The Price of Betrayal
The dungeon reeked of damp stone and despair. Seraphine hung from heavy iron chains that rattled softly with each shallow breath. Her crescent mark, once a symbol of defiance, was now dim, its faint glow barely visible against her pale skin. She tilted her head upward when the door creaked open, her lips curling into a weary smirk despite the agony that wracked her body.
Malrik stepped into the chamber, his gaunt frame casting a long shadow in the flickering torchlight. The Moon Amulet pulsed faintly against his chest, its glow sharp and unrelenting. His hollow cheeks made his grin even more sinister, like a skull sneering at the living.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice thick with mockery. “The ever-resilient Seraphine. I expected more from someone so talented at betrayal. But here you are, shackled like a common thief. How pitiful.”
Seraphine laughed weakly, the sound raw and bitter. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy being played, Malrik. You should thank me for reminding you how gullible you are.”
Malrik’s gray eyes narrowed, his expression twisting into something darker. He strode forward, his boots echoing ominously in the small chamber. “Gullible? No, dear Seraphine. I let you think you had me fooled. I was curious to see how far your arrogance would take you.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek. “But I always knew. I’ve always known what a pathetic, desperate creature you are.”
She glared at him, her defiance flickering. “Spare me your theatrics, Malrik. We both know you’re nothing without that amulet choking the life out of everyone around you.”
Malrik chuckled, the sound low and menacing. “Oh, Seraphine. Always so quick to lash out. Is it because you know you’re powerless now? A broken toy, left in the dark while the world moves on.” He straightened, tilting his head as if studying an insect caught in a web. “Do you think anyone’s coming for you? Isla, perhaps? Draven? No one even remembers you exist. You’re just a relic of failure—a constant reminder of what not to be.”
Seraphine’s lips trembled, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “At least I don’t need chains and relics to make people stay,” she spat.
Malrik’s face darkened, his control slipping for a moment as he lashed out, gripping her jaw with a hand trembling from both rage and sickness. “And yet here you are. Bound. Powerless. Forgotten.” He released her roughly, his gaunt frame shuddering as he stepped back. “You’re alive because I allow it. And you will remain alive—for now. A lesson for anyone who dares to defy me.”
He turned, the Moon Amulet’s glow brightening as his anger fed it. Over his shoulder, his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “Do you know what’s truly amusing, Seraphine? I don’t even hate you. You’re not worth hating. You’re just… pathetic.”
The door slammed shut behind him, plunging the room into oppressive silence. Seraphine sagged against her chains, her body trembling not just from pain, but from the venom in Malrik’s words.
In the dim light, her voice barely rose above a whisper, tinged with desperation and regret. “Isla… don’t forget me.”
