He then pressed the coin on Sharpo’s hand. Shar
Author:unloginuser Time:2025/03/05 Read: 3848He then pressed the coin on Sharpo’s hand. Sharpo felt a burning sensation where the coin touched. He tried to hold in a scream not wanting to give Cyclone the satisfaction but he couldn’t hold it in. He was in so much pain. He let out a blood curdling scream. After almost a minute Cyclone lifted the coin off of Sharpo. Sharpo was breathing quickly and crying due to the pain of the burn. “How about now, ready to talk?” Sharpo looked at his hand even in his blurry vision he could see that the burn was deep and would probably leave a scar. He looked up at Cyclone and glared at him. Behind Cyclone a black cloud appeared briefly before disappearing in its place stood Abyss and Andrew. The cloaked figures stood there and Andrew pulled out a bucket of popcorn and started munching on the treat. Sharpo looked at them with desperation on his face. “Don’t mind us, we are just here to enjoy the show.” Abyss rolled his eyes. “You are doing that. I’m just here waiting for our next soul to arrive. Don’t worry boy, it’s not you. Andrew, wouldn’t be this giddy if it was. He has a soft spot for kids.” “You are one to talk. You took me in as your apprentice, almost immediately after my murder. You are just a big softy under the black robe of yours.” Abyss’s eyes narrowed. “Your situation was unique, thankfully it’s not everyday a child gets murdered by his so-called parents, all because they were scared of what you become.”
The flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows across the rough-hewn stone walls of the dungeon. Sharpo, barely a man, clutched his searing hand, the agony a white-hot brand across his flesh. Cyclone, a figure wreathed in the stench of brimstone and malice, smirked. The coin, a tarnished silver piece pulsing with unnatural energy, had etched a deep, angry burn into Sharpo’s skin.
“How about now, ready to talk?” Cyclone’s voice was a rasping whisper, devoid of any warmth.
Sharpo glared, his vision swimming with pain. He could feel the venom of the coin seeping into his very bones. He would not break. He would not give Cyclone the satisfaction. But the pain… the pain threatened to overwhelm him.
Then, a shift in the air, colder than the dungeon’s chill. A black cloud coalesced behind Cyclone, swirling and churning like a living tempest. From its heart, two figures emerged. Abyss, cloaked in shadows deeper than the dungeon itself, and Andrew, a surprisingly cheerful young man who casually munched on popcorn, completely oblivious to the agony unfolding before him.
“Don’t mind us,” Abyss drawled, his voice a silken hiss. “We’re just here to enjoy the show.” He rolled his eyes, the gesture somehow both theatrical and weary. “I’m just waiting for our next soul to arrive. Don’t worry, boy, it’s not you. Andrew wouldn’t be this giddy if it were. He has a soft spot for… children.”
Andrew, completely unfazed, popped another kernel into his mouth. “You’re one to talk,” he said, his voice muffled. “You took me in as your apprentice, almost immediately after my murder. You’re just a big softy under that black robe.”
Abyss’s eyes narrowed, the shadows around him deepening. “Your situation was unique. Thankfully, it’s not every day a child gets murdered by his so-called parents, all because they were scared of what you would become.” His gaze fell on Sharpo, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing his face before disappearing. “A rare gift, your bloodline. Bound to the old magic, woven with threads of shadow and starlight. That’s why Cyclone’s after you. He wants to harness its power for himself.”
Sharpo’s mind raced. He knew, vaguely, about his heritage. Whispers of ancient power, of a lineage tied to the very fabric of the night. But he hadn’t understood its true significance until now. Cyclone wasn’t just torturing him for information; he was after something far more potent – his very essence.
He looked at Abyss, then at Andrew, the contrast between them stark and unsettling. One, a harbinger of death, the other, strangely innocent amidst the darkness. The pain was almost unbearable, but a new resolve hardened within him. He would not let them break him. He would not let them take what was his. He would fight, even if it meant facing the shadows alone. His scream, though diminished by his newfound resolve, still echoed in the stone chamber, a defiant cry in the face of unimaginable darkness.
