When Isiah awoke, it was to incredible pain. Everything caused him to hurt more, moving, opening his eyes, taking a breath. It was easier to sit there, wherever he was, as still as possible with his eyes closed. The pain in his head was almost unbearable, but if he didn't move any more than necessary, it stayed at a dull ache.

His memories were hazy, filled with the deep red colour of blood and the sound of yelling. Messy images flashed in his mind, but he couldn't piece them together no matter how hard he tried. Over and over again his body called for the stones as if they could bring him some kind of comfort.

They were still in his pocket, but with closed eyes, he couldn't see the glow. It would hurt if he moved, but if he had them, maybe he would feel better. As slowly as he could, he reached for his pocket, wincing at the pain. Terror shot through him when his hand stopped inches from his pocket as if held by some invisible force.

Ignoring the pain it would cause, Isiah opened his eyes. All around him was darkness, as suffocating as the black void as Askarune's Sanctum and it was impossible to see even his clothing. He tried to move his hand again, pulling it sharply towards him, but something around his wrist stopped him. Metal clinked loudly as he moved and he blanched, a sick feeling in his stomach.

There were chains around both his wrists, tying him to the cold wall he sat against. His legs were free to move about, but they ached too much for him to bother. Where would he go if he could move? He couldn't see, he was in pain and he was chained to a wall in some unknown place. There was nothing he could do.

And he had no idea why. He couldn't remember what had happened to him or where his friends were. He was alone with the chains and the pain, struggling to figure out where exactly he was. They had been on their way to the Sanctum of Nyat, but there was no way that was where he sat.

The Sanctum of Nyat, his stones, that was what he had been trying to find. He shifted his legs as best he could and tried to shimmy the stones from his pocket, but there was no clatter of them against the hard floor and he didn't knock into them in his struggles. There was no glow, no orange or blue. His stones were gone.

Panic coursed through his veins as he struggled against the wall. He'd been so careful to keep them on him at all times. Whoever had captured him had taken them while he was unconscious. But how? If anyone but him touched the flame stone, it would burn them.

He couldn't remember the last time he had used them, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could see the flames. He had used them, but why? If the pain was anything to go by, they'd been attacked and it hadn't ended well. What he couldn't figure out was who had attacked them. It could have been one of two things: a search party sent by Harudan, or angry people from Huton.

Either way, it didn't matter, it wasn't going to end well for him. He had no way out and no way to find his friends. He didn't even know how long he had been unconscious for, it could have been hours or days, but from the way his stomach growled, it had been a long while.

All he could do was pray to anyone that would listen that he was the only one who had been captured. If that were true, it meant Rina and Emrick could come and rescue him. His heart leapt into his throat, threatening to spill from his mouth. No, Emrick couldn't rescue him, Emrick couldn't rescue anyone.

They'd come from the trees, their attackers, and Emrick was down before any of them could do anything. Isiah had tried to stop them, but there were too many and he was too weak. The blood in his memories was Emrick's, mixing with the snow as they pummeled him with punches and kicks. The yells had been everyone's, a cacophony of noise that he hadn't been able to make sense of.

None of them had been able to stop it from happening. Emrick had collapsed to the ground and stop moving, but their attackers kept going. A rage Isiah hadn't felt since Ishmar rushed through him, the rage that had caused him to kill in those dark tunnels. He'd brandished his flames, ready to burn anyone in order to save Emrick, but he was never given an opportunity.

Someone had hit him in the head and he fell to the ground, left at the mercy of those that had left Emrick. After a while, he had passed out, with no knowledge of what had happened to Rina and Nerin. Surely, they wouldn't kill the Crown Prince, but if they were the people from Huton, then anything was possible.

For some reason, he wasn't dead. The wanted posters, while none of them had his face, had asked for Rina and Emrick to be handed in dead or alive. From the looks of things, Emrick would be handed in as a corpse and that thought alone made Isiah's stomach clench painfully with grief.

If Emrick was dead... He didn't know what he would do. Rina and Nerin were his friends, but Emrick had supported him through everything over the last couple of weeks. They barely knew each other, but Isiah felt like he'd known the man for years. Isiah wanted to know as much about him as he could, but if he was dead then that was impossible.

He didn't want to lose anyone else, but it seemed like he had no choice in the matter. Tears welled in his eyes and he closed them to stop them falling, but doing so only made the sight of Emrick on the ground imprint on the backs of his eyelids. It wasn't fair. Emrick had been so scared of dying and in the blink of an eye, it had happened.

His thoughts cut off at the sound of footsteps and he held his breath. Somewhere in front of him, a doorknob rattled and a small stream of light flowed into the room. Isiah narrowed his eyes as the door opened and tried to shield his eyes from the light, but his hand couldn't move down to his face.

"Ah, you're awake," a hoarse voice said as Isiah winced at the light. "I was wondering if you would make it."

Isiah said nothing as the door closed behind the man, drowning them in darkness again. There was the hiss of a match being lit and dim orange light filled the room. It wasn't as painful the second time around, but it still took a while for his eyes to adjust.

The room was exactly as he expected, made of cracked stone and covered with dust. Other sets of chains hung from the other walls, empty of people, and in the middle was a small wooden table where a candle sat. The man stood before it, the match in one hand and a plate in the other. His face was covered by a dark hood, but if his accent was anything to go by, he was from the border towns.

"Are you going to speak?" the man asked, crossing the small room to crouch down in front of him. Isiah met his eyes but didn't say a word. His skin was darker than most people he had seen in Huton, almost the same shade of orange as his, but his eyes were deep indigo, reminding him a little of Rina. "Of course, you aren't. You want to eat, don't you?"

He resisted for a second but eventually nodded when his stomach grumbled. It had been a long time since he had eaten and while he knew whatever his jailer would serve him would be bad, he'd rather not starve. The man huffed in satisfaction and spooned up something Isiah couldn't see clearly.

It tasted awful, like burnt porridge. Knowing his luck, it had been spat in before it was served to him, but it was still food, or so he hoped. It didn't do much to satiate his hunger as the man shovelled it in by the spoonful, but it did stop his stomach from screaming at him.

"Taste nice?" the man asked as he spooned up the last of it.

Isiah gagged. "No," he whispered in a gravelly voice. Those first words made him realised just how thirsty he was. His tongue was heavy in his mouth and his lips were dry. He needed water. "Please, can I have water?"

The man moved away and when he came back, a ceramic cup in his hands. "Can't get much out of you if you're dying of thirst, aye," he muttered, more to himself than to Isiah. The boy went to tell him to stop, but the moment he opened his mouth, the cup was between his lips. It was water, but it tasted off, sour, as it had been contaminated. Even so, he sipped it slowly, his mouth thanking him silently.

As soon as it was empty, the man pulled it away and a smile crept onto his face, showing off yellowed teeth. "Are you going to tell me what I want to know?" he asked, his voice sounding as if he was sick.

"What- What do you want to know?" Isiah asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was still dizzy from the pain in his head, his vision swimming every so often. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but from his position, there was no way he was going to get to answer all of them.

"It's simple, really," the man said in his strange accent. "We all want to know why you're travelling with an Askari girl, an enemy of this town and the Crown Prince of the county."

So they were the men from Huton, but that wasn't going to help him. He couldn't exactly tell the truth, they'd know he was too powerful and would kill him outright. But if he played his cards right, he could pass it off as some insane mumbling. The idea that he was the Beast that was Promised was such an insane one that if he had been told only a couple of months ago, he would not have believed it.

He took a deep breath and ignored the wave of pain in his head. "We're collecting powerful stones so that- So that I can become the almighty Beast that was Promised, as dictated by the Old Gods and save the realm from the wrath of King Harudan." He said it as deadpan as possible, his eyes blank and his voice monotone. It sounded as though he were reading from a book.

The man stared back at him, face morphed into confusion. "What?" he said with a shake of his head. "Bloody followers of the Old Gods, all nutters."

Isiah gasped when a hand closed around his throat and pushed him against the wall. He tried to grab for the strong hand, but all the chains did was rattle and clang, his hands frozen in the air. "Stop, please," he gasped, but all the hand did was tighten around his throat and cut off his air supply.

"If you're going to lie to me, at least come up with a good one," the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're travelling with the kidnappers of the Crown Prince of Minisia, why? Did you help them do it?"

Isiah said nothing. He should have known it wouldn't have worked, but it was worth a shot. There was nothing else he could say, no way to answer the question without getting himself killed. From the man's perspective, he had kidnapped Nerin and even if the Prince said that he had come willingly, it wouldn't matter.

"Well, you're going to want to think of a good reason soon, kid," the man said and stepped away from him with a sigh. "Someone from King Harudan's party will be here in a few days and I doubt they would like to hear your little lies. Aye, they're not going to have a bar of the nonsense you're spouting."

Isiah rattled his chains again as the man moved away from him and dropped the empty plate on the table. "Wait!" he cried when the man reached for the candle.

"Are you going to tell me something I want to hear?"

"Where are my friends?" he asked. So far, nothing had been said about their condition. He needed to know if they were still alive, if Emrick was still alive. Nerin was still alive, that much he knew for certain. If the people of Huton knew that he was the Crown Prince, then they wouldn't dare to hurt him, but the situation of the others was completely unknown. He wanted to hope that because he was alive, that they were too, but Emrick hadn't been moving.

The man scoffed and shook his head. "If you can't give me a straight answer, why should I give you one?" he asked incredulously. "What does it matter, boy? When all this is over with, I have no doubt that His Majesty will order you to be executed."

His heart plummeted into his stomach, threatening to expel the mush he had eaten. He couldn't be executed, Vishera needed him. If he died, Harudan would win and whatever came next would destroy the realm. People were relying on him, whether they knew it or not, but he didn't have his stones. He didn't have any way out.

"Before that, I have the feeling whoever His Majesty sends will not be so lenient when it comes to answers," the man continued, ignoring the warring emotions on Isiah's face. "Expect pain, boy. It will be a long time before they let you die."

With a sharp puff of air, the candle went out and once again Isiah was bathed in darkness. Panic rose within him and his throat closed up. He had no answers, only fear and he wanted nothing more than to get out of his chains and run. But it was impossible. He was stuck there until he could find a way out.

The door closed loudly behind the man and the room was silent bar Isiah's pants. If only they'd been more careful, watched more closely, they could have seen their attackers coming and Emrick would still be alive. Because of their focus only on the Sanctum and the next stone, they'd all been separated and hurt. All Isiah had now was the darkness and the silence and a long wait until King Harudan's party arrived.

END BOOK TWO

A.N: Book three will be posted next sunday. I hope you guys all enjoyed book two, I know it was a little shorter than book one, but the next book will be longer. For now, I have book three, A God Of Kings, up on my profile for you to add to your libraries so you don't miss the first chapter.