The walls around me seem to squeeze in, and a cool sweat forms on my brow.
I’m alone, helpless, and my worst thoughts are reverberating in my mind like a raging storm. Their briny existence takes my mind in waves, plunging me further into the void I’m now sinking in.
The panic constricts my chest once more and tears slowly build. I press my palms to my eyes and refuse to let them fall. Weak. Too sensitive.
I gather the swirling thoughts and memories that threaten to drown me and force them to a place where they’re closed off and can’t make me feel this way. Where they can’t choke me with their existence.
I swallow back the scream that threatens to break free and lift my head again. The chamber doesn’t look as dark now. I take a deep breath, the throbbing in my brain easing with the exhale.
“If you’re ready to be civil and have a conversation, I’m waiting. Though I still think you’re a bastard.” I hope it sounds more firm and brave than I feel, my sanity hanging on by a thread.
Slowly, a shuffle in the corner catches my attention and I hear the match strike before a dance of flames comes into view. The illuminated face has the unease growing in me once again. It isn’t The Devourer before me, but rather the sneer of someone else, somehow twisted into something darker than I had expected. A sinister, sickly feeling is palpable as I feel the quiet dread snake around me. I don’t know this man, but the way his hungry gaze rakes over my small form has me reaching for my dagger instinctively. Except even that familiar protection isn’t there. I’m caged, defenseless with a new breed of beast.
“Alora Viren.”
He spits my name as if it had been snake venom, the disgust clearly felt.
My spine stiffens as I see him lean forward from his seated position. He still holds the match and I watch it burn toward his fingers and then he drops it, the only light source snuffed out by a puddle of water on the floor.
The only sound is the sizzle of the embered stick snuffing out. Darkness has once again filled the chamber, and I’m unsure ofwhat this sick fuck has planned. He likes to play with victims, why else would he be toying with me right now other than he’s disturbed?
A match is lit once again, this time brought to the mouth of a lantern that is quick to consume the flame. Glowing light bounces off the walls and I can see that I’m in a dungeon with a single entrance which also means only one way to escape. Gods help me.
He leers right back at me.
“What game do you play?” His tone isn’t kind, in fact, it’s sinister.
I sit in silence, unsure of how to answer or what he expects from me.
“Who are you?” My response hangs in the air.
“I’m curious what game you play. How you think that you and the vermin called ‘The Hidden’ could parade around as anything more than heresy, while you crawl from your dwellings and just make life honestly that much more difficult for me.”
I hold my tongue because I know when not to aggravate a monster, I’ve seen more than enough beastly behavior by men.
The intensity of his glare vibrates my bones with an acute awareness that confirms, I definitely am in a bad position. Defenseless.
With heavy limbs, I drag myself closer to the warden in an attempt to appear undisturbed by his mere presence. His spine straightens with determination or challenge, I’m unsure which.
“Does the rebel bitch really think she can offer me anything I can’t forcefully take?”
Cold beads of sweat gather at my nape but I force my fear down to the place where my other nightmares dwell.
Praying to the gods, or any entity that might hear my plea, I simply say to the vile creature, not worthy to be called a man,three arm lengths away, “The game I play, my lord, is one of survival.”
I rise to my knees, from my numb ass, dress tearing more.
“Survival of those who are oppressed and forced into servitude simply for things out of our control, so a mad king can play with us like puppets. Puppets whose strings are cut at the whim of his boredom.”
I hear the angered growl in his throat a split second before his hands wrap around my neck. My breath is suddenly pinched off, the pressure from his hot hands making my vocal cords feel like they’re about to snap. All I see in his eyes is dark, revolting pleasure.
My vision lends way to darkness that dances in on my peripheral as he mutters, “You cunts are all alike, too much mouth and not enough pleasure.”
The sting of my lungs burning as I catch a glimpse of shadows surrounding me. Unsure if my vision is deceiving me due to the lack of air or if by grace some dark angel has heard my silent cries, I begin to claw at the hands around my throat.
The skin beneath my fingers peels away with my feral movements, and I feel my nails breaking slowly before I’m tossed to the floor like a forgotten doll.
Ragged breaths fill my lungs with knives as I swiftly inhale, unable to regulate the timing of each gasp of air. My vision dots with black spots and swirling shadows, the lack of air causing my eyes to play tricks on me. Confusion clouds my mind as I see my attacker forced against the wall nearest the entrance.
