The Battle Surrendered Part Two Storyteller SilverLoom
The eerie light was gone. The shadow creatures were gone. I was completely alone in a dark, damp prison. The only light in the place filtered in from a crack far above me. Someone had chained my ankles and wrists to the stone floor of the dungeon. I had a vague memory of the creatures telling me to chain myself up.
Now I realized just how dumb I had been to follow the shadow creatures. “Hello?” I called. No answer except for the constant dripping of water from a corner of my prison. “Hey! Let me go! Get me out of here!” I yelled. Was it my imagination, or did I hear malicious laughter coming from the darker parts of the dungeon?
My heart pounded with fear. I had never thought something like this could happen to me. This sort of thing only happened to people in books. It wasn’t supposed to happen in real life.
A scream welled up inside of me and I let it go, along with a torrent of tears. The worst part of it was that I knew I had put myself in this place; that I hadn’t fought hard enough.
I curled up on the cold stone floor and sobbed. Then I called for the only One who could hear me. “God, please… please help me! I don’t know where I am! I shouldn’t have given in. Please! Help me!”
As my tears fell afresh, the light from the crack in the wall suddenly disappeared. I stopped mid-sob and froze. I even held my breath.
A voice reverberated off the solid walls of my prison. “Hello, down there!”
I looked up at the crack. The face of a man stared back at me, his head almost completely covering the crack. He had the widest smile I had ever seen. “Not the most comfortable place to live, I’d say,” he remarked in a friendly manner.
I wiped my teary eyes with my pajama sleeve. “Can… can you get me out?” I stammered. I felt reluctant to trust this guy, afraid this was another trap.
His smile grew even larger. “That’s what I came here to do; to help you out." His face drew back from the hole as he stood.
I waited while he hacked away at the stone, making the crack large enough for him to crawl through. It was a few minutes before I realized that he was using his sword to send the bricks of my prison tumbling down. That was one strong blade.
Finally, he secured a rope outside the dungeon and used it to climb down through the gap he had made. He looked like a prince out of a fairy tale; dressed from head to toe in white stitched with gold thread, a voluminous cape thrown over his shoulders.
When he stood in front of me, I lifted my shackled wrists up and said wistfully, “I’m chained. I don’t know where the key is.”