Chapter one

Excruciating pain ran throughout her body as she tried to move, so the pain was less bearable on her side. The pale girl's face stung as it made contact with the ice cold dungeon floor, which the only source of cushioning, was a thin layer of mould, cast like a blanket across the stones. It seemed even the cell she was in, was trying it's hardest to make her more uncomfortable. Muscles cramped, shaking from the cold and the pain settled in around the battered body. Burning and bloodshot eyes looked to the only window in the room, if you could call it a window. A tiny rectangle situated at the top of the twelve feet by twelve stone walls, which loomed all around the figure. She could see that the sun was beginning to rise, if her muscles had of let her, they would have let a tiny smile slip. As the only source of warmth hit the dirt and blood smeared face, the fireball in the sky began to fill the tiny rectangle with light. Eyes drifted shut, and blocked everything out, the pain, the despair, and the feeling of being alone through it all. The sound of heeled boots on the stone floors hit heightened hearing, as they came closer to the cell door. The already abused body's muscles tensed, prepared for anything they would be hit with, moving so that she was sitting up against the back wall facing the rotten sandal wood door, which a decaying smell was emitting from. Struggling to catch her breath from moving her battered self to the other side of the room. Forcing a look of calm, stubbornness and pride would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her weak and defenceless. Seeing the slight gap between the door and floor, a flickering orange light teased her eyes.

Enabling those weary eyes to see a pair of slick leather boots positioned in front of the door as they placed the key in the lock and turned. The heavy security bolts protested and groaned. Those eyes closed, trying not to think of where the owner of the boots would take her. The door creaked from age, and light flooded the area, chasing away shadows in every corner and uncovering the true colour of the walls, instead of black they were covered in what seemed grey slime.

It was fruitless to wish that the inevitable wasn't going happen. Like a nightmare, she hadn't been able to wake from. What was happening was real and there was nothing she felt she could do, which made the girl's chest burn with anger. Looking to the floor as the foot steps loomed closer, dancing around the boot clad feet were black robe's that brushed against the floor, soiling the bottom of the expensive looking garment. Slowly a defeated face lifted to see an ivory mask, which they all wore. Covering their faces, proving their cowardliness, but you do not have to see someone's face to pick them apart from another. Learning to recognise all their voices proved to set them apart well enough. The mask stopped at the end of their nose letting onlookers to see an unpleasant smirk. Glaring at the mask proved an effort, hurting swollen eyes to do so. This man before her had boasted that he had killed the girl's parent's, but having no memory of it she refused to believe him, nor did she want to. Her parent's were powerful, and wouldn't allow such scum to defeat them. That's what her scrambled mind told her, the frayed string of hope still connected with a delicate mind hanging on as it slowly stretched over time.

"Well, good morning Miss Katrina Stone. How are you feeling on this sunny day?" His voice, condescending and domineering filled her with disgust. She had noticed they all had strong English accents and she prayed she wasn't in their territory, so far away from her own. Her chest ached with the feeling of homesickness. Despising the man before her she looked sharply away from him. This man was the one who enjoyed pointing his wand at her while yelling curses she had never heard of. "I suppose you're not feeling the best, hmm?" He crouched down in front of the frail figure, a sinister smile playing across his pale thin lips. Then he touched a finger to his own chin in fake thought and said still smiling in a twisted way. "Well with…five broken ribs, a broken arm, and an enchanted pole through you're stomach, to make sure you don't die and so that you cant remove it-."

Counting off her injuries on his fingers seemed to please him. She would not give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Even if the need or want arose to use her voice she would find the words stuck in her throat, the walls of her throat ripped roar with terror and screams. He tutted, shaking a finger at her face. "-Now don't be like that, or I'll have to get that nice man with that large hammer. It has been an interesting experience torturing you, usually we would use the unforgivable's in questioning's, but this medieval torture has proved in most cases to be rather effective." He snickered with malice enjoying every ounce of pain she allowed to show. She knowing that large tool rather well along with its spikes and deathly weight, and so did her ribs. "Hmm…not talking today? Well, I have some good news, we well be moving you to a different location today. Isn't that good?" Thinking a silent plea to any one or anything that this suffering would end. The masked man looked at what was once a person with dignity and strength and through the slits in the face covering could see a pair of pale eyes, that if you looked close enough you could see the hidden darkness that loomed in them. His robe's hood was up like it always was, but this time she could see just one clump of long white blond hair that sat almost cradling his neck. He spoke as if he was just figuring something out, or had finally given it a specific moment of his time.

"I wonder…you being a Light Veela, might explain why you can withstand so much pain." His voice was silky and he leered at her, his smirk back in place. I cant take much more of this. The pain in her chest from trying to breathe ached and broken ribs stabbed into lungs whenever a breath was taken. Feeling that death would be a peaceful change from the constant buzz of pain that she had become accustomed to. "Well." He started in a fake disappointed voice. "Since we're moving you, it will be long distance travelling…I better give you some water, I suppose. We don't want you to die after all this time without learning the location of the Light Veela spirit jewel, now do we?" He grinned maliciously as he saw how she forced herself not to give in to the predicament she was forced into. He almost felt pity at the fact that they would eventually kill this girl. Of corse being a Veela she was beautiful even with the dried blood on her face and grease and dirt in her long silver hair. That was also the reason he was the only person with the key to her cell, he couldn't have his comrades try to violate her, even though he could and the thought had lingered in his sickened mind more than once. Though, for some reason something always stoped him with going through with his thoughts. And also that would violate her spirit jewel and they needed that power source. Light Veela's beauty was almost angelic and seemed could not be tainted. The Light Veela before him was still not backing down trying to show that she was not defeated, her most remarkable feature was her miss matched eyes. That pierced right through him, and the soul that had been withering away from the evil it had to injure. Her left eye was a vibrant emerald green, while her right was a soft crystal blue. Her eyes would flash and then darken when she was angry as they were right now.

He abruptly stood and whipped out his wand from his pocket deep in his robe. Blank miss matched eyes looking on as the end of a wand was pointed at her body. With a muttered incantation he levitated the lifeless body so that it dangled off the ground in a standing position. Arms and legs hang lifelessly at her sides, her head flopping forward and then snapping to look at the ceiling, eyes opening on their own accord to the magic cast upon her. Pain rushed through dangling body and the silver haired beauty couldn't help but try to smother a sob. Ever since they had injected her with a magical serum upon her capture, they had inactivated her powers, but not soon enough before she had killed quite a few of the masked wizards. Body shaking and the despair of letting her courageous mask fall as pain twisted her delicate features. I'm ashamed, what would my family think if they saw me like this? Weak, defenceless and they hurt her so easily. Wanting to scream in her anger, but it would be useless.

xxx

He noticed that after three months, she was now a living, well barely living skeleton, hanging on to life with a thread of determination and a shorter thread of strength. The only things he gathered, that were keeping this stubborn girl alive was pride and the delusion that her family was alive and was waiting for her. He snickered that fairytale would soon come crashing down around her. She would remember what her haunted and traumatised mind has blocked out of her reach, of that night when her whole life was ripped away from her right under her beautiful wings. He conjured a tall glass of water, and stepped closer to the Veela. He had to admit he was slightly impressed with her resolve and ability to stay alive and not give in, he had tortured grown men who hadn't lasted nearly as long. The masked man roughly grabbed her grazed chin and waited while she slowly opened her mouth. Slowly, pouring the liquid in, but stopped as she had trouble swallowing as quickly as he poured, water dripped down the sides of her mouth and she winced at the pressure of his hand on her chin and the pain in her throat. A part of him was disgusted, she was weak and was not giving in, and they were getting no where. And there wasn't much time left!

xxx

The cool liquid felt nice on the rough throat, she was able to keep up with the amount coming into her sandpaper mouth and the glass finished all too quickly. He removed the glass and with a flick of his wand it disappeared. "Now, the dark lord wants to speak with you." He said in a Stoic voice, as he levitated her out of the cell. As the floating girl looked down a long corridor, its only source of light being torch lanterns placed all along the stone walls. She herself smirked, the movement pulling at stiff muscles and couldn't help but ask,

"Why do you fear him so much?" She said barely above a horse whisper in a teasing manner. She had heard the rumours looming around her cell door by the guards. Utterings never whispered twice in fear that the second time they would be caught and punished. This dark lord guy, as she had dubbed him, had been the one in charge of these masked men and some women that had been torturing her. There were also rumours of him doing remarkable things, dark but brilliant none the less. Not being from this country she had never heard of this 'dark lord' she didn't think he was worth her fear at that present moment due to she was having enough trouble breathing let alone having time to worry over some ancient guy that had mental issues. If anything she felt anger towards him, it was his doing she was brought here, and was attacked. He would pay, she would make sure of it.

He had seemed off guard by her question, then he became rather agitated, she could feel the annoyance coming off him, and her smirk didn't falter. Even when he sent a spell at her defenceless body that made as though her body was on fire, she whimpered slightly but it was worth it as he slightly yelled.

"I do not fear anything!" But his mood changed to unaffected once again as they came to the opening of the seemingly never-ending corridor. "Here we are." His emotionless voice fell on deaf ears as she looked around at the enormous rounded stone room. There where green banners hanging from the walls, sliver snakes layed coiled on their surface. There was a mass of masked people all clad in dark cloaks, identical to each other. Their masked faces all turned from what was holding their attention beforehand at the front of the room, to her, and where they were headed. Her captive levitated her up a long red carpet leading up to an ancient medieval chair that held the weight of a bald skeleton figure, from this distance she couldn't see much through the throng of robed men and women. She vaguely saw a short man standing next to the 'thrown' of sorts, he had a silver hand and rodent like features and was defiantly unpleasant to look at. She glanced to the ground; she was used to people staring at her, usually in disgust or fear. She had grown to guard herself from hurtful stares and was glad for it.

Instead of the steady murmur that Katrina had heard when they had first entered, now everything was silent, deathly so, that the tension she felt was think enough to drive someone mad. She slowly came to the end of the red carpet and saw the seated figure closer. He was defiantly disfigured, that was for sure. His skin was sickly pale, and his eyes an unnatural bloodthirsty red. He didn't even have a nose, in replace two slits that opened and shut as he breathed, and a similar slit for a mouth that was curled at the edges to form a sinister grin or better yet, grimace. She faced him head on and looked confident enough, but she thought her image might have been slightly damaged with the pole sticking through her. The snake like figure stood slowly with the air of power, control, and walked towards her, his tattered robe trailing behind him as everyone but her bent over touching the floor with their noses in fear, and awe of the man before them.

"Well…it has been three months and you still haven't told us where the spirit jewel is." His voice was strained in just above a whisper. Karina could feel the evil, his aura that was black as death itself. "I'm growing impatient girl." He spoke with an edge in his never wavering voice. He whipped out is wand, Karina only slightly rolled her eyes. She had seen so many wands pointed at her that she had lost all fear in them, she knew he wasn't going to use it to kill her, she had important information he wanted. And she knew he knew, due to him growling maliciously at her. Karina would not dare utter its location even in her sleep, no one but Light Veela's and anyone they saw fit, had the right to know. And this, evil before her was not worthy of such knowledge. "I wonder what happens to a Light Veela's mate, when the Veela dies before they meet?" He hissed at her, she would not let him see any reaction from her, which seemed to aggravate him further. "Crucio!" Without Karina's control she let out a piercing scream, and the people around her let out snickers at her suffering. The levitating charm had worn off and with a hash thump she landed slightly crouching while panting, with pride as an only source as energy she shakily stood and lifted her head to make eye contact with the dark wizard before her. Searing pain, like a hot white flame burned her body, but she would not give up. He snarled.

"Lucius, prepare for transportation. Now!" So that was his name. Karina thought to herself as the man who had come and got her this morning, and every other time.

"Yes master. Immediately." Katrina had heard the murmurs as she was once again levitated in a direction she was unsure of in her clouded mind. She had managed to get snips of their conversation's and over heard the name of their leader.

Lord Voldermort.

Well… there's the first chapter of my new story….seeing as my other one was taken off due to the fact that I hadn't figured out the story rating thingy. And between that and a big mix up I ended up changing the plot, characters, but kept one name hehe. Hope you enjoyed it and you'll have to tell me in a review, whether I should continue with it or just chuck it all into the too hard basket…until next time.