1 Prologue (0.1)

The pain was endless. The pain was unceasing. The struggle was real.

A year ago, this young man had nothing to worry about. A year ago, he was fighting for love, now he was fighting to survive.

The heels. They clicked across the floor. His skin began to crawl. Every single time the heels were the things that freaked him out the most. The door opened, the heels grew closer. The young man began to squirm.

"Please no, please no," he muttered, tossing his head back and forth. He was sweating, despite the temperature being constantly kept at sixty-two degrees. The heels stopped, the young man was calm, for the moment.

"You know the drill," the chilly voice soothed. She grabbed something from the weapon armory and lashed it. The cackle of the whip sounded, and the young man shuddered. The pain was about to come.

When it made contact on his back, all he did was gasp. This happened every single day. Ten lashes, and then a request. More like a demand. Each whip passed uneventful. She reached his face after putting the whip back on its shelf. Her warm breath passed on his cheeks. It was revolting, every time.

Then she kissed him. He felt nothing, other than anger. Pulling her lips from his, she whispered. "Give me the medallion." If he wasn't chained to the ceiling, he would've punched her.

"Never," he gritted. The girl kissed him again, this time on the cheek, and went her way.

"I'll be back tomorrow." She slowly opened the door, not making a sound. "Goodbye, Rylan."

Rylan could only stare as she shut the door quietly and her heels clicked out of hearing. Rylan collapsed his false character, sagging to the floor, his chains lowering.

He took a deep breath and began begging for help. He was in the deepest cell, no one could hear him. Rylan had been treated this way for more than a year, and if it wasn't for the medallion he wore around his neck, hidden by magic, he would be dead.

Using his weakened magic, he healed his fresh wounds. Slightly. They would completely take away his magic should they know he was using it.

Rylan never slept. At least not normally. When he occasionally dozed, all he could think about was the night before he was sent here.

Even thinking about that day caused flashes. He grunted and forced the image out of his head. His captor had swept him away from that awful night, which was another reason he was still alive. He still couldn't decide if he would prefer death over this torture.

The next day came in after a restless night, and the same heels walked up to his cell. The same door opened. The first words that came out of her mouth were different, however. "We're doing things different today. No whip." Rylan's eyes widened. If not a whip, what other weapons of pain did she have in store?

"Una, please, don't do this." Whatever she was planning, he had experienced worse during her absence. Nonetheless, the whip was his comfort, anything else sparked a feeling of terror.

Una's eyes flashed with pity. Rylan didn't know if it was genuine. "You know I hate hurting you. Alas, Avellia rules supreme." Rylan spat at her. He hated that vile name.

"You know," she continued. "You're going to meet her tomorrow. But I guess you've known her a while, haven't you?" Rylan seethed, but there was nothing he could do.

She picked the weapon, taking it out of it sheathe. Rylan knew immediately what it was. A sword.

"Once upon a time, back when you worked for the blacksmiths, you crafted a sword. This was it. You called it 'conquer' and tried to give it to your love. And what did she do with it? She used it to stab you in the back. I'm afraid I'm going to have to do that again, physically." She touched his raw skin, and Rylan had a second to feel the cold blade before it was driven in his back.

Rylan hadn't screamed for months. But this was an exception. A bloodcurdling cry came out of his voice and she drew it deeper and deeper into his skin. Stupid, magical sword. Stupid, young Rylan. Any other sword would be painless compared to this one. But because he had crafted it with magic, the blade became that much more powerful, and that much more painful.

His back was burning. The tears leaked out of his eyes despite his valiant efforts to keep it in. Rylan had been wrong. He had thought he could take the pain, he thought nothing could compare. He had to do something if he wanted to live.

"I'll give you the medallion!" Rylan couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. Una paused, very surprised.

"What did you say?" she said, drawing closer to him.

His breath ragged, Rylan was feeling his life slipping away. He didn't dare repeat himself. Instead, he whispered, "I'm going to die." His voice came out as a hoarse whisper as his vision slipped from view.

The last words he heard were, "No, I heard you. You can't pass out now!" And he fell asleep.