He sat up as his sweat dripped along the contours of his once handsome face. His hands were chained to the ground close to the wall behind him. Again he had awoken from a horrible dream. A dream, not a nightmare, because at least a dream you can escape. But this nightmare he called reality, was something that he couldn’t liberate himself from.
‘What day is it? What month was it?’ thinking to himself. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw anything beside the darkness that surrounded him. Darkness that plagued him with nightmares and the constant sound of the whip. He sighed. ‘That child should still be safe for little longer, after all they’re still torturing me for answers,’ he tried to stand up carefully as collected his thoughts, ‘I wonder if that little newt escaped already.’ He had picked up a little newt that he had grown fond of over time and concern started to fill him. After a few groans and aches he managed to barely get up and walk to drink a bowl of water.
“Sir he’s awake,” the guard outside spoke. A few moments later that felt too short, a set of footsteps that he recognized came and entered his dark cell. A small torch lit the gloomy cell that stank of blood and waste.
In front of that small flickering flame that seemed so weak that a whisper could put it out, a domineering figure stood in front with a whip. ‘Light!’ the tortured had a small glint in his eye, ‘too bad his ugly mug is the first thing I see in forever.’ He let out a low note hum barely discernible while looking at the light, and he felt his power circulate painfully. His tormentor’s eyes were cold and merciless as he stood and swiftly raised his favorite toy.
Whish, crack. Blood slowly dripped from his chest as the whip reopened the wound that had finally began scab. What part of the body had they not tortured yet? None. He had been pierced countless times with crude rosestone blades and the skin on his chest was more like ribbons barely clinging.
He stepped back in recoil only to feel the the sting of rosestone that was embedded in the wall behind him. It was the bane of all those that had spiritual powers. The grade of this stone wasn’t high. Normally it wouldn’t be this painful but under constant exposure and the condition he was in, it nullified any healing abilities.
“Where is the child?” The tormentor spat out the question. He flicked back his wrist, raising the whip again.
Whish, crack. A blood curling scream was let out but the sound wouldn’t make it past the thick walls. The whip had landed at the same spot again deepening the wound.
The captive raised his head to face the devil that tormented him for hours on end. Each time he was questioned he was inching him towards death. His body was battered but his gaze was still firm.
‘Just a little longer,’ he thought to himself as he sighed. Just a little longer and the child he had raised for a few days would be able to awaken their bloodline.
“Dead” his voice was breathy and shaking but the tormentor stomped towards him. He grabbed his neck hoisting him up, restricting the airflow to his lungs.
“We both know that’s not true” he hissed as his eyes changed colors. The devil stepped back and a cold smile that wasn’t really a smile warmed his features. If anyone saw him on the streets they would think he was an aloof noble of sorts. “The brat that was by your side had a choice to work for me or a slow death like your’s will be. Guess what he chose,” the cold edge in his voice was threatening to a low octave that could end his captive’s life. “Now tell me and I’ll give you a swift death.”
The captive, who was once held high by many, smirked. ‘Looks like the little newt managed to escape. Good one less thing to worry about,’ he thought to himself.
“It seems that age hasn’t favored you, since you can’t under a single word I’ve been saying all this time.”
“RAGH!” he threw his captive against the wall behind.
“WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE CHILD?!” his voiced boomed, laced with his power ricocheting off the walls. A little softer he asked “Where did you take my...” the captive slowly began to lose his conscious.
“You don’t... even know... their gender...” the captive slipped into a blissful dark sleep.