The Dark Lord's Seer

Defiance

** TW: The following chapter contains graphic descriptions of torture and physical violence. DO NOT READ if you are not prepared to encounter such content. **

Morning.

My eyes fluttered open as I turned my head and stared dully at the faint yellow light pouring through the window. Mid to late morning, my best guess judging by the quality of the sunlight.

It'd been a horrifically long night in the dungeon with Mylo and Tom. As I lay in the bed, I shut my eyes tightly and replayed the horrors that Tom had subjected us to.

What he'd done to Mylo - what he'd made me do to Mylo - I'd never forgive him for that.

When he'd finally had his fill of inflicting torture, Tom forced me to watch as he dragged Mylo out of the cell and back upstairs with us. Somehow that was even worse than being forced to witness the actual torture; though perhaps only because I'd already been broken, pushed to my limit. It was completely sick, seeing Mylo's broken body glide and crash into walls and corners, careening roughly up the steps as Tom and I followed. Sometimes, Tom would flick his wand aggressively and send Mylo purposely hurtling into the floor.

I didn't scream though; I'd screamed myself hoarse in the dungeon and lost my voice. Screamed myself hoarse, cried myself dry.

The whole terrible ordeal ended when Tom led us back to the floor where he was keeping me prisoner, the fourth floor. And there, at the far end of the hall, he forced me to watch as he flung open a door to a bedroom and through Mylo inside. He'd grabbed my face and made me look into the room. A beautiful, ornate, guestroom with Mylo's bloodied, abused body crumpled on the floor.

"There," he whispered breezily as he squeezed my chin, "accommodations."

My whole body numb and defeated, he'd led me back down the hall and shut me into my room. Well, the room I was forced to stay in. It was upsetting that I'd taken to calling it my room. I didn't want any attachment to this terrible place, and the fact that I'd reflexively begun calling it that was deeply troubling to me.

It'd been quite late by the time I returned to the bedroom, way past midnight. And though I'd tried to fight sleep, I passed out from exhaustion as soon as I hit the bed. And even now, I could feel my body screaming to me now for more sleep, though I forced myself to sit up and ignore it. I wouldn't go back to bed. I couldn't. Not when I was so worried about Mylo.

It was a bizarre situation, to care so much about someone I hardly knew. And yet I did. It was more than just the family bond - that certainly didn't count for much, in fact, hardly as far as I was concerned. No. This was more a matter of one person caring for another out of acknowledgement that both of us were suffering horribly and unjustly. But I was hopelessly preoccupied in my worry for Mylo's wellbeing.

Is he alright?

Judging from the condition I last saw him, the way Tom left him on the floor, he could well be dead.

I need to know. Have to know ...

I scrambled towards the door, frowning as I reached for the handle.

Please don't be - please don't be -

Locked. Of course.

My frustration at an all time high, I let out a guttural howl and began pounding on the door with all my strength. I didn't care if it was undignified, or pathetic. I was so far beyond caring at the moment. I needed to do whatever I could to get out of this room, to check on him –

Suddenly the door flew open and I practically fell forward. Catching myself just in time, my arms gripping at the door frame, I was met with a familiar pair of cruel, dark brown eyes.