A raven-haired young woman approached door of her most guarded cell. She lifted the key from her emerald robes that matched her acidic green eyes that glowed, providing light into the darkness. The key clicked in the lock, and the door creaked open. She entered a second room and said a password while waving her wand. The door opened to reveal a figure sitting in the corner in the sun that was not covered in snow that had drifted from the ground-level window nine feet above her head.
The prisoner acknowledged her presence by raising his head. He'd long given up on any hopes of escape over the past year. The farthest he'd made it was the antechamber before the platoon of guards had caught him and tortured him. He also refused to give any respect to the sorceress he hated with every bit of him. Defiance was the only thing on his mind.
"Hello, Morgana," he said coolly. "Tell me, is this another visit to clone me? Or am I getting an actual bed?"
"The first is yes, the second is no," she replied in an equally cool voice. "Tell me, Emrys, do you not tire of the games you play?"
"I'll only 'tire' of it when I'm free," he said angrily.
"You'd do well to remember who is in control here," she warned him.
"Yeah, but you need me to be unharmed in order for your clone to be healthy. Not that you have that much to work with," he said helpfully.
"I hate that I cannot get to you," she muttered as she drew her wand, clinging to it with iron fingertips. She tapped Emrys with it, and traced a shape in the air, silently creating a clone. The clone then collapsed. Morgana pulled her ring out of her pocket and slipped it onto the clone, causing him to disappear in a blue light.
"I'm guessing that's it," Emrys said as Morgana exited. She never stopped.
He sighed and slowly rose to his feet, causing crackling throughout the bones prominent behind his pale skin. He began to pace the length of the cell, like an animal in a cage. He was one, after all.
Ever since mid-February, he felt the block on his twin bond break free from one end. Despair and rage of the deepest kind and pure depression poured in, all that he could bear. He tried to send something reassuring, only to realize that Ella couldn't feel him.
Frustrated, he dropped back to the ground, punching the wall before realizing it was a really bad idea. He hated this. He hated that it was useless, that he was useless, and that he was going to die in the icy hellhole.
He clenched his fists in attempt to control something for once. Just one small thing. He traced his initials in a heart with his boot next to those of Mara-Jade Evans. He groaned. How could he let it happen? How could this happen to him?
The door opened again, to show a girl with reddish brown hair tied back in a braid, her eyes glowing green like Morgana's.
One of the undead, Emrys realized. He hadn't seen this one before. He knew that maybe, just maybe, he could trick this one.
The girl was bringing in a tray of the food, dressed in shabby clothes that were characteristic of the revenants. She looked almost afraid of him. Emrys looked at her, almost bored. Make her think you're harmless.
"Are you new?"
She nodded before setting down the tray quickly.
"The Dark Lady said that your clones have been turning out weaker than she'd like in the past few months," the revenant explained in the Frankenstein accent of Grindelwald's German, Morgana's Welsh, and Riddle's English. Most of the revenants spoke with it in English or German, often mixed together into the language that Emrys hated.
"Ah," Emrys muttered. "Well tell her thanks for that."
"I. . . Will?" she seemed a little confused. She turned, trying to hurry out as quickly as possible.
"Are you going to be coming around more often?"
She turned around. Perfect.
"That's what the Dark Lady commanded," she said, as if she were reciting the words.
"I'm guessing that you don't even know my name, or why I'm here," he continued. More, more. Get her curious.
"Shut up! Shut up!" the revenant shouted, stamping her grimy, worn-down boot. "They told me that you'd try to trick me! They all said that you were tricky! I don't want to hear what you have to say!"
Emrys flinched at the shouts. He knew that this one was a lot smarter than he thought. He'd have to rethink tricking this particular revenant.
"Well, you're cleverer than the others," he said. "So, tell me, what's your name?"
"I have none," she said quietly. "The Dark Lady stitched a number on my jacket. That's all I know."
"Can I give you a nickname?" he asked, mostly just out of a little warm feeling in his heart, a warm feeling that Morgana, Grindelwald, and Voldemort hadn't yet chipped away from him.
She hesitated for a moment.
"I suppose."
"Is Red okay with you?" he blurted out, only able to see the reddish tint in her hair for inspiration. She looked slightly relieved.
"Of course it's okay with me," she said, softening towards Emrys.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to ask me my name?" Emrys asked. "It's only polite."
"What do you know of politeness?" Red asked. "You're here, aren't you?"
"Rudeness isn't exactly what got me here, it was more like rebellion," he shot back.
"Well, fine then, if you're so important, what is your name?" Red asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"My name is Jacen Emrys, and I'm here because I was the last master of the Resurrection Stone."