The Dreadfort loomed ahead against the night sky, a formidable silhouette of stone and shadow that seemed to consume the surrounding darkness, as if it were a creature born from the very night itself. Four centuries ago, King Eddard Ghral had commissioned this ominous fortress as a prison for the realm's most violent and terrible offenders, intending it to instill fear in the hearts of all who beheld it. The fort's high, crenelated walls rose sharply, their surfaces mottled and stained with centuries of soot and relentless rain, giving the tower an ancient, malevolent aura that sent shivers down even the bravest souls. Jagged shards of black rock jutted from the stonework like the teeth of a great beast, poised to devour any who dared to draw near. Narrow arrow-slit windows lined the upper tiers, glaring down like soulless eyes, their darkened depths hinting at the torment and despair confined within those grim walls.
Within the Dreadfort's inner courtyard, the intimidation only deepened. The open space between the outer gate and the inner hall had earned a grim nickname: the Killing Fields. This desolate area, where echoes of the past seemed to linger in the cold air, served as a chilling reminder of the fortress's grim purpose and the horrors that unfolded within its unforgiving confines. The remains of several of the tower's most recent, and, from the smell, some if it's not so recent, victims hung from the inner walls.
What have I gotten myself into? The thought echoed like a cold, hollow whisper in Amriel's mind as she stepped across the threshold of the dark tower, her eyes flickering nervously to the body hanging above the entrance to the Dreadfort. Amriel had been around death before, it was unavoidable as a Healer. But this was levels of suffering even she had not witnessed before. A chill crawled up her spine.
She swallowed hard, steeling herself against the weight of her fear, but it pressed down on her relentlessly, a heavy, suffocating force that made her stomach twist. But she couldn't listen to her gut as every instinct screamed at her to turn back, to run far from this place, but she could never let anyone suffer for anything she had done, let alone Simon and the twins. The door closed behind her, leaving her with no choice but to follow Crieg deeper into the Dreadfort.
The shadows seemed to close in as she moved, wrapping around her like cold hands, and her heart began to race. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being swallowed whole by the fortress, that each step she took was pulling her closer to something dark and inevitable.
She took comfort that the strange little man who called himself Crieg had made good on his promise and released Simon and the girls. Amriel offered them a reassuring smile as they passed each other in the Dreadfort's main hall. The twins broke into a hail of tears and sobs when saw their mother waiting for them.
Her mind spun with a dizzying mix of dread and guilt. This is my fault. She thought of Simon and the girls, of their faces when they'd left her behind, their eyes filled with fear and confusion. The knowledge that they would suffer because of her—because of the choices she had made—was almost unbearable. She couldn't bear the thought of their pain, their terror. If something happened to them because of her, she would never be able to live with herself.
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Amriel could only pray that no long-term damage had been done to them. The horrors of the Dreadfort, with its dark and crumbling subterranean cells, were no place for such innocent souls. It took everything in her not to lunge at Creig again. Of course, having her hands bound would certainly complicate matters this time.
As they passed each other in the Dreadfort's cold, unforgiving main hall, Simon’s eyes locked with hers, and the panic in his gaze pierced her like an iron spear. His voice cracked as he asked, "Amriel, what’s going on here? Why are they taking you?"
"I’ll be fine, Simon," she said, her voice as steady as she could make it, even though everything inside her was screaming. "Don’t worry. Take care of the girls and Maeve. Everything’s going to be okay." She swallowed, hoping that her calm words would carry the weight of some kind of truth. "Truly. They just want to question me. And then I’ll be free. Home in time for supper."
Or at least that’s what she hoped was happening, but reality proved far harsher. She wasn’t home in time for supper that night. Nor the next, or the one after that until she slowly began to lose count. Each passing evening stretched like an eternity, the weight of her uncertainty pressing down on her like the thick stone walls surrounding her.
The cell where Amriel found herself imprisoned was small and cramped, devoid of any creature comforts. There was no cot to sleep on—only a flea-infested blanket that provided scant warmth and a wooden pail for her most basic needs. Amriel tried to remain on her feet for as long as she could, restlessly pacing the confines of her prison, unwilling to settle onto the cold, unforgiving floor. The uneven stones seemed to absorb moisture, creating a slick, filthy surface that repulsed her. Yet, she couldn't stand forever. The moment she finally sat down, she felt the dirt and grime cling to her skin. After a few days she was practically covered in it. Pests of all sorts crawled over her skin and scalp, their presence a constant reminder of her degradation.
The only light that penetrated her dark, oppressive space came from the flickering torches lining the corridors beyond her cell. Their flames cast long, wavering shadows that danced ominously across the rough stone walls, creating a distorted theater of despair. The cell itself was a cage of hopelessness, the solid walls hewn from the bedrock beneath the Dreadfort. Here, she could see faint scratches made by desperate fingers—silent cries for help etched into the stone, echoes of suffering that resonated within her. Amriel stumbled upon more than one broken fingernail embedded in the cold rock, ghastly trophies of lost souls that sent a chill down her spine.
The rustle of vermin in the corners of her cell became a cruel lullaby, the scuttling sounds a reminder of her vulnerability. Outside, the distant clank of armor and the low murmur of guards patrolling the corridors felt like a constant threat looming just beyond her reach. Time lost its meaning as she struggled to maintain her sanity, trapped in a world that felt increasingly alien and hostile.
As the days dragged on, Amriel could feel her spirit starting to fray, each passing hour eroding her resolve. Yet deep within her, a flicker of resilience burned brightly. She had to believe there was a way out—that this nightmare would end and she would reclaim her freedom. The thought of returning to her friends and the embrace of the forest filled her with a quiet determination, a tether to hope that refused to let her fade into despair. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she resolved to fight against the darkness surrounding her, clinging fiercely to the belief that she would escape this wretched place and find her way back to those she loved.