Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 42: Alone and abandoned

Night had fallen over Sexton, accompanied by the faint rumble of thunder whispering of an approaching storm. Inside one of the abandoned classrooms, an unconscious Ruelle lay on the cold, dusty floor.

"Why isn’t she awake yet?" demanded an impatient Alanna, her eyes narrowed at Ruelle, who continued to lie motionless. An hour had passed, but the human beneath them had not woken up.

"Maybe she’s pretending to be unconscious," one of her Halfling lackeys suggested, tossing water on Ruelle’s face—but she remained unresponsive.

Alanna wanted to inflict pain and humiliation to this stupid human immediately, not expecting she’d have to wait. She hissed, "This was supposed to be a little punishment, not a coma. I even went through the trouble of stealing the Dreamweaver. How much did you use?"

There were three Halflings in total; one crouched next to Ruelle, another standing nearby, and the third stationed outside the door as a guard. The standing Halfling vampiress held up the empty vial. The Dreamweaver potion, used to render a person unconscious, now lingered heavily around Ruelle’s face in a faint, silvery mist—a clear sign of the vial’s hasty overuse.

"You used the entire vial..." Alanna whispered in shock.

"I—I thought it was better to use enough to keep her down so that she wouldn’t cause trouble, milady," the Halfling stammered.

"You fool!" Alanna snapped at her. "This is why you’ll never be an Elite. You don’t even know how much you were supposed to use!" The Halfling shrank at her words.

She had eagerly anticipated returning to Sexton after the weekend, ready to see this Groundling grovel. But for some reason, this one stopped working for Gwendolyn. "I wanted to show what terror is. Now what am I supposed to do when she can’t even hear or see?!" she fumed.

"She should wake up soon... milady," another Halfling assured her.

"She’d better. I don’t have all night," Alanna spat at them. But five minutes later, the spoiled vampiress said, "So what if she’s not awake yet? Surely, we still can prepare her for her humiliation, so that she understands the mistake she made when she dared to stab me. Take off her clothes. Let me see how she plans to return to her room then. Hurry!"

And even if the Groundling did manage to escape, Lucian would be provoked, believing this lousy human was trying to seduce him. Alanna laughed at the thought.

"Yes, milady!" The two Halflings inside the room immediately obliged, quickly moving to rectify their mistake. One of them began by removing Ruelle’s shoes, while the other started unbuttoning the front of her dress.

"Milady, someone is coming!" The Halfling vampiress stationed outside the room, pushed the door open to warn them in haste.

The distant sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor outside, faint but growing closer. Alanna’s head snapped towards the door. To think her plan hadn’t come to fruition made her grit her teeth in frustration.

"Do we leave her like this, milady? Or hide?" one of the Halflings asked.

"We are not rats to hide," Alanna snapped at the turned human, who was in her second year. Her lips twisted, looking around before her red eyes fell on a tall cupboard in the corner of the room. A cruel smile slowly spread her lips, and she jerked her head towards it.

"Stuff her inside the cupboard and lock it."

The Halfings snickered at the idea, then grabbed Ruelle’s limp body and shoved her inside the dusty, cramped space.

"I couldn’t do what I wanted, but this will teach you a lesson on what happens when you mess with me," Alanna murmured to herself with a twisted smile as the approaching footsteps grew louder.

With a final, satisfied glance at the cupboard, Alanna walked towards the door, with her lackeys following behind. They slipped out into the corridor just as the footsteps rounded the corner, quietly leaving the room.

Minutes stretched into three hours.

Gradually, Ruelle’s brow furrowed as consciousness crept back. Her eyes fluttered open, but only darkness awaited her—pressing in from all sides. Confusion washed over her, swiftly followed by panic. She tried to move, but her body barely shifted in the cramped space..

Where was she? Her thoughts spun as she fought to recall how she got here. She parted her lips and feebly called out,

"Hello...? Is someone out there? Please, let me out!"

Her plea was met with silence, the faint rumble of thunder from outside swallowing her words. Frantically, her mind retraced her last steps—the hallway from Headmaster Oak’s office. She remembered walking alone along the dim corridor, and then—a hand clamping over her mouth, a sickly, sweet smell overpowering her senses.

She coughed from the dust around her. She had been stuffed in here and left trapped. Who had done it? And for how long?

Her heart began to pound. She had never coped well during storms; it was the season that unsettled her the most. During those times, she would light candles around her or make sure there was company in the same room. It didn’t drive away the fear, but it had kept her panic at bay.

As the sky outside growled, Ruelle’s mind began to drift back to the past. She could almost feel herself shrinking, regressing to her younger self.

A young Ruelle, no more than five years old, now stood in front of her father, shaking in fear.

"Can’t you do anything right, you little nuisance?" her father spat, his words heavy with contempt.

"I—I’m sorry, Father..." little Ruelle whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling as much as her hands, her small fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress.

"Sorry?!" he sneered. "You think sorry fixes everything? Do you even understand how much trouble you cause me? How much shame you bring?" His voice rose, harsh and unforgiving, each word lashing her like a whip. Ruelle winced, her small body instinctively shrinking away. "You broke a plate in front of the important guests!"

Ruelle hadn’t meant to break the plate. The moment had been coincidental—the moment her father had called her, a loud clap of thunder shook the ground loud enough to make her jump.

"You did it on purpose!" Her father gritted his teeth in anger.

The little girl frantically shook her head. "N—No, Father, it was the thunder, I—"

"First you stole my wife, and now you want to bring my reputation to ruins! You’re nothing but a curse, you worthless child!" he hissed, grabbing her roughly by the arm as she whimpered. He leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening whisper. "You are scared of thunder? Let me teach you a lesson today."

"F—Father..." she stammered, her voice barely more than a broken whisper. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

With a snarl, he yanked her towards the small cupboard in the corner of the room. He flung the cupboard door open and shoved her inside it. Locking it, he said, "Stay here and think about what you’ve done."

"Please, let me out! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!" she cried, her voice cracking as she fought back tears. But the door remained firmly shut until the following morning.

Fear slowly clawed its way up her throat, and she began to thrash against the sides of the cupboard, her nails scraping desperately against the wood.

"Please! Let me out of here!" she cried, her voice cracking as she hammered her fists against the unyielding wood. "Someone...help me!"

But her voice was swallowed by the thick walls of her prison, the thunder outside crashing in response as if mocking her. The storm had broken, rain pounding against the windows, the sound a relentless roar that drowned her cries, sealing her in a lonely, endless darkness.