The Elemental Chain Saga Book Three: Phoenix Blaze

Chapter Four: Eyes

Eyes. One month of those purple, awful, corrupting things. Wrought iron chains extended from the cuffs around his wrist and ankles, constricting him to the minute space in the dank cell. The cold from the stone floor seeped into his body, chilling him. He preferred this, silence and lonely sorrow, to being tortured, those eyes filling his body with cold shockwaves.

He lay, his back resting on the uneven wall, trying to find sweet sleep in this nightmarish atmosphere. A single candle glowed weakly on a table in the center of the room.

He groaned, trying to draw up his powers, he managed to ruffle a soft wind. He slumped forward, his reserves diminished. Stadulus, the leader of the Andanobians, rotten and deceiving to his core, used his eye on him with its strange powers, to torture Greg into submission. In most cases, Greg would fight back using his aura to fend off the attack on his psyche. This process left him drained, and in most cases, physically and mentally rattled.

Another groan escaped his mouth, his gray eyes dull with pain, looking tiredly at the candle, his gray eyes reflecting the light of the flames, the small flame flickering and dancing in the darkness of the cell.

And it went out, the light snuffed by the darkness.

Greg groaned, slumping backwards, letting the darkness take his sight, the pitiful sight he was bestowed but couldn't use. Without escape from this place, from this torture hole, his sight was pointless. At least then he wouldn't have the eyes to see Stadulus's, the eyes that brought him quivering to his kness...

Greg opened his eyes quickly, realizing. Stadulas was getting to him.

He looked forward where he could just see the smoke wafting up from the candle, spiraling upwards to break into thin wisp against the ceiling, the gaseous form probably allowing for it to escape above. Greg's gaze was locked on the ceiling, so steady and focused that he didn't even notice the man enter the room at first.

He had his amber hood over his face, his large body taking up the doorway. His sleeves were rolled up, his arms glistening with beads of sweat. The man stepped forward, cocking his head to the side to acknowledge Greg "You're the captive huh? Pity you, they said you were tough," the man grinned, Greg could see as he dropped his hood and neared, his stony face and crooked nose getting closer "you don't look like much."

Greg had had it. He blinked, his eyes turning cold, staring at this man who called him weak. "Hey, big guy." The man never saw it coming. He stood, extending upwards, fist flying forward, the chains rattling as they reached their full extent, which was just far enough. The blow smashed into the man's chin, striking him to the side. Greg snapped a kick up into his chest, feeling as his boot struck home in the man's sturdy body. The breath shot out of his adversary and he slammed his fist downwards into the back of the Andanobian's skull.

The man slumped into Greg's arms with a groan, unconscious.

Greg grinned, hurting the man had felt good. Greg spoke under his breath "Who's tough now?" He silently thanked the Andanobians for being foolish enough to allow him to keep his clothes and have the chains just long enough.

But as he laid his back against the cold wall, with the complete darkness around him, a thought popped into his head: just who's the evil one now?
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DragonDog1: Thanks for reading this installment. Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to vote and comment! Thanks!