6 July 2012
A Weaver of Magic lay in the dungeon, battered and bruised. Every muscle cried out in pain with each tiny move he made. The Princess was a ruthless torturer, she never gave him a day's rest. The agony was relentless.
Tyuman had lost all track of days and time, for the dungeon was a murky darkness. The only light shed from the flickering of the green-flame lanterns that we're forever alive with the ghoulish glow.
In his mind he tried to reach out to the swirling gold pool that was known as magic, in this realm at least, but the way was barred to him. The Princess was cunning, the food he was given was laced with potion, but if he did not eat it he would starve. It hurt him to be separated from his craft, yet another torture set upon his fragile being.
With some effort his Image, a small white mouse, crawled from his pocket to sit in front of Tyuman's nose. The mouse, Raoul, gave the Magic Weaver a look of disappointment mixed with despair.
"Don't look at me like that," Tyuman grumbled, wishing for the millionth time there was a way to escape his daily bout of torture. But alas, he feared he would give away his secrets for such a day. At least, he thought, that fear kept him strong.
He lay still, with Raoul's comforting warmth curled up on his cheek for many hours. But soon he heard a familiar struggling from the cell next door.
The old man pulled himself up with a wince as he bothered his bruised ribs, "Ryu?" he called out to the beast next door, "You know there is no use in struggling, I sealed your bonds myself..."
Tyuman peered through the bars at his neighbour, examining his sleek blue scales that shone brightly even in the dim, green light. Ryu's body was long and slender, curling snake-like around the confining chains. His head was wolf-like but scaled perfectly in deepest blue, long whiskers extended from his muzzle and short, ivory horns grew from the back if his skull. Along his spine was a ridge of matted grey fur, every muscle rippled as he heaved against the magic-woven metal holding him down.
Raoul slipped between the bars and went to the beast, holding out a tiny pink paw to rest on the end of his snout.
"It'll be ok," Tyuman whispered, "Joha will come for us... Eventually."
"Joha has left us," a girl's voice called out from the gloom, "He's left his own brother to rot in this castle, what makes you think he will come for us?"
Tyuman blinked in surprise, finding it hard to register the new presence in the darkness. He called out, "Who are you to say that, girl?"
A bird screeched, it's voice echoing from the stony walls. "I am Mira," the voice called, "Latest victim of the Princess."
The Image Realm | 3 • Opuss № I