Darkness…A sanctuary and a living hell balanced in perfection. She discovered that it was devoid of both love and hate, while it soothed and terrified those caught within its deepest patches of shadow.
The cold and damp floor had become her constant companions for days, perhaps weeks. She was quite unsure how long it had truly been, for without the light of the sun, passage of time was indistinguishable.
She had killed a dozen rats that had wondered into her cell either scavenging for food or following the scent of her previously oozing wounds. This was something she knew and could hold on to, as the abyss of inner madness sought to cloud her mind. Each rodent had become an unwilling sacrifice in a dark ritual that helped to heal her injuries and kept her ebbing strength from leaving her body entirely.
She slowly chewed upon a cloth within her mouth, drawing out the bitter taste of blood and grime. This was her secret and her only chance for survival. It was a small square piece of a magical scarf known as the Bloodsilk. Once it had been part of a blood red flowing scarf, which had been her talisman and the reason her enemies had dubbed her Captain Grace Flynn, the Crimson Scarver.
Grace had been feared on both land and sea. Then after defeating an evil most foul, she was betrayed by her own allies and brought to this very prison to be hung by her enemies. Perhaps a fitting reward for a woman whom had killed so many without remorse and sometimes reason.
Her mind began to flash the faces of those who had brought her down. She smiled with madness.
“I killed Death and now he comes for me.” To any eavesdropper the statement would have been the raving of a madwoman. Perhaps it was just that, Grace reasoned and she let the past fade from her mind and shivered slightly as the chill in the air returned. Tears had long left her body and she could not bring forth anymore.
Grace’s life had been built upon violence and being a slave to a singular thought…vengeance. The dark creature that had taken all from her at such a young age had eluded her and now the sands of her life were running out, never to stand as a monument to her endless rage. She would never kill the beast that slew her family. She would however die upon the hangman’s noose. It was only a matter of time.