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Flashback (300 years)
Inno's POV
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I was captured. Last thing I remember was a palm to the face when I woke up in a cage being carried on a chariot. My hands were cuffed with bands of clothes.
My destination? The Shilton's castle.
The caves I had lived in was a far cry from the beauty of the meticulously constructed palace. Despite the glamor the place possessed, I wasn't exactly stooped to be going there.
Crowds of people formed with the sole aim of mocking me. They pointed their nasty fingers at me saying phrases like 'How the mighty has fallen!' and 'Defeat comes swiftly, disgrace follows after.'
They felt happy with themselves. They were finally able to mock the thing they hated the most: their weakness.
I watched as they laughed at me. And guess what, I laughed back.
It started from a chuckle until it became a full-on cackle. I pointed at them through the cage and the cuffs on me and spat. I laughed at their ecstatic faces, making sure my grin was visible from a thousand miles.
They watched as the person they were mocking, mocked them back. Perplexed, they were, at that moment. They felt a pang as they watched their own weakness mock them. Weren't they the ones that were victorious, why was the defeated laughing.
It made no sense to them. It made every sense to me. I wasn't about to let them enjoy and savor in this moment of victory. Nooo. I planned to make sure I trampled on every single one of their pride. I didn't stop laughing. I spat, I scoffed and I laughed. It was hysterical; it was crazy.
As the chariot made it's way into the castle grounds, I began to realize the severity of my predicament. I was captured and at the mercy of the Shilton's Clan. The most wicked Clan in the entire region. The acts they were about to commit to me would be so excruciating.
I had always hated the fact that I was immortal, but I hated it even more at this point.
I began looking for ways of escaping. I would have easily wiggled my way out of the cage, but too many eyes were on me. I won't make it far before being recaptured. I thought and thought, but it was futile. Escape wouldn't be possible.
I was pissed at my helplessness. I knew something terrible was about to befall me, but I couldn't do anything about it.
I was placed in a cell. The place stank of decaying corpses. Two guards were assigned to stand watch each a dark arts user. I could tell by the aura about them, it was similar to Akzari.
. . .
At one point, a week had passed by. My time in the cell was terrible. There wasn't as much torturing as I thought they would be. Only some occasional beating from the guards whenever they were in a bad mood. But, I was not enjoying it. Not one bit.
They never once fed me. My stomach was a hollow pit that never stopped clawing at itself as each day dragged on. I could feel the weakness, the trembling, the darkness encroaching, but my body never gave out. Something inside of me kept pulling me back, fixing me just enough to make me go through the pain again. It was a cycle: the pain intensified, the hunger gnawed, and just when I thought I would finally get away from it all, my body dragged me back from the brink.
I was ensnared in that suffering, torn between life and death, and starving endlessly. A week seemed to go on forever. I was constantly in pain, constantly craving, and constantly hoping for an unattainable mercy.
Death was what I wanted the most, but had never gotten.
Eventually, the first week came to an end. They took me out of my cell. I was so weak that I couldn't put up much of a fight. I was being taken to the King's quarters.
I was about to meet my dreaded fate. Whatever they were going to do to me, I just knew that it was about to be the most awful and painful experience I would face.
I couldn't do anything about it though. I could only wait for my fate, my gruesome fate.