Dark, sanguine echoes lulled the twilight mist. Feebly Prue fumbled in the darkness for a light, a candle. Some sense of belonging. Of being back home with her sisters. She was the eldest but time and again she felt herself let down by her own common sense. Not lack of, but from not using it. For trusting Kane and not telling the others where she was going. Now she was paying for her stupidity.
She had passed out as if last night was just a dream. A convoluted nightmare. Her face was streaked in a checkered pattern of black mascara and the feeling of barely surviving an avalanche. Her left shoulder, where Kane had kept a tight hold on her so she couldn’t fight him off with her powers, throbbed incessantly and painfully. A hot bath would have revived her, relieved her muscle pain, but not her emotional turmoil.
“Can anyone here me?” she shouted in desperation.
Shouting was futile. Desperately she crawled the space of her prison. Feeling every crack in the floorboards. Every inch of the empty walls. There was nothing there. No pictures, no doors, sounds. No visible signs of life. She heard water dripping. Was it water? Where was it? She crawled on all fours like a hungry dog in search of a bone. The tuneful dripping grew louder as she forged towards it. The wall was wet and mouldy. Maybe there was a hole in the wall, her chance to escape. She moved her hands across the wall. Up and down, round and round in circular motion. It was smooth in places, indented in others.
“There must be something!” Prue’s heart raced. Nothing. She folded her knees and rested her head on them. There was nothing else to do but sit and wait.
Was she a prisoner in time, of shadows? How had she arrived here, surrendering to the dim hollow of an eerie, cold isolation? This was existence in its bleakest. Its lowliest. How she wished for friendly faces. Those of her sisters. A brief glimmer of hope. She was a stranger in a forbidden past, present or future. No one heard her wailing. The pleas for deliverance.
The dim tunnel seemed endless. She had to sit still. No one would come. No one was here. Only shadows. The faint thoughts and distant memories of yesterday. She was in need of salvation. Of rescue. To be transported to a new world. A new beginning, one without dark, marauding shapes or desolate howlings.
Prue remembered herself as a little girl again running to greet her mother. Her warm gentle hugs and caressing voice. It was her birthday and time to open her presents. To change into her pretty pink, flowered dress. Make a wish, blow out candles. Suddenly the door was slammed shut. Everything was in turmoil. They had lost their mother, she had drowned in a lake whilst trying to defeat an evil warlock. Her heart sank. Yet all three were safe in the knowledge Gram’s would always be there to help and guide them.
Prue berated herself for being so stupid. Swept away by Kane in a moment of blind passion. It could have been a budding holiday romance but she never really had his heart. Perdita was right and so was Phoebe. She was here to work and she should have listened to them.
It had been a mistake coming to a far off mysterious land. Looking back she could remember the excitement. Her dream trip to London that many could only dream about. But this, this was like The London Dungeon itself.
Would no one come? Would she have to bear the agony of silence alone? Face the torment of bleak night. Where was her fair and princely knight? This wasn’t a fairytale but fate. Cruel and unrelenting. True heroism was a thing of the past when dragons and princesses towered the land. Graceful, strong and regal. The present was a mire. A world where everything and everyone was lost. Caught up in their own selfish existence. Friendship and love a mere fragment of her imagination. Distasteful villains and avaricious swine had squandered chivalry. They had tried to help innocents from a world full of tragedy and wickedness. Was this her reward?
Prue put her hand to her head. It was wet with the sweat of fear. There were tears in her scarlet tired eyes. She recalled the past. That was only a fleeting flicker of a memory. She was here, now. Regrets were in the past and should be forgotten. Just as she was forgotten?
Piper and Phoebe would lament her passing, burn the midnight oil with worry. Pace the floors in anguish.
Prue caught herself in a moment of despair and regret. Men were so fickle. Specifically the ones she always met. It was never meant to be. She felt so much emptiness and pain and hurt inside. Foolishly believing a mysterious man could fill all those empty far away places in her heart and mind. Such teenage rebelliousness. Teenagers had an excuse. Prue was a grown woman and should know better.
She wondered how much time had past. Was it still day or night? Her watch had been broken. Day probably turned to dusk by now. Dusk to darkness. All she could do was count the eternal hours. Imagine time lapsing. No sweet birds who could flee to the sky. To freedom far and away.
Freedom. A meaningless word. All words were imagined. All words are costly, yet still cheap and empty.
There was nothing else to do except sit and wait. Give up. Rot away in a timeless dungeon. Wait and wither like the last rose before winter and fade. Fade…
Clenching her fists tightly, she hurtled them against the stone wall in defiance. She wasn’t done yet. She wasn’t going to let a man get the better of her. She thought of Grams again. Her lessons on life. Grams wouldn’t give in without a fight and that’s what she’d taught them too.
“Never let darkness and defeat tear you down. Always think and win!”
Yes, think. That was the key. Why was she here? Closing her eyes she projected herself, astrally, into a different plane. Astral projection was another aspect of her powers that had been revealed to her as her powers had grown.
Her projected body found Prue in a majestic room. Dimly lit with candles and oil lanterns. Rich with tapestries hanging from every nook and cranny. A myriad of gold, yellow and amber was radiating around the room. In the hearth was a flickering glow. Something about the earthly fire reminded her of the finest alchemy metals, of their warmth and purity. Yet within this entire splendour lurked something eerie and sinister.
Voices seemed to be approaching. Quickly she searched the rest of the room focusing on every little object. Unfortunately there weren’t any phones anywhere. You’d think in this day and age there’d be some primitive form of communication. Of some way of getting word to the others. For some uncanny, unexplainable reason she hadn’t been able to project through the outside walls of her prison.
Hiding behind a huge, flower motif screen, she crammed her neck to see who was there. It was a large figure in a long, flowing, black velvet cloak. He turned abruptly to reveal a hideous face with protruding green, luminous eyes and slimy, dirty teeth. It was Sabroh.
The second figure was hooded but his bony, skeletal, hairless features were visible. The air turned smoggy and a great bellowing stench filled the room. Prue put her hand to her nose to stop herself breathing the odorous fumes.
“What of the other Charmed ones?” The first creature asked in a shrill, sharp voice. “Have you made any attempts at locating them?”
“The plan was to lure one of them here, thereby bringing the others after her.” He said acidly.
Prue recognized the voice immediately. It was Kane. He was no longer the handsome striking six foot dreamboat but implacably ugly and gross.
“It had better work. Now I know they are here, I need to harness the powers of all four of them if I am to bid to take over all of mankind. Make them my slaves. To exact my revenge, retribution.” The creature spoke morosely. “Slaves of everything malfeasant, especially of the dark side."
Prue retreated back into her body in the cold din. She wasn’t sure how long she could astrally project out of her normal body, as she hadn’t timed it or utilized her power to its fullest potential. Still it was better to be safe than sorry.
She pondered over their conversation. Tried to fit the pieces together. He was after Piper and Phoebe but who was the fourth person he mentioned. She thought pensively. Already this demon, or whatever he was, must be powerful, being able to menacingly transform other demons, obviously dead bodies into live beings. Kane must be dead, the walking undead? Because he wasn’t flesh and blood just now.
Sabroh’s powers embraced many aspects, including resurrecting the dead just by clicking his fingers and the ability to restore old bones to their former munificent; mortal body.
“Where is the one who calls herself Perdita? Through her tiresome meddling I haven’t been able to carry out my goal yet. My kismet has yet to be fulfilled.”
“I haven’t been able to capture her. For some reason she’s able to resist. To evade my spells.” Grunted Kane.
“She is part of the ancient realms of knights. The Knights Templars. Being an ancestor of the Sorceress, whose powers I stole, she must have developed many of her own by now. I must have her too. No one must escape my grasp!” Sabroh was contrite.