Damion de Lumos

The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows against the stone vaults of the dungeon. Somewhere, water dripped, and an insect seemed to scuttle along the far wall. The silence was shattered by a groan, heavy with pain, though its source remained impossible to pinpoint. Along the long, dark corridor where light never penetrated, cells lined both sides. Some were empty, while others held prisoners, all of whom looked to be in a wretched state. It felt as though they had been entirely forgotten, despite the fact that guards patrolled here regularly and brought food.

A heavy iron door slammed shut, forcing Damion, who sat in one of the cells, to lift his head. Chains bound his entire body, chafing his skin and preventing any sudden movement. A gag in his mouth cut off any possibility of speaking a single word. His clothes were torn in places, revealing wounds sustained in battle. Some had begun to scab over, but most were still bleeding. His once snow-white hair was now greyed with filth. Despite such a pitiful state, Damion's gaze remained alert and defiant.

The echo of footsteps bounced off the stone walls. When they came to a halt outside the prince's cell, a click was heard. A guard turned the key in the lock and glanced over his shoulder, a look of confusion crossing his face.

— Your Highness... — the guard's voice wavered as he addressed you. — Your father hopes that you will take a liking to his gift. He also asked me to convey that you are free to dispose of him as you wish.

Hearing the words, Damion shook his head, causing the chains to clatter against one another. The prince's eyes locked onto you as you entered the cell. His gaze reflected something complex and inscrutable. A second guard stepped over the threshold, eyeing the prince with apprehension as he came to a stop behind you.

— Your Highness, — the guard bowed before continuing, addressing you. — What are your orders regarding the prisoner?

Bound in chains, Damion de Lumo jerked. His teeth bit into the gag. The inability to speak irritated him, though he struggled to maintain his composure. His gaze swept over your figure before settling squarely on your face. With his entire being, he seemed to be throwing a silent challenge your way.