Out Of The Woods

Thirty One

*Hello readers! I'm back with a new chapter! Hope you enjoy! Remember to vote and comment I really appreciate it! 

Until next time!*

 -LunaMoon

There were two official prisons within the Northern Isle. One held prisoners who committed lesser crimes. Tax evaders, petty thieves, people in debt, etc. The prison sat on the outskirts of town, a large stone building monitored by a few trusted soldiers. The prisoners were fed two meals a day, kept in rather spacious holding cells that fit up to four at a time. Though it was no luxurious setup, it was certainly better than committing such a serious crime that would land you in the second prison.

The second prison was given the name Blackwater, used for housing long-term criminals. Rapists, murderers, men, and women who committed treason. Even with the prison's reputation, people were still committing horrendous crimes, believing that they would get away with their offenses, that they could do better than the others. But every last criminal was caught eventually. 

When Bowyn was young, he hung around the training barracks when he had any free time away from his studies. A few of the warriors taught Bowyn different torture methods. Ones that would inflict the most pain and suffering, bringing an enemy as close to death as possible without killing them. Bowyn knew how to draw out a person's life and make sure they felt every last wound inflicted on their body. 

This prison was a place where Boywn could go and deliver his own personal punishment to the prisoners. He would use the prisoners as a means of stress relief when he was angry or bored. And the once strong, hardened criminals became a shell of who they once were. The older inmates were quite fearful of the King, often pleading with the guards, and even Bowyn himself, to spare them of their suffering. Bowyn was unrelenting, reminding the prisoners that they chose their paths in life and now they had to suffer through the consequences of their own actions. 

The prison cells were built deep underground to lessen the possibility of them escaping. The prison was cold and damp, moss and mold growing on the walls. The smell of mildew and the coppery tinge of blood clung to the air. 

Bowyn walks down the narrow winding staircase that led to the cells. Torches dimly lit the passageways, casting a soft orange glow onto the gray stone. 

It wasn't long before he finds himself in front of a large iron door,  six guards standing watch. They bow when Bowyn approaches them, one of the guards reaching to open the door. Bowyn holds a hand up, stopping the guard.

"No, not yet."

Bowyn spots a chair in the far corner of the room, used for when the guards needed a break from standing. He pulls the small wooden chair out from its spot and sits down. He places his head in his hands, taking deep, steadying breaths. 

Bowyn sat in the chair for hours, though he didn't think he was there for long. The guards were afraid to talk amongst themselves, let alone remind the king of how long he had been in the prison. They had an inkling as to why he was down here and didn't want to get in the way of his plans. 

Meanwhile, Bowyn was calming himself, thinking through his plans in his head over and over again so he would be less likely to stray from them. His goal was to torture Johnathan, not kill him. He didn't want to lose himself in the anger and go too far. He couldn't wait for the day that he could finally kill Johnathan, but he knew he would have to wait because Johnathan deserved so much pain and suffering. 

Bowyn ran his hands through his hair so much that the strands had become out of place, sticking out in every direction. He was distraught and the guards could see that.