Chapter 1- Torturous Truth

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In case you need a warning for violence, here is your warning. There is some torture in the first part of this chapter

The Present

 15 years, 2 weeks 4 days, and countless hours without Her

Kyre

"Tell me who sent you, and tell me who killed Ezry," I speak calmly to the dying male Fae. His voice is non-existent by this time from the screaming, which has lasted for five days; quite the accomplishment if you ask me. My definition of slowly dying, and my families has morphed, as mine is perhaps slightly more torturous than it used to be. I no longer torture only for information, especially when it comes to the possibility of finding Her body. Yelling at him may get me the information faster, however, I don't give in. Ezry is dead, and his prolonged torture is nothing compared to my prolonged torture.

It has been over a year since this latest prisoner was captured. He was found near the fire border, separating our lands, Astrophel the Kingdom of stars, with our now enemies, Leucadia. Not a single creature has provided any information over these 15 years, and my family fears for my mind. It's hard for me to fear for something that is certainly already damaged beyond repair.

Recently, Ankou, the Fae responsible for carrying souls to the afterlife, who has seen more than I, almost vomited on a corpse when he came to collect the soul after I was done. He still suffers from compassion, which while not common and abundant amongst certain Fae; we both once had quite a bit of.

Everything that was good about me died, and when I resumed my duties as the war prince, and lead interrogator, I saw the looks people threw at me after torturing some. I had to enchant my little toy room, to keep everyone out, so they can not stop some of my favorite techniques of gathering information.

I don't know if Ankou and I can still be considered friends; he keeps trying to find who I once was. But even if I could recover, the darkness serves me too much to want to give me up.

Focusing back towards my prisoner, I know my mind wanders; perhaps I should be as worried as my family. I cut his hand off, the blade barely sharp enough to cut through bread. But I manage. I hardly hear him. His garbled screams, and blood covering my face, pouring down onto the floor, does nothing to deter me. This is another thing that is different. I would always do what I needed to do, but it used to affect me, even if I knew it had to be done. I feel nothing now.

It takes a huge force to change a Fae, Ezry certainly did. Her life, and her death. My only solace is that she can't see me like this.

His blood tries to congeal, but I don't allow this, and pour hot iron on the wound to weaken him for next time. He thinks he can spy on us? We all have goals in life, and one of mine is to keep him alive as long as I can.

His ragged breathing makes me roll my eyes, I hate asking the healers for help. They report back to Them. His eyes in a frenzy turn towards the rats, who are caged, but certainly smell his blood. He whimpers, and I smile at him. "Not today. They work better when hungry, and they just fed yesterday." His eyes role back, and he looses himself to darkness.

As I am picking through my toys, I hear thunderous footsteps. Clenching my jaw, I ready myself for an argument. The dungeonous underbelly of the castle we are in is lit by torches, enchanted to never extinguish, and his shadow joins mine as he approaches. The stone has scratch marks in many of the rooms, prisoners trying to determine length of imprisonment. Sometimes when they leave their cells I add or take away scratch marks. That is not new though, Ezry did that once for a rogue Pixy who tried to kill her sister, whom is a very talented healer. Ezry and I collapsed on the floor as the Pixy started to count and recount, yelling that she had been there longer. I do it now to think of her. My devious little dragon, I almost chuckle at the thought, and then catch myself, feeling as though a troll has thrown a boulder into my stomach. My memories are double edged, for the happiness no longer exists without pain.

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