Ianora
Ianora followed the ghost until the tunnel, once again, widened, this time into a large, underground chamber with a high ceiling. Shadows danced across the tall, flat walls, spawned by the four torches burning on either side of the entrance Ianora had come through.
There were no adornments in the chamber, but the ground was smooth and polished as if this space had been intentionally crafted. In the center of the wide space sat the only thing of note: a large, black piece of furniture. She couldn't tell what it was from a distance, but when she walked closer, she found that it was a coffin.
Ianora ran her fingers along the glossy surface, her skin tingling from the magic humming within. She had seen many luxury coffins in her time, and this one rivaled those made for kings and queens. The craftsmanship, the magic, it was so strange to find a coffin so valuable hidden here, in the dregs of this ancient castle.
The ghost floated closer to Ianora and sat on the edge of the coffin, her legs dangling off the side. "It's something, isn't it?"
"I've never seen anything like it. What is this doing here?" Ianora murmured, her fingers trailing along to the head of the coffin, where there was a glass slit to see the velvet interior. She lifted her eyes to look at the ghost. "Do you know?"
The ghost nodded. "My father had it made for me."
"For you? Why?"
"My father ran a successful coffin design company in Italy three hundred years ago. We made the best coffins for royalty, nobles, anyone with enough coin to pay for the finest resting place for their earthly bodies."
Although Ianora herself had not gone to Earth, the other world connected to Elysium, her brothers had often spoken of the land with fondness. It had once been the place they disappeared to for weeks on end, feasting to their hearts' content with no consequences until it was time for their return. Often with a bounty of slaves. Such practices had since been outlawed, but the princes still found other reasons to visit the land. Ianora, however, had never been interested in hiding the fact that she was a vampire, or acting any less like the princess she had been born to be.
"But how did you end up here?" Ianora asked.
"King Castor's men kidnapped us and turned us into vampires, declaring that we would only make our coffins for the rich and famous. The most important vampires in Pheazar. And perhaps, elsewhere too. We didn't have much of a choice, but in the end, it worked out for us. We became rich, too. Our family was well-respected in Pheazar."
Ianora noted thewasin that statement and kept her mouth shut.
"In the end, my father became so sick with power that he decided I was to be a gift to King Castor, just as you are now," she explained. "My name was Lady Mitron. I was not a real princess like you ... but I fancied myself one. Especially once my father made me believe I had a chance to become a queen, to rule by a king's side and have the privilege of bearing him children."
The ghost, Lady Mitron, wore a smile as if she was caught in a reverie. Meanwhile, Ianora's mouth went dry. She never knew that Castor had ever planned to marry anyone else. From what he said, he had never been interested in anyone but her. Had he lied to her? Did that even matter when she didn't want to be his anymore?
Of course, Ianora had one unsatisfactory possibility. His situation could have been similar to hers, even back then. He could have been forced into an arrangement he didn't like. But Castor was a king. He was afforded the luxury of choice where young women such as Ianora were not.
Without hearing the rest of the story, it was easy to assume that lack of choice was why Mitron was dead, and Castor was not.
"But you're a ghost," Ianora said, confused. "What happened?"
"Castor rejected me," Mitron said simply. Her wistful expression was turned to one of sorrow. "He told me, with genuine regret, that his heart had been reserved for another. There would be no wedding between him and me, and that he had never come to an agreement with my father. Though my father was insistent. I was humiliated ... but not enough so that I gave up. You see, I was persistent because my father was not a good man. Immortality was not good for him. He pushed me, threatened me, and said I would have no home if I did not secure this marriage. This went on for years, and the longer Castor went without his true love, the darkness in Castor's heart set in. One day, he had enough of my games and attempts to win him over. He snapped, and the rest is history."
"And the coffin?" Ianora prompted.
"My father had it sent here after he heard the news of my death. I was to be buried in it," she said, gaining a wicked look on her face. "But, my father knew that Castor would not oblige. By that point, he had become a horrible, cruel monster, so twisted by the desire to find his lost love that he could not afford me the simple courtesy of a burial. However, my father's cruelty rivaled that of the king, you see. He knew what he would do if he were in Castor's position, and so he laid a trap within the coffin, expecting Castor to claim it for himself."
"But it didn't work," Ianora observed. "Or else he wouldn't be running around, ruining other people's lives."
"It worked for a while, you know. It was made to put the one inside into an eternal, deathlike sleep. Castor laid inside, but before my father could ransom the king's escape, one of his servants broke him free, and Castor killed my father, too." Mitron scoffed. "Deserved it, he did."
Ianora looked down at her hands, unable to look at Mitron anymore once her story had concluded. Shame and guilt burned inside her like a fiery torrent. She knew with absolute certainty that if Ianora had made better, or at least different, choices when she was with Castor, Mitron would still be alive.
Back then, Ianora and Castor had the chance to find love, real love, but rather than embrace her fear and the dangers following her in the darkness. She had ripped the opportunity to shreds. She had thought that they would survive the shadows chasing her by not being with him. However, seeing what her rejection had done to Castor, she knew now that it had been the wrong choice.
If only she could go back in time and undo that single mistake. The decision not to trust Castor with the choice that had drastically affected their lives since then, none of this would have happened.
And worse, turning Castor away did not change the fact that Johnathan was still out there looking for Ianora, too, with far worse intentions than Castor's.
"I'm so sorry this has happened to you," Ianora said. "I wish I could undo the harm done to you and your family."
"What's done is done," Mitron said. "The future, though, is for you to decide."
Mitron slid down the side of the coffin, and when she raised her hand, the lid popped open to reveal a pristine crimson interior. Despite the age the coffin must be, nothing about it looked old or used at all.
"The coffin does not kill. It puts whoever goes inside into a deep sleep. You could use it to escape Castor for good," Mitron said.
Ianora stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"You would be put into a coma, a stasis-like state. You could sleep inside for centuries without blood, unbothered by the passage of time. So long as no one finds you, Castor included."
An escape. Not the kind that Ianora had imagined, but if she could not run from him, wasn't it second best to fall beyond his reach? With the curse, Castor could not harm Ianora's family even if she disappeared on him. They would be safe, and here, he would be unable to touch her.
"But doesn't Castor know that the coffin is here?" Ianora said. "He did, after all, sleep in it for a time. Surely, I couldn't escape him in that case. I would still be his prisoner and perhaps in a worse state than I am now."
"That was over twenty years ago. He hasn't come to this part of the castle in longer than that. He doesn't know it's here, princess. He would never even know to look."
Ianora's fingers brushed the soft interior of the coffin, tempted by the promise of evading Castor forever. They would never be wed, he would never take her virginity, and she would never be forced to debase herself to him.
She felt strengthened by this prospect, the possibility of withholding everything he coveted from her. Herself, her body, her heart, and her mind.
But at the same time, sorrow also carved through her stomach and chest. To fall asleep in the coffin would mean giving up on the dream she had once had of being with him again. Of escaping her past and reigniting their love.
Coming to Pheazar had not been a choice. But here, she was presented with a genuine choice for the first time since the engagement contract had been signed without her consent.