There was no way of knowing how long she'd been imprisoned, but every second that she spent in the dank, empty cell sapped a little more of her strength. Every second felt like an hour and every hour felt like days.
At first, remembering her life outside the walls of her prison kept her sane, but the memories began to fade away, replaced with the pain and suffering her tormenters forced upon her. No matter how hard she tried to hide away inside her mind, pain always brought her back to the truth of her situation.
She hung by her wrists from the ceiling, drips of dirty water falling onto her pallid face. Moss grew across the floor and up the walls, fed by the leaking roof. A single slit in the stone wall allowed weak rays of sunlight in, but she had been chained up facing the opposite way, refusing her the comfort of sunlight on her face. Her blue eyes were bloodshot but free of tears, aching with exhaustion. But she refused to sleep, instead staring relentlessly at the decaying wooden door, dreading the next time it would open, but simultaneously wishing for any form of company to pull her out of the dark thoughts that circled her like vultures.
Her long brown hair hung lank around her shoulders, sticking to her face, a thin cut curving along her jaw line. She had been stripped of her stature; they had taken her white dress, the symbol of her authority. Instead she wore an ill-fitting brown dress, torn and sullied, the hem fraying a few inches above her knees. It irritated her skin and dug into her skin. Her arms and legs were covered in dark bruises and deep cuts. Her toes barely touched the floor and her arms were being wrenched from their sockets, the iron shackles biting viciously into her wrists, drawing blood.
She knew what they were trying to do.
They were trying to break her, to bend her to their will. They would keep torturing her and playing their twisted mind games until she snapped. Then she would do whatever they asked of her, unable to say no.
It seemed rather ironic, a confessor being forced to obey. After controlling countless others, it seemed almost justifiable that she would be made to do the same.
No. She wouldn't allow herself to compare the two. She only used her power when absolutely necessary, loathing the power she held over her victims. They enjoyed every moment; the screams of pain and sorrow. They revelled in the process, celebrating a successful conversion.
Her way was less brutal. It was instantaneous and painless, unlike the slow, agonizing fate that lay in store for her. Once again she slipped into thoughts of anguish.
The door finally burst open, searing light flooding into the cell. One woman, encased in a shell of scarlet leather stepped into the cell, closing the door behind her. She had long blonde hair, tied tightly and empty grey eyes.
She was Mord'Sith; a master of pain.
'Kahlan.' The woman's voice was cold and high, uttering her name with undisguised venom. 'You may call me Mistress Tina. I will be taking care of the rest of your training.'
Of course, that's what they called it. Training.
'I'm sure we'll enjoy each other's company. Aren't you?
She walked as she spoke, stopping behind her prey, a sick smile stretched across her beautiful face.
Kahlan didn't speak and wasn't surprised by the sound of Tina's weapon being unsheathed. She began to walk again, one hand clasped around her agiel; a stick of leather, blood red. It was filled with dark magic that inflicted incredible pain with just a single touch. Kahlan's heart skipped a beat, remembering the intense pain.
'Don't try and ignore me, Kahlan. It won't end well for you. Perhaps the touch of my agiel will loosen your tongue.'
She lifted it to Kahlan's face, pressing it into her cheek..
White hot pain coursed through her entire body, setting her nerves on fire. The agiel screamed as it poured its energy into her. It tore at her lungs and she began to writhe, the pain caused by the chains completely overshadowed. Burning tears ran down her cheeks, her eyes closed tight. She kept her mouth clamped shut, trying with all her waning strength not to scream. She wouldn't allow her that satisfaction.
The pain seemed unending and the edges of her vision turned black. She knew she wouldn't last much longer.
Finally, she pulled the agiel away and the pain stopped just as quickly as it had begun. Kahlan gasped for air, tears pouring down her face. She opened her raw eyes, looking for her tormentor.
The door to the cell had opened once again and Tina was now listening to the urgent mutterings of another Mord'Sith. When she fell silent, Tina once again turned to Kahlan, her thin lips pulled into a dreadful smile.
'It seems we have been blessed with good fortune.' She slipped the agiel back into its holster and gripped Kahlan's chin with a gloved hand. 'You won't resist much longer, now I will have something that will get me in there.' She rapped Kahlan hard on the forehead with her knuckles. Again, Kahlan said nothing, looking anywhere but the other woman's eyes. 'Aren't you curious? Or scared? No?' She smirked, squeezing Kahlan's chin. 'You should be. This will be the breaking of you, I'm sure.' She let go, looking at the blood on her gloved fingertips with a satiated look in her grey eyes. She lifted them to her lips, tasting the bitter liquid.
'Your precious Seeker is planning to storm this keep, single-handed.'
A gasp of horror escaped Kahlan's pursed lips before she could stop it and a fresh tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up at the Mord'Sith, praying to be told that it was a joke. An idea planted to scare her. But she knew, looking deep into the empty eyes that she was telling the truth.
'Ah, a reaction at last. So there is truth to the rumour swarming around you two. I was hoping there was. He will be useful indeed. Our spies say that the Seeker is in the foothills, planning your rescue. He appears to have seriously underestimated the number people here that are all too eager to send his soul to the Keeper. When he attacks, he will be captured and brought here. You should be a lot more agreeable with his life in the balance.' Their eyes met, cold grey against sparkling blue, and that was it.
Kahlan had been pushed too far.
Darkness seemed to seep into her soul, throwing aside her will and devouring her self-control. It purged all mercy and compassion from her mind, a burning wave of anger and hatred that made her stomach turn violently. Her hands began to tremble as a vicious shiver shot down her spine, forcing her to convulse.
The darkness was spreading, faster now. It leapt gleefully through her muscles, setting each one aflame. It crept through her chest, to the base of her neck. It was gripping her throat and she gasped for air, shaking her head side to side. Howls and screams pierced her throat.
It rose even higher, burning at the edges of her eyes and she tried, once again, to push it back. If it came now, she may harm her friends. She thought of them, trying to use her memories to fight off the rage, but it corrupted her memories, killing off the good and thrusting the bad into the forefront of her mind.
Richard. The man she loved so dearly and would sacrifice anything for.
The man she could never be with, for fear of destroying his soul.
Zedd. Her grandfather in all but blood, who guided and trained her.
The man who made her all too aware of her responsibilities. And her mistakes.
Cara. Her best friend and most trusted confidant.
The Mord'Sith who had murdered Kahlan's beloved sister.
She had no comfort to cling to and the rage flooded into her eyes, turning them from shining sapphires to the pitch of the darkest depths of the Underworld. A harsh, feral howl pierced her throat. She was aware of nothing anymore, not the pain of the scratches that covered her body, or the cut in her face. All of the pain seemed to fade as the darkness enveloped her.
She wasn't aware of simply tearing the metal chains that enchained her wrists clear out of the solid granite ceiling, or of raising a single, steady hand in front of her. She wasn't aware of the magic rushing from her fingertips and into the bodies of endless soldiers that advanced on her, attempting to still her beating heart, turning their fearful eyes as dark as her own, forcing them to kneel in subservience to her; their mistress. She wasn't aware of the three words that fell from her lips.
'Kill each other.'
She wasn't aware of the warm blood splashing over her ice-cold skin, or of the horrifying scene before her.
She wasn't aware of anything until warm hands reached through the darkness, touching her soul. They fought back the nightmarish blackness, a single beacon of hope in a world of pain. Then she heard him, yelling her name...