• Asami crept through the maze, following the tracks of her enemy's footsteps in the dust. The only light in the dungeon was the dancing fire of her torch in hand, which she held close for the warmth in the cold place.
    Asami stopped dead in her tracks. She knelt down to see if her eyes betrayed her. Moving her free hand she touched the red substance with the tip of her finger.
    "Blood," she whispered in disgust.
    By the looks of it it had been there for at least hour or and less.
    Getting up quickly she moved in silence, following the only traces of her enemy she could see.
    As she moved along the twisting and turning passages, she longed to leave the dungeon, see her people, feel the warmth of the sun of her skin and feel the cool breezes of the wind.
    But she had to continue, her people, her friends, her kingdom, the people of her world counted on her to bring down the dark magician. Most of all to save the people he had captured, enslaved, and those he was taking his revenge on.
    When Asami was a child she had never understood why people had done such things. She scoffed at the memory of her asking her trainee why people would do such things, why those species who lived outside her kingdom and world.
    Humans, if she remembered correctly, were one of the closest of all the species to her kind.
    A sudden scream shook her out of her thoughts.
    Up ahead she could see another room (which wasn't uncommon in this maze) with the blood tracks entering the room.
    As the screams continued, she started walking more cautiously. she slowly crept to the door frame and looked inside.
    Her heart skipped a beat and her breathing stopping. Staring in horror at what she saw suddenly made her want to dump her the contents of her stomach upon the floor.
    What she saw was probably one of the worst sights she could ever recall. Men, women and children were scattered across the room, some being tortured, some being held by their ankles by a chain or some kind of magic. Some were missing parts of their body, some horribly beaten and some (most) were barely alive. In the center of the room was a very familiar figure.
    She whipped her head away from the door and leaned against the tunnels wall, taking calming breaths, or trying to, which wasn't working out very well, as the sight was branded into her memory.
    Successfully taking a calming breath she tired to ignore the memory.
    Setting aside her torch she grabbed her bow and notched an arrow.