What Makes a Monster

♱Fifty-Three♱

The chamber is cold, dark, and wet. Iron clasps dig into my wrists, the metal is painfully cold. My skin breaks out with goosebumps with every brush of the chilled air in the room; the room that I cannot make out. There's no light, only darkness. My eyes struggle to adjust, but the most I can make out are my hands trembling. The only sound is that of my labored breaths that echo in the vast chamber. My body is sore and memory hazy.

The last thing I remember; Malatis being caught and the mages breaking into the mansion. When I awoke, I was here and I don't know how long I've even been awake, only that I haven't made a sound. I rather not bring attention to myself. The longer I last without interactions between whoever my captors are the better, especially since Malatis hasn't shown himself even when my heart rate is borderline explosive.

What happened to him? Is he ok? Does Soran know I'm gone? Who were those mages? What do they want? Is everyone at the estate ok? What should I do? Where am I? A million and one questions fired off every second until my eye is twitching and head throbbing.

A door suddenly opens, light filters into the room. My eyes sting and water from the sudden brightness. As they adjust, a man steps in, his silhouette illuminated by the light. I blink rapidly, finally taking in my cell.

Sure enough, the room is made of stone with an iron chain locked into the wall. The chain rattles whenever I move. There's something in here other than me, a table with two chairs, but that's it. No cot, blanket, food or water, not that I expected any. Still, it's rather telling of my captor that is shutting the door behind him.

Small balls of white light no bigger than a fist form around his figure, illuminating the room perfectly. They hang above, like a floating chandelier, revealing my captor as a man well into his forties or fifties. His almond shaped eyes are fixated on me, quiet and observing. His wrinkled face is sunkissed and worn with age, a gray scruffy beard and short hair to match. He's not wearing a robe like the mages, rather a suit very similar to Soran's own attire.

When he speaks, his voice is chillingly deep and carries the same accent as the mage, "I'm glad to see that you're awake, Wallie. I apologize for the rather rough meeting, but there was no other way."

Uh huh, sure. Forgive me for not believing you, jackass. If only I had the courage to say that, or the stupidity.

"I'm sure you have many questions," he adds, gesturing towards the table. I take the hint and hesitantly take a seat. During a time like this, I should listen but keep my trap shut. I need to last until Soran gets here. Well, we'll see how it goes, I guess.

The stranger sits across from me. Above the lights continue to hover, now casting not only light but also warmth. The chill in the air dissipates and I find myself calming down bit by bit. My fingers twist the chain, searching for something, anything. Is it loose? Can I slip my hands out of the cuffs? Is there anything in this room I can use? Not really. It's empty, save for us.

"I believe introductions are in order," he speaks calmly, tossing one leg over the other with elegance. There's no doubt that he's nobility, a politician of some sort or somehow connected to the imperial family. I don't recall seeing him at the ball for the Day of Aberia though, then again, we weren't there long.

"My name is Allvar Gresk." He gives a polite nod that I hesitantly mirror. "And I obviously already know your name."

Obviously.

"Where am I?" I ask, searching the room for any indication, but again, there's nothing here. This is a dungeon after all, or maybe just a makeshift cell depending on where we are. It's doubtful they want me to piece anything together so of course there will be no clues here.

However, my eyes rest on Allvar, taking in his fine attire. The embroidery is as intricate as Soran's, but there is a pin on his chest in the shape of a shield. A house sigil? Unfortunately, I am not educated in such matters, otherwise I may be able to guess. It's not the imperial family's though, I know that much.

"Nowhere you've likely been before." Allvar snaps his fingers. The door opens. A maid walks in, attempting to shut the door swiftly but I manage to note that we are definitely in a dungeon of some sorts so not a make shift room. The hallway is made of stone as well and there's torches outside the door.

The maid sits a plate of steaming soup before me along with a glass of water. She leaves immediately afterwards, but I refuse to touch the food.

"Worried that it's poisoned?" Allvar asks. He snickers at my immediate nod. "Why would we go through all the trouble of bringing you here only to poison you?"

"Torture."

Allvar snorts. "I like you, Wallie. You're a smart lad."

He then takes a quick drink from the bowl along with the glass. He returns both to me. My stomach growls when the smell hits my nostrils. I didn't realize how hungry I was until she brought this in here. How long was I out? Or am I only starving due to the situation? Who knows.

"Eat," says Allvar. "Don't worry, there's no plan to harm you. You're bait, nothing more."

"Bait for what?" I play dumb.

"Not what, but who, and I'm certain you already have that answer." He smiles kindly, but that only frightens me more. "The cursed has taken great interest in you, so much so that he fortified his estate. Curious, seeing as he hasn't done so in quite a while, long before my time in fact. That's rather telling. We don't defend unless we have something to protect."

I squirm in my seat, averting my gaze to the shadowy corner of the room. Having his lavender eyes on me is frightening. For some reason, I'd rather have the mages in here than him.

"If this is a trap then why are you telling me?" I ask.

"I hope you do not take offense to this, but you aren't really a threat."

Wow, ok, I take full offense, but I get it.

"But Soran is," I argue quickly, taking a chance to face him. His expression doesn't show any concern and that causes great concern in me. "What makes you think you can stand against him? Taking his immortality out of the question, I doubt there's anyone here that can rival his strength."

"There's certainly a few that can hold him off, but you are absolutely right. Not even I can defend against the vampire forever, but please--" Allvar gestures to the food again. "Eat up while you can."

"While I can?" I ask, watching Allvar head for the door. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can't eat after our guest arrives and he'll be here soon, I'm certain of it." Allvar gives one last piercing smile before stepping out, thankfully leaving the lights behind.

My stomach growls louder. Steam from the soup continues to warm my face. The glass of water somehow makes my throat even more dry. Why Allvar came in to speak so little is beyond me. Why he is offering food and drink is also beyond me. This whole situation is beyond me. All I know is that I'm hungry, cold, and scared. I've been like this once before as a child. The sensations are familiar. I hate it.

I stare at the soup, uncertain of what path to choose. If I don't eat it I'll lack the strength I may need to escape later. If I do it, there could very well be poison in it. Sure, Allvar drank some, but for all I know he could be drinking an antidote outside the door. Hael has told me about some of his mystery novels, I know what can happen!

My stomach is berating me though. I end up eating the soup so quickly that I don't even remember taking the first bite. The glass of water is chugged, finally quenching my thirst. Nothing happens afterwards. I'm left alone in the room, wondering what the hell is going to happen next and almost hoping Soran doesn't come.

♱♱♱

Aw shit, Wallie is still kidnapped and he has no idea where he is or who has done it. Will Soran show up in time?