The clang of metal on metal echoed through the narrow stone passage, a horrific sight bouncing off the damp walls. Prisoners face etched with agony, huddled in the meager light filtering through a barred window high above. Their ragged clothes offered little protection from the cold, and the flickering torches lining the hallway cast monster shadows that danced across the uneven floor. The air hung heavy, thick with the stench of mold, sweat, and something far more disturbing, a metallic tang that sent shivers down Thompson's spine. It was the smell of blood, fresh and old.
A deep scream ripped through the oppressive silence, shattering the peace that had momentarily settled. It was a blood-curdling shriek, filled with terror that echoed deep within Thompson's body.
Weak and tired, Thompson changed positions. The last thing he remembered was a struggle, a searing pain in his head, and then… nothing. Panic surged through him as he tried to sit up, only to find his wrists and ankles bound by heavy iron chains. The metal dug into his skin, sending a fresh wave of pain moving through him. "Where am I?" his voice rasped in the echoing chamber. His heart hammered against his ribs like a drumbeat in the suffocating silence.
No answer. Just the steady drip of water somewhere in the distance, and the screams of unseen prisoners being tortured now and then.
Then, a sound sent chills down his spine, a low chuckle that seemed to ooze from the very walls themselves. It slithered through the darkness, wrapping around him like a serpent, sending shivers down his spine. The sound multiplied, morphing into a noise of mocking laughter. Voices, disembodied and cruel, echoed through the passage.
"Thought you were a big shot, a strong man, very powerful, a fire bender, huh?" one rasped, laced with amusement.
"Yeah," another chimed in, the voice dripping with heartless joy. "How does it feel to be nothing but a rat in a cage?"
The words stung, ripping at the edges of Thompson's mind. He strained against his bindings, his muscles screaming in protest. "Who are you?!" he roared, his voice raw with defiance. "Show yourselves, you cowards!"
Then, something terrifying appeared. It was a creature so scary that it seemed like a nightmare come to life. It loomed over Thompson, a twisted smile on its face, and without warning, it jabbed him with a red-hot iron rod. Thompson screamed in pain, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. "Why are you doing this to me? Leave me alone!" he cried, but his pleas only made the creature and its invisible friends laugh harder.
With every strength he could muster, Thompson strained against the chains, his voice echoing through the darkness with defiance. "Show yourself, you cowards! Don't hide in the dark! Show yourself!" Blood trickled from his side, where the hot iron rod had pierced his flesh, his torn skin hanging like a thread.
The laughter swelled, mocking and cruel. Before he could react, another blow struck him from behind, sending him crashing to the ground. He screamed in agony, his words choked with pain. "Stop... please!" he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper amid the uproar.
As he lay on the cold stone floor, blood pooling around him, Thompson's vision blurred and his breaths grew shallow. With every gasp, he whispered hoarsely, "What do you want from me? I didn't do anything... Please, just let me go."
As Maxwell Thorn walked into the dark hallway, the place felt different right away. Dressed in a very neat suit, he looked like he didn't belong in such a gloomy place. But he walked with confidence, showing he was used to being in tough spots. Thorn had battled with ghosts and people before, always looking to become more powerful. He came from a famous family known for doing big things, and he had a big goal in mind.
He had the Nightshade Chalice in his possession. This cup had magic and could give great power to the one who could use it. But to use this cup, he needed the Son of Light. Thorn wanted this power for himself, so he was chasing after Kelvin, believing he was the key.
He smiled warmly, a kind of smile that seemed too pure for the surroundings. He then sat down on a throne, positioned right in front of Thompson, who was now weak and in pain. Thorn, with his almost too-perfect appearance, seemed very out of place in the gloomy, harsh dungeon, creating a striking contrast to the misery around him.
Then, he called out to Thompson with a gentle voice, asking softly, "Thompson, how long will you torment yourself? You seem too weary of such stress. Why are you doing this to yourself?" His tone was kind, filled with concern, yet it carried an underlying note of curiosity.
Thompson weakened and furious, locked eyes with Thorn, his voice raw with anger and defiance. "What do you want from me? I swear, if I get free from these chains, I'll tear you and your cowardly companions apart. Release me!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls as he fought against his restraints.
Thorn remained silent, observing Thompson as he slumped in defeat after his outburst.
"Are you finished?" Thorn's tone was calm, almost soothing. "Thompson, you need to calm down. We only want your son, nothing more. Give him to us, and you're free to go. You can live your life in peace."
He rose quietly and approached the exhausted Thompson, kneeling before him. With a gentle, yet firm grip, he lifted Thompson's chin, forcing eye contact.
"Thompson, you're not our target. Your involvement is just a case of bad luck. Your stubbornness has led us here, to show you who holds the power. Just hand over your son, and that's the end of it, I promise you freedom" Thorn's words delivered.
Thompson locked eyes with Thorn, his gaze unwavering, and affirmed with a resounding "No!" He clenched his jaw, his voice filled with conviction as he added, "I will never release my son to you, not while I am alive."
Upon hearing Thompson's defiant words, Thorn's lips curved into a soft smile. With a subtle flick of his fingers, a red-hot iron chain materialized and coiled around Thompson's chest. Agony surged through Thompson's body, eliciting a piercing scream before he went unconscious.
Thorn's smile widened as he spoke with chilling resolve, "Let's see who's more stubborn. I will end you, then I will find your son. I will use him, and I will end him too. And when you all find yourselves in hell, know that I will be there waiting for you." With a gesture, he commanded a monstrous creature, its form indescribable, to bind Thompso
n in a cage and suspend him over boiling oil.