A Curse of Fate and Shadow

Chapter 3: Tempest 🌩

‼️TW: ABUSE, SA UNDERTONES

Arriving at her headquarters, fear pulsing through her body, she entered the main building. She huffed a sigh of relief at the lack of her Master's presence, but then panicked at the realisation that she would have to go to his study. The room still plagued Tempest's darkest nightmares. Numbing herself, she ignored the glares that her fellow assassins sent in her direction, walking at a brisk pace up the stairs towards the study. Her hands were shaking slightly as she approached the door to the study. Clenching her fists, she knocked on the door, her heart beating out of her chest as the Master beckoned her inside from behind the closed door. With no time left to put this meeting off, Tempest opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door with a faint click behind her.

"So, my heir. Is it done? Has the mighty Legion fallen?" The Master crooned, his eyes lighting with glee at the prospect. Tempest grit her teeth, before getting down on one knee and bowing her head towards the floor. "Master, I..I couldn't. Please understand. He's my- He's my.." With a blow she didn't see coming, The Master struck the right side of her face with his fist, the rings adorning his fingers cutting into her flesh. The blow awakened the throbbing pain from her fight with the General, but she kept silent as blood began to trickle down her face.

"You insolent child! You had one job. To kill him. That's all I asked of you. And you couldn't follow orders. You know how this works, Tempest. It's a shame, I really liked you." Without allowing her a moment to catch her breath, the Master pulled out a steel rod from behind his desk, sending it crashing into her ribs in a series of vicious blows. Tempest couldn't help her whimper of pain and anguish, even knowing that her sounds would only make this worse. She remained as silent as possible as the blows kept coming. Onto her face, her ribs, her kneecaps. Pain and agony blossomed in every crevice of her body, yet it was still not enough for her Master.

"Lorenzo, Michael, get in here. Now!" The Master bellowed, fury poisoning his words. Within moments, the door opened and two of Tempest's nightmares came into the room. Looking down at her with cruel grins and evil dancing in her eyes, they didn't waste a moment before flipping her onto her front and pinning each arm down onto the floor. She numbed herself, getting ready for what she knew was coming. You are strong. You are powerful. You are brave. She chanted over and over to herself, scrunching her eyes in order to stop any tears from leaving her eyes. The tears only made it worse, she learned that very, very quickly. Any weakness made it worse.

Walking behind his desk and opening his bottom left drawer, The Master pulled out his prized weapon. In his hand he grasped his favourite whip, this weapon being his favourite due to the small metal thorns decorating it - thus ensuring maximum pain to whoever's skin it ripped into. With a cruel smile, the Master walked towards Tempest's form pressed into his study floor. "Now, you lost me a great deal of money for your disobedience. I think 10 whips is only fair, don't you?" He chuckled to himself, his grin widening when Tempest knew better than to respond. Signalling to Michael and Lorenzo, they pulled up her shirt so that her back was on full display. With no warning, The Master brought the whip down onto Tempest's back with a vicious crack.

The crack boomed through the office, and Tempest could no longer keep the tears in check. Agony bloomed on her back, the jagged slices from the thorns causing her blood to run. Crack. Crack. By the third whip, her sobs penetrated the air around them. Lorenzo bent down, licking the tears from her swollen cheek. "Don't stop crying, your tears taste so pretty" he taunted. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. By the seventh whip, darkness began to appear in Tempest's vision. She would not pass out. She would be brave. Her blood decorated the floor around them, but the Master did not stop. Crack. Crack. Crack. When the whip hit the floor after the final blow, Tempest's vision clouded and she could no longer stop the darkness from taking her, from serenading her into peace and tranquility, where she did not know pain. Did not know much of anything. Dropping to his knee next to her, the Master rubbed a mixture of iron and salt into her wounds; ensuring maximum pain and that they would not heal, leaving nasty scars on her skin forever.

"Do what you like with her. Once you've finished with your fun, lock her up in the cellar." After speaking those words, the Master departed. With cruel smirks, the two boys began pulling down her trousers. After this action, Tempest fell unconscious - she would not have to face the cruel boys ministrations, not that her unconscious state would stop them. It never did before.

~

The smell of musk and rotten wood lulled Tempest to consciousness, her vision lacking from her right eye being blackened and swollen shut. Agony throbbed up her back, her face, her ribs. She could not quite pinpoint where, it felt like agony was all she knew. She tried to sit up, to relieve the pressure on her back, but the manacles snapped tightly around her wrists and ankles prevented any movement. Leaning her head back onto the wall behind her, she tried to fall back to sleep. Tried to do anything to stop the pain that was running through her. Loud, controlled footsteps banged onto the steps leading to the cellar. Tempest sat forward, rim-rod straight and high alert for any threats. When her Master entered the cellar door, her position did not change. The ache of betrayal burned in her blood. He was the only father she ever known, but that did not stop his cruelty. His malice, his hate. She waited for him to begin to speak, refusing to acknowledge his presence in a formal manner.

"Good morning, Tempest. You've been out for 2 days, we thought we might have lost you." He drawled, raising an eyebrow when Tempest did not look at him nor acknowledge him. Anger sparked through his eyes, and in a few steps, he had his hand wrapped harshly around her throat. "Do not ignore me, child. You deserved every bit of pain, you failed me. You disobeyed. But you still have not learned. Fine. I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me with no option." With a snap of his fingers, the troupe's wizard, Ambrose teleported into the room.

Tightening his hand around her throat, causing her face to redden due to the lack of oxygen. "Now, you are going to complete the task I set you. Without fail this time. Luckily, your injuries give you a cover story to access the royal grounds. The servant leader Dorothy pities those who are abused by their husbands or fathers, and that's your ticket into the household. From there, you are ordered to get close to Legion. Make him trust you, open up to you. And then you will break his heart by setting him up for a trap, where Lorenzo and Michael will finish the job because you are incapable. Unfortunately, you won't remember previously meeting Legion. You won't remember what he is to you. All you will remember is my orders. Do not fail me this time, Tempest. Or it will be your doom." Tightening his hold on her throat for a few moments, The Master left the room and climbed the stairs back towards the main house.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. This is going to hurt. But you are brave, you will get through this." Ambrose crooned, softly stroking her hair to provide her some comfort before touching his fingers to her temples. Muttering words under his breath, red hot sparks of pain shot through Tempest's skull. She screamed, bucking her body and twisting to try and get away from Ambrose, but his hold was too strong. Her body began to shut down, the last thing she saw was Ambrose's remorseful eyes watching her before the darkness pulled her in once more.