***POV: WRYN RADCLIFFE***

"How should I wake him?" someone asked, pushing me.

I groaned, opening my eyes. "Where am I?"

My eyes widened as I saw the man in front of me. He wore black clothes, and his hood hung down, revealing his face.

The man looked at me and grinned. "The specimen is awake."

I breathed heavily, trying to run forward, but chains held me back. Chains were attached to my arms and legs. The reason I was already standing was because of the chains suspending me.

"What do you guys want?!" I yelled, pressing my lips.

The blonde-haired man came up to me, smiling. "I know we came off the wrong foot, but hear me out."

"What the fuck do you mean," I said, leaning forward and trying to bite the man, but he stepped back, dodging my bite.

"Calm down, boy. If we wanted to hurt you, we could have already done so." He said, nearing me and touching my shoulder.

My eyes jolted open as I screamed, "AHHHHH!"

The man stopped touching my right arm and shook his head. "We administered you a few medicines. That's the only reason you can somewhat move that arm."

"Who are you guys?!" I asked, breathing heavily.

The man turned around and walked to a table, looking around at it.

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced around, and it appeared like I was in a literal dungeon.

The man turned around, approaching me as he held an odd device. The device had two metal plates with a screw in the middle. Nearing me, the man put my left finger between the plates.

"What are you doing?" I widened my eyes, looking at my hand.

"You see, my job as a torturer is to extract information," he said, pausing and looking at me with a straight face.

I tried moving against the chains, but they got tighter, not allowing movement. "I know a lot of powerful people, don't you dare-"

He cut me off, slowly tightening the device. "Don't move too much because f you do, the chains will rip you apart. They tighten the more you move."

"Stop," I squirmed my hand, but as he said, the chains got tighter, almost like if I moved any more, they would rip me apart. "Please don't!"

The man stopped tightening the device and placed his hand on my left shoulder. "Do you understand why cooperation is of utmost importance?"

"If you have any questions about how I became a mage, I don't know! I promise that I don't!" I pleaded, staring at the device soon to squish my finger.

The man untwisted the device, placing it back on a table and making his way back to me. "Luckily for you, I don't have any questions about you becoming a mage."

"What," I furrowed my brows, creating eye contact with him. "What do you want then?"

"Before we get to that, I need you to scream. Imagine I crushed your finger." He said, leaning forward and staring me into the eyes. "If you don't scream, I will have to actually use the instrument."

I wanted to question the man. I wanted to ask him why he was doing what he was, but I feared my life more than anything.

I opened my mouth and shrieked in agony. "AHHHHHH!"

"That will do for now," the man said, grabbing a chair near the table in the room. He placed the wooden chair in front of me and sat on it. He pointed at me and asked, "Let me get straight to the point. Do you know Moby?"

"Moby?" I questioned, shaking my head. "No, I don't."

"Oh, that's totally fine," the man said, standing up and walking to the table. He grabbed a long pin with a handle on the bottom, and he came toward me, placing the pin next to my eye. "We use this neat device to puncture eyes. The neat thing about this instrument is that it doesn't even damage the eyes, at least not after a few thousands of times of inserting it, but it does cause pain, a real hellish pain!"

I gulped as my pupils got smaller, staring at the sharp pin. "Please, don't."

The man closed his eyes and smiled. "You see, I don't need to torture you at all. In fact, there's another captive in the room next to us, and she's a charm because she tells me everything! Just like I have done to you, I tell her to scream or shout some words. That way, no one catches onto our friendly means of obtaining information."

I gritted my teeth and yelled, "I swear, I would tell you if I knew!"

"I know you would," he said, walking towards the table and placing the needle on the table. "I will give you some time to think about an answer. In the meantime, I must attend to the captive."

The man walked out of the dungeon, closing the cell as he exited. He walked to his right, leaving my sight.

Looking at the cell, I waited a few seconds to see if anyone else would come, but it seemed like no one else was there. I closed my eyes and tried activating my magic, but I couldn't, almost like something was restraining me.

Around a few attempts of using my magic, I gave up on it and stared out the cell, making sure no one was watching. I took in a few deep breaths, trying to think of a new plan, but my thoughts were interrupted by screaming.

A woman screamed to my right, and she seemed in agony, slurring words in an attempt for help. I couldn't make out her words...

'Maybe my magic core is broken,' I thought, shaking my head and sighing. Releasing my magic, I made it, so all magic exited my system. I did this because resetting my mana would give me a better chance of knowing if my magic system was damaged or if the area was bothering my magic.

The chains loosed. I fell to the ground, though I tried my best to dampen the noise. I turned my head, looking at the chains and myself.

I was confused because the chains gave up, almost as if someone loosened them, but no one was in sight.

Not thinking more of it, I placed my feet out of the chain holes and walked forward.

But as I did, the man stepped into the front of the cell, staring at me up and down. He tilted his head, scratching it. "How did you..."

I stepped back, pinning myself against the wall. "I swear! I didn't do anything!"

The man entered the cell and blinked. "Okay? Just step back into the chains then..."

I nodded my head, walking forward. But as I neared the chains, I tried reinterring magic into my system. The magic in my system wouldn't replenish.

I stood still, looking at my body, my brain flooded with horror.

"Are you going to do it, or should I?" the man asked, face-palming himself.

My sight went from my body to the man. I stepped forward and placed my legs into the cuffs connected to the chains. I also did so with my hands, even if it hurt my arm. Though, the cuffs were too big.

"I'll manually adjust them," he said, touching the chains. The cuffs tightened, pressing against my wrists and ankles. He grew a smile and tapped my left shoulder. "Would you mind revealing Moby?"

"Who's Moby?" I asked, breathing through my nose.

The man rubbed his chin. "Who? So, Moby is a person?"

"Please," I said, creating eye contact with the man. "I truthfully don't know who or what is Moby!"

The man sat down, tapping his foot on the floor. "You see, I'm an honest man. I do honest work and never complain about it, but you, my friend, are making this much harder than it needs to be."

I shook my head and scrunched up my face. "I don't know!"

"You see, my friend, I am an honest man. I am so honest that I feel insulted." He said, pointing to the table in the room. "I have so many ways to mess you up to the point where you could become beyond recognizable, but instead, I chose to be nice to you. The captive in the other room is oh so much easier to deal with! Why don't you try acting like her and tell me information?"

"I don't know," I cried.

"So bet it," the man said, standing up and kicking his chair. The chair slammed against the wall, breaking into pieces.

"I promise that I don't know!" I screamed, shaking the chains as I tried to escape.

The man grabbed a metal clip from the table. He approached me and held the clip to my face. "This instrument attaches to the tongue, and once it does, the person must keep saying a specific word or they will feel a torturous pain."

"I swear to..."

The man cut me off, pressing his finger against my lips. "Shhh, no more excuses."

Breathing rapidly through my nose, I narrowed my eyes as the man grabbed my lips. He opened my mouth with his hands and placed the clip on my tongue. "I can start this instrument whenever, but I will give you a chance. Tell me, what is a Moby?"

My brain went fuzzy as I stared at the man with a wide-open mouth. I blinked, not sure what to say. "Moby is a dick."

"Pardon," the man said, looking into my eyes.

Itches bombarded my brain as I tried thinking, but I couldn't. I stared at the floor and answered, "I meant to say Moby dick is a whale."

"A whale," the man said, pausing. "Interesting, but it is far too late for me to show you any sympathy."

"No!" I yelled, my eyes stretching so wide that they strained. "I told you what I knew!"

The man placed his hands together like a prayer and bowed his head. "Unfortunately, I must leave you with some pain. Trust me, if I didn't, what the others have to offer would be much worse." He took a blindfold from his pocket, putting it over my eyes and tightening it.

"Don't do this," I pleaded.

I could hear the cell open. "You have to say 'Moby' until I take off the instrument. If you stop for more than three seconds, a pain that I wouldn't wish on my enemies will occur."

"DON'T!" I yelled, leaning forward, the chains holding me back.

"Hopefully, this incentivizes you to tell me more the first time I asked," he said, closing the cell door. I could hear him walk away and yell. "Your time begins!"

Each time I spoke, I would take a breath with my nose. "Moby... Moby... Moby... Moby... Moby..."

The first few minutes weren't as bad, but it wasn't until later that I despised breathing itself. It was an hour into speaking when I couldn't help but question my sanity.

I wanted to maximize my speaking and breaths, but I was too afraid, so I spoke fastly. I thought it couldn't get worse. But after a couple hours, my throat was dryer than the desert itself. Not only was my throat dry, but so was my nose.

The occasional screams in the other chambers ironically helped my sanity. It made me feel like I wasn't left alone in a place to rot. I was hopeful that the torturer would come back because if he was in the other room, that could only mean he would come back.

That being said, sound only helped so much. The blindfold didn't help with knowing what was happening. I just wanted to see, but all I could be see darkness.

What felt like a year was probably a minute... My senses were lost, and soon my mind would be too.

After a while, I could only whisper the word "Moby" because if I tried to normally speak, I would enrage in a coughing fit. There were many times when I had to speak while coughing...

I wish I had the luxury to think of why I was being put through such torture. I wish I had the luxury to think of why me. I wish I had the luxury to think of who or what the fuck Moby was. But the only thing I could think of was Moby... Moby... Moby... MOBY!

What did saying Moby over and over accomplish? The answer was simple... nothing! I couldn't think of anything over the continuous dread of whatever punishment would ensue if I stopped saying the damn word.

I wish I could have said the pain got better, but I couldn't because it only increased as my throat felt like it was being sealed.

Taking in a breath, then speaking was a process that I repeated and repeated and repeated and repeated!!!! There was no end.

My eyes remained in the dark, time a subject of the past. I didn't care about the logistics of why, what, where, and when. No, I only cared about one thing, staying alive, but after what seemed like a few days of repeating one damned word, I didn't hold hope.

My hope was non-existent, I didn't know the exact time that passed, but it had to have been days. I refused for that time to be less than days.

The only thing that kept me alive was the cries and screaming of the other captive. It helped me push forward because the female captive wasn't like me, that captive was cooperative, and the captive's fake screaming meant the torturer kept his word, so maybe I would also get to pretend scream once he was back.

I didn't need to think about it. No, I knew I would make up random bullshit in order to never go through such pain again.

At times, I would open my mouth and pray for sweat to drip into it, and when it did, it would sting so bad. The dryness in my nose and throat didn't get any better with the sweat either, and perhaps it was the root of my bad breath, but for a momentary second, it was blissful.

"How are you, my friend?" a voice said.

"Moby..." I whispered, my chapped lips closing on one another as I took a breath from my nose. Breathing felt like lava being poured onto my skin.

"Oh yeah," the man said, touching my left shoulder. "You do not have to say Moby anymore. In fact, you never did."

My brain shut down. I didn't know what to say or how to feel. I remained emotionless, leaving my mouth open as I whispered. "W-w-w-water."

"I understand how thirsty you must be, my friend," he said, tapping my shoulder. "You see, I truly understand. So much so that my buddies decided it was enough."

"Water," I said as a dying man would. "Water"

"My friend, you must ask anymore," he said, clutching my shoulder. "Your cries for water were heard before you even asked! Open your mouth, and I will provide!"

My lips cracked even wide as I spread my mouth, but I didn't care and extended my mouth wide open.

"My friends and I are here for you," the man said. "You guys heard our guest, so get the drink ready!"

I could hear the water drip on the floor.

My eyes were sealed, but I swear I could witness a light, and perhaps people would call this phenomenon hope... I called it a miracle! It was a miracle!

The water dripped on my feet, making its way up to my body, but it stopped as they took the water away.

"Please," I said, my voice cracking. My mouth widened even more.

The man patted my head and said, "Sure thing, my friend."

The water dripped onto my forehead, seeping through my blindfolds and down to my nose. The water made it to my lips but went around them. It wasn't until the torturer put the water under my mouth that I finally quenched my thirst.

The water cleared my dried throat, allowing me to breathe easier. I licked my lips with my tongue as the water continued to flow into my mouth. The water wasn't the best, it was ironic and thick, but I couldn't complain.

I kept drinking and drinking until I started vomiting.

The torturer pulled the water source back and asked, "Would you like any more."

But I couldn't respond because I kept vomiting. I swallowed too much water.

"Oh, I almost forgot to take your blindfold off," the man said, touching my face as he took off the blindfold.

I opened my eyes, but I strangely could only see a murky red color. Blinking, I shook my head and saw a man in front of me.

He lowered his body and his head to face me as we looked eye to eye. The man wore a black cloak with his hood on. "How are you, my friend."

"Thank you," I vomited on the floor, looking at the ground, but my eyes were left in horror. My clothes, the ground, and even the torturer's shoes were left in my blood. My breaths were shallow and rapid as I spoke, "Why? Is my blood on the floor!"

"Your blood?" the man questioned, our eyes meeting. He titled his head, looking at me with his hands placed behind his back. "Don't you mean hers?"

I shook in terror, the chains rattling. Closing my eyes, I tried to forget what I saw.

"My friend," the torturer said, holding me down, and gradually, more hands grabbed onto me, not just his. The torturer slapped my face and yelled, "Get a hold of yourself!"

Opening my eyes, I closed my mouth, not letting myself scream like I wanted to. I clenched my teeth to the point where they were about to break, but I managed to speak as I created eye contact with the man. "Why do you have her head."

"This lady called herself your caretaker," the man said, grabbing Tehla's hair with one hand as her head hung in the air. He clenched his teeth, his eyes growing in anger. "Not only did she take out one of my men, but she almost ruined our whole mission."

I stood silent, looking at the four other people who held me down, and two others were standing near the cell's door.

"Do you know what her last words were?" he grabbed his own face, chucking Tehla's head across the room. "If I'm going to die, I'll take out one of you."

"I drank her blood..." I said, looking up at the ceiling.

"Shut the fuck up!" the man said, punching my stomach. "We offered to spare her, but she had to interfere!"

'If they killed Tehla,' I thought, my eyes enlarging. Shaking the chains as the individuals held me back, I yelled, "Where are my parents!!!!"

The man punched me in my face, breaking my nose. "We're the ones who ask the question."

"DAMEION," the torturer yelled.

One of the cloaked men in the back neared us and placed his hands on my scalp. He grabbed it, releasing his magic.

My brain felt like it was being boiled until it would become well done.

The man let go of my head and grabbed my throat. "What kind of magic are you using. Why can't I read your thoughts!" He clutched my throat harder, his nails splitting into my skin.

I couldn't talk as I sprawled, but even my movements were hindered by the other cloaked men that held me.

"Who is moby," the new masked man asked, but the first torturer pushed him away and stared at me.

"Why me?" I asked, tears falling down my face. "WHY?!"

The man grabbed my arm, ripping my shirt off me. He pointed to the table in the room. "Lex, hand me a boiler and yezen."

"I'll tell you who Moby is," I said, screaming.

The man lowered to my level and looked me straight into the eyes. "Every scream, every cry for help, and every sound you heard from the other room was your dear friend. She was going through every instrument I showed you plus oh so many more."

I closed my mouth, staring at the floor. "Oh..."

The torturer was handed the pin device that he showed me. He grabbed the handle of the pin device and inched closed to my eyes.

I closed my eyes, shaking as I tried to escape, but one of the cloaked men grabbed my right eye, extending it open.

The pin touched my pupil and inserted into my eye.

"Help, help, help, help, someone help!" I yelled, squirming.

"You see, Wryn Radcliffe," the man said, pulling the pin out. "I have a gifted ability to know who utters the truth, and you have said nothing but lies, even facts from your mouth are lies."

One of the cloaked men in the back grabbed something and brought it toward me, placing it in front of me. It was a circular mirror, and it showed my face.

The torturer shouted, grabbing my cheeks and squishing them. "Look at yourself, you rat. All you spew is lies! So be it! I'll make sure you regret your life!"

My face looked like a dead man. My red, bloodshot eye only added to my misery.

"Cut the chains," one of the masked men said. All chains that held me were, cut.

I fell to the floor, landing on the blood and vomit.

The torturer kicked my chin, forcing me to look up as he kneeled on the floor and pointed to a corner.

"Do it!" the torturer said. One of the masked individuals dragged a headless body forward into my sight. I closed my eyes before I could see all of the body and the parts I did... I wish I didn't. Her limbs were twisted, bones showing. Blood was everywhere.

The masked individuals stepped onto my body, forcing me from moving. The torturer grabbed my left arm, placing a rope of some sort around it.

"It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!" I shouted as the roped twisted my arm, deforming it.

The torturer looked at me in the face and shook his head. "Only if you didn't lie."

The torturer enacted the same method on my other arm, deforming it as I screamed. "DAMN YOU ALL!"

"WHY! WHY..." I cried, tears dripping onto the floor. "WHY!"

The torturer stepped on my head. My face hit the floor, spattering in the liquids. He released the pressure, letting go and kneeling down, but he grabbed my hair and pulled it, gaping at my face. "I'll give you one more chance. Who is Moby?"

I opened my mouth, spitting onto his face. "Just kill me."

He wiped the spit off his face, standing up and walking toward the table in the room. He grabbed what indistinguishably was a sword and ran toward me, swinging his sword to my head.

"You can't!" one of the masked men said.

The other masked men tried saying things to stop him, but he was too close. His blade inched away from my chest, cutting through it.

He extended the sword, getting ready to strike me again, but turned around, looking forward. The other masked men let go of me and moved near the cell's entrance.

The building shook, and small debris fell from the ceiling. A noise racketed the area as a man appeared in front of the cell. He held a cloaked individual, letting him drop to the floor. The cloaked individual was limbless.

The new mystery man held his finger in the air and twitched it. "SHAMBLES!"

The whole area dispersed with current, yet I was somehow not affected. Everything and everyone else was sent flying, becoming unconscious.

The mystery man neared me, kneeling on the floor and touching my face. The mystery man became more familiar, my eyes getting a better view of him. He wiped off my tears and clenched his teeth while pointing to the ceiling and yelling, "SHAMBLES!" The ceiling was torn apart, and bright light from the sky penetrated the area.

"You can rest now," Mr. Dray said, holding onto me. He clenched his eyes, looking up at the sky and not at me. "You can rest."

I closed my eyes, wafting into obscurity.