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hellinistical · 20 days ago

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taglist: @0chemicalwaste0 @Hinachan @trishiepo0

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence wc: 3962 a/n: finals are over so back to updating :)

IV: RICH RED SOIL

The wheels creaked loud enough to be heard from the inside of the carriage. Y/n’s stomach twisted as the carriage rattled forward, the scent of sweat and fear clinging to the heavy air inside. The other girls packed tightly together, each wearing the same expression of tense resignation. No one spoke; their faces were drawn, eyes flitting between each other and the curtained windows as if answers lay somewhere outside.

Y/n tried to ignore the leftover taste of the roast clinging to her tongue, a reminder of her mother’s desperate insistence and the reality of what lay ahead. She swallowed hard, pressing her forehead against the cool glass pane, hoping it might ease the rising nausea. The muted rhythm of the wheels on the cobblestones should have been calming, but it felt like a countdown instead, each clack taking them further from their homes and closer to whatever fate awaited.

One of the girls beside her, a frail brunette with wide eyes, fidgeted with the hem of her dress. She kept glancing nervously at Y/n as if wanting to say something but unsure of where to start. Y/n finally turned to her, giving a slight nod of encouragement.

“Do… do you think it’s true?” the girl whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wheels. “The stories… about the sacrifices?”

Y/n tried to keep her expression steady, though she felt a flicker of dread deep inside. She didn’t know what was true and what was fiction anymore. But as she looked at the girl, she forced herself to keep her voice calm.

“They’re just stories to scare us, aren’t they?” Y/n murmured, more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. “I’m sure the capital has better things to do than… that.”

The girl’s lips trembled into a small, hopeful smile. “I… I hope you’re right.”

Y/n settled back against the window, though her pulse was still racing. The cloth draped over the carriage windows dimmed the interior, casting everything in muted shadows. It made the cramped space feel even smaller, the dark corners pressing in on them like a heavy weight. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could pull back the curtain to see where they were going, but the guards had made it clear: the windows stayed covered.

The faint flickers of light that managed to seep through the fabric only teased at the passing scenery outside. Was it still farmland, or had they reached the outskirts of the capital? She couldn’t tell, and that uncertainty gnawed at her. Y/n’s reflection faintly mirrored back at her on the glass pane—her face pale, her freckles standing out like constellations against the dim light. She stared at herself for a long moment, wondering what the capital had planned for her.

The hushed sniffles of one of the girls nearby broke the silence, and the sound tightened the knot in her chest. Y/n turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking to the others. The frail brunette from before had drawn her knees to her chest, clutching the fabric of her skirt tightly in her fists, her lips pressed into a thin line to keep from sobbing aloud. Another girl, with golden hair braided neatly over her shoulder, stared blankly at her lap, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the hem of her dress as though in a trance.

If anything, the sound of sniffles was annoying. Y/n’s nerves were already taut, and the incessant whimpering only added to the stifling discomfort. Across from her, Harlow Bianchi seemed to think so, too. The tall, sharp-eyed girl leaned forward, her lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. Finally, she snapped, “Will you get a hold of yourself, or do you want them to hear you crying?”

The frail brunette immediately shrank into herself, her sniffles cutting off abruptly, though her wide, watery eyes darted nervously toward the carriage door, as if expecting a guard to burst in at any moment. Harlow rolled her eyes, leaning back against the carriage wall. “Honestly,” she muttered under her breath, “as if the rest of us aren’t already miserable enough.”

Y/n glanced sideways at Harlow, unsure if she wanted to thank her for the silence or curse her for the coldness. Harlow caught her eye and raised a brow, her smirk sharp and humorless. “What? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for her.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Y/n replied flatly, but her jaw tightened.

Harlow scoffed, crossing her arms. “Good. Because pity’s not going to get anyone out of this mess.” Her voice dropped lower, though it carried the same biting edge. “If you think the capital cares about tears, you’re fooling yourself.”

Y/n turned her gaze back to the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Harlow wasn’t wrong, but her words only added to the knot in Y/n’s stomach. The capital didn’t care about their tears or their fears.

"Jerk," Y/n mumbled under her breath, just loud enough to voice her frustration but not loud enough for Harlow to hear. She didn’t want to get into it with the baker’s daughter—especially not now, when everyone was already packed like sardines in the cramped, stifling carriage, and the mood was about as cheerful as a funeral march.

Harlow didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just didn’t care. She sat with her arms crossed and her legs stretched as far as the limited space would allow, exuding an air of indifference that grated on Y/n’s nerves. Across from them, the brunette was still sniffling softly, her tears now silent but persistent, and a pale blonde girl next to her patted her arm half-heartedly as though she wasn’t sure what else to do.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pressing her back against the wooden panel of the carriage. She stared at the cloth covering the window, trying to focus on the faint light filtering through it rather than the oppressive closeness of the space or the lingering taste of the roast sitting uneasily in her stomach.

Her thoughts drifted to home, to her family. Were they okay? Did Caleb leave, or was he still sulking somewhere in the barn? She frowned. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to think about Caleb, her mother, or her father’s worn face as he tried to stay strong for her. Not now. Not when she had no idea where she was being taken or what the capital would demand of her.

The carriage hit a bump, jolting everyone inside. Harlow cursed under her breath, and one of the other girls yelped, gripping the side of the seat as if that might stabilize her.

“Could they drive any worse?” Harlow muttered, shooting a glare toward the front of the carriage as though the guards could hear her through the thick wooden walls.

“Probably,” Y/n replied dryly, earning herself a brief, surprised glance from Harlow. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break the tension, if only for a moment.

"LET ME OUT!" the brunette suddenly screamed, her fists pounding against the carriage door. The confined space seemed to amplify the sound, making everyone flinch. Before she could cry out again, Harlow leaned over and slapped a hand over the girl’s mouth with a sharp, resounding pop, silencing her. "Shut the hell up!" Harlow hissed, her eyes blazing with irritation. But before anyone could say another word, the carriage jolted violently, throwing the girls against each other as it screeched to an abrupt halt. The unmistakable sound of hooves clattering and muffled voices shouting outside followed. “Fuck,” Harlow muttered under her breath, glancing toward the door as if expecting it to burst open at any second. She took her hand off of the girl’s mouth, wiping it off on her skirt in disgust.

Heavy boots thudded outside, the sound drawing closer. The blonde froze mid-sob, her wild eyes darting toward the door as though she’d only just realized what she’d done. The other girls sat motionless, tension thick in the air, their breaths held in terrified anticipation.

The door creaked open, revealing one of the guards, his expression stony and unimpressed. “What the hell is going on in here?” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make the blonde flinch.

The blonde shrank back into her seat, her head bowed, but the guard wasn’t having it. He stepped into the carriage, his presence making the cramped space feel even smaller, and scanned the girls with a steely gaze.

“You think this is a game?” he growled, his eyes locking on the blonde. “You want to make this harder for everyone? Do it again, and I’ll make sure you’re gagged for the rest of the trip.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I just— I didn’t—”

“Enough.” His tone was final. He straightened, glancing at the rest of the girls. “Anyone else feel like causing problems?”

No one said a word.

“That’s what I thought.” He stepped back out of the carriage and slammed the door shut behind him. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward again, throwing everyone back against their seats.

For a while, no one spoke. The blonde sat hunched over, silently crying, while the rest of the girls avoided looking at her.

“Great,” Harlow muttered under her breath, breaking the silence. “As if this wasn’t bad enough already.”

Outside of the carriage, they can hear the men complaining about the brunette "That Miss Lindsey is pretty as a bird but god is she whiny." Outside the carriage, the muffled voices of the guards filtered through the walls, their conversation clear enough to hear over the clatter of wheels on the dirt road. “That Miss Lindsey is pretty as a bird,” one of them grumbled, his tone laced with irritation. “But gods, is she whiny. Makes me wanna rip my ears off.” A chuckle followed. “You’d think with a face like that, she’d have more sense to keep her mouth shut.�� “Pretty don’t fix stupid,” the first guard muttered. “If it did, this trip would be a lot quieter.” The second guard laughed. “Betcha she’ll be the first one to cry when they see the Capitol. Always the loud ones that fall apart the fastest.” Their words stung even from behind the cloth-covered window, making Y/n’s stomach churn. She glanced at Lindsey, who sat trembling and pale, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The blonde was still silently crying, her tears slipping down her flushed cheeks. Whether she’d heard the guards’ cruel remarks was unclear, but the atmosphere in the carriage was heavy with discomfort. “Assholes,” Harlow muttered, her arms crossed as she leaned against the side of the carriage. Y/n bit her lip, unsure of whether to feel pity for Lindsey or annoyance at how her outburst had painted a target on all their backs.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering between the sobbing blonde and the others. The words from the guards were cruel, but there was something about them that made her feel uneasy. They weren’t wrong, though—Lindsey had made an already difficult situation worse, but that didn’t mean she deserved to be mocked.

The carriage jolted again, and the sounds of the guards grew fainter, but the weight of their words lingered in the air, hanging over the girls like a storm cloud. Y/n felt a tightening in her chest, a deep frustration that made her want to scream, but she knew better than to give into it. There was nothing to be gained from making noise, nothing to change.

"Assholes," Harlow repeated, though her tone had softened a little, like she was trying to calm herself. She flicked a glance toward the rest of the girls, her sharp eyes scanning the group.

"Keep your head down," she added quietly to Y/n, leaning in close. "We're all in the same mess, and the last thing we need is to start a fight among ourselves."

Y/n gave a small nod, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The weight of what was coming—the Capitol, the uncertainty, the fear—had settled in her gut like a stone. What would it be like when they finally arrived? What kind of people would they meet? What kind of future awaited them all in that foreign place?

Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her dress as she tried to block out the conversation of the guards and the sounds of Lindsey’s muffled sobs. She couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not when it was still too far away, still too unknown.

"Caleb’s an idiot," Y/n muttered to herself, more to focus her thoughts than anything else.

But it was true. Even if he had given her the ring, it wasn’t going to change anything.

*** After 2 hours, Lindsey's sniffles faltered for a moment, and she looked up, her tear-streaked face a mixture of surprise and hurt. The other girls in the carriage shifted uncomfortably, the tension growing thicker with each passing minute. Y/n's words hung in the air, her frustration too loud and raw to ignore.

"I said, shut it," Y/n repeated, her voice sharper now. She was past the point of caring about appearances or keeping the peace. The sound of Lindsey’s constant sniffling was grating on her nerves, and the weight of the situation was starting to crush her patience.

Lindsey wiped her face with a trembling hand, her lips quivering. "I—I’m sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, but the quiet sobs started again almost immediately, quieter this time.

Y/n let out a frustrated breath and leaned back against the carriage wall. She hadn’t meant to snap, but the relentless tension in the cramped space, the discomfort of the journey, and the impending sense of doom were all catching up with her. The guards’ earlier words still echoed in her mind. She wondered if they thought they were all going to break the same way—if they thought all the girls were just fragile, easily crushed beneath the weight of whatever was waiting for them in the Capitol.

"Gods, if I wanted to hear all this crying, I’d have stayed back in Linkon if I could," Y/n muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

A quiet silence fell over the carriage, the kind that made the air feel thick. Y/n’s mind raced with thoughts of the unknown, of what would happen when they reached their destination. Her chest felt tight, and though the anger at Lindsey was still there, it seemed small compared to the dread that had settled deep inside her.

At the edge of the silence, Harlow’s voice broke through. "Save it for when we get there, Y/n. We’re all stuck here, and none of us know what’s coming next. Might as well keep our heads down for now."

Y/n shot Harlow a quick glance, but she nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to start a fight that could only make things worse. She wasn’t sure what it was about the other girl’s tone—something almost sympathetic, something that made her feel like she wasn’t alone in this miserable situation.

The moments dragged on in silence, the only sound now the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels on the road, the occasional sniffle from Lindsey, and the muffled voices of the guards outside.

***

The landscape outside the carriage was bleak, a barren stretch of land that seemed to go on forever under the grey sky. The road they traveled on was a worn dirt path, riddled with potholes and ruts, making every bump feel like a sharp jolt to the bones. Dust rose in clouds behind them, settling over the carriage like a thin veil that blurred everything in its wake.

On either side of the road, sparse trees stood like forgotten sentinels, their branches bare, stripped of leaves by the harsh winds that blew across the open plains. There were no fields of crops or signs of life; only a few scraggly bushes and dry grasses clung to the earth. The land had an unwelcoming, desolate feel to it—empty, lifeless, as if it had long ago given up hope of seeing anything but the occasional passerby.

In the distance, dark hills loomed on the horizon, their tops barely visible beneath the heavy cloud cover that hung low in the sky. The clouds themselves were thick and oppressive, casting the world in a perpetual state of twilight, dimming the already muted landscape even further. The light that filtered through them was pale, as if the sun had lost its strength, struggling to break through the gloom.

As the carriage continued forward, the wind picked up, sending dry dust swirling around them. The smell of the earth was stale, mingling with the faint scent of the horses and the musty air inside the carriage. It was a landscape that seemed to suck all color from the world, leaving only shades of brown and grey. There was no sign of the vibrant world they had left behind in Linkon, no warmth or life to be found. Just the cold, harsh expanse leading them somewhere they didn’t want to go.

Just south of the carriage, a storm was gathering, its ominous presence impossible to ignore. The dark and swollen clouds seemed to churn with unnatural speed, twisting and folding into themselves like a living thing. The air grew heavier, thick with the promise of something violent. A faint rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, the first signs of what was quickly becoming a full-blown tempest.

As the storm surged, the wind began to howl, pushing the branches of the few remaining trees into frantic motions. Once a dull gray, the sky now darkened into an almost oppressive black, casting long shadows across the barren land. The edges of the clouds began to pulse with erratic flashes of lightning, brief but blinding as they illuminated the rolling hills below.

If Y/n could have seen through the cloth blocking her view, she would have noticed how the storm seemed to grow with every passing moment, sweeping across the land, sending dust and debris into the air like a prelude to a much larger chaos. The wind began to pick up, tugging at the fabric of the carriage and making the wheels creak as they spun through the uneven road.

The carriage creaked under the weight of its passengers, the sudden tension outside palpable as the storm rumbled closer. Y/n could hear the voices of the guards through the thin cloth, their conversation drowned out by the heavy wind that now howled through the trees. The distant flashes of lightning added an eerie glow to the landscape, but it was the storm itself—its raw power—that was starting to make her feel uneasy.

The guards’ calm dismissal of the weather only made the unease worse. They weren’t worried. But Y/n could sense something was wrong. The winds felt like they were building up, preparing for something violent to break.

The soil outside turned a dull red as the rain began to fall in steady droplets. It wasn’t heavy yet, but the land itself seemed to be reacting to the weather, the earth growing darker as if absorbing the rain in slow, deliberate swallows. The air smelled of damp soil and something metallic like the world itself was holding its breath.

Luke, the man at the reins, had glanced back towards the carriage, his brow furrowed with indecision. The hesitation in his voice when he asked if they should stop suggested that even he was starting to feel the weight of the atmosphere. But the guards, wrapped in their practicality, continued to push forward, determined to reach their destination on time.

"Keep going," one of the guards snapped, his voice sharp against the low growls of thunder. "The capital’s close, and we’re not stopping until we get there."

The winds howled louder as the carriage lurched forward, but the guards' determination remained unshaken. One of them, perhaps more eager than the others, chimed in with a casual tone, almost dismissive of the brewing storm.

"Right. We made good progress. We'll probably even get lucky and get there before the end of the month!" His voice rang with a sort of reckless optimism, though it didn't quite reach the eyes of the other guards, who were now glancing nervously at the skies.

Inside the carriage, the rhythmic motion of the wheels against the road and the hum of the wind outside lulled most of the girls into a sleepy haze. The constant rattling seemed to blend with the soft murmurs of voices, and soon, the atmosphere inside was thick with a quiet lethargy. Even the girls who had been fidgeting or whispering moments earlier were now resting, their eyes fluttering shut, unaware of the growing tension around them.

Y/n, however, remained alert. She wasn’t tired, not after the emotional weight of the past days, and the unsettling energy of the journey kept her wide-eyed. Her gaze flicked between the girls, their faces softened by sleep and the distant outline of the storm that loomed just beyond the windows.

The air in the carriage was stale, thick with the scent of damp fabric and the faint hint of fear. But despite everything, there was a quiet hum of resignation—of girls who had no choice but to sit in silence and let the storm, both outside and inside, unfold. The dark clouds that loomed beyond seemed to mirror the thoughts in her mind—heaviness, uncertainty, and an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as an unfamiliar sensation washed over her. It felt as though something was tugging at the very core of her being, pulling her in an invisible direction. Her chest tightened, and a heavy weight settled there as though a string was drawn tight across her ribs. The feeling was sudden and all-consuming, forcing her to clutch the side of the seat for support.

Her eyes darted around the carriage, looking for any explanation, but nothing seemed amiss. The other girls were still asleep, their faces relaxed and unaware. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to shake off the sensation, but it only seemed to grow stronger.

Was it the journey? Was it the tension of what was to come? No. This was something else. Something that felt familiar, yet distant—like an invisible hand reaching out to her, pulling her toward a place she didn’t understand.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. Her mind raced, images flashing in her mind of the sea, of the storm, of something deep beneath the waves, but nothing made sense.

With a quiet gasp, she steadied herself against the pull in her chest. The feeling was impossible to ignore.

Y/n pounded her chest a couple of times, frustration mounting as the sensation continued to gnaw at her. It felt as if something—or someone—was pulling her, dragging her towards the sea, towards something that had always been just out of reach but never this intense. The pressure tightened, making it harder to breathe. She leaned forward, clutching her knees, as though trying to steady herself against the invisible force.

"Get a grip," she muttered under her breath, her voice low and strained. She looked around, half-expecting someone to notice her discomfort, but the other girls remained asleep, oblivious to her inner turmoil. She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, but it was useless. The feeling was unrelenting, and it seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

In desperate frustration, she slammed her fist against the side of the carriage, hoping for some relief, but it only made her chest tighter.

Why now? Why this feeling in the middle of this godforsaken trip?

As she sank back into her seat, she squeezed her eyes shut.

And the red soil got richer with the rain.

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