How long had it been since she’d been imprisoned in this durance of light? This radiant place that resembled a celestial cloister, something out of the stories of heaven in many cultures and religions? Yet this radiant prison was that: a jail, a tortuous cell of pure light that burned away at her undead flesh twenty-four hours, seven days a week without leaving a single burn, leaving her in perpetual vampire’s agony. She needed to scream, but no one could hear her. She could barely hear herself over the perpetual hum of solar light, its forever-scorching incinerating every extremity of her body and melting away at her core – all while simultaneously keeping her agonizingly alive.
The Mundilfari heiress – the Countess – the prime minister’s crimson eyes were clenched shut. It was all she could do to try and forget the light burning her moment-to-moment.
That was the curse of Majestic Maximillian. That was the hell that he’d prepared for undead like Viola Mundilfari. Not the hell of fire and brimstone, of sulphur and isolation from God. No, this was a celestial hell that Majestic Max had crafted specially for the dark champion of Arendelle.
It was morning. Or was it night? It didn’t matter, not anymore. Her gaol was perpetual. Majestic Max telepathically suspended her naked body in the air of her own throne room in Mundilfari Keep, paralyzed, melting away forever with her consciousness cruelly intact. He smiled sadistically as he enjoyed the crackling of sunbeams wrapping around Vi, having watched her in this state of torture for over several weeks.
Continue reading “Alan and Hilde, Part Two: Let Loose the Wolves”