slipping, and then after she was attacked at Domino she was healed.
Both times she was saved.
Valtor had saved her.
Bloom hated the thought of it, but it didn't change the truth. She had to remind herself that they had found 40 bodies after his killing spree, a spree he went on to spite her. To show her that he could. That her humanity meant nothing.
And yet she couldn't hide the truth from herself. With him at least she wasn't alone. He might be agonizing to be around, totally inhuman, and a murderer, but he made her feel less lonely.
This time was different. This time she was on her own.
And not even that little small hope, the tug of their bond, was there.
Bloom tried again and again to reach it, to feel even a shred of his consciousness.
Nothing.
She wanted to hug her knees to her chest, sink her head atop of them and stay like that until the last dawn of her days came.
But she still hung in the air, this time merely by her chained wrists as the man removed the shackles from her legs. Her wounds still occasionally reopened, and she would wince every time the warmth of her blood touched her skin. And if she even tried to move her wings, a scream would tear itself from her throat.
When the next councilman on the shift entered, she couldn't even lift her head to look at him. He brought down something to her chin and the object instantly made her want to jerk away. The smell twisted her insides.
He didn't say anything as he stabbed it into her thigh and Bloom cried out. "Maybe today you decide to cooperate," he said and twisted it. It took most of her remaining strength not to shout again.
Her opened flesh was burning, the irritation causing other injuries close to it to flare up as well. A new trail of red leaked down to her knees. Her body began to tremble.
"What does he want with you?" he asked calmly, pulling the object from her leg. Bloom felt her empty stomach rise, but she couldn't even vomit anymore. "Nothing," she managed to say.
"Wrong answer," he said and aimed the spear-looking thing at her forearm. She felt it rip through her skin and muscles, her hand going limp. She wished it meant that she would no longer feel it, but of course, it only made everything hurt ten times worse.
"He killed a witch today, do you know anything about that? Was it some sort of plan?"
She wanted to say how even if she was free Valtor would hardly tell her something let alone now that she was trapped. But she couldn't find her voice which made the man think she wasn't responding on purpose.
"I wonder would you feel the same if I went to touch your wings." Bloom began to convulse violently. She wanted to plead and beg and cry for him to stay away, to say that her wing was already damaged and that she would die if he ripped it.
But no sound came out. The man rounded her and snapped his fingers. Bloom felt her chains lengthen, lowering her closer to the ground and within his reach. He was inspecting the state of her back. Bloom could no longer see him and it terrified her all the more. She felt him drag some sort of blade across the back of her neck, then lower, stopping just above her wings.
"Please-" it came out broken. She heard the man laugh under his breath before he came into view again. "It is safe to say that if we cut off your wings, you would sooner bleed out than tell us anything useful."
He walked towards what must be the exit to the dungeons before he said: "If physical torture doesn't work on you, maybe we will have more luck with breaking your mental shields."
Bloom shuddered at the thought as the memory of being briefly trapped in Faragonda's mind played out in her mind. She wondered if would it be anything similar.
And then the man smiled at her and Bloom realized that she wanted nothing more than to snap his neck and watch that light erase itself from his eyes.
Did that make her the same as Valtor? To want to hunt down the people who had tortured her? She didn't know the answer.
And a good part of her no longer seemed to care.