Chapter Four

Farren

I have no idea how long I've been pacing, but it must have been for a while because my wound has healed. I'm now just left with a phantom ache that probably won't go away any time soon. The stiffness of my blood-soaked clothes is really starting to piss me off now, but the reality is that it's the least of my problems.

That point is amplified as I hear heavy footsteps echo down the dark, damp corridor that leads to my cell.

A sharp shudder of fear runs down my spine. This is going to hurt, and it may kill me. I know I pissed them off when I escaped the first time, and they'd want to torture me on that premise alone, but I have a feeling that they want me for more than that, although I can't for the life of me figure out why. Unless I was sent to kill someone that they loved, but I don't think the evil fucks are capable of loving anyone, except maybe Azreal; he's always seemed slightly different than the others and never participated in anything else that the other Princes put Grey and me through.

"Oh, Farren," Dagon sings, his voice grating on my nerves.

I stop pacing and turn to face the bars of my cell; they're spelled, and it's impossible to touch them without being in excruciating pain. Pulling my shoulders back, I push all thoughts out of my mind and blank my expression as I sink into that dark part of me that thrives on blood, pain, and fear.

The familiarity of it brings me peace, which I'm aware it really shouldn't.

The eldest prince comes into view; I knew he'd be the first to visit; he's incredibly impatient.

Dagon's green-tinged skin doesn't detract from his good looks, which he uses to his advantage all the time to get supes to trust him before he gets what he wants from them and then ends them in the most gruesome ways possible. To me, he just looks like a fuck boy.

He is strong though, I'll give him that, and he's built like a fucking house. I mean, he is ginormous, and although I am not entirely sure what species he is, as he is native to the Underworld, I at least know that he is part Demigod, which is why he is one of the Princes of the Underworld. I don't really know much about the hierarchy here, especially since Hades disappeared, but I do know that the princes are at the top.

"Nothing to say to me?" Dagon asks, his reptilian slit eyes narrowing at me. "Could it be? Are you actually going to cooperate with us? That would be a shame."

I don't move; I don't even allow my face to twitch, let alone make an expression, despite how much I want to sneer at him and curl my lip in disgust. There's no point, he doesn't give a shit. In fact, he would be proud beyond measure that he was getting to me.

"Nothing?" he tuts, seeming disappointed. "How about this? I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to tell me what I want to know."

I scoff, "Oh, and if I tell you whatever it is that you think I know, you're going to just leave me alone and not torture me?" I roll my eyes, "Please, I'm not falling for that shit."

He smirks, happy that he managed to get a response from me, "Oh, I'm going to torture you either way, but if you tell me what I want to know, then your torment will be slightly shorter, and the time before one of us visits again will be slightly longer."

There's only one thing that stands out to me regarding that threat, and it prompts me to ask, "Visit?"

Dagon's eyes flash with dark joy, "Oh, we're not risking allowing you out of this cell. Besides, you know we don't need to be in there with you to inflict the pain that will get us the answers that we need."

I raise my eyebrow, not allowing the pit of dread that's opened up in my stomach to show outwardly. How the fuck am I supposed to escape if they've found the way I escaped last time and rendered it useless, I don't have Grey with me to help this time, and now, they won't let me leave this damn cell. It makes it nearly impossible to fucking escape, and I'm being generous when I say nearly because it is damn impossible to escape under these circumstances.

He tilts his head to the side, "No response? Ah well, no matter, it means that we can get back to the fun stuff."

He doesn't even bother to ask a question as the first wave of his magic charges me, slices open up all over my body, and blood instantly soaks my clothing. I don't know why, but he never slices my clothes when he does this, instead choosing to allow his magic to pass through that barrier and simply cut my skin to ribbons.

None of me is spared, not my legs, torso, or even my face, as blood drips down into my eye. It's absolute agony, but I allow the part of me that thrives in the dark and in pain to come forward, the part that likes watching the blood drip through my fingers as the life drains out of the eyes of one of my targets that deserved their fate.

My dark.

When it's evident that I'm not going to give in to his sick wants and scream or beg for mercy, he sighs and pulls his magic back.

"I suppose I should ask you a question," Dagon sighs like I'm inconveniencing him. "Where is he?"

I steel my spine, my voice coming out steady and unaffected as blood starts to pool around my feet from the multiple wounds, "Who?"

"Hades!" he growls; he obviously thinks that I'm playing him, but I have to admit that answer threw me through a fucking loop.

My lip lifts in confusion as my eyebrows furrow, "How the fuck should I know where he is? Besides, isn't it a bit careless of you to lose your god?"

"He is not my god; he's weak and unable to make the decisions that will better the Underworld and allow all of the Underworlders' free reign in the other realms."

"Whoa, hold up. I'm not even from here, and I know that it would be bad to let the born Underworlders into the other realms. Not just for the natives of those realms but for the Underworlders themselves, too, " I point out, unable to stop myself from being dragged into the psycho-babble. It occurs to me that they must not be able to follow through with their plan because they need something from Hades himself, but how they plan to make a God do their bidding when they are merely demigods, some of them mixed with other supes, is a question that I'm not sure I want to know the answer too, but I sure as hell hope that they aren't capable of it. He just stares at me, a calculating look in his eyes and a smug smile twisting his lips. It clicks, "You're banking on that, aren't you? There's more to your plan, but you need the Underworlders to have free reign first."

Anger flashes through his eyes, instantly telling me that I'm on the right track, but unfortunately, anything else that I may have been thinking about flees my mind as another round of pain attacks me from all angles. This time, he's added a poison to his strikes, and liquid fire burns through my veins. Just when I think I can't take another second of it and the sweet relief of unconsciousness may take me, he stops, pulling his magic back.

It's by sheer fucking stubbornness that I stay standing, the pool of blood around my feet growing larger by the second.

"Where is Hades?" Dagon growls.

I steel myself against the pain and reply through gritted teeth, "How the fuck would I know?"

"Wrong!" he replies gleefully as yet another round of pain attacks me.

The only reason I haven't slipped in the ever-expanding pool of blood at my feet is because I haven't moved them, so the blood hasn't been able to get under the soles of my boots. I refuse to move them until I don't have a choice. He carries on torturing me, switching it up every now and then and even healing a few of the worst slices or clearing my body of the various poisons that he uses before he starts all over again.

I can feel my magic, far off in the reaches of my soul and behind so many barriers that I can't actually get to it and use it to fight back. The magic in this cell only allowing my healing ability to come through and even then not allowing it through enough to heal me completely, but just enough to keep me alive.

It's fucking angry though, angrier than I have felt it before, and its growing, pushing against the binds of the spells that hold me in a way that it didn't before, and I wonder if my ability to pick apart spells has grown enough to combat the ones that are binding my magic and this cell.

The pain must be getting to me because this cell has layer upon layer of spells put on it by creatures a thousand times stronger than I could ever hope to be, and there is simply not even a slither of a possibility that my magic could break free, or even start to pick it apart when it's locked down by it. Even if I wasn't trapped in the spells and I was trying to free someone else from them, I wouldn't be capable of doing it; my ability simply isn't that strong.

If it were, then I could've picked apart the spell that holds Grey hostage and stops him from telling us everything that he wants to. It didn't even occur to me to try simply because I know I'm not capable of that.

Finally, Dagon's latest round of torture ends, and this time, my knees crash to the floor in the pool of blood, my legs unable to help keep me up anymore.

He tuts, and through the one good eye I have left as blood is flowing in rivulets over the other one, I see him tilt his head and look at me curiously. "We've been at this for hours and your resolve hasn't cracked even for a second, it makes me wonder if you in fact did escape with him or if he just saw an opportunity and took it."

I don't move, mostly because even the tiniest of movements make my body scream in pain, but also because I don't want him to see my reaction to his words. Surely, he means someone else; he doesn't mean Grey because that would mean Grey is Hades. My thoughts are interrupted when he claps loudly, and I barely have time to suppress a flinch.

"No matter, I'm getting hungry. We'll pick this up later on; I'm sure one of the others will be along to see if they can get some information out of you; after all, it's not just Hades that we want to know about. Isn't it exciting? You're just full of mysteries, and I, for one, can't wait to take them apart piece by piece." By the time Dagon's finished talking, his voice has turned dark and threatening, and it's clear he plans to find out whatever he wants to know by literally taking me apart, piece by piece.

As if to back up his words in case I was stupid enough not to believe him, his magic whips out one last time, severing the middle finger on my left hand; the act is so sudden that I scream; I can't help the pain is intense. Over my scream, I hear him chuckle as I pull my hand to my chest and hold it tightly; I watch as he uses a rush of magic to incinerate my finger as it lands on the floor, leaving nothing but ash behind. If looks could kill Dagon would be dead a thousand times over by now and in the most imaginative ways that I can think of. Unfortunately, he can't see my look of death and instead makes his way back down the row of empty cells, whistling happily.

I hold my body stiff until I'm certain that he's disappeared, and then I force myself to move out of the puddle of blood and over to the corner, putting my back against the wall to keep me upright and so that I can see if any of the other princes make an appearance. Swiping blood from my eye with my good hand so that I can see out of both of them, I then use both my teeth and my good hand to tear a bloodied strip off my shirt. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing. I have no idea if my magic is going to be able to get through the barrier well enough to grow me a new one. Since he incinerated it when it dropped to the floor, there's no chance of me securing it and hoping that it's good enough to encourage the magic to repair it.

Especially since there is so much that the minimal amount of magic that can get through the barrier needs to heal, I know that my finger will be too much. I've regrown limbs and fingers before, so unfortunately, this isn't new to me. It's only been left for a few days maximum, and then it was a struggle to grow back, so I have no idea if I will be able to grow it back at all.

Like everything at the moment, that is the last of my worries. I wrap the gap where the finger used to be tightly, hoping it will be good enough to stop the bleeding and hoping that my magic is at least strong enough to heal the open wound left in my fingers absence. I need to try and get the fuck out of here, before I can do that though, I need to rebuild my strength and although I don't want to, the best way for me to do that and for me to heal the wounds is by sleeping. I pull my hand up to my chest, cradling it and letting the comforting burn of anger wash over me, I'm going to take more than his fucking finger when I get out of here, and unlike me, I will have him begging for death.

My deadly thoughts bring a smile to my face as my eyes slip closed in what will hopefully be a quick but healing sleep. I can't afford to sleep for too long.

**********

I know that I'm dreaming simply from the fact that I hold one of my familiar blades in my hand, the weight of it reassuring and comforting. I know that these are blades that I have stored in the Void, which I absolutely do not have access to right now. Unfortunately, it appears that I am still in that fucking cell and I'm still soaked in blood, missing a finger and in pain, I can move better than I could when I was awake though and I'm hoping that means that my body has begun to heal as well as it can.

I imagine I'm going to have a fair few more scars from this. Healing scars will most likely be too much for the magic that can get through the spells that are holding it at bay.

Movement to the right of the cell has me tensing, ignoring the pain that it causes, as I drop down into a defensive crouch, my sword aimed in the direction of the noise. The only thing that stops me from attacking blindly is that the noise came from inside the cell, and I know that the princes aren't stupid enough to come in here with me. I may be practically magicless at the moment, but I'm deadly without my magic, and they know that I'd have their heads the second that they entered the cell.

It's for that reason that I pause.

"What the fuck?" a low growly voice asks as he looks around the cell. "Why the fuck am I in the cells."

His apparent familiarity with the cells piques my interest, but if I'm completely honest, his giant feathered wings have me captivated, along with his power, which feels immense and stronger than almost anything that I have felt before as it wraps around me gently, consuming me in a warm embrace and taking my pain, healing what my magic can't.

His eyes snap to my corner, but he frowns, squinting as if he's trying to see through heavy downpour and can't. "I know you're there; I can feel your pain, although my magic appears to want to help, not cause more." He seems incredibly confused by this but continues, "Step into the light so I can see who intrigues my magic and whether I should end you for it."

I can't help the chuckle that escapes me, although his words confuse me; as far as I'm concerned, we're standing in a lit cell. I may be standing slightly in a shadow, but there is no reason why he wouldn't be able to see me.

His eyes widen at the sound of my laughter, but he doesn't say anything. It is almost as if he's waiting for me to make the next move.

I decide to humour him and take a couple of steps forward, amazed at the lack of pain that I feel in doing so, his magic is healing me, and what's weirder is that my magic is allowing it and in fact, welcoming it.