The steel kissed my throat, a cold, brutal caress that promised a swift, crimson end.
"And what makes you think I will play this little game of yours?"
He rasped, the words a low, guttural growl that vibrated against my skin. The blade pressed deeper, a thin line of blood tracing its edge.
"The great Mist is afraid of death, I see," I countered, the words a desperate gamble. "Well, I have the antidote for your curse."
A flicker, a momentary lapse in his iron grip, a blush that painted his pallid cheeks crimson. It was gone in an instant, but I had seen it. I had struck a nerve. He mistook his bloated ego for pride, a fatal flaw I intended to exploit.
"Declare the rules little warrior," he commanded.
Snapping his fingers. The world dissolved, and we found ourselves in a grand, decaying mansion, the air thick with the cloying scent of blood. I drew a shaky breath, forcing down the fear that threatened to choke me.
"Simple," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "Seven pills on the table. One is poison. We each take a pill, one at a time, and ask a question. If we live to hear the answer... fortunate,I guess."
"Oh," I added, a sardonic smile twisting my lips, "you can have the healing pill if I die. As for me, if I live and you die, your soul will be bound to serve me forever." His fists clenched, a barely perceptible tightening of the muscles.
"Where does this 'question thing' come from?" he sneered.
"You speak as if you would answer me freely," I retorted, "I have questions, Mist, questions only you can answer." A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"Let us begin then," he said.Planting his fists on the polished, blood-stained table.
I drew my sword, the steel glinting in the dim light, and with a grimace, I sliced a deep gash across my palm. He watched, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but did not intervene. With each drop of blood that fell onto the table, I chanted, ancient words that resonated with the very air. Within minutes, seven pills materialized, each a tiny sphere of dark, ominous potential. He studied them, his gaze piercing, then shifted his attention to me.
"Let's mix these up," he said, his voice a low, menacing purr, "I suspect you know which one is poison."
Damn. Caught. My carefully laid trap had sprung back on me. There was no escape now, only the cold, hard reality of the game.
The Mist swirled around the pills, his hands a blur as he shuffled them, his eyes never leaving mine. A chilling silence descended, broken only by the drip, drip, drip of my blood. The air grew heavy, thick with tension, and a cold wind seemed to whisper through the decaying halls, brushing against my skin like a phantom's touch.
The silence was a torture in itself. With trembling hand, I reached into the swirling mist, the pills cold against my skin. I grasped one, a small, dark sphere, and brought it to my lips. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. I placed the pill on my tongue, swallowed, and waited.