The Goddess of Revenge

The dim, cold light flickered across the damp stone walls, casting shadows in the dungeon. A faint dripping sound echoed in the silence, breaking only when a sharp intake of breath rattled through the confined space. It was deathly suffocating. 

Duke Ricardo Mors awoke, disoriented, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind sluggish from whatever substance had been used to weaken him. His hands ached, and his wrists were bruised where thick chains bound him to the stone chair.

"What happened to me? Where am I? Why am I imprisoned?" His head throbbed as he tried to lift it, his vision adjusting to the darkness. The room was unfamiliar, but the air held a deathly presence, something dark, something hideous.