Dim Darkness
1054 Words
Darkness surrounded her, pressing in like a living entity. Chains clanked softly as she shifted, testing their strength. Her wrists ached where the iron bit into her skin, and the air was thick with dampness and the metallic scent of blood—her own. The cold stone floor beneath her offered no comfort, and each breath she took was laced with exhaustion and defiance.
The door creaked open. Footsteps echoed against the stone floor, deliberate and slow. She lifted her head, eyes locking onto the figure entering the dimly lit chamber.
"You're awake," the man said, his voice smooth but laced with menace.
She didn't answer. Words were a waste on an enemy who had already decided her fate. Instead, she glared, swallowing down the pain burning through her body.
He stepped closer, crouching before her. "You're a rare one," he mused, reaching out to lift her chin with a gloved hand. She jerked away, teeth bared. He chuckled. "Oh, I do enjoy a bit of spirit."
She spat blood at his feet. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
His expression darkened, but his smirk remained. "Brave words for someone in chains." He rose, his coat shifting as he paced the room. "Tell me, how does it feel to be hunted by both your own kind and mine? Nowhere to run. No one to trust."
She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she closed her eyes, focusing inward, searching for her magic. A flicker of power stirred, but the iron around her wrists sent a searing pain through her veins. Suppressants. They knew what she was.
He sighed. "I had hoped you'd be cooperative, but I see you're going to be difficult. No matter. You'll break eventually. They all do."
She forced a smirk despite the pain. "Then you haven’t met someone like me."
His eyes gleamed. "Oh, I have. And she screamed beautifully before the end."
Rage ignited in her chest, but she forced herself to stay still, to memorize every detail about the room, the bindings, and him. Because she wouldn’t be staying here for long.
---
Meanwhile, in the dead of night, he moved like a shadow.
The hunter had followed the trail of destruction, the signs of a struggle, and the whispers of those too afraid to speak. They had taken her. And he would get her back.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade. He had never gone against his own before, never questioned the doctrine ingrained in him since birth. Witches were the enemy. Supernaturals were threats. But she—she was different.
His breath was steady as he approached the fortress. He had scouted it for days, memorizing every entrance and guard rotation. This was a suicide mission. He didn't care.
Because she was worth it.
Drawing his weapons, he stepped into the night, ready to bring hell upon those who had dared to take her.
---
Her captor returned the next day with an offer. "Join us," he said, circling her like a predator. "Swear your allegiance, and I’ll remove those chains."
She laughed, dry and sharp. "I'd rather die."
He tsked, shaking his head. "That can be arranged."
A guard stepped forward, and pain exploded in her side as a fist connected with her ribs. She gasped but refused to cry out. They wanted her to break. She wouldn't.
She had faced exile. Faced death. Faced betrayal.
She would face this too.
They underestimated her. They didn’t know what she was capable of. She wasn’t just a survivor—she was a warrior. And warriors didn’t break.
---
The fortress was massive, surrounded by high walls and armed guards patrolling every perimeter. But the hunter had found a weakness. A section of the outer wall crumbled slightly near the north side, an indication of disrepair. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
He moved in silence, his footsteps light as he navigated the shadows. Scaling the damaged wall, he hoisted himself over, dropping onto the ground below. The scent of burning torches filled the air, mingling with the damp earth. He listened—counted the guards, mapped their movements in his mind.
He had one shot at this.
A nearby guard shifted, momentarily turning his back. That was all he needed.
The hunter struck fast, wrapping an arm around the man’s throat and silencing him before he could make a sound. He lowered the body carefully, eyes scanning the area. No alarms. No witnesses.
He moved deeper into the fortress, heart pounding. Every step brought him closer to her. Every second counted.
---
She knew he was coming. She could feel it.
Even as her body ached, even as the chains dug deeper, she refused to let despair sink in. She had seen the way he had looked at her before she was taken—the fury, the determination.
He would come. He would fight.
And when he did, she would be ready.
---
The hunter reached the dungeon entrance, pressing himself against the cold stone wall. Two guards stood at the door, weapons in hand. He exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on his dagger.
Then he moved.
The first guard barely had time to react before the blade sliced through his throat. The second raised his sword, but the hunter was faster. A quick twist, a sharp thrust, and the man collapsed.
He yanked the keys from the fallen guard’s belt and shoved the door open, stepping into the dimly lit corridor. The scent of damp stone and iron filled his lungs.
And then he saw her.
She was slumped against the wall, chains binding her wrists, blood staining her torn clothing. But when she lifted her head, her eyes burned with the same fire he had always admired.
"Took you long enough," she rasped.
He knelt beside her, working on the chains. "I had to make an entrance."
She gave a weak chuckle, wincing. "How many?"
"Not enough to stop us."
The chains snapped, and she sagged forward. He caught her, steadying her with an arm around her waist. She leaned against him for a moment before straightening, resolve hardening her features.
"Let’s burn this place to the ground," she whispered.
His lips curled into a grin. "Thought you’d never ask."
And together, they prepared to unleash hell.
- Writer
