"Joan." Like a faint ghostly whisper, I stir at the sound of my name being called. "Joan, wake up."

The voice beckons me so gently that I'm able to ease out of my sleep without a fit, yet at the same time everything feels surreal like a lucid dream or something.

"Come outside," The ethereal voice calls.

Sitting up, I notice the faint light coming in from the entrance- it's the only thing that lets me know that I'm actually awake and not going crazy (or blind).

Unlike me, I delay getting up and exiting the burrow- not because of common sense but because

I'm not sure if anyone else is hearing this voice or if it's just me. Maybe it's like some divine power or whatever trying to tell me something important to my mission.

As if to get me to take that first step, the voice gently coaxes me again. "Come."

If this is a sign of help or anything crucial to my mission then I'm not going to miss it. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I carefully make my way to the entrance, trying not to disturb anybody in the process. Crawling through the tight space, I emerge on the other side, squinting my eyes as a bright, white light overwhelms me. When I open my eyes again, I'm met with a shocking change of scenery.

What I'm expecting is the usual steamy, humid-cursed pitch-black jungle, but what I arrive at is a grand, light-filled ballroom humming with cheerful murmurs from an elegantly dressed crowd. Peering down from the balcony I stand on, I watch the happy couples dance to the lively orchestra while I try to figure out what I might have accidentally eaten to give me this delusion. It's like a scene from a Disney princess movie or some medieval romantic scene.

"What the?"

My attention, though, is diverted when I hear the same voice call out to me again.

"Joan."

Looking down into the crowd, I can't seem to pinpoint the origin of the voice but I know whoever is calling me is down there somewhere.

This is just too weird for me so late at night so I decide to return where I came, but just as I'm about to turn around, that voice calls out to me again.

"They're waiting on you."

Confused, I look back over the balcony and realize that the once lively crowd has paused and everyone's eyes are trained up at me, waiting expectantly. The music has come to a lull and it feels like I'm holding up the party.

I'm not one to freeze up, but this actually takes me off-guard and I'm not sure what to do. What are they expecting of me (and don't they know I never meet people's expectations)? Like a deer in headlights, I stare back at them like a moron, ready to bounce when the same alluring voice instructs me.

"Come down."

Not sure when I started listening to random voices in my head that don't belong to me, but after a brief delay, I slowly start to descend down the grand staircase.

I'm not sure what I'm expecting when I reach the bottom. Like, are they going to jump me? Am I going to wake up from this mind fuck? I'm literally walking into the unknown.

"Look at you," The voice coos. "Have a look for yourself."

I'm confused what they're referring to until I pause on the last landing and look straight ahead at my reflection in the mirror.

Not only is the scenery different, but I'm different.

Instead of the clothes I've been sporting for days, I wear a dark serpentine color, off-shoulder, long lace sleeve ball gown that glitters like a starry night under the soft light. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen or worn- and it fits me like a glove; the color compliments my skin tone while the v-neck highlights my hooters in a flattering way (unheard of when it comes to dresses for me). To top it all of, I wear a matching necklace that looks like it came from a pricey art museum. But my wardrobe isn't the only change. My usual frizzy, curly mane has been tamed into an elegantly complex updo that looks Pinterest worthy- not to mention my hair looks sleek and richly brown. Probably the most shocking transformation of all is my face. I'm still me but with smooth, porcelain skin- like a doll's- and soft pink lips that look as natural as the light blush on my cheeks- as opposed to my usual flushed face when I've just finished a sprint. Even the faint traces of glitter on my eyelids looks natural, like I woke up looking this fresh and model ready; even down to my well-manicured hands and- I'm sure- toes.

Hell, I don't recognize myself all dressed up like this! It's kind of freaky how good I can look!

I linger by the mirror, still in shock over my transformation, for a few more minutes until I remember that everyone's waiting for me. They probably don't appreciate some mouth-breather holding up their party so she can ogle in the mirror like a bigger moron than she already is.

So looking out into the crowd to find the voice that's calling me, I continue my descent until I finally arrive at the bottom of the stairs. I nearly trip over my dress once or twice, but I stay upright even with the added bonus of high-heels.

I thought once I got to the bottom of this thing- without breaking my neck- that the party would resume and the attention diverted from me, but they're still watching me like there's something I'm missing.

"Come to me."

The voice sound closer, so close I can trace it easily now.

Like the Red Sea, the crowd parts for me as I make my way to the center of the open room where the voice calls for me like a siren. As I walk between the crowd, I notice that I'm the only one wearing the color green, making me stand out even more. It's strange because everyone wears a look of awe or admiration for me as I pass, which is an uncommon reaction for people to have of me. I'm not worried about anyone else, though, I need to get to that voice.

It feels like the center is miles away, but at last, the crowd finishes parting for me, and there stands the one who's been beckoning me this entire time.

"You look like a divine vision."

Seething, I bunch up my dress. "Tymos."

How I didn't know it was his creepy ass calling me this entire is beyond me (God knows I hear that bastard's voice more than any human being should).

The captivating smile he sends my way is almost enough to make me want to knock all his teeth out, but I stay where I am with my knuckles clenched white.

"You finally arrived," He says as he inspects me. "Green really does seem to be your color."

I have no time for his bullshit pleasantries.

"Where the fuck is my brother?" I demand.

He remains unfazed, "Do not worry your lovely head off about that. He is safe. Might I add that he's quite the expressive one- you have taught him well."

Naturally. I can't imagine the earful he gets from Brent.

"But this night is not about worrying or vexing ourselves," He gestures around the room. "It is a night filled with pleasure."

"The only pleasure you'll be getting is my knee to your nuts if you don't give me back my brother."

Nothing I say ever deters him, which gets under my skin. He chuckles humorously at this declaration before approaching me and unexpectedly pulling me close. I'm caught off-guard for a second, long enough for him to wrap an arm around my waist and hold my hand in his, like in typical, ballroom dancer form. He's so close to me that I can see the golden specks in his grey eyes. It's those eyes which captivate me, drawing me in, those magnetic eyes which I can't seem to look away from.

"Do you dance much?" He asks me.

Though there's a sharp response in my head and the urge to punch him in his throat, it's like my body and brain are detached from one another and all I can say, in a simple, dumb voice, is-

"Not really."

He smiles at this as I notice my other hand rest on his shoulder- I don't even know when that happened.

Around us, the couples start dancing again as the orchestra resumes with a more mellow, Adagio (term I learned from Brent) tune, though the atmosphere fades into the background the more transfixed I become on him. I've never danced with a partner before (aside from crazy duos with Nora) and I can't seem to tear myself away from him no matter how badly I want to.

"Why do you hold yourself so rigidly?" He whispers in my ear, making the hair all over my body stand up. "Relax yourself."

Almost immediately, I can feel the tension that's been building up seep out of me. It's kinda scary how his words affected me so quickly- almost as eerie as his memorizing eyes. As we sway rhythmically to the music, I begin to realize- mentally kicking myself- that Nimu might have been right about underestimating Tymos and the control he has. I'm over this, yet I can't force myself to pull away from him.

"There are things I do admire about you, Domshov," He begins. "I know it may not seem like it, but I do. For one, you're a straightforward woman- I find that lacking in many women in my society- secondly, you are persistent- you try and try again regardless of the overwhelming obstacles in your path, it's a very different mindset than those here possess. Perhaps maybe the most admirable trait I like about you is how authoritative you are. I can't say at your age I was as assertive in my leadership as you have demonstrated thus far."

Any other time, I would have been flattered, but hearing all of this from him makes my stomach churn like I ate some spoiled candy.

After some effort and concentration on my words, I ask him what's been on my mind since this entire mess unfolded.

"What do you have against me?"

He has this chuckle that's so smarmy it literally makes my skin crawl, but right now, with him so in control and leaning so close to my ear that his cold lips graze my earlobe, my body breaks out in goosebumps.

"I have nothing against you, per se. But I do know whose daughter who you are and the kind of tyrant he was."

"My dad is not a tyrant."

That was my biggest snap back so far this entire time- I don't think he was expecting that much bite as he pulls back slightly, though he quickly recovers.

"Oh, Joan," He gives me a pitied smile. "Poor, poor Joan. So oblivious of her father's past, of any of her family's past. How she goes about life so ignorant of the sins committed before her time."

"What are you talking about?" I seethe. "I know about my family's past."

But do I really? I mean, this thing about my parents meeting here and going on adventures is completely new info to me. Like I'm going to let him know that though.

"When will you admit you are clueless to your family identity?" He muses.

"I know my family identity."

"You don't have the slightest inkling what the name Domshov invokes in the people of Edalirwen."

Damn, how I wish I could walk away right now, but I'm stuck, surrounded by a throng of people and held in place by him.

"Do you wish to know?"

It was as alluring as he was- I just can't restrain my curiosity. I try to resist his tempting offer but the way those hypnotic eyes weaken my self-defense is aggregating if nothing else. In all actuality, I am curious to know what he'll show me, what I might learn about my parents. Perhaps regrettably, I fold.

"If it makes you feel better then whatever, I don't care." But God how I cared.

Smirking at me and with a curt wave of his hand, the room melts away, like a wet painting being washed off the canvas, the colors blending together until a new room takes shape. This room is very different from the last. It definitely isn't as upbeat and gracefully sophisticated like the ballroom, instead, this room is dark and gloomy- something like an emo kid would feel comfortable in. Looking more in detail, I could tell this was some sort of throne room, like in a castle. In fact, studying this place closer, it starts to look familiar...

I'm jolted from my thoughts by the sound of the doors flying open. A man in uniform ushers in a little girl who looks like a malnourished dog that was left out in the rain- it's kind of pitiful. She's placed in the center of the room, right in front of a throne, which I failed before to notice was occupied.

Apparently, we must be in one of those weird hallucinations or whatever where nobody in the room, though we can see them, can see us.

The person sitting on the throne leans forward a bit, coming into the dim light of this place. Though I'm bad at guessing ages, I guesstimate he's probably late teens early twenties. His hair is this unreal shade of black, like pitch black. He kinda fits the overall vibe of this room- kinda emo with such dark hair, some of it even covering one eye- that's the best I can describe him from this side view.

I'm about to ask Tymos where he's taken me, but the guy sitting on the throne speaks up first.

"What is your crime?"

Is he serious? This small-fry committing a crime- any crime- is as believable as a Hollywood celeb claiming not to have Photoshopped themselves, highly unlikely.

She doesn't reply to him, only starting to tremble a bit as she shakes her head, trying to hold herself in order to make the shivers stop. In a way, she reminds me of a poorer, dirtier Rhene.

Receiving no answer from his first question, he asks her another, easier question.

"What is your name?"

But again, she's so terrified that all she can muster is a shrug, like a kid expecting a beatdown no matter what they say or do. It's actually kinda sad watching her try to control her trembling the more pressing and exasperated he becomes.

"Are you mute?"

She shakes her head no to this which results in him sighing irritably and leaning back. After rubbing the bridge of his nose, he asks her yet another question- as if he'll ever get a verbal response.

"Are you frightened?"

Well, at least he's self-aware of how terrified this girl seems to be.

In response to this, she nods once.

"Frightened of what?"

She even has a Rhene like voice, yet even more fragile. "Of you."

Apparently, this must be news to him as he straightens up and questions her curiously-

"Of me? Why so?"

This girl's voice drops to an inaudible volume I didn't think was humanly possible.

"Because you're the king, and kings and queens are always evil."

"I don't see myself as evil," He reasons. "I'm not like other rulers."

She gives a sorry shake of her head. "You're just like her-"

I thought I was bad, I'm nothing compared to this guy's outbursts.

It's like a switch just goes off in his brain, no warning, no signs, nothing, he just goes batshit ballistic on this poor kid.

"Do not speak of such things! I am nothing like her!"

Reflexively, she shrinks back, her body shaking even more uncontrollable- I even notice a stream of liquid trickling down her legs and pooling at her feet. Even in her petrified state, she manages to choke out a weak-voiced apology.

"I-I-I'm s-sor-ry, your m-majesty."

Now I'm fired up and ready to jump on this bastard for traumatizing this poor kid. Why even bring her in in the first place? But I know this is some sort of vision or whatever and I can't intervene- which makes it that much worse when the guy calls out to the guards for her to be escorted to the dungeon. They roughly handle her like she's this belligerent criminal, dragging her out of the room.

We're left alone with the jackass who gets up and starts pacing like a wild animal, clearly furious about something the girl said. If a little kid can accidentally set you off like that then maybe it's time for this place to create a democracy.

As he paces and mumbles to himself like a madman, I turn to Tymos and narrow my eyes at him.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?"

He continues to smirk at me, obviously not thinking about my fist knocking out those pearly whites.

"Oh come, you haven't even heard the best part. Listen."

He redirects my attention back to the scene at hand. The guy seems to have worn himself out with the pacing and has called a guard over to instruct him.

"Go out to the woods and cut down a tree. The tree must be wide enough to carve a long pole out of. The diameter should be at least a foot and a half and sharpened to the tip of the pole."

Without hesitation, the guard obeys and goes out to complete the odd task.

While my mind is reeling from this, the scene blurs out like it did with the ballroom and we're left standing in some random woods that seem damp from a recent rain.

"Where are we now?" I demand, looking around. "Enough with the magical shit, just take me back."

"Not before you see what I have to show you," He preens as he points ahead.

Turning my attention that way, I notice two men standing by a long wooden pole- the one that douche king instructed them to make. Speaking of the devil, he stands over it, inspecting it like someone would a broken object. His concentration is broken when another man emerges on horseback, holding a rope that's connected to the bound wrists of the little girl from before, who looked surprisingly worse than previously if that's even possible.

Though she shakes like a leaf in a violent windstorm, this jackass doesn't seem to care as he's as callous as ever with her.

"Step forward."

She does so in baby steps, but apparently that isn't good enough. Roughly yanking her closer, he lowers his voice to a demeaning growl.

"You should show more respect to your king. Look me in the eyes."

I don't know how she did it, but she manages to drag her tear-filled eyes from the ground up into his cold, heartless ones.

"You were a smart girl to be scared of me," He lowers his volume but not intensity. "But your downfall is your mouth. I don't like people who break my laws, especially the most important ones. You are never to mention anything about the previous ruler."

I guess that's what set him off, but it's so ridiculous to think that's what sent him into this rampage.

He finally releases her, revealing a bright red mark on her arm. His next words are to the other men standing by.

"Put her on the stake."

It's so casually said that even I've paused to hear what I think I heard him say.

Seeing no one move, he sighs.

"Let me reiterate. Drive the stake through her rectum and don't stop until the point of the stake has exited her mouth."

What the fuck?

I've heard of impaling people (Vlad the Impaler and all that), but this is absolute madness. This guy is a nut, he's insane!

Eventually, the men find their courage and begin the task of impaling her. I usually have a stomach of steel, but the moment they lifted her up to place her down on the stake, I cover my eyes and squeeze them shut to avoid hearing or seeing anything.

"Take me the fuck away from here!" I yell at Tymos, who looks on in amusement at me. "This is fucking sick!"

"Oh, but, Joan, you're missing the whole point behind this trip."

I can't take it. I can still hear some screams get in through my hands. "I don't give a fuck, just get me out of here!"

Hearing his chuckle mixed with the cries of a tortured child only makes me clamp my hands harder over my ears. Humming to myself in order to block out the noise more, I try to forget about everything I just witnessed. What was the point of this? For Tymos to mock me or frighten me or what? I don't know, but I all I care about is getting as far away from him as possible.

I'm only brought back to the present by a light tap on the shoulder. Opening my eyes, I notice that the scenery hasn't really changed, but as I slowly adjust to the new surroundings, I realize that I can no longer hear the pained screams of the girl. In fact, the previous gruesome scene is nowhere in sight- which is relieving.

Though we're away from that mess, what I really want is to leave this dream state or whatever I'm trapped in.

"Take me back, now," I demand.

"But you've yet to learn the lesson of all of this."

"I don't give a fuck, just take me back."

"Why did I bring you here?" He asks me. "What did I tell you was the purpose of this?"

I really don't feel like answering him, but if it'll get me back then I'll bite.

"Something about my identity. There, now take me back."

There goes that sleazy chuckle again.

"There you have it," He gestures around us. "The reason why the name Domshov is feared and hated in Edalirwen."

"What? What are you talking about? All you did was show me some twisted shit of a kid getting tortured. That has more to say about you than me."

Giving me a patronizing shake of his head, he begins-

"What a shame. She couldn't even recognize her own beloved father."

Like the press of a pause button, I freeze and stare at him in disbelief. What on earth is he talking about? Frowning, I step closer as if I didn't quite hear him right. Before I can ask anything, though, he continues smoothly.

"Perhaps you didn't didn't get a good look at him, or perhaps, better yet, you never knew this side of the man you adore as your father."

Blinking, I scoff at what he's trying to allude to.

"If you're trying to imply that that sicko was my dad then you're even loopier than I thought. My dad would never, in a million years, even think about committing something like that."

"Oh, Joan," His condescending attitude is really plucking a last nerve. "How little you know about that man. You know in your mind it all makes sense. He was a young king who made many rash decisions like the one you just witnessed. He massacred his people because he was nothing more than a bloodthirsty tyrant, and the whole kingdom feared him-"

"No! That's bull," I argue vehemently. "My dad would never abuse his power like-"

"Open your eyes, Joan. He was a sixteen-year-old madman who happened to be in power. This is who your father was, who your family is."

"No, you're wrong."

This guy is blowing smoke out his ass and I've had enough of it. I've tolerated his little games this far, but he's picking the wrong war to wage- this is actually what got Chelsea Moore in the hot seat with me.

Gritting my teeth and making my voice tight, I point at him, "Take me back right now."

I never realized how infuriating it is not being able to intimidate somebody- that's all I want to do with him right now but it's not working, no matter what I do or say.

"You can deny the truth until the day you die, but the truth always remains."

Crossing my arms, I stick to my guns.

"If there's nothing of importance you want to show me then take me back."

That sickening smirk never leaves his face, I swear. "Whatever you wish."

And just like that, the world around us becomes watered down and replaced with the familiar, warm ballroom where the soft music still drifts throughout the grand space. At this point- even more than before- I want to get out of here and away from him, but he has me trapped again, wrapping a firm arm around my waist as a throng of dancing couples surround us.

"That's your problem, Joan," He muses. "You run from the truth of things, you believe you can outrun any obstacle that's in your path, but the sad truth is you can't."

"Get the fuck away from me," I seethe feeling my body burn up.

But he keeps his grip, despite me starting to fight against him.

"You base your whole existence on what's before you, on what others tell you it is, you never stop and think deeply about anything you've been told. You don't stand for anything- not like you believe you do- which is why it's so easy to lead you astray, like a lone sheep."

He seizes both my hands in one to keep me from bashing his face in. He's surprisingly strong, like superhuman strong right now.

"You put blind trust in everyone without realizing it, and so when one gust of truth comes blowing by you panic and run. But now you can't run from this, you've exhausted that option so now what will you do?"

"Let me go," I growl.

No one around us even seems remotely interested in our struggle- they just go on like everything is normal, like this is normal.

"And that's how you behave, Joan," He says. "You act as though you live in a world of normalcy when you know you live in any such world as that."

God, I hate that he can read my thoughts.

Yanking me close- as in, pressing me up against him- I pause my fight, only succeeding in wearing myself out. That's when I look into those eyes again and everything starts to feel lucid- I'm enraptured once again.

"Joan," The way he said my name makes my head spin. "Who are you? I don't think you even know the answer to that- I don't think you ever have. I know who you are, though. You're the girl with a bloody crown, the bloodiest of them all."

He's so close I can see every miniscule pore on his face, feel every cool breath fan against my face, and hear every heartbeat that echoes in his chest.

"I'm so glad you joined me for a night like this, an unforgettable night. I hate to see you go, but we must continue our game. Not that I need remind you, but your time is dwindling fast."

I try to swallow but it ends up being dry. I can practically feel the seconds tick by until the deadline.

"Until then," He whispers.

Without warning, he presses his lips against mine and kisses me. Before my mind, even my body, can react, it ends in a blink as well as the vision I was previously in. No more dancing couples, no more tranquil music, no more ballroom or fancy dress or makeup or Tymos. I'm now back in the dark, nighttime jungle with a mind that's racing faster than I could ever run.