There was a time long ago, when magic was not ruled by anyone. Where it was a free traveler, yet. Where magic was no ones slave. Where it remain unconquerable and glorious. They were superior and strong, a force to be reckoned with. But that time might as well fail to be given upon a very mage. It was likely to be called, that this mage was stripped of the glory of the title bestowed to others. This mage, the glory of being called a free will was stripped away from her. She was no longer a magic. She was a slave to mankind now.
Chained in the cold walls of the dungeon, where light cease to exist, a mage find herself might as well be on the doorstep of death. With blood and dirt staining her entire body, her clothes tattered, she is nothing but a lowly animal, only waiting for whatever time she had to end. She could feel her entire being yelling in pain, screaming in agony, crying for every part of her body that had been sullied. A mage–a very powerful being– now, is no more than a broodmare whose body was tainted with the blackest color turning her to a being lower than a slave, a captive and a prisoner.
Outside the chain door are muffled discussion and faint footsteps. Upon hearing so,she could feel her body trembling once again. She just went through hell for the millions of time and now she had to go through it again. As her body tremble, the left ounce of life fleed her eyes.
The door opened, and enters a man dressed in a clothes one could easily tell came from the society, the very high society that stained her being. She forced herself to feel anything. Anger. Fear. Pain. Whatever there is. But as her head hung low, eyes looking somewhere deeper than the cold stone floor, she found herself not in any emotion. She was dead, maybe not physically but spiritually and soul, she is as good as dead.
"Your grace, staying in here any longer would only displease you. Not to mention standing in the presence of that thing! I suggest we return."
Yes. A thing. She neither an animal or a human let alone a mage. She is a thing. Something one could get their selves dirty just by looking at her and standing mere meters away. She knew that very much. And she would never forget that.
"I acquire a moment with the prisoner." A firm voice commanded. A voice you'd only hear in a battlefield. A voice that commands not only a slave but almost everyone.
"But, your grace–"
"Now."
With one last final bow, the dungeon keeper walked outside and closing the door giving the man of a high rank and the thing a time. As she hear the door close, she knew what will happen next. She will have to give her body again, to a soldier that had taken interest of her beauty and body. But this soldier is not ordinary one, this man before her is someone that surpass even the grandest tittle of a duke. She knew that, by the way his presence linger in the dungeon making his presence known.
So what could a man of such high honor choose her, the lowest of all living thing to pleasure himself when he could have anyone. Any noble ladies and courtesan would be more sufficient to a man like him. Not a slave. Not a prisoner. And mostly, not a thing. And she? She was all that three. So why must a man like him come?
"I am not here to pleasure myself with you."
Ah. Of course. Why would she think that way? Why would she assume that this man before her would be choosing her to pleasure himself? Because she once was used as a pleasure giver to the late emperor. Because even before she reached the lowest of the dungeon she used to be the nobles' pleasure. Her body being tainted by the nobles even the late emperor himself pleasured himself many times with her. But that was before.
If not to pleasure himself then perhaps, he have come for a better reason. Perhaps he have come to tell her, that finally, death was granted upon her. That even if she is to killed infront of the entire empire like any other prisoner was, at least she is to be free. She is to finally break free from the body she let be sullied over and again.
"Yvevvian Dela Sullvian."
A sting of pass run across her being. The mention of a name that had become a stranger to her. It cuts deeper, reminding her even more of how she had fallen to the abyss with no hope of ever getting out.
"That is you, right?"
Who would have thought someone still remember her name. Not to mention, a high ranking man. Slowly, her gaze look up, her red hair covering nearly her emerald eyes. In her eyes, the reflection perhaps the definition of a majestic human being stand infront of her. With a hair that seemed so black as the night sky and eyes of darker deeper lilac color, he was the night. But as he step nearer, his hair that was once black turned to a darker shade of violet as the small light kiss his hair.
As his eyes, examine her from head to toe, strangely there was no hidden motif in his eyes. There was only her, not her body or desire.
"Have you lost your voice or you simply hate me as much as you hate everyone in the humankind?"
How she wanted to nod at that. But her eyes only remain on the ground and closed. She doesn't know what to feel. Because even if indeed she hate the humankind, something about this man tells her that whatever anger or pain may not longer exist. But would she be fooled? No. Not anymore.
"Even so, Yvevvian Dela Sullvian, I have come to tell you that–"
The man approached her cautiously. Each step a reflection of ease and pure intention. He came to a halt mere inches away from her. His hand outstretched to touch the chain on her wrist. The dirt marking his delicate skin.
"–chains shall no longer taint your hands nor will it leave any mark. Your solitude in the dungeon are yours and however step inside shall shed blood."
Her gaze immediately look up: a mixture of confusion and relief was seen in her green eyes. She meet his eyes, and in those beautiful eyes, she found no deception in them. Instead, she found nothing but truth. A promise perhaps, no, something greater maybe.
With a blink of an eye, the chains around her neck and her wrist shattered and fell to the ground. But after all those that she's been through, she still looked at him doubting his words. He for sure might speak sincerely but she knew better than let this man fool her.
"You have my word, my lady. And I swore to my life that if I were to break that I would collapse infront of you right now."
She watch him, studying every inch of his face and processing his words for a sign of deception, but no matter how she found none. Once Yvevvian confirmed safety, her eyes closed and she could feel her body collapsing. Before she could even fall on the ground, he catch her in his arm. Confirming that Yvevvian lost consciousness, he carried her gently put the dungeon not explaining himself to the guards who eyed him with confusion.
Yvevvian, was transfered to a dungeon that better fits a mage. At least for now. Once he laid her down on the soft cushion he walked out and commanded the soldier outside to protect her.
He headed immediately to the throne room where the members of the court was waiting. Upon arrival, he could hear their argument whether to grant him permission on taking the mage from captive and into his care. The new emperor listened as he weighed the situation. When the court was aware of the man's arrival they all hushed and let the emperor address the matter.
"Duke Teran Yadiel Ordivian."
The emperor called as he watch the duke walk towards his seat in one of the high ranking spot. Silencing the room upon his arrival. Everyone knew this man should be feared just as they should fear the emperor.
"I have heard that you have visited, a specific prison I have commanded that no one enter." The emperor spoke making the council look at the newly arrived duke.
"Pardon me your majesty, but if you so had forbidden anyone to enter, then why did I find the witch in such state? Clothes torn to rag, and body covered with bruises?" The duke questioned, his tone firm and calm but not disrespectful. "Upon entering, I was also greeted with a foul smell that strongly question whether no one really did enter before me."
For a moment the emperor and the council feel silent. They couldn't answer.
"Why did you enter her prison? You know she is a witch, a dangerous being." The emperor questioned.
"A dangerous being? If she is a dangerous being, then why are she held back with chains in a place that a witch herself would never see." The duke questioned back. "And my attention as to why I enter her prison, was because that witch once save one of your soldiers, your majesty."
Everyone raise an eyebrow and doubted the duke's words. Why would a witch help a man when their kind are known for their cruelty and evilness? They did not believe the duke's word. But he did not care. He simply answered the emperor's question withiut the intention of having everyone believe him.
"Helped one of my soldiers?" The emperor shook his head as a mock smile plays on his lips. "That is impossible. Witches are cruel. They've no heart to help—"
"She should be transfer to a better prison. She's not in good condition and letting her further remain there will only cause her, her life." The duke said, momentarily silencing everyone again.
They couldn't believe what they are hearing. A duke suggesting, rather insisting a witch to be in a better condition? The silence stretch out, filing the entire hall.
"If you are worried she might get stronger and take revenge, I suggest we worry not. For she is stripped to long from her glory that even the faintest of a spell would make her weak." The duke assured them. Not because he is worried for the empire's sake, but because he wanted the court to agree to him. The witch indeed was weak, had been hurt by their hands, but he knew that the witch was not as cruel as they believe it to be. He had seen it, from the way her eyes looked as if they were forgiving and kind despite the trembling pain of her body.
The emperor looked at the duke. Hisngaze calculating and wary. He trusted the duke not out of whim—but for the loyalty the duke had shown him over the past years. With a sigh, the emperor nod.
"Very well. The witch will be transported to the upper cell."