The Light in the Dark ✓

Chapter 3.1 Monster

Iris was startled awake by loud, heavy footsteps. She slowly picked herself up from the cold ground. Her whole body was aching from lying in an uncomfortable position on the hard surface for several hours. She grimaced and trembled. She hoped maybe she wouldn't wake up, but here she was again.

The clomp rang louder, and the light entered the dark dungeon. Iris let her eyes slowly adjust while her surroundings turned from blackness to murky grey. She could already distinguish the shapes of bars and a huddled figure sitting in the next cell. The beggar was not sleeping. He just sat there with his eyes fixed on her. She frowned, but the Inquisitors had already entered the dungeons. There were a few of them by the sound of it.

The keys jingled while they were unlocking the cells.

'Out!' barked one of them, opening barred doors. Iris stood up, leaning heavily on the wall. Her legs were weak, trembling from being stuck in the same position for so long. The shackles on her wrists seemed even heavier than yesterday. When she was up, she felt dizzy, and the world kept spinning around her. She didn't know exactly how long she spent in this cell, but they never gave her water or food, and her body was still exhausted. The Inquisitor was not the patient type, so he walked into her cell, grabbed her arm harshly and pulled her with him. She stumbled, but he didn't care.

Two other knights were waiting in a prison hall, while another one was dragging the beggar out of his cell.

'Easy there, lad,' groaned the old man. 'I ain't as nimble as I used to be when I was your age!'

'Shut up and walk!' snapped the knight, and they moved towards the stairs. 'You'll be in the cage soon enough, so then you can rest all you want.'

When they started ascending on the stairs, Iris was shaking so violently her chains were rattling. It was so cold. Her fingers and toes were completely numb, her teeth clattering. If only she could use just a little bit of magic to warm herself up. The Inquisitors were carrying torches. Just a tiny fraction of this light would do. But she was too scared. They would notice for sure. What if they beat me? What if they break my fingers? she thought. Iris wanted to be brave, but the truth was, she was terrified – of pain, violence, and those intimidating men clad in iron.

'Say, what a strapping lad like you is doing in Inquisition?' blurted the old man, his voice very loud. She gave him a glance over her shoulder. He was talking to the knight next to him, but his eyes met hers. He nodded as if he wanted to tell her something.

'Shut up!' snarled the Inquisitor.

'Oh, come now! Those stairs are awfully long. Why ain't we enjoy a little chat while we are at it? There's no harm in that, eh?'

'Save your breath, old man,' growled the knight who was still clutching onto her arm painfully. 'If you can't walk the stairs, we will drag you!'

But the beggar kept talking nonsense, taunting their guards. They were getting more annoyed with every passing step. Distracted, she thought. This is my chance. She slowly opened her hand, focusing on the torch in front of her—just a tiny little bit. The flame flickered but didn't die. And she felt blessed warmth inside of her. She closed her eyes, letting the light wander inside her body, slowly filling all her limbs with comfort and chasing the cold away. The Inquisitors haven't noticed anything because the beggar was still spatting nonsense at them.

Finally, one of their guards must have lost his patience. Iris heard a dull thump, and the old man gasped in pain.

'That will teach you to shut up, you old fart,' growled the Inquisitor. The beggar got silent indeed. Iris couldn't be sure, but she suspected he provoked the Inquisitors on purpose to allow her to do what she needed. She was still hungry, thirsty, and lightheaded, but at least she was not trembling from cold. She was incredibly grateful for that little bliss.