Pain shot through her entire body as the whip cracked again against Ptolema's back. Blood poured down from each wound, covering Ptolema's back like a blanket. As the whip cracked again, she bit her tongue to make sure no yelp came from her mouth. Droian snarled at the quiet growl that roared through the room from his stomach. Ptolema laughed as the growl continued, louder, with every step Droian took towards the door.

"Wipe that stupid grin off of her face!" Droian roared before running through the open doorway. Knowing that the door was wide open and she could not even touch five feet within its territory, enraged Ptolema. The whip cracked against her back once more. She leaned her head back and let the blood from her nose run down towards her ear. The stone floor is covered with her blood. Some of it dry; some of it is still in a liquid form and making a river towards the right side drain. Ptolema's vision became fuzzy and hard to make out figures. If this was how she was going to die, she would not go down without a fight.

She pulled at the manacles that trapped her wrist and ankles. The man with the whip laughed. It was coarse and rough. "You can't escape, pretty." His voice echoed through Ptolema's ears. She screamed because his voice began to roar through her veins, saying the words over and over again. He laughed at her again. Somehow, she had to control herself. She let herself breath.

"Where is he." She stared into the man's dark brown eyes,"Where is Irik."

"You'll find out soon enough," he answered with a harsh laugh followed by another whip, but this time, to her head. The world spun in every direction. Blood filled Ptolema's vision. Bells started to ring in her ears. The bells got louder and louder until silence fell over her. Blackness crept into her vision.

{|《~》|}

"Tell me where she is or I'll break your neck!" Riker yelled at the guard. The guard did not budge, instead, he turned toward Riker and pointed his sword right at Riker's chest. He laughed as the guard lunged forward. Riker leaned to the right, kicked the guard in the knee and elbowed his helmet. The guard landed on the ground with a clank.

Riker ripped the sword out of the guard hand and turned the blade around so that the tip touched the guard's bare skin on his neck.

"I'll only ask once more," he said as he shoved the blade harder.

The guard gulped, then shook his head no. Without hesitation, Riker plunged the sword through the guard's neck. There was no blood. No nothing. The blade was untouched by any kind of skin or blood from the guard, yet the guard's eyes were open wide enough to know that he was dead. No breaths came from him. He was Poi.

Riker clenched his free hand into a fist. "Damn you, King!" The king must've known that I would kill a person for no reason. That means... He knows I'm here. Riker tightened his grip on the sword. He started to sprint down the hall.

Left. Right. Left.

The smell of blood began to emerge through the chamber stairs. Riker kept on his toes to make sure that the iron stairs did not make a sound as he ran down them. Riker started to go down the stairs by two.

A scream echoed through the chamber stairs. Riker clamped his hands over his ears, then, the screaming suddenly stopped. He ran by threes stairs all he down until another hallway appeared into view. Iron doors were held wide open with no guards to protect them. Only a dim firelight was the source of light for the entire fourty meter hallway.

Riker stepped to the closest door and peered in through the open doorway. A dead man was held by manacles on his wrist and ankles. His body was pail, but his jet-black hair gave no sign of death. His hair looked fairly vibrant - considering the state the man was in. Blood piled around the man. The color was quite unusual for blood: light blue. It spilled from his mouth, his cuts, his ears, his one eye socket. Riker wanted to puke but held it in for the sake of his non-existent reputation.

Ptolema. This could be Ptolema right now! Riker did not like the thought but insisted on holding onto it. He ran from iron door to iron door to find Ptolema. The first twenty were all dead men with weird blood colors (Pois and wizards are usually killed in these chambers if they are weak ones).

Another scream burst through the hall. It sounded female. It sounded earthly. It sounded deathly. It sounded like Ptolema.

Riker sprinted down the hall towards the door where the scream came from. He stopped at the open door and peered inside. A man was standing above her with a dull as. Half of her right arm's skin was torn off and thrown to the side. Riker lifted the sword and charged for the man with the ax.

The man spun around and blocked Riker's sword. A bright spark flared into the air from the two metals clashing together. Both snarled at each other. Riker was the first to back away from the blocked move. He stumbled back onto a stool and fell on his butt. Ptolema would have laughed if she was conscious. Anger raged through Riker's veins as he stood back up and charged for behind the back stumble final blow with a kick to the knee. The men fell instantly to the ground while his head toppled in the air for a while longer but nevertheless fell with ease on top of the body.

Riker did not give himself time to brag as he ran over to Ptolema. Her hands were already rubbed raw from the manacles. Her clothes were torn in half and barely there at all. Riker blushed as he saw so much of Ptolema's skin within thirty seconds then he has ever seen in his lifetime. Her mask. It was not on. Ptolema had her hair covering the mysterious face. Riker longed to see her face at least once, but now is not the time to do that.

He reached over and unhooked all of Ptolema's manacles. She slammed to the ground with a groan. Riker set her head in his lap as he kneeled beside her. Blonde hair is the only thing keeping him from seeing her true form. He lifted his hand to move back her hair...

"Hey!" A voice yelled from behind.

"Oh, hello. I did not know you were also sleeping with her tonight, maybe I should take a raincheck." Riker set Ptolema's concealed face onto the bloody floor.

"You're dead," Droian answered back while setting his pasta down onto the stool Riker had fallen over.

"On second thought, I think you should take the raincheck." Riker veered to the right side of the room, still protecting Ptolema. Droian took his sword out of his hilt and started to circle around to the left side of the cell.

"I need her alive!" Droian yelled while twisting the sword in his hand. It scraped the rock floor, making sparks fly in every direction.

"Says the one is whipping every last inch of her alive!" Riker's anger exploded and he charged for Droian. The prince knew how to fight, he was better than some people from the gold guild. Though Riker fought with all his might, he could not land a single hit on the prince.

Ptolema moaned.

That gave Droian the perfect shot to slice the skin off of Riker's dominant arm. The wound was deep. Damnit, I should not have looked away. Riker thought to misled as he held his wound with his left hand. His snarl made Droian smile and strike again. Riker flipped the sword into his left hand and reared up on Droian's sword, making him miss Riker's leg by an inch. The prince is fast, but Riker is strong.

"Listen to me!" The prince yelled, backing away towards the doorway.

Riker did not move.

"The whipping was only for her crimes she had committed, but I was never going to kill her. I still need her to be able to fight and kill."

"What are you going to do to her!?" Riker tightened his left hand on the sword.

"Why would I tell you, Orphan." Droian had to be up to no good, to get on Riker's bad side, and not tell him what he is going to do to Riker's love.

Riker charged, again, at Droian but he was blown back by a heavy gust of wind. The wall slammed against his back. Pain rammed through his veins and around his bones. He searched the room for any witches that might have entered when he was fighting. Droian seemed to have been burst back by the same wind magic. Ptolema was human, and half-unconscious on the floor.

"Prince, what kind of sorcery did you use!?" Riker stood up slowly, with his sword still in his left hand.

"Are you really stupid enough to think I did this?" Droian did not stand. "Guards!" he yelled and gave Riker a small wicked grin before thousands of guards rushed into the cell, with weapons ready and out. Some of the guards picked Ptolema up and carried her limp body out of the room, some of the guards cornered Riker. He tried to run after Ptolema but was knocked down by the guards. They chained him to the same chains Ptolema was chained to. The metal clanked together as Riker struggled to run towards Ptolema.

Nothing.

He could not move.

He was useless - helpless.

The whip cracked, and pain ran through Riker's blood again. Something warm started to drench hai clothes as the whip cracked again. He did not scream. He did not budge, instead, he glared at the prince who cradled Ptolema in his lap saying one word over and over again. Riker would kill Droian after learning what word he was telling Ptolema because as he said the word she screamed and punched the air. Her legs had to be held down by two guards. Droian met Riker's gaze and stopped saying the word, Ptolema stopped screaming and breathed comfortably in the prince's lap. They both gave each other a smile and looked away.

The whip cracked again.