Fire of Dreams

Visions of the past

It was just another day in Kaosandra's dungeon, cold dismal despair. Though the young elf could barely remember his name, the memory was fading little by little. Eventually he'd forgotten what his original name was. Now he was only referred to as "Pet" or "Freak" though the cruel mistress would call him a disgrace, or "useless thing," if she was in a bad mood. The worst was when he was forced to play with the vile creature she called her son. It would only last a few minutes of the little monster constantly tugging on the chain around the elf's neck, maybe a few insults, before the little cretin would call for his mother and blame the elf for the fake trouble. She would punish him harshly, for instance once in the winter, when he was forced to sleep without his mat and a wet blanket. Any guards stuck watching his cell that night would blame him for their trouble, as they'd much rather be drinking alcohol near a fire place with their friends and flirting with women.

Surprisingly, there were both drow and troll children living in the fortress. They weren't held to a high status like Kaosandra's spoiled brat, but they were free to go outside into the warm sunshine, and given plenty of food, good clothing, and most of all, love. The poor prisoner was forced to sleep in a cold stone cell, given two servings of table scraps, if there were any, and forced to wear torn ragged clothing that were purposely torn up before being given to him, and he had no shoes. However what he hated most was that he was always reminded he was a freak, or a mistake, that he was inferior to others.

One day, the inhuman brat blamed him for tearing the head off one of his numerous ugly toys. In reality, the twerp had torn of its head and threw it into the elf's face. Kaosandra struck him in the face with the back of her hand, leaving a nasty bruise on one of his cheeks, before ordering a drow blade witch to take him back to his cell. "And make sure to feed any leftovers to the chompies tonight," she instructed. The blade witch nodded, before taking the chain from Kaosandra's hand. However what she did next surprised the boy, she didn't yank his chain.

After she was out of view, she turned the opposite direction of the dungeon and took him to her room, where she locked the door. "Sit down, I'm going to check that bruise," she said. He lowered his ears, and sat down on the floor. "I had a chair for you, but fine..." She said, taking off her pointed hood and pulling out a green bottle. She soaked some of it's contents into a cloth, and carefully held his cheek in her hand. When she dabbed the strange substance on the bruise, he jumped and winced. "I know it hurts a little, but it'll help you, I promise," she told him. It saddened her to she the way this child had been treated. She had only arrived here a week ago, and when she heard he had been this way for three years, her heart broke. What she was doing now could get her in serious trouble, but she didn't care.

The bruise Kaosandra had left would luckily wouldn't stay for good, and the drow lady could see right into his fiery eyes. She marveled at them, almost hypnotized by the flickering orange flames he used to see with. But she also knew they'd give him away if he wasn't in his cell. Her thoughts were interrupted, by the sound of the boy's stomach groaning. "Wait here, if they see you out of your cell, they'll wrongly punish you again, I'm going to have to make up a story and disguise you," she explained, "but first, I need to get you something to eat."

She managed to pass off the story that the fire elf died of sickness, and brought in a tray of food to her room after sighing in relief. Kaosandra was going on a rant that she wanted him because he was rare, but she wasn't going to stay and listen.

The boy looked at the tray, unsure what to think about it. "I brought it for you, it's for you to eat," she said. He was hesitant, but ate the warm chicken leg she had brought him. He enjoyed every bite, and happily ate the sides too. She gave him a warm smile, before motioning to the door on the opposite side of her room. "Let's get you cleaned up, then I'll give you a nicer place to sleep for the night."

(Flameslinger POV)
I woke up still on the floor of my cell. I was alone, though I didn't remember bringing a flashlight with me. It wasn't there before. I picked it up looking at it carefully before looking up at the hole that had formed in the old crumbling wall. It was the first time any sunshine could be seen from this cold room.