The Captive

Amber struggled with what strength she had left to get comfortable on the cold stone floor of the dungeon. Her captives had been none too gentle dragging her here and stripping her of her armor plate. Once that had been done they had chained her to the ground and left her alone in this place, with only a singular barred window letting light in. It's an old interrogation technique; leaving me alone to sweat it out for a few hours before the questioning begins. Unfortunately that knowledge did little to comfort her.

Looking around, Amber realised there was little hope of escape and that she would most likely die here, a plaything in the hands of that monster Alana. A large part of her felt that she deserved to die in agony, especially after she had sent so many to their graves. It would be atonement on her part.

There was that small part that still wanted to fight however, to spit in the face of her captors and not give them the satisfaction. It was the part that told her that if she was going to die here, she was going to die with what dignity she had left. It was also the part that told her to try and escape. So she began looking around for a tool of some kind to free herself. On a table near her sat a large number of torture devices, menacing her with their very presence. However some of them also promised salvation, being the right shape and size to pick the locks that restrained her. She kicked at the table to try and knock some onto the floor. The larger implements remained where they were, but some of the smaller ones dropped to the ground, and Amber started to feel a flicker of hope.

But as she stretched with her foot to drag one to her, the dungeon door opened.

It was true what they say, women make the best torturers.

Alana, or Clarissa as Amber had learnt, had shown a level of brutality and cruelty that Amber had never known, and as hard as she had tried, she had screamed. And cried, and begged and pleaded. And Clarissa had savoured every moment of it. As her last act before leaving Amber to recover from her wounds, Clarissa had pushed the table well out of reach. It was a last act that shattered any hope Amber had left. So she lay there, wishing for death, just as Clarissa had said she would.

She lay there unmoving for hours when she heard those dreaded footsteps coming back toward the door. As the door opened she was unable to hold it in and Amber started crying again at the knowledge of what was to come.

"She's in here!" Lance shouted. "She's alive!"

"My God Amber, how did you survive?" Lance exclaimed, his voice full of worry. The first thing he had done besides freeing her from her chains was making sure she was covered up before anyone else arrived.

"I don't know….. Lance… I'm sorry," She stammered, tears welling in her eyes. After a few seconds she couldn't hold it back anymore. Lance gently rubbed her back as she sobbed before gently lifting her chin up to look into her eyes.

"I'm the one who should be sorry." He replied. "I had no idea, and I sent you up against these monsters." He looked away in shame for a moment before turning back. "Lily and Jasmine are dead because of me. At least I got you out alive."

Amber watched as Lance poured a healing salve into a cup, and took it when he offered. She drank the ordained brew as he tended to the wounds on her body. "How… did you beat them?"

"We came in hard." Lance replied while dressing a bite wound on her leg. "Once Lyra lost contact with Lily she made sure she got in touch with me. Gunther brought half the army and we smashed Windspire to pieces on our way to the palace. It was not pretty, but it was worth it." He frowned. "We lost over fifty good men just dealing with the dozen or so succubi here."

"Succubi?" Amber replied weakly. "It makes sense…"

A knock at the door startled Amber. An elegant priest walked in, a prayer book in one hand and a collection of salves at her belt.

"This is Zhanna." Lance explained. He leaned in to Amber. "After I found you, I figured you'd prefer a female priest. Anyway, I'll be off. I'll have someone bring some clothes in for you when you're ready." He stood up but Amber grabbed his arm.

"Lance?" She whispered.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Zhanna was an incredible healer and well deserving of her reputation, and Amber was dressed and out of the dungeon within an hour. She was still covered in bandages, but her bleeding had all but stopped and the salves she had drunk were healing her much faster than her body could do alone. The mental wounds would stay with her for much longer though.

She made it to the top of the staircase and the main foyer of the palace. Lance was overseeing the funeral preparation of the troops he had lost, and the succubi that his men had killed. Many of the thralls were still tending to their work as though nothing had happened, and Amber wondered when or if they would return to normal. Lance turned to her as she approached.

"Zhanna really is damn good at her job." Lance said warmly. "I figured you'd be unable to walk for at least a few more hours."

"She has a definite gift." Amber agreed. She looked around at the scene in front of her. "It looks bad."

"It was." Lance stated. "But at least it was quick. Eight succubi dead within minutes. Three more within the next five. But this is the most interesting thing. Follow me." Lance led her into the drawing room, just off the main foyer. In there were a half dozen Knights guarding a lone succubus, blades all pointed at her neck. Lance motioned at her. "This one surrendered."

Amber stared at her intently. She was not one that she recognized, but no doubt she had feasted on the Rosecults, just like the others. "Why give yourself up?" She asked, her voice trembling with rage.

"Because I'm not ready to die." The succubus replied. "And because if you want what I know, you have to let me live."

"Know? What are you talking about?"

"You think this was Clarissa's idea?" the succubus hissed. "She just wanted to hide, to feast on the homeless, to live out a comfortable life. She had no ambition beyond her own stomach."

"So why do this?" Lance questioned.

"I convinced her to move on the Governor. To destroy Windspire and draw out the humans. This was my master's bidding."

"You're working for someone else?" Amber slammed her fist on the table, causing pain to shoot through her barely healed arm. "WHO?!"

The succubus leaned in, her hot breath on Amber's face. "A name matters not. What matters is that you have played directly into my master's hands. You'll all be dead soon enough."

She looked down at Amber's body. "I would've loved to have seen Clarissa work on you." She purred. "You are a beautiful woman. I never understood her reluctance to sample the female form, I always found it… invigorating. I would've done things to you she would never had dreamed of. To have you quivering on the floor, begging me to stop but to keep going at the same…." She never finished her sentence as Amber grabbed a blade from one of the knights and in a fit of rage decapitated her. Lance recoiled as black blood sprayed from her severed neck.

"Show me the bodies." Amber growled, panting heavily. "I want to make sure they're all dead. NOW!"

Stunned, Lance said nothing but led her into back out into the foyer. All the succubi bodies were lined up, being prepared by the priests before being ritually burned. Amber looked over each one in turn before turning to Lance, eyes burning with fury.

"She's not here." Amber snarled through clenched teeth. "Clarissa has escaped."