Taken

Part 1

 "Are you sure this is a good idea, going into the Dark Forest and all?" I ask Daemon, my best of friends.

"Of course this is a bad idea. But we are going in there so you can have an adventure," he responds.

"There are plenty of other adventure options that are not as dangerous. So why this?"

"Precisely because it is dangerous and it is more thrilling."

I sigh. "Okay, fine. But if anything truly bad happens..."

Daemon smiles and shakes his head. He mounts the night-black horse. I sling my shoulder bag on and mount the grey-flecked horse.

Soon, we are within the confines of the forest. The air has a foreboding feeling about it. Uneasy, I halt my horse.

"Do we have to continue? I do not like the feel of this forest," I tell Daemon.

Daemon stops and wheels around to face me.

"Are you scared?" he asks.

"No."

"Then let us continue."

I scowl at him, but continue on, if only because if I do not, I will never hear the end of it.

A few minutes later, Daemon stops and dismounts. I do the same, wondering what he is doing.

"We are going in there," he says gesturing to the right side of the forest. Then, leading his horse to a nearby tree, he says, "Tether your horse to a tree."

I really do not want to go in there, but that is what we have come here for, so I slowly lead my horse to a tree close by. Turning my back on Daemon, I tie the horse to a sturdy, low-lying branch. I start to turn back around, but I suddenly lose all feeling in my arms and legs, and I fall to the ground.

I fearfully call out, "Daemon?"

I hear footsteps, which I assume to be Daemon since we are the only people around, come to me, and then a pair of arms pull me up into a sitting position. He crouches down in front of me and I lift my eyes to his. Green-flecked ice blue eyes meet my own green-flecked violet ones. The green flecks in his though, change into red and gold, the mark of Dark.

In bewildered shock, I ask, "Is this your true face, then?"

"You can say that," he replies, first removing my bag then taking my wrists, and, palm sides together, ties them together with a bit of rope I had not noticed he was holding.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I am taking you to my father. He has, shall we say, a keen interest in you," he says, flicking his hand.

With that movement, I suddenly gain feeling back in my arms and legs.

I carefully stand and nervously ask, "Who exactly is your father?"

Daemon gives me a wicked smile that does nothing to alleviate my fear.

"He is the Dark King of course."

 Oh gods no. From what I have heard, he is one of the worst people you can meet. If you are Light that is.

I take a step, preparing to run, when Daemon, seeing what I plan to do, seizes my left arm and drags me to his horse.

"Mount," he orders.

I reluctantly do as he says, seeing that I cannot really do anything with my hands bound as they are. He gets on behind me, and a second later, I hear a noise from behind us and the sound of hooves moving away; he must have freed my horse.

Soon we are flying down the road. As we ride, Daemon tells me he was only pretending to be my friend all these years, the better to keep an eye on me. Obviously, they have been planning this for a very long time.

After a day and a half of hard riding, we turn onto a short side road, which ends at a gate large enough for two horses to walk abreast. The gate is set in a tall wall of some kind of smooth black stone. With a flick of his hand, the gate creaks open. We go through and I hear it close again.

I get off first, followed quickly by Daemon, who takes my right arm in a grip like iron, successfully preventing me from running, like I so badly want to do.

  I am all but dragged into the house, into a long entry hall. He takes a right, pulling me to a door. We enter a room that looks to be a receiving room. 

The only occupant is a tall man, at least six feet, with long, raven-dark hair. This is the Dark King then. He turns to face us and I see his eyes are a dark violet with flecks of red and gold.

He smiles when he sees me and says, "Thank you, Daemon. You may go."

Daemon inclines his head, releasing his hold on my arm, and pushes me forward, before departing. The King begins to close the gap between us and I automatically back away from him, that is, until I hit the door. I try to turn the handle, but it is locked. I turn back around to see him,   still with that half-smile, no more than a foot from me. I shift, not liking how close he is.

You really thought you could just leave?" he asks.

I shake my head, unsure how to answer.

Keep in mind that you can only truly leave by my say," he says.

In other words, escape will be difficult.

He proceeds to push the left sleeve of my tunic up to my elbow. I wonder what he is going to do, though it is probably nothing good.

He places his hand just below the inside of my elbow. After a few seconds, he releases it. Encircling my arm is a slim silver band.

"What is it?" I ask, not seeing the use of it.

That band suppresses all magic, except for healing of course, that you possess," he replies.

Great, just great.

"Now let us go over the ground rules."

Of course there are rules.

"Rule one," he continues, "is you will address me as sir or Master. Rule two, when asked a question, respond with a yes or no, unless a more detailed answer is needed. Three, no talking in my presence unless I tell you you can. Four is absolutely no trying to escape. And above all, you will follow my every command and order with no complaint. Do you understand?"

Wide-eyed, I stammer, "Y-yes, sir."

"Good," he says, removing my restraints.

He takes my right wrist, leads me out of the room, up a staircase to the second door on the right. We enter the room, with him behind me. He locks the door, adding to my unease, and I begin to get a very bad feeling as to what is going to transpire, as I look around the room. Dark floor and walls, a bed, a wardrobe. Definitely a bedroom.

I divert my attention back to him as he starts to pull me to the bed. I begin to panic and wrench my hand out of his grasp. He turns to face me, with a wicked smile gracing his features.

"W-what are you doing?" I ask, backing away.

"I will let that pass just this once," he says, coming towards me.

I hit the locked door, leaving me nowhere to run.

"I have waited a very long time for this," he tells me.

He grabs my arm and drags me, kicking and thrashing, to the bed. I am all but thrown onto it. My back to the mattress, he straddles my waist, gripping my one hand, secures it to a bed post. He does the same to my other hand.

Not long after, he takes the one thing I hold dearer than my family: my innocence.