Chapter 2: Enchanted

Nathaniel’s senses returned slowly, the haze of unconsciousness lifting as if he were clawing his way up from the depths of a dark, murky pool. First, there was the chill—his skin prickling in the cold air—and then the pressure, a dull ache in his wrists and ankles. He groaned softly, head throbbing as he tried to move, but his arms wouldn’t budge. Panic flared in his chest as he realized his hands were bound above him, his wrists locked in tight, enchanted shackles. His legs were similarly restrained, spread apart and locked in place.

Where am I?

His eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on his surroundings. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles set into ornate iron holders along the walls. Their soft, dancing glow revealed dark stone floors and heavy wooden beams overhead. Strange symbols had been etched into the walls, pulsing faintly with a dull, violet light. The air smelled different here—damp, tinged with incense and something else, something sweet and earthy, like herbs left too long to rot.

Nathaniel’s heart pounded. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut: He was a prisoner.

He pulled weakly at the chains holding him, gritting his teeth as they clinked against the stone, but they didn’t give an inch. His body was bare save for his pants, his shirt and armor long gone, leaving him vulnerable in the dim glow. The restraints themselves were unlike anything he’d ever seen—smooth metal etched with runes that shimmered in response to his movements, tightening the more he struggled.

"Awake already?" a voice purred from the shadows.

Nathaniel’s body tensed, his head snapping up to find the source. From the far corner of the room, she stepped into view—the woman he had seen before everything went dark. She moved with an unsettling grace, her black robes swirling around her like liquid shadow. Her eyes, the same gleaming, dangerous orbs he remembered, sparkled with amusement as she approached, her lips curling into that same predatory smile.

Nathaniel’s throat tightened. He tried to speak, but his mouth felt dry, and the words came out in a croak. “Wh—where am I?”

The woman chuckled softly, stopping just in front of him. She was even more beautiful up close, though there was a coldness to her beauty, an edge that made his skin crawl. "You’re in my mansion," she replied, her voice low and melodic. "And it seems you’ve made yourself quite at home, though I can’t imagine that running through my halls screaming like a fool was your idea of a proper introduction."

He swallowed hard, forcing his mind to focus. "Look, I didn’t know—"

"Shh," she said, raising a slender finger to her lips. "You’re here now, and that’s all that matters."

Nathaniel’s stomach churned at the way her gaze swept over him, lingering a little too long on his exposed chest, her smile deepening as if she could read every thought crossing his mind. His muscles tightened instinctively under her scrutiny, but there was no escape from the way her eyes roamed his body with dark amusement.

"Why—why am I here?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Her smile widened, and she crouched down in front of him, bringing herself eye-level with his face. "Because you wandered into a place you don’t belong, little adventurer." Her fingers reached out, trailing lightly over his bare arm, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. "And I do love having guests. Especially ones so... naïve."

Nathaniel shivered at her touch, his pulse quickening for reasons he couldn’t fully comprehend. He jerked back instinctively, but the chains held him fast. "What do you want with me?" he asked, his voice laced with both fear and defiance.

The Witch’s eyes gleamed at his question, and she rose gracefully to her feet, pacing slowly around him. "Oh, I haven’t decided yet. You’re an intriguing little plaything, aren’t you?" Her fingers trailed down his chest now, the sensation both electric and unsettling. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "You barged into my home, disrupted my creatures... and now you’ll repay me in kind."

He could feel the blood drain from his face, his heart racing. "I don’t have any treasure," he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. "I was just looking—"

"I’m not interested in your gold, Nathaniel," she cut him off, her tone almost playful now, as if she were enjoying his growing confusion and fear. "I want something far more... personal."

Her voice had a way of slipping into his mind, like silk, wrapping around his thoughts and pulling him deeper into her control. The air in the room seemed to thicken, and Nathaniel’s head spun as the strange energy around her washed over him, clouding his senses. He knew he should fight back, resist her, but his body felt heavy, his limbs limp in the chains that bound him. And then there was the heat—something warm and insistent was beginning to stir inside him, like a fire being stoked from the inside out.

"What... what are you doing?" he managed, his voice a strained whisper.

The Witch grinned, her eyes dark and hungry. "Just making sure you understand who’s in control here."

Her hand pressed flat against his chest, and Nathaniel gasped as a wave of heat shot through him, coursing through his veins like molten fire. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—an intense, burning sensation that wasn’t quite pain but wasn’t pleasure either. It was something in between, something overwhelming, something... inescapable.

He tried to jerk away, his muscles straining against the chains, but they tightened with each movement, holding him firmly in place. The Witch’s fingers slid down his torso, her nails lightly scraping against his skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. "I think you’re going to be quite fun to play with," she purred.

Nathaniel’s mind raced, torn between fear and the strange, unwanted sensations coursing through his body. He had come here looking for treasure, for glory, and now he was trapped—at the mercy of this woman, this... witch.

And she wasn’t done with him yet.

Her eyes flickered to the shadows in the corner of the room, and for the first time, Nathaniel noticed a figure lurking there—a tall, silent man with pale skin and dark, calculating eyes. He was dressed in elegant, dark robes, his face emotionless as he observed the scene. The Witch smiled over her shoulder at him before turning her gaze back to Nathaniel.

"This is my companion," she said softly, her hand never leaving Nathaniel’s chest. "He enjoys watching."

Nathaniel’s blood ran cold.

"Now," she whispered, her lips brushing the edge of his ear. "Let’s see just how long you can resist."