MISTRESS OF FLAME

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

INFERNAL EMPIRE, CITY OF FABERION

AT THE bottom of the Infernal Empire, in the city of Faberion, known as the city of forging and impenetrable stronghold, was a prison made of moonrite—a rare mineral used to weaken a being blessed by deities. Inside the moonrite prison, at the center, was a pale woman chained to the wall.

She was kneeling, legs spread apart, her head hanging low. Her hands were pulled up by shackles and chains made from moonrite, which were connected to the prison's ceilings and walls, exposing the woman's body as if she were an exhibit. Her once vibrant long red hair had lost its color and had become dull and lifeless, almost dark red. Her knees were scrapped and skinned, wrists bruised from her handcuffs. Wounds, cuts, and dirt covered her whole body, scabs now visible because of the many years of torture, especially on her arms. Her clothes were worn-out, unable to cover her whole body.

Inside the prison, around the woman's immobile body, was dried and fresh blood from her skinned wrists, knees, and ankles. The smell of blood and rotting flesh lingered in the air, warning the guards who were about to enter the cell to cover their noses and mouths.

The woman inside the moonrite prison stirred awake even in her weakened state when she heard footsteps coming toward her cell. She wanted to raise her head and check who it was, but she couldn't. She was too weak to move, too weak to fight, and too weak to struggle.

She could only kneel and await a blade to cut her flesh and make her bleed. This was nothing new to her, as it had been done to her so many times that she already lost count. So when she felt a sharp object penetrating her arms and cutting her flesh, she did not feel pain. She was already numb.

No torture or cutting of her flesh could make her flinch. No amount of pain could make her cry and beg. No amount of physical pain could make her move and react. She would never let these scums see her weeping and begging. No words could describe her pain and suffering during these untold years, and the only thing they deserve was her rage.

But even after she failed countless attempts to escape, the fire inside her was still burning, and her thirst for vengeance couldn't be extinguished. As weak as she was now, she still hadn't given up.

Up until that moment, she could still hear the screams of pain and terror of her people. She could still hear their pleas. She had never forgotten how they were betrayed by the people they protected and trusted. She promised to herself that one day, she would leave this prison and burn everyone who deceived their race. And she swore that she would return the pain and terror tenfold.

"Is this enough?" one of the two men who entered the cell asked his companion. He was referring to the blood from the prisoner filling the large bowl.

"Make another cut," his companion, a forging master, answered decisively with a gruff voice. "We have a new batch of weapons to forge. We need more blood."

The other man nodded and continued cutting the woman's flesh as if it were animal's meat. He was used to this. He had been doing this for a decade as the head guard of the prison. Like the person next to him, they had been working for the Infernal Empire for a long time that they had been entrusted with a secret of the moonrite chamber—this prison cell. Only a handful of the empire's officials knew who was inside this prison and her importance.

It had been more than a century since the woman was captured, and everyone had forgotten about her. She was nothing but a myth, a story mothers tells their children before bedtime.

"It's been so many years, but she's still nourishing the empire," the man said, sounding impressed.

The man with a gruff voice answered, "That's her purpose. She should be thankful that she's still useful, or else, she'll be executed like those Ytherian scums."

The man waiting for the bowl to be filled with blood smiled. "That's true," he replied before looking at the immobile woman. "That's why you should pray that you remain useful, or else you'll be executed once you become a trash. Do you understand?"

"Don't bother talking to her," said the man with a gruff voice, disdainfully. It was clear that he hated the existence of the woman. "I was told that this woman hasn't spoken a word since her capture. She deserves this and more. If only her blood was not useful, I would've lashed her to death for even daring to hurt us humans. It was them who dared invade our lands. Only fitting to treat them like cows!" And in anger, he flew his fist to the woman's head, punching the woman several times until he was satisfied.

The woman felt the punches but remained silent and immobile. Her head remained low, her eyes closed, until the two men finished stealing her blood.

The words and insults she had heard was nothing new. It was Yther that had been betrayed, but the story was twisted. The kings of the four kingdoms made the whole Azitera believe that it was the Ytherians who invaded the human lands when it was actually the opposite, but she was not surprised when she first learned about it. They had the audacity to betray them . . . what's stopping them from twisting the story to suit their convenience?

The winners were kings and the losers were bandits after all.

Alone in her moonrite prison again, she once again remembered how they were deceived and betrayed by the humans they trusted and protected. Her fury made her blood boil. If not for the moonrite chains and shackles that could weaken her, she would've slaughtered and burned every human she could find.

The vengeance in her heart couldn't be put out. It was burning, screaming, just waiting to be unleashed.

They will burn! I will burn them all! The woman swore with her life as she reminisced the unforgettable past. The past that still haunted her.

As her anger consumed every fiber of her being, she heard another set of footsteps coming to her prison, halting her thoughts.

These footsteps were different from the previous ones.

The woman immediately concluded that this person was a new visitor. Maybe a member of the royal family since some often come to see her like she was a part of an exhibit. That's all they could do after all. Her blood was precious to them, so they couldn't lash her and beat her up to death to show their supremacy. Neither could they molest nor defile her because her body was boiling inside, as if it was protecting her. Whoever dared to enter her without her consent would die and turn into a pile of charcoal, starting from their lower region.

But to the woman's surprise, she didn't hear a key opening her prison. Instead, there was a loud sound, like someone was destroying her prison's door with force.

However, she was too weak to look up and see what was really happening. Too weak to lift her head to see the person wrecking her prison cell.

And finally, after two earsplitting sounds from the door, it swung open. Then, the person who destroyed the door walked in.

The woman was too feeble to move her body that all she could do was listen and observe. Seconds after the door broke, she heard another movement. A loud bang echoed inside the prison, like a sword colliding with crystal chains and shackles. The impact caused her body to sway.

But even with the loud sound echoing throughout the whole chamber, no one came to stop her visitor from destroying the moonrite prison that the Infernal Empire was so proud of. Who would come anyway? The chamber guards had already died from the hands of this person.

The woman didn't know if these were hallucinations caused by being too weakened for countless years, but she felt her wrists and ankles were being freed from the moonrite shackles. Her whole body seemed to fall, but before she dropped to the ground, a strong set of arms caught her waist. She heard a soft murmur . . .

"I finally found you, Sollel."

CECELIB | C.C.