Ilyrien’s head felt heavy, his mind dazed. He had no idea how long it’d been since he’d last slept. He felt as though he was hanging from a single thread thousands of feet in the air.

His breaths came fast and shallow, and he shivered in his seat. Sweat clung to his skin and strands of his icy hair stuck to his face.

Around him, a sea of venomous serpents were slithering over each other, each racing to get a piece of him.

Their bite stung. Venom entered his bloodstream, burning his internal organs, he gripped his seat tightly with his trembling hands as pain tore through his body.

Long shadows cast across his face, hardening the lines formed on his handsome features.

His body released cold wind violently in the room as a defense mechanism, but the coldness only drew more snake close.

The worst part of the torture was his body’s build. Having the ability to cure any illness and all poisons, his bloodcells regenerated at a faster speed that than they were burnt and the toxic was released out through his pores, only got the snakes to bite over and over again to continue the cycle.

He stiffened, unease flickering in his eyes. His confidence is defying Sseraphis and not giving him fur this time around started to fade.

He had underestimated Sseraphis’ cruelty and the nine-headed snake showed him why he reigned supreme among the serpent clan.

His mind shut down to offer him relief, cold water would splash over him and startle him enough to stop his heart.

He woke up gasping. Coughing up violently as icy water soaked him from head to toe.

Dark circles were visible under his eyes from exhaustion and in the time he’d been in the dungeon, he was growing more and more thinner from being drained and forced to regenerate every other second.

His body was reaching his limits. His eyes, despite the warning signs going off in his head, closed.

Another bucket crashed over him. The freezing water struck like shards of ice, jolting Ilyrien awake so violently that chains rattled against the stone chair restraining him. A strangled gasp tore from his throat. His body convulsed.

The serpents reacted instantly. Hissing filled the dungeon as dozens of them surged toward him again, scales scraping across stone in a nauseating chorus.

Their fangs sank into his arms, his shoulders, his legs, and any exposed skin they could reach.

Ilyrien bit down hard enough to draw blood from his own lip. He didn’t scream. He would not give Sseraphis that satisfaction.

Venom flooded him once more. It felt molten. His veins glowed faintly beneath pale skin, silver-blue lines turning sickly black before healing over again in seconds.

Steam rose from his body where poison was expelled through his pores, the scent thick and metallic in the air.

The serpents writhed in frenzy at the scent of purified toxin. "Aah!" A broken sound escaped him as another snake buried its fangs into the side of his neck.

His vision blurred. The dungeon spun slowly around him, torchlight smearing into golden streaks. He no longer knew whether the trembling in his body came from cold or agony.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber.

Every serpent immediately recoiled. Some slithered away into the shadows while others lowered their heads against the floor in submission.

A suffocating pressure filled the room as Sseraphis had arrived. The nine-headed serpent king stepped through the darkness draped in black and emerald robes, gold ornaments glinting against scales that crawled along portions of his throat and jawline.

Behind him, enormous serpent shadows snake heads shifted unnaturally against the walls, moving even when he stood still.

His slit pupils settled on Ilyrien. One corner of his lips curved at Ilyrien pathetic state.

"Have you made your decision yet?"

Ilyrien’s breathing hitched unevenly. His lips were pale from cold, stained red from blood.

"N...no," he said weakly, lifting his head with visible effort, "waiting for you to grow tired first."

The air in the dungeon changed instantly. Several nearby guards lowered their heads in fear.

Sseraphis walked closer until he stood directly before him. Even weakened half to death, Ilyrien still looked ethereal; icy hair cascading over trembling shoulders, frost gathering unconsciously beneath his feet.

It irritated Sseraphis. Even broken, he remained beautiful. The same beauty that charmed Nytherael, led to his ruin and the ruin of his wonderful rare marriage.

The serpent king grabbed Ilyrien by the jaw suddenly, forcing his head upward. Ilyrien winced sharply.

"You misunderstand your position," Sseraphis murmured softly. "I can keep you alive here for centuries. And I can wait this out longer... can you?" His grip tightened. "Your body is a blessing cursed enough to regenerate endlessly. Do you know how valuable that makes you to me?"

Ilyrien’s lashes trembled faintly. Sseraphis leaned closer, voice dropping colder. "You should have given me your fur willingly."

A flicker of fear crossed Ilyrien’s eyes at the mention of it because he finally understood.

The fur had never been the true objective. Sseraphis wanted ownership, to own the one loved by his beloved.

The nine-headed serpent had no interest in taking pieces of Ilyrien by force alone, he wanted to see the proud frost spirit kneel and offer them willingly.

That was what this torture was truly about. Sseraphis studied the realization dawning in his expression and smiled slowly.

"There it is," he whispered. "You finally understand me."

Ilyrien’s stomach twisted. His exhausted body suddenly felt colder than before. Because for the first time since entering this dungeon he realized Sseraphis might never let him leave.

"Now that you understand the truth. Don’t you think it’s in your best interest to give me what I want?"

"..."

"Um... I can very patient when I want to be but... this isn’t one of those instances. I need your fur. I need it now!"

He snapped his fingers. The guards walked in, the serpents in the dungeon all made for the exist.

Ilyrien’s body shuddered. No good would come from the snakes leaving. He feared for what other cruel methods Sseraphis had come up with for him.

"Don’t be scared, little fox," Sseraphis whispered, voice laced with venom. "What I have in store for you next is much worse," he added, like that was supposed to ease Ilyrien’s nerves.

Just as the last snake exited, another guard entered the room holding a frozen violet flower encased in a glass box. The box was handled with extreme care and the guard holding it wore protective clothing that covered every inch of him.

Ilyrien twisted, struggling so much the chains rattled against the floor. The loud noises from hus struggling filled the room and pleased Sseraphis greatly.

"Ah, my famous fier flower..." he let out, slowly reaching for the box with his bear hands. Ilyrien’s heart stopped beating.

Fier flower? It’s a flower that came to existance the day Sseraphis achieved his ninth head. It contains poison from his essence and has been said to draw screams of beastfolk torment to extremes. Even the late seven-horned dragon Emperor fell to its powerful venom.

Ilyrien was just a three-tailed ice fox and although his body could regenerate and heal him, he didn’t want to experience the touch of the fier.

"Let’s find out how long you’re going to remain stubborn. Shall we?"

Ilyrien didn’t accept the challenge. "Unchain me. I’ll give you my fur," he admitted defeat.

Sseraphis smirked, extremely pleased.