Trapped in the Dungeon

Warning: This chapter may contain disturbing descriptions of torture

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He motioned to put a blindfold over her head, but Daphne dodged his gesture.

"I want to see what you've been doing to these people."

"Are you sure?" He stepped closer, lowering his head to look her in the eye. "The sights you'll see might give you nightmares for days."

Daphne nodded firmly, not backing down from his intense gaze. "If you're not up at night terrified of your own crimes, why should I be scared?"

He reached for her hand, but she swatted it away.

"Princess, the dungeon is a dangerous place."

"It's dangerous because of you."

He walked out the door, not waiting for her to follow him.

Daphne scampered out, barely catching sight of the corner of the Northern King's robe before he melted into the darkness.

The walls of the dungeon were dimly lit, the faint glow from the occasional torch quickly devoured before the light could reach far. Shadows lurked behind every corner, and from the corner of her eye, Daphne thought she could see the walls shift behind her as she sped forward.

There was the periodic faint rustle, but when she turned around, nothing would be moving. The air was still, but the sound of howling wind accompanied the screams of torment, stitching together a thousand lonely melodies.

All she could do was follow behind the thudding footsteps of the Northern King. His long strides made it hard for her to catch up, and Daphne lifted her skirts to run faster.

Squinting her eyes, she adjusted to the seemingly endless darkness.

That was when she saw them.

To Daphne's left, an old man hung limply from a pair of chains. His wrist was so small that he could easily slide through the metal handcuffs, but he could barely muster the energy to open his eyes. His visible ribcage bound him in a cell of his own.

And to her right, a stake slowly drove into a man's chest, the tip of it piercing his flesh before being agonizingly pulled out again.

A woman hung limply to the bars of a cell, gasping for air as a pair of hands thrust her into a pot of murky water.

Daphne's fingertips buried into her flesh, but she forced herself to continue walking.

They turned right.

Then left.

Then right again.

As they made their way down the snaking hallways, the scenes only got worse and worse. Most surprisingly, no matter how mangled the captive victims appeared to be, their cells were spotless, not a single drop of blood in sight.

A pot of boiling oil. A blistering black human-shaped lump. A giant rock pressing down...

She wanted to erase all of these sights, but upon another thought, Daphne tried to commit all of these people to memory. No matter who they were, she would avenge them.

Her eyes fell on a misshapen formless blob. Daphne made the mistake of staring a moment too long. When the figure turned, she realized with horror that it was a person. Their arms and legs hacked off, only stubs replaced their former position. In place of their eyes, only two bloodied sockets remained. And where the nose had been, a crater took its place.

The empty contents of her stomach started to rise, and Daphne heaved dryly as bitter bile flooded her mouth.

This was truly a living hell. No, whoever made up those rumors was gravely mistaken. This was not a living hell. At least, in death, there would be the hope of escape through reincarnation after all of the sins were atoned. Here, they would be forced to slowly wither away. If anything, the Northern King's secret potion would ensure that they continued to live and suffer even more.

When Daphne rose from her crouch, she realized that the tapping footsteps that she had been following were faded.

Something warm and wet pressed behind her back, and she took off running.

Sprinting forward as fast as her legs could carry, never once did Daphne dare to look back. She could vaguely feel the force guide her forward, nipping at her heels whenever she tried to steak a breath of air. As she ran, the passageways in front of her visibly shifted in place, rearranging their walls so that the steps of the Northern King grew fainter and fainter until she could no longer hear them.

She tried to go forward, but a wall appeared to block her passage. Forced to turn to the left, something shoved her forward.

"Help!" She screamed, hoping for someone to hear her.

It was quiet. Deathly quiet. Whatever was chasing her had disappeared.

Only darkness stood in front of her, and there wasn't even the slightest pinprick of light.

Just as she tried to turn around, a wall closed her way back.

Looking around, not even the ghostly prisoners were in sight.

"Someone help me!" Daphne let out a terrified yell, but only her own voice echoed back at her. "Korbin!" She pounded as hard as she could on the walls, hoping for them to crumble. Instead, her punch bounced back, almost as if she had been hitting flesh.

"Help!"

She thrust her fists forward harder, surprised at how soft and springy the the walls were.

Mustering all the force she could, she hit the walls as hard as she could. Something shifted, and something sticky oozed out from the hole.

Daphne couldn't see the telltale crimson, but the metallic smell clogged her nostrils.

It was blood.

The wall was bleeding.

Gingerly, she took a step forward, backing away from the bleeding wall, and the ground suddenly lurched from underneath her.

Then, she heard it.

Thud.

She took another step forward.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was the rhythm of a giant drumming heartbeat.

The dungeon was alive.

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Here's the promised second update for today! Thanks again to IzzyBella16 for the Ice cola!