Being thrown to the wolves is a death sentence.
Adalia knows that all too well, since she witnessed her own father being slaughtered in that same unmerciful way.
Living life as a meek slave in a kingdom full of royals, Adalia has no rights and is tr...
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He would not scream.
Even when the chains dug into his skin and rubbed against bone, even when he was beaten within an inch of his life, even when the whip was drug across his bare back and tore his flesh to ribbons.
He still would not scream.
The tormentors and prison guards were furious that their methods to inflict pain didn't seem to have an effect. The purpose of intense pain was to break the prisoner down to nothing, to bring a strong man to his knees and his mind to a withering state of sanity.
But after two days of intense torture, nothing seemed to be working.
Chains held his arms above his head and gripped his wrists tightly. Blood ran down his arms from the split skin that revealed the white of bone, and his hands were numb and becoming blue.
Elián's eyes remained on the men who beat him. There were two of them this time, taunting him with words and cracking their spiked whips in the air. They were dressed in robes of black, symbolizing death. Elián made up his own symbolism for what they were wearing, though.
The coming destruction of their beloved, miserable kingdom.
Elián licked his lips in anticipation and held their gaze with defiance and confidence aflame in his eyes. They seemed to glow like hot embers that were immune to even the coldest winters. And try as they might, they could not suffocate the fire in his eyes, they could not tame the fire within that had the power to burn cities to ashes and torch the forests to nothingness.
"Again." One of the men commanded, his voice was stern and it echoed through the prison.
The other man brought the cane down onto Elián's back, causing his skin to ripple and split from the force. Still, Elián's eyes were set on the man in charge. His eyes were haunting, speaking louder than words. The darkness reflected in his eyes, they were like pools of emotion lit with the silver touch of the moon on a dark night.
The man had to look away, lest he gets captured and lost in the sea of the dark abyss that contained enchanting secrets and promises.
Just because he looked away, didn't mean Elián did.
"Again."
The cane met his bloodied, bruised back once more. It had gone numb long ago, the pain was just a distant, unpleasant memory now.
Elián kept his mind at ease. Serenity was but a veil shielding his face, peace was something he clung to and his mind and wolf was his refuge and strength. When things went wrong, he knew he could rely on himself and his wolf to help get him through his toughest times.
Another voice tore down the fortress he had built around his mind. He blinked, and in an instant, his own world that he had created in his head shattered.
The veil of serenity was torn in two, the peace he clung to was ripped out of his hands.
Because the man who played the devil's advocate stepped into the dark, cold cell.
