Wednesday, April 23

Chapter 15

---- Day One ----

A heavy smell of fire and charred flesh burned Blazerine's nostrils. She couldn't hear a damn thing, and it was difficult to see. At first, she thought she had gone blind, but it was a quickly dismissed, when she realized it was just dust and smoke... 

Wait. Dust and smoke? She was slow sitting up with her palm resting on her head. As if that would help stop the pain. 

" Holy shit..." 

She finally began to realize what happened... and what's happening right now. 

The only person, she could see, was a scrawny looking man, in the cell opposite of hers. Most of his skin had been burnt off. He almost seemed in a daze, but who could blame him? The way he looked, hell I probably wouldn't ever move. But he did actually move.

Wincing in pain, he forced himself up onto his feet with one hand. Slowly he walked forth, until the chains around his ankles had no more slack to give. 

It's obvious he's trying to speak to her, but his garbled words couldn't be understood, for his tongue had been either sliced out or reduced to ashes. 

Whoever the guy was; is pretty clever. He managed to pry a piece of stone loose and started to write on the wall, by scratching the stone against its surface. 

The first letter was a sideways f. 

Blazerine thought it was an odd way to start a sentence with that particular letter unless he's simply trying to write the direct word itself. What she really couldn't get her head around is; why her? How come he wasn't scared of her appearance like everyone else?What was so important to tell a stranger?

She approached the bars of her cell, eagerly waiting for the rest of the letters. 

Out of nowhere a guard yelled, "Check down there; make sure nobody else has escaped!" 

Her eyes lingered towards the direction of his voice. It wasn't long before he came sprinting past her cell, along with two other guards, but they weren't as fast. 

'Could it be...?' She wondered, 'Did one of them get away? And if so why? Their names would have been cleared.'

"How are we suppose to apprehend the prisoner if weren't not allowed to harm him?" The first guard asked.

"Well, that was before." The second guard answered. 

Around the corner, Blazerine saw a man being escorted by a guard, but he didn't appear to be a prisoner. He wore a long black velvet robe, which flows all the way down to his feet. A hood covered most of his faces, but his heavy-set jaw could easily be seen, along with the large silver cross that dangles from around his neck. 

"Archbishop..." The name started to spread throughout the prison like wildfire.

"Here she is." His escort announced. 

Frightfully Blazerine took a few steps back after briefly catching a glimpse of the archbishop's disfigured face as he approached her cell. 

"For six days, work is to be done, but the seventh day shall be your holy day," The Archbishop said in a cold raspy tone of voice.

Blazerine didn't bother to respond to his statement; he could think whatever he wanted; she wasn't going to even acknowledge it, because more than likely it would be held against her - one way or the other. 

Behind the archbishop, the burnt prisoner was going mad. 

"Shut him up unless you don't want to be paid this month." He threatened them. 

The guard shut the prisoner up with an arrow straight to the chest. 

The prisoner stumbled back, not really in pain, mostly just in shock. Unexpectedly another arrow was fired and another.... 

She tried rushing to his aid, but her limbs and body movements were no longer moving out of her own accord. She thrashed around, only to realize that any attempt to fight was futile. Her body had become tangled up in chains around both her arms and legs, which she somehow neglected.

And yet there was hope he could survive, but that small glimmer of hope she has left diminishes the moment when the very last arrow penetrated his heart.

To the right of the archbishop, she saw the prisoner falls back against the wall, shortly after sliding down, he left a trail of blood behind; that covered half of the word he so desperately wanted her to see. All, that remains now, is "c.o.n." 

Right after her cell was unlocked, one of the guards who had entered punched her directly in the stomach. 

She collapsed down onto her knees. Wincing, feeling the slack of the chains grip tighten around her limbs. Right there and then, her heart had sunk tenfold. She's practically a little rag-doll, a puppet attached by its master's strings, being beaten to a pulp until she no longer had the will to fight back. 

The last thing, she remembered, is the archbishop's laugh; a cold, dead, laugh. The odd thing is that most, well all laughter has a bit of joy in it. Even if its tiniest bit, but his laugh was empty. No emotion, only a demented rage.

Then she spent long moments in complete utter blackness. This led her to think that something must of have been placed over her head once again. 

Out of nowhere; she heard a door creaked open then slammed shut. Followed by a sudden hum, which sounded half amused, and half unfazed with disturbing vibe.

As soon as the veil of darkness was lifted, she saw Archbishop Lucius standing right there before her. 

"W-what are you going to do to me?" Blazerine asked, not taking her eyes away from him. 

The archbishop wasn't too surprised by her question. Nor did she flinch under his glare either. He felt like laughing because the girl was so predictable. He only half listened when she huffed out some more questions, demanding them to be answered.

Blazerine tried getting up, but she's latched down onto a stone cross, which is soaking wet. It must be covered in what she can only presume is holy water.

Filling with anger, she bellowed, "Quit ignoring me! I know you can hear me, you fucking religious freak!"

In less than a minute, he stood over her naked body - wielding a dagger in between both grasping hands. The dagger was very skinny, and narrow, like the needle of an IV. The hilt has the appearance of a cross, embroidered with really dull stones. 

Slowly he raises the dagger head high, while speaking in wild tongues. Before she knew it, four hooded men stepped out from every corner of the small chamber. They too spoke of the same unfamiliar tongue. Each and every single one of them approached, and placed a restraining hand upon her head. 

"No - don't - don't do this to me!" She pleaded the second her left eye was forcibly pried open. 

Her heart started racing so fast, she felt like it was ready to leap out of her chest and onto the floor in front of everyone. 

The Archbishop aligns the dagger right before he brought it all the way down, hitting the mark. It didn't go all the way in at first. So he drove it in deeper.

Blazerine's body jolted up, and her legs thrashed against the stone cross. Helplessly she squirmed beneath him while screaming out in nothing but pure agony.

A black ooze - like substance, seeped through his fingers as he twists and turns the dagger even further inside. He stopped the second the damaged tissue begins to reform itself around the metal.

"It's blanketing itself over..." One of the hooded men gasped, "Almost like its beginning to heal."

"This is no ordinary witch." The second hooded man commented. 

"This will require a further investigation." The archbishop said. 

The moment he ripped the dagger out. Blazerine fiercely burst into tears; desperately begging for him to stop. 

Then he jammed the dagger straight back in her eye, once, twice, thirds, fourths, and even fifths. The method was repeated so many times she couldn't even keep count. And just when she thought it was all over, it turned out only to be the very beginning, for her other eye had become the next bulls-eyes of a dartboard. 

---- Day Two ----

The moment's when she's left to riot in the chamber alone. Her mind started to wander, worrying about the others. Were they okay?  Would they actually do anything to get her out of here? She knows Lyrist no doubtfully would try, and maybe Fenix, but she wasn't so sure about Leon. After all he had said, and the way he stood there - the way he looked at her... 

She was finding it a bit hard to think, because of the holy water - slowly dripping continuously down along her face. From time to time, she would actually open her mouth for a drink.  it didn't taste pleasant, it at least was something to help keep her hydrated.

Suddenly she heard a thud; right outside the door. Her heart paused for a second out of fear. She had no idea what was happening out there. All, she could hope, is that the noise came from a rat, and not the archbishop. The mere thought of him caused tears to swell up in her eyes. 

To her surprise she received a nonhooded visitor. However, she didn't expect it to be... Sinner of all people, emerging from the darkness. He looked directly at her while inhaling deeply, drawing in the dry air.

The clothing he wore consists of bright colors in cream, crimson and yellow, opposed to his dark previous attire. A red scarf  is neatly wrapped around his head, to hide his bad eye. And the creamy tunic, he had on, was sleeveless, only on the left side. 

Never the less he looked pretty well off for a guy who was just on death row Blazerine thought.  

The anticipation was building up like a slow lick of the lips. She watched him slowly traced his tongue across his, and the whole time, his body is becoming increasingly excited by the prospect of the conversation that is to come.

Sinner gave her a devious smile, "Quite a predicament you've gotten yourself into..." He laughed. 

"What do you want!?" She growled.

"Tsk, tsk, not a proper way for a lady to be speaking, especially to a fellow friend of hers." He kept on smiling. 

"Some friend..." She muttered.

"I don't take rejection too lightly." He calmly said.

"Rejection?" She repeated, "What are you talking about?" 

"You'll have all the time in the world to wonder what exactly I mean. I was thinking about paying you a visit once a day, but now I'm not so sure if I will. You're such an unpleasant person to be around -" 

"Jeesh I wonder why." She interrupted him.

"Such a pity..." He sighed. 

"Shouldn't you be locked up anyway?" She asked. 

"Lock me up? Why would they do that? I saved their kingdom from a witch. I'm a hero..." He pointed out. 

"I should have listened - Leon was right about you -" Her words trailed off after he daringly brushed a finger across her bruised cheek. 

Given the state she was in, she barely had the energy to retaliate, let alone fight. She could feel her frail body shudder under the force of the man who she'd now understood was a traitor. 

He leaned in close enough to briefly whisper into her ear, "I didn't know flowers could look so beautiful while wilting." 

Blazerine's eyes widen in not only shock, but fear for his words reminded her of someone... 

"H-how..."She struggled to get out.

He smiled once again before walking back towards the door and calling out, "The witch is threatening to kill innocent bystanders if her demands are not met."

"What!? I never said such a thing!" She cried, knowing it wouldn't be long till the hooded men return. 

---- Day Three ----

Death...death is something that all people must experience. Some...experience it sooner than others. But in the end, none can escape it...and when it catches up to them, it strikes them down with a cold vengeance. Now imagine death on a massive scale. Say a good hundred people died. Let's say bodies littered the marshy, dirt streets of a once peaceful village. 

And let's say that God had mandated for this to happen. For those who had fallen on this day...were not his children...but heathens who denied his glory. This was the belief of Archbishop Lucius. He shared no sympathy for the inhabitants of this land. They would convert or they could die for all he cared. 

The Archbishop shook his head at King Lucian. The three of them were seated in the banquet hall, discussing matters during a meal.

The queen notice something about him. He was indeed a different man, but not exactly a better man. The man, who had left off on a pilgrimage, was much more...  eccentric and lively. But this man sitting before her is bitter and cold. He looked as if though he had seen his entire family murdered. And in a sense, he did. He had lost so many brethren of the church. He knew he was bound to lose even more. All in an effort to teach those who oppose the church's influence.

"Have you gotten a confession yet?" The queen looked at him rather crossly. 

Lucius simply shrugged with a reply of, "No." 

Heavily she sighed, "Surely you jest, what have you been doing this entire time?" 

"Tell me, have you ever heard of an old text, about story of a lost named Prophet Daemon?" He asked.

King Lucian gave a tiring groan and called for his cup bearer, Taily who moved gracefully to her lord's beckoning.

"No amuse me..." The queen was quite curious now. 

"Prophet Daemon lived alone in an abyss. No soul accompanies him. There is only a table with books stacked higher than any ceiling. 

He tapped his quill pen against the wood twice, as if he were thinking. There is enough space for him to write in one book, which had been kept open. The choice of book was a blank one. It has nothing written on it. No words, no pictures... no thoughts…no feelings, it’s just simply nothingness like which he resided. 

He tapped his foot and moved the quill pen through the air, leaving a long trail of black ink. The black ink soon turned into a radiant spectrum of color, and such became of the world around him. 

It had given him the inspiration to write now; the mood was perfect. Hours past as the prophet scribbled away in the book that was once empty. 

When he looked up from his book for a slight break, he noticed a single figurine sitting against his pile of books. The thing was lifeless. It had no face, no emotion. 

The prophet decided to change this. He slowly and carefully picked each detail for figure perfectly.

Once this task was complete, the other figures showed up. After what may have very well been an eternity, the man had thousands of figurines with emotional faces. Although he had put so much life into them; they still weren't alive. 

Meekly, he turned back his book. Miraculously, he stumbled upon a mid-sized hole in a page. People were sitting, walking, talking, and participating in activities, that he had only dreamt about. A majority of them resembled his figures closely -" Lucius was cut short by the queen.

"You believe this Witch is actually a creation made by a prophet himself? " The queen gave him quite a queer look.

"An unfinished creation." The archbishop corrects her. 

"Creation? It sounds more like a fluke if anything." King Lucien said. 

Lucius rose from his chair and shouted, "I believe the substance residing in her body is one in the same as the ink he used. It must be - it has to be. Think of all the possibilities, we could create life just as he did!" 

"Fluke or not..." King Lucien exclaimed, "You've a task to fulfill. Do not get sidetracked by such petty things." 

"Yes... yes you are right your majesty... I shall excuse myself, for there is a confession to be made." Lucius calmly responded.  

---- Day Four ----

Fenix wasn't intimidated by the bits of metal that held them in this cage. He tried working the lock with his stubby fingers, hoping to eventually hear the satisfying click. And yet he only did this whenever the guards weren't around. Every so often, Leon would  give him a stern look to express he shouldn't be doing this. 

Leon explained to him that they will be released as soon as Headmaster Jared arrives. The guards didn't even think it would be worth the effort to chain them since they wouldn't be staying.

"I don't think I can take this anymore Leo. The food here is terrible." Fenix complained to him.

"Is that all you've been thinking about this entire time?" Leon couldn't believe what he's hearing.

"Well no. I could think of a lot of things; like for an example. How Lyrist pretty much escaped and left all of us behind." Fenix muttered out of despite. 

"Really are you that dense? Of all things you better hope he did manage to escape. Why do you think they've separated us to begin with? They found out he wasn't a human. Who knows what they would've have done to him or are...." Leon sighed.

Fenix was quick to say, "I hope Blazerine is alright."

Leon turned to face him when he asked, "Did you know?"

"Know what?" Fenix said, rather puzzled by his question.

"Don't play dumb Fenix!" Leon almost lost his temper in mid-sentence, but he ends up restraining himself,  

"You knew about Blazerine's condition beforehand, didn't you? Actually it seemed like you and Lyrist both did."

"I don't know when he found out, but I did back at that bandit camp. You really think I could bring myself to say? After what had happened with your mother? And how could I do that to her? She saved" Fenix paused, not daring to mention Sinner's name after what he has done.

"She has the exact same symptoms as the black mark of death, and yet we've never extracted it from her." Leon thought out loud.

Although he felt ashamed about everything, he felt worse not knowing she had been suffering this entire time.

"Maybe all that mumbo jumbo about the sacred orb isn't so off? Maybe, just maybe it has concealed the illness within her body." Fenix said. 

---- Day Five ---

Blazerine started playing a game; a guessing game. Which part of her body would they go after next.  Her chest? Her arms? No?Maybe the legs. How mind boggling it was.

Out of nowhere she heard giggling, only soon to realize it was her, she's the one who's actually laughing.

Intentionally she started bashing her head back against the stone cross, out of pure insanity. Almost like she's attempting to render herself unconscious to escape from this nightmare.

---- Day Six ----

"Oh my god, I'm in liquid heaven!" Sir Emmanuel practically coos delightfully into his goblet. 

He was at Grommock's pub; it's just typical place for normal folk to stop by and get a drink. Unfortunately, he was only two drinks in, when he's interrupted by a familiar voice. 

"I was wondering when you were finally going to show up again. I thought you might have run off, leaving that kid of yours behind." 

Vala said, after leaning back her slender frame against his table. She closed them batty eyes of hers for a brief moment, taking in a long drawn out breath. Nothing visibly changed about Vala, but a strong breeze had pushed the pub's door open violently, out of nowhere.

Sir Emmanuel looked in that general direction but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. 

"Leave my daughter behind? What kind of man do you take me for?" He asked. 

She chewed on one of her nails and said, "The things I been  hearin'."

"Don't you have something better to do than spew gossip?" He took another chug of his drink. 

She placed a hand on one hip and yelled, "Why I never! Shouldn't you be concern!? All the rumors going around; about how there's a plot to overthrow the king. And how some of your saviors and knights are a part of it, BEHIND IT in fact! And - and that Exchanger!"

Everybody in the pub took interest in the intensifying conversation, as soon as they heard the word "exchanger."

Sir Emmanuel swallowed the last bit of his drink before he arose from the chair. "Look..." He said, not only to her, but everybody else there. "We've called in a professional to look into this matter." 

"He's lying!" A man shouted from the corner. 

"How would anyone be able to stand up against an Exchanger anyway?" A woman exclaimed.

"Nobody in their right mind would!" Another woman declared. 

"She's right... nobody in their right mind would. Lucky for you miss, I've lost mine quite some time ago." An unfamiliar gentlemen said. 

"Who the hell are you?" A man demands to know. 

"Avon Voltaire; The Extraordinary Hunter of the unnatural." He tipped his strangely tall leather hat, that's accented with antiqued silver studs. 

There was a shocking response of frightful gasps, but it wasn't only because of his legendary name. It's what they saw briefly beneath his hat. 

"Mister Breeo, you can come out now." Avon said.

Mister Breeo, scurried out from beneath his hat. His padded paws and toes, would have been silent, if not for the fact that he's running. It's common sight for the energetic little imp. The short furry demon jogged in place with his dull claws clicking on the wooden table. 

"Cute little fellow, isn't he? Mister Breebo here doesn't have much of a vocabulary." Avon tried to say, but Breebo interrupted with a demand by shouting. "MEAT!"

Avon continued on, "He knows enough to get what he wants."

"How disgusting, he's letting it roam on the table." A woman huffed.

It was somewhat disconcerting to be met with a scowl from the human, but Breebo didn't let it dampen his spirits. He waved his long tufted tail in the air, like a ferocious cobra. 

The waitress stood nearby, stunned.

"MEAT PLEASE!" Breebo yelled as he presented a dirty plate to the waitress, beaming like the annoying ball of energy that he was.

Avon motioned to the waitress to carry out the order. 

This is when Sir Emmanuel approached his table to ask, "Nobody has been notified of your arrival yet, have they?"

"I believe they've not, considering I have just arrived." Avon idly played with a chain, which is dangling out from the very front pocket of his vest.

Sir Emmanuel eyes drew towards Mr. Breebo, "Is this your pet?"

Avon was quick to say, "Friend."

"PARTNER!" Mister Breebo corrects him. Then suddenly busts a plate over his horns; which looked similar to that of a goat's. 

"Ah, yes, pardon me; partner." He apologized.

The waitress returns shortly with several different types of stewed meats since she was never told exactly what kind he wanted to begin with. 

All this did was make Mister Breebo golden eyes lite up with amazement. He looked as if he was staring deeply into the holy grail itself. Inhaling the aroma, he had enough common sense left in him to quickly step away to guard what's left of his plate with some wariness as he watched Vala approach. 

"Just cause you're cute, it doesn't give you permission to look at me that way." Vala glared  back at him.

"Awwww... did chu ged up on da wong side of da bed? Yoo poor theeng?" He cooed at her with a sickly-sweet tone, as if he was talking to a pet rabbit. 

For all his impish tricks and jokes, Breebo wasn't very smart when comes down to interacting with the rest of the world. Well, only when it involves humans anyway.

The more the little demon spoke, the more the novelty of his cute appearance wore off, just making Vala find him annoying. Anyone can easily squash him. His small build lacks any real muscle mass. He'd probably lose out in a fight against anyone, even a bumbling idiot.

Once Mister Breeo realizes Vala wasn't a threat to steal his grub. He was about to dive in right before Avon said, "Mind your manners."

So then he politely ate, while using one of his claws like a knife to cut, and the other as a fork. 

Sir Emmanuel dropped a pouch of gold onto the table, right next to Mister Breeo. 

"You get half now, and the rest after the job is finished." He said.

"Do you take me as a mere simpleton? A fool? I do not act unless I am paid in full. I don't see how this could possibly be an issue for a king." Avon looked elsewhere.

Sir Emmanuel slammed his fist down, causing Mister Breeo to bounce, but he doesn't seem to mind and continues eating. 

"You dare doubt my king's word!?" He asked.

"Of course not... I refuse to operate your way is all." Avon made a running motion with his fingers then said, "Now run along and tell your king."

Sir Emmanuel snatched the pouch back before he sternly muttered, "I'll be back with your stupid gold." Avon waved him off, "Ta, ta, for now."

Mister Breeo joins in with, "Tatty byes!" 


It was midday. The sun was high, and people with elegant clothes walked gracefully along the streets, talking with their friends. Some were probably spreading more rumors, most likely of the ones from earlier. All the boutique and clothes shop were open, trying to catch the people’s attention, hoping for another good sale. 

The thousandth golden question is, "If I were an exchanger where would I be?" Avon quietly asked Breeo; who is riding on the outside of his hat. 

It's been hours already, although he searched high and low. He has been avoiding one place, the only place left to look is... 

His gray eyes shift beneath the black strands of hair that shroud him. He sight surpassed the oncoming faces, to the bland stone walls of the castle.

A slight chill suddenly settled over him. The thought of having to infiltrate an enclosed area was frightening for him, because of his night blindness; not having the ability to see in the dark. At least Breeo lights up like a firefly, whenever he detects another unnatural.

It's still odd though... The very few Exchangers he has seen before, always have hidden out in plain sight. Why wouldn't they? For some reason, this one is doing the complete opposite. What is there to gain? Is it power? But it can't be. He has yet made a move on the king. He wouldn't even have been hired in the first place if that were the case. What could it be then?

His thoughts kept wandering off, something he rarely did these days. When he didn't have work, he would hunt the unnatural and sell any sort of scales, hide, claws, teeth, whatever was of value.

However, he took care not to run into a pack of unnatural, and normally he did his best to single one out on its own, either a scout or one that's just plain unlucky.

If he ever ran into a pack, he knew fully well it would be hard to escape alive, at least on his own. And he felt that he had to do everything on his own - alone.

But Breebo was a different story... In literally one of his darkest moments, Breebo was there to shed him light. And ever since that day, they've never been apart. 

It was more than a hassle to get permission to enter the castle, especially since the incident of an a escaped prisoner. 

The gate creaked, squeaking a loud protest as if it had been pushed open for the first time in decades, which made Breebo annoyingly plugged his ears.

Inside the castle, nobody pays any attention to him, not one bit. All, he could see, is nothing but pure chaos, so much commotion. Panicking patrons and their servants, fearing they could be killed at turn's notice. He knew it was nonsense. A man desperate for his life, wouldn't dare to stay in the very same place that kept him. Well, unless that man had some sort of death wish.

There were two staircases, one running up either side of the wall. Down the front of the stairs, to greet him is a statue with a large mirror behind it. 

The statue seemed to be chiseled out of stone. It's standing there, arms open, like he's reaching out to welcome or embrace a guest. It was like those old statues you expected to find in somewhere like the Vatican, the man wearing a robe and on his back a huge pair of wings stretching out.

Only unlike angel statues, the wings seemed to be that of a dragonfly, four of them so intricately designed. All, it did, was make him ponder what kind of story led its creator to make such a thing. Although its interesting piece, he's never been exactly a fan of statues or really anything decorative in general.

Making his way upstairs, he notices the carpet, which covered each individual step. Some were worn out, but at least it still kept him from slipping.

It wasn't long til he tread down the hallways silently. With plenty of doors along his path, it had become a game of trial and error. One of the rooms he just happens to barges in, turns out to be Princess Elena's living quarters.

"What did I tell you about knocking!?" Elena groaned from just the own sound of her voice. 

It serves her right for cracking into the liquor last night, after feeling the urge, to drown some of her pains away. Not the best way to go about doing something, but it did ease the pain until she was in a drunken slumber. 

After all the day had recalled for some means of forgetting. Sure drinking wasn't the greatest of cures so to speak. It often led to poor sleep even if you did pass out. But... it still had lessened her mind enough to sleep even if it wasn't a good sleep.

Grumbling something under her breath, her long, slender, fingers raised going about rubbing the side of her head. She swore she wasn't eve going to go about drinking herself into a stupor again, because of the aftermath. Her head was killing her and this certainly was going to slow her down a bit on getting into her morning groove. 

She slid her long legs out of the bed and pushed off, taking a few unbalanced steps forward.

Avon courteously looked away, because the girl was completely in the nude.  For some reason, she didn't seem to notice or maybe even cared about his presence. Had she mistaken him for one of her servants?

Turning, Elena made her way over to a wooden antique dresser. Pulling the drawers open, while gathering what she desired to wear. 

Avon carried on, skimming through the room as he walked. Shortly he paused upon a vanity in the corner. The surface of it was clear of anything, except the smooth seemingly glossy cloth that laid over across top of it. 

Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary from one simple glance. However by a closer examination, the vanity is worn out, not at the edges, but actually the entire bottom. This could only mean that somebody has been directly pushing it out from behind.

"Is there something you want to tell me about this here vanity, princess?" Avon asked without ever turning around.

Breebo knew humans always seem to be melancholic creatures in his eyes. They tend to show their emotions more than they think, and this woman was no different, when her eyes fiercely darted to the vanity. 

"Nobody gave you permission to enter my room, leave NOW!" Elena demands.

Avon ignored her commands and proceed to push the vanity aside, as far as necessary, slowly revealing a breakage in the wall. The narrow passage was a tight one, but it was still wide enough for a body to shimmy up and down.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who hasn't gotten your permission princess." He said while peering down. He tries to judge how long the drop is, and where it may possibly lead. 

Once he extracted himself out from the wall, he asked, "Are you the one who everyone is talking about? Trying to overthrow daddy?"

"I should rip that grotesque tongue out of your mouth for making up such an outrageous actuation!" Her eyes narrowed highly in distaste.

"Look princess, I could care less about your daddy issues." He proclaimed,

"Having you thrown in some cell isn't going to fill my pockets. I've been paid in full, I'm obligated to catch this unnatural bastard no matter what. I have a reputation to uphold after all. So if you stand in my way, I won't  have any other choice but to chirp like a little birdie."

Breebo clapped his claws together and sung, "Chirp, chirp - diddy chirp!"

Elena's brow lowered in disdain. Was this little creature... was he... MOCKING HER?! Those murderous eyes of hers were now deadlocked onto Breebo. She took one step forward, her rather small pale hand, forcefully swung out to hit him, but Avon caught her by the wrist.

"Unhand me you incompetent strumpet!" She was most certainly an individual that caused a ruckus wherever she went. Nor did she care that she is outmatched solely alone, when it comes down to one's own strength.

"I know you're a proud woman, but I am also a proud man. And I have a job to fulfill. So that pink tongue of yours better snake out slowly with some vital information or else." He threatened.

"Fine!" She finally gives in, "He's been sneaking in and out of the dungeon."

"For what?" He asked, but when she didn't answer, he tightly squeezed her wrist. 

She blurted out, "H-he's been visiting a person. He didn't specifically tell me who, or why."

Avon roughly tossed her hand aside then said, "Good now quit embarrassing yourself and go throw on some damn clothing already." 

"Hmph!" She exclaimed with her nose in the air. 

"And by the way if you want to hire somebody, hire somebody good; like me."Avon left in a hurry, he didn't even bother closing her door.


Avon Voltaire walked straight past the guards. He didn't bother to even speak to any of the guards on duty about suspicious behavior. 

He'd met a few men earlier that he'd much rather have not, and he guessed they were drunk because they had been talking a lot of gibberish. And really nothing they said made sense or had relevance to the other things they've said. 

He could feel condemning stares, alongside those snide remarks. He couldn't determine some of their genders very well due to their sickly looking figures. All, it did, was make him wonder, what did they do to get locked up in a place like this.

It wasn't long til he ventured down to the torture chambers. The smell was even worse than the previous floor. Feces.... and perhaps even the stench of rotting flesh. Shortly he stopped in front of a door after overhearing a voice.

The man said, "This is beginning to get too out of hand... If this continues there won't be anything left to play with."

Avon noticed the burnt seals all over Blazerine's body. Right away he knew that red hot pincers had been used. Often they're used to tear off pieces of flesh. Sometimes vulgar acts are performed with this tool as well. 

Such as inserting them into the vagina or rectum. To humiliate them even further, sometimes they would tear a woman's breasts off, but this didn't seem like the case. 

The cuts weren't vital, which led him to believe that they were possibly draining her blood at a slow rate. But in between all the bruising and cuts.

Softly Sinner ran a hand across her leg and said, "So beautiful. She has pale skin that even the moon would envy. 

Blazerine didn't respond to his voice or even his touch. For her mind was constantly fighting between two major opinions; one being that this whole thing is a complex dream or just a hallucination created by her imagination.

Avon briefly looked down while he struggled with the door.


Leon watched the man with the hat, past their cell once again. However, this time, he seemed to have taken interest in him. But it couldn't compare to his own amount as he continued watching him gaze into every cell he passes.

Just a little further ahead of their cell. Leon could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, between him and the guards. It peaks his curiosity enough to try to listen in. From what he could tell; The man in the hat had declared, he had killed an exchanger... something he has never heard of before.

"Fenix are you hearing this?" Leon asked him, but Fenix was ignoring him. 

"Fenix? What are you doing?" He leaned on over and placed a hand upon his shoulder, "Don't tell me, you're playing with rats again?" 

Fenix never turned around when he whines, "What's wrong with rats!? They make good pets!"

Leon impatiently looked surpassed his shoulder and sees something that obviously is not a rat. "What is that?" He asked.

© Tiffany Ann Adkins 2015 - 2019