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The WeatherMaker - Prince of Light By Lady Lilium Characters: 5236

Updated: 2018-07-12 12:03

What is going on?

The guard bowed to him only reluctantly, casting a look back at the frightened Cam before departing; closing the door with a snap he left swiftly.

'Now we can't leave too much damage' Desmond spoke up, addressing the other figure in the room that was with him.

Desmond was a well dressed and handsome figure; who looked out of place in the filthy dark dungeons they were in now.

'Don't worry' the second man said. 'I know what I'm doing.'

The second man was certainly not a member of the council. He looked more like a mercenary, someone who did someone else's dirty work for a living, a burly and scarred man who had experienced much violence in his time. Violence inflicted upon him, and by him onto others.

This was not a man you wanted to meet.

The scarred man left the room for a moment.

Cam sat in tense silence, eyes wide and darting all around the room, his breath in short sharp gasps.

'W-w-what are you doing here?' he stammered to the well dressed man who waited before him. 'What's going on?'

'You should know' Desmond replied coldly. 'This is all your fault after all.'


Cam's head whipped around as he heard the scarred man enter the room again.

He approached Cam with metal forceps held in his hand, heated red hot.

Cam screamed in panic, trying to fight free of the straps that held him down, but to no avail.


Desmond moved quickly behind him. Cam's head was jerked back as a gag was forced tightly over his mouth.

'Keep him quiet' the scarred man hissed. 'I haven't even started yet.'

Cam wanted to speak, to ask them questions, to ask them why they were doing this. But he could not, not now with the gag held over his mouth to silence him. Tears ran down his cheeks and his whole body began to tremble violently, watching in horror utterly helpless, as the scarred man moved closer to him with the forceps, and completely powerless to stop him.

Cam clawed at the arm rests he was strapped to, nails digging into the wood as he screamed in agony, his voice muffled by the gag. The scarred man before him individually grasping each nail in turn and slowly prying it from the nail bed before tearing it off altogether.

They physical pain was beyond anything Cam had ever endured. It was far worse than anything Brioke had ever done to him physically.

'He is an expert in his field' Desmond spoke down to Cam calmly as he held him there. 'His line of work allows him to learn all sorts of ways of inflicting pain, especially those that prevent the victim's death.'

The scarred man pause

d for a moment, giving him respite. Cam who had been squeezing his eyes tight shut, opened them again slowly, blinking through his tears to stare up at the man that held him, the man that stood behind him, his expression pleading.

But Cam saw nothing in Desmond's face, no emotion of any kind.

He realised suddenly with a new wave of terror…how very alone he was at that moment. Whatever was happening, there was no one to protect him, no one to stop this, not even his brother.

Cam began to struggle, fighting violently against his bonds again as the torturer continued, his efforts against his binds in vain as the scarred man ripped from him another nail. Desmond held the gag over his mouth forcefully, muffling Cam's screams.

'That's the last one on that foot' the scarred man said. 'I've run out of nails. Let's move onto the next foot.'

Cam felt anger suddenly streak through him as he let out a snarl, glaring and gritting his teeth at the man kneeling before him as he was consumed by a raw and primal rage. He held his breath, bowing his head and concentrating.

The scarred man stopped suddenly, drawing back for a moment.

'What was that?'

'I felt it too' Desmond said behind Cam.

'That was strange' the scarred man said rising to his feet. 'It felt like the air was heavy all of a sudden…buzzing….I felt vibrations humming in my ears…'

'You're doing this' Desmond said accusingly to Cam, releasing his grasp and walking around the chair to stand before him. 'Aren't you?'

Cam, all fear and helplessness suddenly gone from him, tried to lunge forwards, clawing the arms of the chair, not in pain this time, but in fury. He snarled like a demon behind his gag, throwing his head this way and that, trying to free himself from it, until he succeeded.

Finally free to speak, he roared in pure rage, hate and loathing filling his heart and soul.


'You're not in the position to kill anyone my friend' Desmond answered coolly. 'Now what happened the day you ran away? How did you do what you did?'

Cam didn't answer, acting as if he hadn't heard.

'DIE!' he screamed. 'ALL OF YOU DIE!'

Desmond strode towards him, slapping him hard, then again and again.

Cam jerked his head back towards him when he stopped, cheeks red and stinging, though the anger had still not left him.

'You wouldn't want me to let loose my friend here would you?' Desmond asked him.

'I could make you sing if I wanted' the scarred man told him, still holding the forceps in a hand, the metal glowing red hot. 'I could make you sing many a song.'

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