Misery’s Conflict
Misery stood in the darkened dungeon corridor, her back against the cold stone wall. From the shadows, she watched Adrian endure yet another round of the Vampire King’s torturous interrogation. His bruised and bloodied figure was slumped in chains, but his crimson eyes still burned with defiance, even as his strength waned.
The King’s sharp voice echoed through the chamber. “Tell me where they are,” he demanded. “Your silence is futile.”
Adrian spat blood onto the floor, his voice rasping but unwavering. “You’ll never find them.”
The King’s expression darkened, and with a flick of his hand, one of his knights struck Adrian across the face. The sound of the blow reverberated through the dungeon, but Adrian barely flinched.
Misery’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade as she watched the scene unfold. Her usual smirk was absent, replaced by a tight-lipped expression that revealed nothing. She told herself that Adrian’s pain wasn’t her concern, that his defiance was foolish, and that her allegiance to the King was absolute.
But her hand trembled.
“You’re wasting your time,” Adrian croaked, his gaze shifting toward Misery. His voice, though strained, carried an edge of conviction. “You’ll never break me. And neither will she.”
The King turned to Misery, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Perhaps you need a reminder of where your loyalty lies,” he said, his tone cutting.
Misery straightened, her expression hardening. “I don’t need reminders,” she replied coolly.
“Then prove it,” the King said, gesturing toward Adrian. A knight handed her a blade, its edge gleaming in the dim light.
Misery stepped forward, the blade heavy in her hand. She approached Adrian slowly, her heels clicking against the stone floor. He met her gaze with calm defiance, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite the blood staining them.
“You’re not going to do it,” Adrian said quietly, his voice steady.
Misery stopped inches from him, her blade hovering near his neck. The room was silent save for the sound of Adrian’s labored breathing.
“Go ahead,” he said, his smirk widening. “Prove me wrong.”
Her grip tightened, her crimson eyes locking onto his. For a moment, the weight of the room seemed to shift, the tension unbearable. Misery’s hand trembled, the blade’s edge grazing Adrian’s skin but not pressing further.
The King’s voice cut through the silence. “What are you waiting for?”
Misery’s jaw clenched as she pulled the blade away, her expression unreadable. “This is a waste of time,” she said flatly, turning on her heel.
The King’s gaze followed her as she walked toward the door, his expression cold and calculating. “You’re faltering, Misery,” he said. “I don’t tolerate faltering.”
She didn’t respond, disappearing into the shadows. But as she walked away, her hand still trembled around the hilt of the blade.
