POV: Ash
Location: Northern Empire
For three days my arms were tied up in chains, Shii locked me up in a basement under her house. With one hand stretched to the east and the other stretched to the west—my body was left to dangle with my back hitting the stone wall behind me.
The basement was pitch black with a small light coming out of a candle about to die, I had not eaten for three days, to make matters worse, my two arms were scratched open by Shii's fingernails, and the blood in my veins dripped out and fall on a huge black pot positioned below me.
Blood harvesting, that is why I hate witches so much.
"Crimson," I called out to my blood.
"Are you going to abandon me again?"
My voice was low costing me a lot of energy, the room was so dark that the red blood stocking up below me could not be separated from the black pot itself.
"Wake up crimson," I said again.
My mana has been sucked out I can't cast any spells, crimson is my only hope.
"Crimson...Crimson...Crimson," I kept repeating in a low whisper.
"It won't answer you, Ash, the runaway witch," Said two white eyes coming into view.
It was Shii, she came inside the basement holding a lantern full of fireflies.
"So you know even that much," I said while giggling to hide my despair.
"I have not lived two hundred years for nothing," she said while sitting down on a chair beside a wooden table.
"A little bird told me everything you did in the Dark Union," she continued, resting her chin on her crossed fingers. "I cast a binding spell on your blood, it is no longer yours, it is ours and will soon be mine."
"The blood transfusion ritual," I muttered, widening my eyes to give her an intense glare.
"My blood is different, you would die Shii," I said.
Shii started to giggle, she then got up from the chair and walked towards me, scratching the table with her sharp fingernails.
She got to a lever and then pulled it down, I violently fell to the black pot below me, and while struggling I managed to bring my head out grabbing the edges of the pot.
Shii then walked to me, she got so close to me that my nose was touching her small breast. She stood four feet tall in front of me, she was supposed to be old but looking at her closely, her face was no different than that of a twenty-year-old, girl my age.
The first thing she did was to grab my ash hair now covered in my blood, she pulled my head close to her face and stared directly into my eyes.
"How many young girls like you do you think I have killed?" she asked.
I returned a wave of silence to her, staring back into her eyes with a cold glare.
"I have killed hundreds before I got the process right," she answered herself, "I have been reborn to my twenties three times now."
"I am different, my blood would kill you," I repeated myself.
Her eyes reflected dark anger and she violently pulled my hair almost detaching it from my head.
"You are not special," she glared at me, "I am special!" she pointed to herself.