The dark musty walls were closing in. There was no escape... Prisoners came and went, but they weren't released. They died. Some committed suicide out of cowardice, some died of disease, and some were tortured until all the life drained out of their poor bodies. Then there were the servants. Treated so foul that they might as well be slaves, their payment a tiny meal once a day and a single coin at the end of the week. You were either born into it, sold by reluctant parents, or captured.
Ayasha was born into it. Her mother had been a servant, her mind and beautiful face worn down with dirt, wrinkled from stress, and pale from the lack of sunlight. She had died though, but nobody knew how. Poison was suspected. Suicide. The woman was only twenty-nine, and her daughter, Ayasha, ten.
She had thick black curls that were treated poorly, cut when she misbehaved. They were covered with dirt and cobwebs, her fair face caked with grime, and her frail, knobby fingers were shaky and clammy. She worked endlessly in the dungeons, knowing nothing but darkness and terror.
The young girl was fourteen now, and walking down the damp hallways. She didn't dare take her eyes off of what was before her. If she did, she would surely be beaten. Her steps were rushed, a plate of burnt bread and baked potatoes in her trembling hands. The cooks would surely be punished for the poor meal, and if she didn't hurry, she knew she would too. The last time she made a mistake was yesterday. The soldiers that ran the place had beaten her black and blue until she was weeping in the fetal position. As cruel as it was, it wasn't uncommon. Not here. All she had ever dreamed of was escaping. But she knew she couldn't. They'd kill her or torture her if she tried. The only way out would be if someone were to buy her out of it. And she had lost all hope of that ever happening long ago. Then she heard it, gruff laughing and screaming. She was passing the torture room. The smell of blood was thick in the air, a smell she was all too familiar with. Her breathing grew hoarser as she sped past. If they saw her, they'd definitely want to have some fun with her, beating her until she handed her master's food over. Waves of relief washed over her as the thin light vanished and the awful sounds of blood gurgling diminished. She had made it passed, and she was now in the tower that led to her master's room. Arcanian was her master, a strong young man with fists any servant wood fear. But on the other hand, his wife, Elise, was kind and gentle. She didn't belong in this terrible place, yet she loved her husband too much to leave him here alone. Elise was the only person here that was kind to her. Helping her clean up, sewing holes in her dirty dress together, sneaking food into the servants' quarters for her. A thin smile traced her lips as she thought of the beautiful young woman fussing about her, sweeping blonde hair from her eyes as she did everything she could to heal her wounds. There was one thing about Elise that made others suspicious. Her gift for healing. She collected herbs and practiced alchemy, a rare talent in the domain of Drauqk. Her clothes were fine and her room was well furnished. Selling potions was a decent way to earn coin, for people were always trying to earn some healing potions to bring to battle. And occasionally they sought a love potion for someone who didn't return their feelings. However, no matter how much gold they offered, she had to refuse. She knew how to make love potions, but Elise didn't believe it was right.
Ayasha had to snap out of the trance when a dark, looming door appeared at the top of the stairs. Her legs ached, begging her to sit down, but she couldn't. She just... couldn't. Her shaky hands reluctantly reached for the door, knocking at the terrible, rotten, wooden boards. The door slowly opened. "Master, I've got your dinner." Her whisper was drowning with fear as she looked up, only to receive a wave of relief. It was Elise. She smiled kindly and looked over her shoulder. "Come, Ayasha, Arcanian is out. A border skirmish started south of here. Let us get you cleaned up." The fourteen year old was ready to burst into tears and hug her. Elise was just so kind to her... She was like a second mother. Elise ushered her in and had her sit on the bench near the dinner table, heading into her alchemy lab before returning with a bucket of water. She set it down near her feet and gently took of Ayasha's thin slippers, revealing blisters and cuts. Her lips quivered and she lightly pressed her foot into the water. Ayasha braced herself for the worst, but as soon as her foot slipped into the warm water she felt more relaxed than ever. Elise chuckled silently and stood up, dabbing a cloth over a bottle of scarlet liquid, almost like blood. She lightly pressed it to Ayasha's bruises, keeping it there until fresh layers of skin covered them, making her dirty face look as good as new.
"Thank you." Ayasha smiled, her brown eyes wide as a deer's. "Wait here, I'll get some water ready for a bath." Elise shuffled off, her long dress trailing behind her. Ayasha always felt guilty when Elise took care of her. She was wasting valuable things on a foolish servant, and it didn't seem fair. She needed to repay her, that was for sure. Her hands slipped into the front pocket of her dress, fingers snaking around a bulging coin purse that contained at least a hundred coins. She would have more, but she had ended up paying for ruined meals so often. It would have to do. As soon as the blonde alchemists came out Ayasha stood up, reaching out her hand, the coin purse resting in her hand. Her heart was hammering with great force, threatening to burst from her chest as she looked forward. Elise out a hand to her heart and shook her head. "My dear girl, I couldn't accept that. I like helping you. You need these things far more than me. Keep the gold, it's yours." She could already feel tears welling up in her eyes, dripping down her dirty cheeks.
"Thank you, Elise." The smile stuck to her lips, and it only made her more hopeful.