Yuen looked down at the prisoner, an assassin of the Eastern Courts. Most of their kind were skilled in the arts of trickery, but the Eastern Court ones specialized in making it violent. Assassins, mercenaries, spies, and cut throats who wielded blades and honeyed words and enjoyed bloodshed. Their war torn past breeding some of the most ruthless fae in their modern history.
This particular assassin he had worked fairly hard to capture. She was slippery, hard to find, and it'd taken whispers and promises of loads of coins to get her in his bed chambers.
"Arise." He commanded the woman beneath him.
"Yes, your highness." She stood now facing the young prince.
Yuen reached out grabbing her by the chin and raising her head towards the light. As with most eastern fae, her skin was green, of a pale sage variety swimming in inky currents. Long messily hair fell over her shoulders in a matching color. Her eyes were a forest so dark they were nearly black. Paired with pointed ears flexed back, her hostility was evident.
Thick black lines fresh and raw permanently marked down the center of her face, while two more streaked parallel across her cheeks.
Yuen smirked. The tattoos were the work of Delta and would serve as his security blanket. If she were to betray him, with a flick of his finger Delta could detonate the tattoos, instantly killing her. It was a rather gruesome power amongst Deltas arsenal of torture techniques.
"Tomorrow I will stage your escape." Yuen said in a hushed voice, being sure the echo of the dungeon did not carry his words.
The eastern faes' eyes widened. The esteemed young prince was going to help her escape? That must have been the reason the black lines had been carved into her face.
He continued, "You will heed my command and hold absolute secrecy over the mission I am about to task you with. Do well by my orders and I shall arrange your freedom. Fail me and I'm sure Delta has already warned you of what will happen to this pretty little head of yours." He caressed her cheek, fingers trailing down the black tattoo.
Her eyes narrowed, knowing well what would happen should she betray him. She bit back curses, only nodded.
"Good."
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Blood, mold, and excrements permeated the air of the musty and rank dungeon. After a week of captivity Nimara had grown used to the smells. For the first day any deep breath made her gag and her head pound. She complained about it to the guard who had, in reply, delivered a swift kick to her gut stating that it was a dungeon not an inn.
Today she would escape its nastiness and had half a mind to pay the guard back for his shit hospitality. Surely his 'imperial highness' wouldn't be too sad about one dead guard. The sardonic nature of her thoughts dripped with poison.
She readjusted her weight, pulling some of the tension away from her chained hands. The shackles were what truly kept her imprisoned. Another one of that asshole, Delta's little nifty inventions. No mere prison cell or pair of regular shackles was enough to confine a powerful fae. There were suppressant cuffs but their construct was mostly of metal. Their magical abilities locked in iron and steel moot in the face of Nimaras abilities.
These were unlike any she'd seen before. A white cool substance she could neither distinguish as metal or glass. Odd glyphs carved in the same black on her cheeks lined their edges. Multiple thin chains connected them in short length, pulsating and made of an energy emitted from the runes. When she'd been shackled in them they had sapped at her energy with such force that her knees had given out.
The door to the dungeon opened with a screech and light flooded in giving view to the poor living conditions of its prisoners. Months old straw sprinkled the floor, a bucket of overflowing feces and urine could be seen a few cells down, a man, filthy and perhaps dead, lay in a heap shadowed by the stripes of bars.
His highness' instructions echoed in Nimaras' mind.
"…a guard will come in midday for his patrol and his keys will 'accidentally' slip from his belt."
The midday guard entered, lantern in hand, and made his way to the end of the block looking from one cell to the next, ensuring all captives were where they should be. As he made his way back he swiftly kicked at the bars where Nimara sat, his keys falling to the stone with a light tink. The sound was covered by the ringing of the bars. "Away from the bars prisoner." He barked before continuing on, not checking to see if she moved away. The door creaked shut behind him. The dungeon shrouded in darkness again.
" You'll have ten minutes to free yourself and exit the dungeon."
Nimara stuck a foot through the bars, silently pressing her thin soled shoes around until she felt the key beneath her toes. She dragged the keys into her cell. Hands behind her back she took the keys and guided each one into the lock before the perfect fit slid into place. A twist and she felt immediate relief at the disconnection of sapping energy. It's crushing fatigue lifted, she stood up, her knees popping and rubbed her sore wrists.
The prisoner across from her perked and in a hushed whisper called to her. "Care to help out a fellow inmate." He kept his voice low, not wanting to alert the other prisoners or any guards.
Nimara smirked.
It took only a moment for her power to begin reflowing through her body. She was weak and malnourished. I'm not as strong as I could be but it should be enough to escape this shithole. She summoned her power and let it seep from her fingers. Slim gnarled green roots spread from her skin, snaking their way around the bars of her cell.
The prisoner across from her had eyes built for the dark. He watched on in horror and fascination as the roots secreted an acid so foul the metal began to drip and melt away.
The fae were creatures of nature and their powers often correlated to the flora and fauna they were attached to. Nimara was born of pale night kudzu. A rather beautiful vining plant whose milky violet flowers grew from branching racemes in tapering cylinders. Beautiful blooms that only appeared with bright moons. Above the surface of the soil it had thick vibrant green foliage that grew prolifically. Often covering every last area of surface it vined up. Under the soil its roots spread out, their toxic nature strangling and killing the root systems of other plants. Left unchecked, the vines would quickly overtake a whole forest and the soil would become uninhabitable for other plants.
Nimara stepped through a hole in the bars, her noxious roots making quick work of the iron and steel. Her feet crunched through the solidified drippings as she approached the other cell. Her eyes were not as adept to the dark but inside she could see the huge shadow of a man. Only the vypnyr were so large in stature. She wore a viscous smile as she swung the keys in his face.
"I'll help you on one condition." Her voice was a cruel promise, smooth and melodic.
The vypnyr swallowed hard knowing exactly what it was the fae wanted. "Yes?"
"Give me your name."
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Nimara made her way through the city, keeping to the shadows and following the instructions given to her. A young boy falling into a nearby lagoon had served as a 'distraction' to the guards and she had slipped out of the dungeon unnoticed.
Smoothly she traveled in shadows. Across the eastern section of Kisiian, the Imperial Court capital, was the prince's personal stable. The stable was empty of servants, away for lunch, and a saddled steed had awaited her.
She took an old trail from the sandy dunes of the city, then into the forest that edged it, horse steadily galloping along forgotten roads.
Fifteen minutes out an escort joined her, just as the prince said one would. He guided her deeper into the imperial lands, the paths became less evident and the trees became much thicker.
The hooded and anonymous escort handed her a sealed envelope then instructed her to remain to the right, enter the oak grove and to ride into till its end. The rider split away from her disappearing into the trees and grass and she forged ahead.
The grove came into view. A small trail was lined perfectly between snarled oaks with the thickest trunks she had ever seen. The ancient overgrown lane led to a dead end and she rode towards it as instructed. Just as she neared its edge, a blast of golden light lit her vision and a mass of swirling energy created a wall between the oaks. It was soaking in energy and swirling with bittersweet forgotten magic, she flinched as her steed powered ahead. The wall swallowed them, shivering before collapsing with another flare of light. The forest was once again empty and silent. The only trace of her passage was the hoof prints left in the soft grass of the grove.