activa-t Chapter 955: Emily's vision
Chapter 955: Emily's vision
Chapter 955: Emily's vision
An old feeling swept over her as she slid into the chair. Her eyesight hazed, and the room's edges became softer and less focused.
A weight landed on her chest, and a shiver of discomfort pricked her skin.
Emily was well aware of this feeling; she was going to have a vision and that meant she was going to lose consciousness.
"Damn..."
She got out of the chair and headed for her bed, her steps lethargic and weighty.
As she got to the edge of the bed and lay down, the room appeared to tremble and tilt.
The world disappeared and was replaced by the whirling blackness of oblivion the instant her head contacted the cushion.
She felt herself vanishing as the darkness descended, drawn into the recesses of her mind, or wherever her brain crystal power brought her, and where fate and time were entwined in a jumbled mess.
She understood that knowledge of the future-a peek at the uncertain road ahead-would weigh heavily on her when she awakened.
Whatever she was going to see, to glimpse at, it wouldn't be something easy to digest.
Even if she didn't really like when she had vision, she could only give in to its pull for the time being, though, and hope that whatever it showed would be worth the price it was going to cost her.
...
--
...
The darkness receded, replaced by a white room. Well, most of it.
In truth, most of the room was stained with the blood's redness. This amount should have been only found on a battlefield, but this room was so full of it that if it wasn't for the ceilings and some white spots around, she would have thought this room had been red to begin with. This wasn't a battlefield, and yet...
Emily's vision slowly focused, and a gasp slipped from her mouth.
There, chained to a wall, was her father, Richard Stone. His once-proud form was slumped and broken, and his clothes were torn and stained with blood.
His long beard was a mess, with short spots and long ones stained with blood, spit and snot. Parts of the beard started growing white, despite Richard still having full, dark hair.Yôur favorite stories at novelhall.com
The young woman immediately understood he was not ok. No, saying those weren't the right words to put it.
His face, normally so full of life and warmth, was gaunt and pale, full of lines of pain and exhaustion.
His father was dying.
Standing before Richard was a figure Emily knew all too well: Volkov, the tyrannical ruler of Frant.
The look on his face didn't make a mystery what the man was feeling: rage. He looked angry, so angry that Emily could swear she never saw a look so angry and scary on anyone's face. The veins on his neck throbbed visibly, as if straining to break free. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it seemed the very bones might crack under the pressure.
His nostrils flared with each rapid, heated breath, and his lips were drawn back into a thin, menacing line.
What was certain was that Emily was seeing one of those torture sessions.
Volkov leaned in close to Richard, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. "I'm sick of you, Richard Stone."
WHACK
"GAH!"
Volkov whipped at Richard. The sound it came out wasn't even similar to that a whip had to make. It was more akin to using a gun.
"GIVE IT TO ME!"
The sound of the whip echoed again.
"GIVE ME ERIK ROMANO'S LOCATION!"
The sound of the whip cracked like a thunderclap once again, piercing the silence of the room. Only Volkov's voice broke it, when the whip was not in action.
Sometimes, they happened at the same time, and the whip was much louder than Volkov's voice, despite the man shouting at the top of his lungs.
Another savage blow landed, and Richard's body convulsed, the chains rattling as he slumped
forward, no longer able to hold himself upright.
Emily felt as though a war drum was hammering in her ears with every beat of her heart.
The hot tears welling up and spilling over distorted her vision as she watched her father writhe in agony.
To breathe became hard, to the point each inhale came in irregular gasps, and each exhale
came short.
A wave of helplessness swept over her, threatening to drag her under. Richard's suffering left her shivering and immobile.
But then, as if her soul wanted to come out, she shouted.
"DAD!"
Though she knew he couldn't hear her, she was in a vision. Despite this being something that
was going to happen in the future, the vision itself wasn't real.
She wasn't there with her father.
But she could see. Volkov's cruel laughter echoed through the room. Her rage simmered.
The whipping continued, each strike more brutal than the last.
At some point, Richard couldn't take it anymore. Emily watched in horror as his body went
limp, his head hanging limply.
The chains separating his body from the ground.
Not even by losing consciousness, he could have a little bit of rest.
Volkov paused, a twisted grin spreading across his face, but some disappointment was clear.
"Look at you. The great Richard Stone can't handle a small and friendly talk. What a
disappointment."
The man tossed the bloodied whip aside. He approached Richard's motionless form, pressing
a finger against his neck.
Emily held her breath, her hands clenched into trembling fists. Volkov's expression darkened,
and he let out a frustrated growl. This was going to make him lose a lot of time.
But then he smiled again, because he knew that exactly like it happened in Fasard, Erik
Romano, or at least his people, were going to come and rescue Richard.
And then he was going to strike.
Emily's vision began to blur and distort. The surrounding room faded, and a sense of vertigo
overwhelmed her.
She blinked, struggling to maintain her focus, but the scene before her was dissolving.
"DAD!"
"DAAAAAAD!"
With a gasp, Emily found herself back in the Red Palace.
"No," she said, her voice trembling. "NO!"
What Emily saw scared her. Her father had his days numbered. She had to warn the others and
rescue her father before it was too late.