Devoid

The sound of a cane its length was adorned with series of ominous, knot-like thorns, sliced through the air, echoing through the damp, dark cell:

"woosh.. woosh.. woosh.." Zulin Lys held herself together, crossing her arms and hugging her hands to her knees as she shivered uncontrollably from the relentless flogging.

The tenth strike - or was it the twentieth? - bit into her skin, but she'd lost count. Tears had long since dried from her eyes, replaced by a numb, hollow ache.

Chained to an iron chair, which seemed to have burnt her more recently and added to her pains, Zulin had endured merciless lashes for what felt like an eternity.

Her body screamed in agony as the subtle curls of her raven-black hair, scattered all over her face, messy and damp with sweat and blood.

Her usually piercing golden eyes, once bright and lively like the sun at its peak, now looked dull and devoid of life, like a sunset on a gloomy day.

The sparkle that once shone like the morning sun had faded, leaving behind a hollow, lifeless gaze, a haunting reminder of the vibrant spirit that once existed.

Despite the floggings and pain, her beautiful and delicate features still radiated a haunting elegance.

Her porcelain skin, though marred by bruises and welts, retained the subtle, ethereal glow of a promising Princess.

As she trembled, Zulin's mind wandered back to the life she once knew.

Just a few weeks ago, she was surrounded by her loving family - her parents, siblings, cousins, and the warmth of their extended royal family.

Now, she was confined to this forsaken cell, subjected to torture, starvation, and maltreatment. The flogging was just the latest cruelty.

How did it come to this? How exactly did she end up like this? It was surreal, the way her life had been turned upside down in a blink of an eye.

She was the Princess of Azuraea, a powerful kingdom renowned for its prosperity, strength and peace.

As a member of the royal family, her days were filled with meetings with her father, the king and people who held different reputable positions in Azuraea, attending to state affairs, and receiving the finest treatment the kingdom had to offer.

She would wake up in her lavish chambers, attend training sessions with the strongest warriors, and enjoy leisurely strolls through the palace gardens.

But then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The next day, she was trapped in a dark, damp cell, her royal garments replaced with tattered rags for a reason that wasn't adding up.

The only sound was the echo of dripping water and the faint rustling of unknown creatures in the shadows.

What was happening? What was the purpose of this senseless suffering? What do they even mean by she wasn't human??

The questions swirled in her mind, but the only response was the eerie silence that surrounded her.

Another messy, lash landed with more force than the previous ones, jolting her out of her reverie. The thorns tore open new wounds on her skin and deepened the old ones.

Some of the thorns had already stuck into her skin, and she couldn't help but cry out loud. But no tears fell. Her eyes, once a vibrant gold, is now dull and barren abyss, devoid of any moisture.

This lack of tears only fueled the giant of a man's fury. His massive frame loomed over her, his thick arms rising and falling with deadly precision as he whipped her with renewed intensity, determined to extract a tear from her.

But Zulin's body had long since exhausted its supply of tears. She had been crying for what felt like an eternity, and now her eyes were dry and barren.

She tried to cry, to squeeze out even a single tear, but it was no use. Her body was parched, her throat dry and cracked. She needed water, not tears. The giant man's relentless flogging only served to remind her of her desperate thirst.

The lashes continued to rain down on her and Zulin's world narrowed to a single, desperate thought.. water. Just one drop, one sip, to quench the raging fire that consumed her.

But it seemed that even that small mercy was to be denied her.

But then, in a moment of sheer desperation, she gathered enough strength to mouth a barely audible plea "Please.. Water..."

Her voice was almost inaudible, but in the quiet, dark prison, she was certain the man had heard her.

The echo of her voice seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, the man paused, his arm frozen in mid-air.

Zulin's heart skipped a beat as she wondered if she had somehow managed to appeal to whatever humanity was left in him. But then, he continued hitting her, and she thought all was lost.

Just when she thought she would be flogged until she died, the man suddenly paused, dropped the cane, and left the cell.

Zulin's mind reeled as she wondered if he had given up trying to make her cry again or if he went to fetch more instruments to increase her torture.

But, he returned with a bottle of water. Zulin's eyes widened in shock as he grabbed her head and held her hair tightly, shoving the bottle into her mouth.

He poured the water into her mouth without giving her a chance to breathe or swallow properly.

In her desperate state, Zulin was even thankful for this small mercy. She gulped down the water greedily, her throat burning as she swallowed.

She managed a few mouthfuls before the man pulled the bottle away and proceeded to pour the remaining water over her head.

The cool liquid was a brief respite from the agony, but it also served as a harsh reminder of her situation.

As the water touched her bruises, it reignited the pain, making her flinch. Her tender skin, already ravaged by the flogging, protested the contact, sending shivers down her spine.

Every drop that trickled down her body felt like a tiny dagger, piercing her wounds and exacerbating the torment.

Zulin's eyes stung and tears rolled down her cheeks, maybe the water had finally triggered the dam of her tears once more, or maybe it was just the sheer little relief she momentarily felt, but her tears flowed relentlessly, streaming down her face not seeming to stop anytime soon.

The man's expression didn't change, but he paused for a bit after observing her for a while.

He picked up the whip again and brushed his fingers through it, as Zulin stared at him with dread in her eyes. She met his gaze, and he met hers, the intensity between their gazes rising.

They stared at each other for a while, neither willing to give up.

Zulin didn't know where she got the audacity to keep staring at him like that, maintaining eye contact for more than a minute.

But at last, she gave up, lowering her head with a painful and self-mocking smile, tugging at the corner of her lips.

The smile was a mere facade, a desperate attempt to hide the fear that threatened to consume her. She knew she couldn't keep up the charade for long, but for now, it was all she had.

The man's gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if searching for something. Then, without a word, he raised the whip again, its presence seeming to fill the entire cell.

Zulin's heart sank, and she steeled herself for the next blow, her body tensing in anticipation of the pain to come.