The Tormentor

One bad thing about being tortured by The king of Darkness, the bastard sure knew how to torture!

She hung on reinforced chains in the darkness, far underground away from civilisation. The only noise was her breathing, hitched as she tried not to irritate her broken ribs. Rats crawled over her led and cockroaches darted in and out of her tattered clothes.

“Fuck.” She whispered. This was the little prelude she had before the Tormeter, a hooded bastard whom even Freya had never seen his face resumed experimenting what combination of bones he could break to make her sing.

Worse than the pain on her skin and in her bones though, was the poison that ravaged her blood. She shuddered as she felt her blood heat up again, new bruises appearing on her skin.

She had lost count of how long she had been down here but she knew she was running out of time. That poison was the reason why she’d had to leave Riordan, why he must surely be going crazy thinking she fooled him into letting down his gua