In a realm where Hellfire rains down from the sky as a means of intimidation, punishment and control, Deleria is the ripple of change in the waters of time. After losing everyone she ever had the opportunity to love to the hellfire, she embarks on a...
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I opened my eyes to find myself in a dark, windowless room. It took me a moment to adjust to the deep blackness that surrounded me, but I could feel the moist, cold, hard ground underneath my hands. Dirt? I was sitting in dirt. I began looking around, farther into the darkness as my heart started to pound over the unfamiliar surroundings. There were glittering bars five feet in front of me that wrapped all the way to the stone walls that supported whatever structure I was in. Chains and shackles were tethered to the walls made from the same strange, glittering material that the bars were made of. My eyebrows knitted together, I was in a cell. Panic began to set in as I desperately tried to remember how I got here. I had no recollection of anything happening after last night.
Sudden heavy footsteps and shouting voices jolted me to my feet. I looked around the cell for anything that I might be able to defend myself with, yet whoever had managed to put me in this place was smart enough to leave me with nothing. I wasn't overly skilled in any defense strategies, but what I lacked in skill, I made up for in determination. I was incredibly thankful for the poor planning skills of my capturs for not shackling me into the chains bolted to the walls. At least I would still go out in a fight.
The shouting began to increase and get closer to where I was. The voices were still a distance away but I was able to start making distinctions between them. "I told you not to provoke him," a voice growled, echoing off the stone walls. "You knew he was already worked up from not finding the Della where the seer had sent us. I don't understand why you always have to do this." It grumbled as the steps climbed closer and closer to me.
"Phelan," a deeper voice laughed with a chuckle. "You worry too much. You really don't think I can handle my own father? I can handle myself, wipe that sour expression off your face." There was a pause as the footsteps grew eerily close. I backed myself into the darkest corner I could find, crouching down low, hoping by the grace of the Gods that they wouldn't see me right away and I would be able to attack with the element of surprise on my side. That was really my only strategy at this point.
"You're going to push him too far one of these days," the first voice warned.
"You don't need to worry about me. I promise."
Four men walked into the chamber that held the cells, two of them dressed in the armor of the High Guards of the Draeg army. I bit my tongue to stifle the audible gasp that threatened to escape my lungs as my eyes fell upon the two others that were with them. The two men that stood with the raven tattooed angel during my fathers murder stood before the cell bars as the High Guards fumbled with the key in the lock.
I sat on top of my feet utterly stunned, quickly sifting through all the options I had for escape. They were grimley limited. I could sit and wait for them to notice me and do whatever it was they had planned for me, or I could attack them with every ounce of strength that still remained in my body and hope for the best. I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out the reason they had me here to begin with and a quick death would be better than some kind of torture or enslavement. I shuddered at all the different possibilities flashing through my mind. Quick death it was. My mother would live an easier life without me anyways.
