• Weak rays of sunlight trickled down from the barred windows above Glenn’s crouching figure. His head lolled back, indicating exhaustion, and as he gazed upward at the cracked ceiling, he noticed the faint light coming from outside.
    He had survived another night.
    The morning was unusually crisp for Burgandy and because the dungeons intentionally lacked proper insulation, Glenn began to shiver. He strenuously forced himself to rise to his feet, grimacing from the ache that ran fiercely up his back to his tender neck. He massaged it gently with his bruised hand.
    Footsteps echoed from afar; however they approached his cell rather quickly. Glenn walked slowly toward the cage-like doors in an attempt to identify who was causing the rhythmic noise. The blonde cleric had returned. He exhaled and a wave of relief washed over him.
    “Oh, thank heaven it’s you…” he whispered, his face just inches from the steel rods. She immediately took note of his horrid condition.
    “What have they done to you now?” she inquired urgently, wrenching the key ring from her white leather belt. With a quick gesture, she jammed the correct key into the lock and turned it counter-clockwise. The rotation of the tumblers within resonated throughout the entire basement in an eerie way.
    She entered, closing the door behind her.
    “Is it really that bad?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm.
    Her eyes stared into his and he could feel the reproach behind her crystalline blue irises. “Sit.”
    He obeyed, but with great effort; he cringed as he bent his knees and lowered his body to the hard ground. She held out her delicate hands above him. “Now lay back…”
    “What are you--” he started, but was cut off due to the brilliant light emanating from her palms. The silvery glow branched away from its origin and enveloped Glenn’s midsection, penetrating through the lacerations about his torso.
    “This should help with the pain,” she stated, emotionless, summoning energy from the depths of her vitality as she closed her eyelids.
    He shut his emerald eyes and breathed slowly. He no longer felt the agonizing sensation that plagued him earlier and for that, he was incredibly grateful. He took advantage of the moment.
    He leaned forward, eyes still closed, and gingerly pressed his round lips upon hers. Her mouth parted in astonishment, which only enticed him to slip his tongue into the newly discovered hole, beyond her dazzlingly white teeth. He ran his fingers through her golden curls, cradling her head while pulling her in closer.
    He slowly opened his tired eyes, only to find an intensely infuriated woman sitting across from him. She was fuming and as an attempt to conceal her slight mortification, she forcefully slapped him across his battered face. He roared with pain.
    “OW! That hurt!” he exclaimed, but still maintained a low tone.
    She crossed her arms in disgust. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she hissed, “I’m not like those easy Sierran girls that you’re used to.”
    “I…” He paused. “Wait, ‘easy?’ That ‘I’m used to?’ You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he sputtered, trying to calm down. After a moment passed, he successfully gained control of his temper. “I’m sorry… You’re right… I shouldn’t have done that…”
    She averted her gaze. “It’s… It’s alright…”
    “How did you know I was from Sierra?” he inquired, unaware of his notoriety.
    “Lord Arachna hasn’t stopped talking about you since the day you two came face to face… Since I’m one of the few that he converses with, I hear about you nonstop,” she confessed. “He has high hopes for you…”
    “He can keep dreaming,” he retorted bluntly, “There’s no way that I’ll give in. I can’t be something I’m not… More importantly, I won’t be something I’m not.”
    She angled her head to the side, curious of what he meant. “You mean that you don’t want to be like your father, Rhen?”
    “Never in this lifetime.”
    “He killed a lot of innocent people…” she added. Glenn remained silent and lowered his head. He breathed quietly, as if in contemplation, then twisted his body away from her to face the wall.
    He mumbled something inaudible.
    “What?” she mouthed and reached her hand out to lay upon his highly defined shoulder.
    “He did. He killed thousands of people… And among those thousands was my mother…” Glenn’s body was rigid; she felt his muscles tighten beneath her palm.
    “Your mother? That’s… That’s…” She looked upset, trying desperately to think of the adequate word.
    “Detestable?” a voice offered.
    Glenn reeled around to face the stranger that had interrupted his conversation.
    Drey Crimson had returned; his enormous bulk loomed far above any normal man, and yet his piercing stare alone could suffice as an intimidating feature. Glenn’s eyes darted between the gigantic man and the lovely cleric, apprehensive of what consequences may emerge from his situation.
    “Natasha Panacea… What are you doing down here?” Crimson inquired, baring his teeth. She stood up hastily, brushed off her pale blue dress, and faced him. “I’m sorry, sir… I…”
    “No need to explain,” the large man cooed in a most unsettling manner, “Hand me the keys.”
    She nodded abruptly. “Yes, sir…” she mumbled, placing the key ring in his monumental hands.
    “Now head back to your sleeping chambers and we won’t have to involve Lord Arachna,” he instructed.
    “Absolutely, sir,” she answered quietly and as soon as he opened the cell, she glanced back at Glenn with an apologetic expression, then raced down the hall in order to elude castigation.
    Crimson proceeded to advance toward the prisoner, a sinister snarl pasted on his chiseled face. “You want her, don’t you?”
    It was Glenn’s turn to smile. “I imagine you’ve never kissed her.”
    “And you have? What would she want with a little runt of a b*****d like you?” His red eyes flashed menacingly.
    Glenn shrugged playfully and let out a subtle laugh. “Apparently I’m a hell of a lot better looking than you thought.” Crimson lost his cool.