The pit grew darker as the daytime sun began to slowly sink behind the stone and iron walls of the prison. In the very depths of the pit, at its center, the Lady of Death herself knelt on the cold earthen ground. Her body was chained between two iron posts. Everyone in Dyron knew and feared her name — and rightfully so.

Peterson grew up hearing stories of the monster from the north. The stories of Lady Death and how she hunted humans who dared enter the Dyron mountains. She killed the enemies of her kingdom and anyone who crossed her with no remorse. More than once his mother had told him that if he did not eat all his vegetables, Lady Death would get him. It gave Peterson some mild satisfaction knowing that the monster was caged within the walls of this prison. Her demonic powers were stripped from her, but it was not enough. She was still alive.

The female had earned that title: Lady Death. After all, what do you call the daughter of a male known as the Demon General of the North? Lady Railynn Ashelin Tal was more than just some Fae Lady. She was the late King of Leona's niece and the daughter of General Turen Tal. She was a warrior, assassin, and spy. She was a true monster. They had taken those names from her. Now she was nothing more than Prisoner 513.

Peterson's boots crunched on the half-melted snow covering the ground in patches where the shadows fell across the pit floor. He came to a stop just inches from where 513 could reach him. Even with the female’s arms chained in thick iron at her sides, Duke Peterson was not naive enough to believe that it was the iron that kept her contained. Looking down at her, he could see no iron burn on her wrists where the metal touched her skin. His heart rate quickened at the confirmed knowledge. He knew he was only safe because she had no magic left. He had so many questions and it was those questions that had brought him to the bottom of the pit.

The prisoner’s head was tilted back as if she were soaking up the last rays of the setting sun as Peterson approached. Her faint smile disappeared as his shadow blocked the sunlight, but she did not move or open her eyes. This close he could see bruises beginning to form on her skin others looked as if they were already beginning to heal. Peterson gave a small amused smile at that.

"The prince wants to free you," Peterson kept his voice low, glancing only once at a royal guard towards the top of the pit wall. None of the half Etherie guards looked down at him, nor did they seem to hear his words.

513 gave no reply. She just knelt there, her eyes shut as if she were asleep.

"I asked you a question," Peterson hissed at her. His fists tightened in his coat pockets.

She made no indication that she had even heard him. Peterson turned, about to leave, when she finally spoke.

“You did not ask a question, you made a statement,” Slowly, she rolled her head to the side, down, and back up again, as she stretched her neck. Only then did she open her cold blue eyes and look up at him. The look in her eyes made him feel utterly inferior to her, even as he stood over her kneeling body.

"Why? Why free you? After everything you have done?" Peterson took a step closer to her. He was beginning to grow angry as she did not immediately reply. Sure, like most Etherie, the fae could not lie, but he already knew she was not planning on giving him a straight answer either. The Etherie made an art of twisting the truth.

The female just shrugged not giving an answer to his questions at all. Peterson felt his jaw muscle tick in frustration. He did not have time for this.

"You have killed over twenty of my guards, and injured that many more," Peterson began, his words clipped as he spoke. He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.

"Twenty-four," She smiled, closing her eyes again as if she was already done with the conversation.

“What?" He breathed out through his nose, trying to keep from losing his temper. Her lack of interest in the conversation he was having was infuriating. Dyron’s beard the fact he was even trying to have a conversation with her was insane.

"I have killed twenty-four of your human guards," The way she said human almost had Peterson turning and walking away from her. His blood was boiling. He hated her. Hated her kind. He hated all of the Etherie. They were nothing but animals thirsty for blood.

Peterson squatted, his face a mere inches from hers, their noses almost touching. The female opened her eyes and stared at him. Those cold blue eyes boring into his own. "I don't care what the prince has promised you," he seethed, "you will not get to twenty-five,” with that, Peterson turned and marched back up the stairs.

He did not stop or turn to look at her when he heard her quiet voice reply, “Fates willing,”

It was a struggle to keep the shock from his face. He knew the words were not meant for him to hear. When he got to the ledge and looked down at her again. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of a small almost wistful smile on her face. As if the thought of her own death somehow brought her peace. She truly was a beast then. No humane person could not fear their own death.

"Duke Peterson," Prince Thidal said as he came to stand beside him. Peterson almost jumped out of his boots in surprise.

"Your Majesty," Peterson gave a quick bow to Thidal. The Prince ignored his bow and motioned to the royal guards, now leading lines of Etherie prisoners, being returned to their cells after a long day's work in the mines.

"They will watch," Thidal said loudly enough that Prisoner 513 could easily hear him. With the grace of an immortal, her body began to move. She turned slightly towards them and looked directly at them. For a moment, Peterson could have sworn her eyes were glowing silver in the shadow of the pits.

The clanking of the iron chains, binding the prisoners in a single file line, echoed around them as they were marched to the wooden railings where they would be forced to watch.

Stolen story; please report.

"Have you changed your mind yet?" Prince Thidal's oily voice called out. Prisoner 513’s face was blank as she studied the Prince. There was no fear in her cold pale blue eyes.

"I will gladly die before I join you," she replied. Her voice, strong and unwavering. A wicked smile slashed across her face as she stood on her feet in defiance. It was an insult for her to stand before him, a prisoner and a slave, and she knew it too.

"I am afraid, you will only wish for death," he bared his teeth in a smile, his anger barely restrained.

513 stared up at the prince for a moment, before her attention turned back to Duke Peterson. She seemed to see right through him with that stare. Her body was as still as the stone walls around them. All his instincts screamed she was a predator and he was her prey, even though she was chained. He forced himself to look away, but the image of her face was still burned in his mind. No fear lay in those immortal eyes. Just fury. Fury that burned like a thousand suns yet her eyes were as cold as the moon’s pale light.

One of the guards behind 513 kicked the back of her knees. His iron-gloved hand gripped her shoulder, forcing her the rest of the way to the ground. She did not wince under the iron's touch. Her face remained solemn. The guard stepped back, taking a long leather whip from his belt. The leather straps were already stained at the ends, with the blood of so many other monsters. That is what they were, Peterson reminded himself. The guard snapped the whip once in the air, readying to begin. 513 did not even flinch at the sound.

Prince Thidal gave a nod, and the whip cracked a second time, and then a third. The whip cut through her shirt and skin. The red lines on her back slowly began to bleed. Yet, still, she made no sound.

—

It was not the first time Rae had been in the pit. It would likely not be her last either. She knew better than to count the number of times the whip sliced across her back. Instead, she focused on the cool evening air and the fading warmth of the setting sun on her bare skin. The air out here, even in the bottom of this pit, was clean and fresh. Its winter bite burned her lungs as she gratefully breathed it in.

The full moon above began to take over the darkening sky as the pit's shadows grew across the ground. The world around her looked strange. A gentle snowfall began to trickle down from the sky, adding to the few piles of snow in the darkest corners of the pit floor.

Noise from the balcony drew Rae's attention to that strange Prince standing above her. Beside him, the Duke seemed almost unnerved at his proximity to his own monarch. Rae gritted her teeth as the whip bit into her skin, cutting deep this time. She refused to let them see her pain, even as drops of blood began to fall on the white snow-covered ground beneath her.

She stared at nothing as the sight of that blood brought back the haunted memories of all she had seen die here. Burned, beaten, hung, beheaded, the deaths played over and over in her mind, like performers on a morbid stage.

As the pain from the whip grew, Rae closed her eyes. She retreated deep, deep, deep down into the furthest depths of herself. Concentrating only on the freezing cold of the iron on her wrists and the empty void inside herself. That place where her magic had once been was now filled with coiling darkness. Yet somehow that cold darkness within her, was a comfort. Rae forced her body to relax as the whip crashed down on her back. Her mind floated freely away and the pain faded too.

She was no longer chained in a courtyard. Instead, she was in the pine and oak forests that covered the mountains of Leona. The cold chill of the mountain air burned her lungs as she raced beside her father. It was summer, yet high in the mountains, the temperature was comfortable even on the hottest of days. The cool breeze rushed through her dark fur as her paws slammed into the soft mossy ground beneath her. Rae's father easily kept pace beside her. His body was far larger than her own, even in this form.

Bright green leaves mixed with the dark almost blue color of the evergreen pines formed a canopy overhead. The sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting a green tint on the world below. Rae remembered the smell of her prey as she veered off their usual path. She could still taste the blood from the rabbit as she pounced on it, killing it before the small animal even knew what had caught it.

The world crashed back down around her as pain sliced through her body. Rae slumped forward, her body unable to withstand the beating.

"Get her up!" someone shouted. Her vision swam as two gruff hands wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. She did not scream in pain. She would not give in. She would not give these humans the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Rae's eyes met with those of an Etherie female slave. The female's knuckles were white as she tightly gripped the wooden hand railing she had been forced to stand at. She was a dryad, her tree planted somewhere far away from here. The leaves of her hair were not the bright green color they should have been. Instead, they looked like the leaves of a tree right before they fell in autumn. No dryad's tree ever went through the changes of autumn — not while its host was still alive.

But this female, weak as she may be, chained in a line of prisoners and forced to work for their enemy, was still unbroken. Her eyes were alive with fierce determination, begging Rae to get up. To fight back. Begging her to do something. The leaves of her hair, while they were not bright green like they should have been, they were also not dead, Rae realized. They were red like fire. They were orange and purple and yellow. The female looked like a warrior, hair alight with burning flames, ready to fight back in any way she could. Her eyes burned with that same determination, begging Rae to get up, to not bow to these humans. Determination swelled in Rae's chest. One foot at a time, she forced herself to stand up. The guards were not looking at her. They were not paying attention to the prisoner that should have been unconscious on the ground.

"I will not join you and I will not break," Rae snarled towards the Prince who had also been too busy talking with a member of his personal guard to notice her. Her words, her truth that she was still unbroken was as much a shock to her as it was to her captors. Her will soared at that truth, at the knowledge that she was still whole, even without her magic.

"You seem to think you have an option, my dear. What else is left for you?" Thidal motioned to the prison walls surrounding them. "You need me far more than I want you,"

Rae let out a feral growl in response, her fists tightening as her broken nails dug into the palms of her hands.

"No one is coming for you. What makes you think you will survive another year let alone another month in this place? You are a magicless, weak, forgotten, prisoner," The Prince turned to leave, but Rae stopped him with one simple truth that made all the difference in the world.

"I am alive," her words barely over a whisper.

"I am alive,” she repeated, "and that is all that matters. I will live longer than any human! This,” she said motioning to the prison around her, just as the prince had, “this is nothing to me,” Her smile broadened as she spoke. The Prince returned to the edge of the balcony, but she continued to speak.

“When your armies are old and withered, I will still be here. Unchanged, unmoved, and unbroken. I am not some number that you assigned me! I am Lady Death," She smiled up at him in defiance.

At that name alone… at her name, an eerie silence fell over the world. The chirp of the crickets went silent. Not one of the prisoners made a sound, the chains linking them together were quiet. Even the wind that constantly howled through the pit and corridors of the compound went still. It was the total absence of sound.