Assassin's Realm - The Lost King (COMPLETED)

Chapter 2. The Pit

Every evening, just after midnight, men would form a ring around the rim. The guards would leave, and the show began. Prisoners were tortured and beaten; screams were muffled by broken jaws and blood. Women who found themselves in this precarious situation were raped in various creative ways and eventually shared the same fate as the men. In the pit, there was no escape.

Raven never stayed long. He didn't believe in the useless torture of the defenseless. But he liked to watch the crowds gather, to see the faces of those hungry for violence. Tonight though, his intent was different.

Rain streaked down from the darkened sky, and lightning lit his way. The guards never saw him pass, nor did the crowd. Hidden deep in the shadows, not a soul noticed as he stalked the night.

Once in the pit Raven observed the prisoners from a distance and waited. The serving maid hung lifeless in a tortured position. Her head was down and rain-soaked hair obscured her face. Even through the sleet and the wind he could smell her blood and his began to race urging him to draw closer.

The other convicts wailed and cried. They begged for mercy, and in general, made a spectacle of themselves. But the girl was silent. Raven inched forward and wondered if she was conscious.

Huddled in the darkest swaths of night, he watched. Plumes of his breath in the cold air ticked off the moments as he waited. Finally, she moved. Her body strained as she raised her head. Onyx locks fell in waves emphasizing a sharp green gaze which cut through the night and pierced Raven's soul.

Contemplating the complexity of her stare, he studied her— the delicate lines of her face, the pain etched deep in her fragile brow. Warm tears mingled with the cold raindrops that streamed down her cheeks, but she remained stoic. Her strength was unyielding and Raven found himself drawn to the fire in her eyes.

His feet were umbrage as they carried him forward, but as he went, her gaze followed. Pausing, Raven cocked his head. The veil of darkness was too thick, the shadows too deep, no one could see him here.

The maid's head fell. Her attention had been nothing but coincidence. Flexing his fingers, Raven shrugged off the rain.

"Why are you watching me?"

There was boldness in her voice.

"How did you know I was here?" He stepped into the open. The other prisoners, miscreants familiar with his world, took notice of the Raven and began muttering his name.

"An assassin," they whispered.

"Our savior," others intoned.

"Does it matter?" She watched everything.

The guards had gone, and the crowd began closing in around the rim of the pit.

"I asked you a question." Raven scowled.

"I felt you watching me."

"What's your name?" He narrowed his eyes. An innocent barmaid would be overwrought with fear and desperation. She was cool, calm, resigned to the fact that she was going to die.

"Torrent." She shuddered in pain but raised her head to address him. "They know who you are." She glanced at her fellow inmates. "Yet I do not. Why would you take an interest in me?" She studied the man, locking his gaze with her own.

"You're not in a position to be asking questions." Raven gestured at her chains and weighed her lack of fear.

"Well I can't move."

Her humor took Raven off guard. He was tempted to smile.

"Typically, I don't make offers to the condemned." He approached. "But I'm feeling generous."