By the time Charlie had woken from a restless sleep, which had been littered with falling in and out of unconsciousness. There was a small sliver of light seeping through the hole above his head.

At least now I can see.

Even if the only advantage would be that he could see the person who killed him.

Pulling at the chains. Testing its strength now he had regained some strength but finding no give. It was only lose enough for him to pace a few centimetres either way but otherwise, he was tied fast to the spot.

Only achieving a renewed pain in the sores around his neck, unable to heal due to how tight the silver chains had been tied. He slumped down onto his belly with a sigh, little other option then to wait to see what morning would bring him.

It seemed to be an eternity before Charlie would hear anything from the above world again.

Footsteps, faint at first and then they seemed to thunder overhead, approached.

Charlie stiffened, a growl echoing from his throat as he tensed. To anyone else the odds would be considered stacked against him, but that wasn't something he cared about right then. He would fight till the death.

The groaning sound which had become almost familiar sounded shortly after, and Charlie was temporarily blinded as the 'cell' was flooded with sunlight. It didn't stop him from letting the growl tear from his throat.

When his vision finally returned after a couple of seconds, he saw no fewer then twelve men and women standing above him. Each with a weapon gripped tightly in their hands, pointed down at him.

Baring his fangs he let out a low growl, but these strangers seemed to show no fear.

If it was the last thing Charlie did, he was determined to change that.

"Stand," the order echoed down into the hole but Charlie hesitated. He wasn't about to be compliant in his execution if that was their intention for this performance. He wasn't about to die on his knees.

His defiance would turn out to be a mistake.

Pain rippled through him, like a shockwave darting through his veins.

Then without asking, his legs began to move, at first jerkily as he tried hard to resist. But soon it was as though they were no longer his own as he was forced to his paws. A snarl tore from his throat, but that was the extent of his autonomy.

Metallic clanking sounded behind him as the chains slipped lose of the wall. The earth contorted into a slope, and his torment continued as he was forced to make his way back above ground.

These strangers seemed confident enough in their ability to control him that they allowed him to go free of chains for now. Another growl rippled through him, but as though only to make a fool of him, his tail darted from side to side.

Laughter danced from the small crowd of gathered witches, they found pleasure in his woe.

For a split second he found enough strength to fight back that he was able to take a chunk out of the nearest man's leg. The cry of pain which resulted almost made his tail wag by himself, but he held it steady. Growling in fury.

Retaliating with a fury of his own, the man Charlie had bitten lunged. Fire at his fingertips, and clearly quite eager to burn the fur from his back, and maybe even further. Helpless to defend himself, he growled.

Restraining hands darted out before he got close. "We need him alive," they reminded him.

"He bit me!" There was a tone of defeat to the man's voice, but some form of acceptance.

This knowledge didn't give him much hope.

The way they had said it made his survival feel all too transient.

Now taking their firm grip on the chain wrapped around his neck, learning quickly from their mistake. Charlie grunted as they yanked on it seemingly uncaring, causing him to stumble and struggle in their wake.

Whatever black magic had been used on him, had left him with a tingling sensation that he couldn't seem to shake no matter how much time passed. Tripping over his own shadow as he went, Charlie made no attempt to keep up.

By now he should have been used to losing control, but this was something entirely different.

It terrified him to the core.

Never had he been present when losing control, and the sensation left him sick to the stomach.

Forcing away any thoughts that he might have already lost this fight, Charlie followed unwillingly. His ears twitching from side to side, searching for any other signs of life outside of their little group, but found nothing.

Again the group pulled to a stop, and Charlie froze in waiting. Barely daring to breathe as he waited. Before long the earth beneath their feet had begun to open up, revealing the corridors he had briefly glimpsed the day before.

Leading the way underground, the front guards slipped through the corridors and soon Charlie had little other choice then to follow. He treaded carefully, every paw step taken as though certain the next would bring death.

Death was the only thing he could scent, but for once it wasn't emanating from him.

Yet the walls which towered around him, the stench seemed to light the very air on fire.

Whilst Charlie couldn't figure out why, he knew that any possible reason couldn't be good.

As he walked, the corridors began streaming off into multiple different paths. Until it seemed impossible to count, yet his guards seemed to know their way without hesitation. No matter how hard he tried, it wasn't long before he lost count of how many lefts and rights they had taken.

It felt as though he was being lead into the depths of hell the further down they went.

The further they followed the paths, on either side of the corridors opened up small caverns, and what Charlie saw inside them sickened him to his stomach. They were crammed full of people, and they looked half starved.

Prisoners? Charlie questioned to himself, trying to get a better look but he was forced to move on before he could see anything clearly. He didn't think so, there was no bindings or restraints to keep them in place.

He might not have known why, but as far as he could tell it was their choice to stay here.

It made Charlie realise what they were so scared of above ground that they stayed.

Charlie didn't dare to ask.

By the time they had come to a stop, it felt like they had walked for miles. Yet where they came to was a dead end, Charlie hesitated. Unsure of what was about to happen, and terrified by the seemingly endless possibilities.

A slice split through the wall of stone and earth, silent unlike before when the earth had groaned and Charlie soon realised why. It hadn't been a wall at all.

Merely an illusion.

When he was little, Charlie remembered stories about the witches who could play and manipulate reality. But he had believed them all to be dead.

He had thought his father had killed them all.

It seemed that there was at least one left.

They wouldn't need more then one if the rumours are true.

For an illusionist could be almost as dangerous as Charlie.

Together, it was a lethal duo.

Charlie wondered if that was the purpose of his being here. To convert him to the dark side.

Had it not been for the deal he had made with his father, he probably would have accepted.

Shaking himself, don't make presumptions before you're certain, he scolded himself with a low growl. The sound only gained him a blow to the back of his head from a man to his left, it was enough to silence him.

As a single being, Charlie and his guards entered the room. The way the others conducted themselves, the young wolf was able to tell that they feared whomever he was about to meet. Greatly.

Despite the growing feeling of fear which was now sparking in his throat, Charlie forced himself to keep his chin high and his chest puffed out. He would have even gone as far to say that his father would have been proud of his ability to conduct himself somewhat calmly.

Probably.

To one side of the room, was the man who had headed the army in the canyons which had seen the end of almost the entirety of his father's troops. Now he looked vastly different, he too seemed quietly cautious of whoever else was in the room.

At first who they were waiting for hadn't been completely obvious. The young man was conspicuous to say the least, and in a crowd of people. Charlie probably wouldn't have looked at him twice, but now he had eyes only for the witch.

Like Briar, his eyes sparkled golden as he turned to look at the newcomers. For a moment he didn't speak, viewing Charlie like one might have regarded dirt on the bottom of their shoe. Judgemental.

Uncomfortable under the fierce gaze, Charlie attempted to back away but found no room to do so. The guards left him vulnerable to the dark anger sparked in the eyes of the stranger, and for a moment Charlie thought he was going to be struck.

Taking him by surprise, the stranger stepped forward uncaring, kneeling down in front of Charlie so that he was able to look the wolf in the eye. Ignoring the protests of the guards to stay a more safe distance away.

Remaining like this for a moment, Charlie didn't dare to blink as they stared each other down.

At last the stranger looked away, but Charlie lacked the feeling of victory as he normally would.

"You may leave," he spoke to the guards instead. His eyes dancing over to the exit.

No one seemed to really want to argue with this stranger, but their common sense got the better of them and one spoke up with caution. "Really, sir. That's not the best idea," he spoke with a shaky voice.

"Do you doubt I am capable of looking after myself?" offended by the mere implication.

"Not to me," Charlie spoke before any of the guards had the chance to even part their lips.

It was honest, even if it could get him into trouble.

Yet all the stranger did was grin, it wasn't the same terrifying smile of the army leader but it wasn't one which portrayed happiness either. Charlie twitched his ears, trying to predict what his next act was going to be but couldn't.

"Leave," the stranger said firmly one last time. His tone making it apparent that there would be no room for argument from any argument.

The guards barely had time to leave the room before the wall of stone and rock returned in their wake.

Returning his attention to the wolf, he said quietly. "Shift, it will make this a lot easier if you do."

Part of Charlie contemplated arguing, if only for a split second before he followed the orders.

Unused to his human skin after wearing his wolf for days on end, he stretched and cracked painfully as he transformed. When he at last stood on two legs again, he was almost crippled by the aching sensation filling his every crevice.

Yet he held himself together as best as he could, and looked at the stranger grimly. Surprised to find that he was being offered a hand.

"Anthony," was the only word he said. Looking at Charlie expectantly.

He hesitated, as though sure that shaking it would only be signing his death warrant.

Judging the stranger for a split second, he didn't move. Before deciding there could be nothing dangerous in accepting something as simple as a handshake, and he took it. Shaking it firmly, if not cautiously.

"Charlie." He's probably aware of that already. He reminded himself.

"It's good to have the opportunity to finally meet," the stranger, apparently Anthony said.

How long has he been planning this? Charlie thought, having the growing feeling that he had been long part of an orchestra that he had no knowledge of. As everyone worked around him to bring him into the spotlight.

Wish I could say the same, but Charlie didn't say this aloud.

It seemed that there was a lot balancing on this conversation, and he wanted to get as much information out of it as he possibly could. Even if he wasn't certain whether he would be able to make use of it.

Only grunting in response, Charlie regarded the stranger with caution. On edge to the point where he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end till he felt capable of conducting electricity.

"Sit?" asked Anthony, less an offer more an order one might have given a dog.

"I'm fine." Charlie spoke firmly, not as much as blinking over at the chair he'd been offered.

Anthony only shrugged and took his own seat on one side of the strange wooden desk and for a moment he didn't speak.

Charlie approached, still not taking the seat but close enough that he could regard the stranger more closely. Beneath the collar of Anthony's shirt, Charlie could see his back and neck were all but covered in old scars.

It brought bile to the back of Charlie's throat to see it.

It was rare that he saw a person with more scars then himself.

Despite the seemingly young age of the witch, Charlie new that looks could be deceiving. There had been stories in his childhood of witches who had lived for hundreds of years. And from the scars and marks etched onto the back he had lived more than Charlie could have guessed.

Under different circumstances, Charlie would have pitied the man. Yet considering he was Anthony's prisoner, he felt he could be forgiven for being unable to care less.

Depending on how this ended, Charlie might add more to the roster before the day was finished.

"Why am I here?" asked Charlie after the stranger had failed to begin the conversation. Very aware that he wasn't in much of a place to be asking questions or making demands, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Not seeming to care, Anthony looked up from whatever he had been carefully studying. "To answer some questions for us." He spoke as though it was the simplest thing in the world to him.

Tilting his head to the side with a sniff, as though still in wolf form. He paused. "I don't know who you think I am, but you must have the wrong person. I haven't been a member of my father's court in years, I know nothing that could possibly be of use to you." It was blunt, but honest.

Appearing unconcerned by this statement, the stranger didn't look up from his work.

"You are the youngest son of the King?" he asked, his tone sounding almost bored.

Nodding in response, he couldn't find the words to say anything out loud.

"Then you are the one we want." Anthony said firmly. "If you answer our questions to the best of your ability, you are welcome to return to your family and friends, wait out the end of this war with them. Die fighting, an honourable death even if it's for the losing side."

It should have sounded like a brag, and his voice should have been filled with confidence, but it wasn't. It was much more matter of fact, like the words came from the lips of a God not a man. Charlie had to bite back a growl.

With a sigh, Charlie replied as calmly as he could manage. "You're welcome to try."

"Our questions are regarding how you became the way you did," Anthony began without hesitating. Almost as though it had been rehearsed a number of times and he was very certain of every word as opposed to Charlie's quiet terror.

This made Charlie narrow his eyes, he knew little about what had happened. He only knew the after affects. "Yes?" The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, he didn't know what could be asked about it.

"The surgery," he began not giving Charlie a chance to as much as open his lips to reply. "Were you awake during it, at what age was it necessary to be performed..."

Anthony continued, and Charlie watched him with a mixture of confusion and fear.

Barely noticing that Charlie was no longer listening, the man continued until Charlie suddenly put out his hands. The only way he could think of shutting the stranger up. A growl echoed from his throat, and that was enough to quieten him for the time being.

"What are you on about, surgery? I went through nothing like that, it happened when I was a kid. I fell..."

However, Charlie didn't have the chance to continue.

The look Anthony gave him was indescribable, his eyes narrowed. They were filled with a strange concoction of pity and surprise. For a moment, he didn't say anything, as though trying to think.

"You think what happened was an accident?"