Running right out the doors, I realized I remembered exactly where to go.
Around the corner, down the hall, and up two sets of stairs.
"Slow down!"
Drifta protested.
"There is no one here. They are all dead."
"Not what I meant, and you don't know that! Stop. Now. And let us take a deep breath!"
Drifta pulled on all the brakes- not that it would stop me, but it would only make everything more complicated. But it was a clear sign of her protest. I didn't want to fight her, and I didn't have the energy or desire to go against her. As I reached the last staircase, I stopped. My lungs screamed for air, and a deep throbbing sensation working in waves through my body filled my mouth with a sharp metallic and heavily sweet taste. It felt like my head, heart, and lungs were about to explode.
"And you are out of shape! Deep breaths, come on. I know, I saw it too. What we saw in that room was evil and dreadful! But you can't escape the images in your head, sweety."
Drifta's stern, scolding voice softly changed into a warm, caring tone.
For a couple of seconds, I spaced out, stared straight into nothing, and saw absolutely nothing but memories. I saw limbs twisted into unnatural angles. Blood tossed on walls and ceiling like someone swung his paintbrush dripping with paint around the room. The pile of fay ears on the white windowsill, blood dripping over the edge down to the floor like thick, dark syrup.
The amount of torture, unnecessary pain, humiliation, and horror in that room had been overwhelming. Wounds and cuts were inflicted while they were still alive. Someone cut their ears off, the fay people's proudest trait. Just cut them off and gathered them on top of each other, on display right in front of the window. Then, the last thing I saw was that strange object I stared at without looking. My eyes were glued to the shapeless lump, bathing in blood on the dirty floor. It took a while, but a switch turned when my brain slowly registered what it was. I don't know what to call panic mode or frantic behavior reaction.
I ran.
My head had desperately searched for all other explanations for what we saw, but there was none. Drifta was right; I'm acting irrationally right now and reacting to fear or panic. Closing my eyes, I forced down deep breaths. I was convincing myself to accept and block out. Calm down. With my eyes still closed, taking unnaturally slow and deep breaths, I spoke to Drifta with a shaking voice,
"Who does that!?"
"I don't know. I really do not know. I've seen a lot: war, torture, fights, and blood baths. But this looks like a slaughterhouse. They didn't fight back; how could they? They were tied on hands and feet, some even to the floor, around the necks and knees. Still..."
Drifta's head slowly shook from one side to the other, still struggling to accept the amount of pain gathered in that room.
"On the floor, in the blood, was that...?"
"Yes, yes, it was."
My stomach tightened, threatening to empty itself with small neurotic contractions as Drifta confirmed what I already knew.
"I hope they waited until after."
I muttered while I did my best to hold my stomach contents down.
"Judging from the amount of blood, unfortunately, I don't think they did."
Drifta almost whispered back. Most of the bodies had their stomach cut wide open, and their intestine pulled out. One of the bodies nearly leaned up against the wall facing the room. But leading up to him, we first saw a massive dark stain, and then something had been dragged through the blood, and a little further behind, a couple of bloody handprints. That poor soul was definitely alive when someone decided to pull everything out of him.
"Why all the violence? That.. That was more a horror scene or image of a delusional serial killer's hobby room."
"I have no idea Eir. I don't. But I have a bad feeling about it all. We need to find your sister and get the hell out."
"I agree. Let us check my old room, and then we can leave this place."
"No, I mean yes. But we need to leave Fay land. Something feels strange here, like a lingering shadow of magic left behind, and I don't like it. I swear all my small hairs are standing straight!"
Opening my eyes, I walked up the last step and stared down the corridor. It was quiet. All doors on each side closed, and all the lights were turned off. This was not that unusual; it was the middle of the day, and the sun gave the long hall some faded natural light. But it was empty. No guards. No staff, not even a sign of the boys that worked with housekeeping here. It is too quiet, and I expected that. But still, I had hoped to see one guard. Just one man standing by one door, indicating my sister might still be here.
"What if..."
"No, just no. Let us check first. I don't want to do that right now. I don't have the energy for what-ifs and all that. Let us start with my old room and take it from there."
Drifta didn't argue, only nodded once in agreement. Without another word, we made our way down the hall. I focused on the last door on the right- the room I stayed in. We didn't open the other doors, didn't look in the different rooms- it felt like we came to a silent agreement not to. It didn't feel necessary.
I knew the room was empty; I could feel it but refused to accept it. Doubt whispering: I would have heard steps, movements, breaths, or even heartbeats. I would smell them, blood or not. But then again, so many people have been here. Different creatures, magic, and mythical ones. How am I supposed to know for sure? All these strange smells might hide another; I mean, I think I remember Toke talking about humans' smell much less than most shifters and magic creatures, like Fay.
Watching my hand reach out in slow motion and grab the door handle, I keep making excuses. It is an old building, a freaking castle even! Is each room soundproofed? Maybe old materials devour sounds, blocking it in? My hand twisted the door handle, and a metallic click echoed around me, and I paused. I held the door there open but still closed before I pushed the door gently. With a hollow, long-lasting squeak, it slid open.
A curtain blew in the wind, and the window slammed shut before it opened widely.
I recognized the room. The gold details, massive bed, and even the deep red bedspread. But it looked like someone ransacked it. In a corner, a wooden chair was snapped in two. Small pieces of broken mirror shattered on the floor. Pillows and bedspread were tossed on the floor. My heart skipped a beat, and I took a step inside the room when I saw it.