Yvara
The cold iron shackles bit into her wrists, blood trickling down her arms as she dangled, her toes just barely grazing the stone floor. The heavy rustle of robes filled the dimly lit chamber as a man circled her, his voice smooth yet laced with cruel amusement. "You're going to die here," he murmured, and despite the agony wracking her body, she couldn't help but let out a hoarse, breathless laugh. The man gave a short nod of acknowledgment, his hands now behind his back. "So sad..." he bent down in a dramatic way. "Such a waste." His eyes narrowed. "To have such a narrow mind, to not be able to see the bigger picture." He slowly stood back up and stood an inch closer.
The whisper coming out of her mouth was barely audible. "Oh cat's got your tongue? What happened to that mouth you had not too long ago?" His hand roughly squeezed her chin. "Go on, say it!" He forced their eyes to meet. "Show me why they call you the 'Angel's Blade'."
An unknown smell wafted around the entire area and the robe'd man snorted as if it was truly grotesque.
"My words are useless, the only way you'll understand is by following my actions." She tilted her head and breathed through her nose roughly. "Mmm but my dear Donovan had other plans in mind, right?"
Donovan's eyebrow twitched and pounded the cell door. "I'm leaving!"
"Donovan we just started talking don't leave so soon...you don't want to know that I know?" She squeezed her palms to the point where blood flowed down her arms. "How you're the reason I'm chained up?"
"Let me out, now!" Donovan growled and soon the doors pried open. "Have a good life in hell, Yvara." Donavan then disappeared in the dark, leaving Yvara alone with her murderous thoughts. The silence was different here it was more, permanent. As if nothing but certain death lived here.