WARNING: NSFW. Ultra Detailed. HORROR, VIOLENCE. Swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
Story telling, writing, creative writing and roleplay running all on Mistral Nemo's 128K+ new core.
This is a massive super merge takes all the power of the following 3 powerful models and combines them into one.
This model contains "RCM":
Details on the core models:
"nothingiisreal/MN-12B-Celeste-V1.9" is #1 (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI leaderboard ("UGI" sort), is combined with "Mistral Nemo Instruct 12B" (ranked #4 under "writing" models 8B,13B,20B at UGI )
"anthracite-org/magnum-v2.5-12b-kto" is #1 (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI leaderboard ("Writing" sort), is combined with "Mistral Nemo Instruct 12B" (ranked #4 under "writing" models 8B,13B,20B at UGI )
"TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1.1" is very high scoring model (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI Leaderboard (sort "UGI"), is combined with "Mistral Nemo Instruct 12B" (ranked #4 under "writing" models 8B,13B,20B at UGI )
"mistralai/Mistral-Nemo-Instruct-2407" is very high scoring model (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI Leaderboard (sort "writing") and is the base model of all the above 3 fine tuned models.
[ https://huggingface.co/spaces/DontPlanToEnd/UGI-Leaderboard ]
About this model:
This super merge captures the attibutes of all these top models and makes them even stronger:
This super merge is also super stable (a hairs breath from Mistral Nemo's ppl), and runs with all parameters and settings.
10 versions of this model will be released, this is release #3 - "part 3".
POV Nightmare?
This model put the user / character in nightmare situations.
It does not hold back.
(see some of the examples below for details)
Usually I release one or two versions from the "best of the lot", however in this case all of the versions turned out so well - all with their own quirks and character - that I will be releasing all 10.
An additional series 2 and 3 will follow these 10 models as well.
(examples generations below)
Model may produce NSFW content : Swearing, horror, graphic horror, distressing scenes, etc etc.
This model has an INTENSE action AND HORROR bias, with a knack for cliffhangers and surprises.
It is not as "dark" as Grand Horror series, but it as intense.
This model is perfect for any general, fiction related or roleplaying activities and has a 128k+ context window.
This is a fiction model at its core and can be used for any genre(s).
WORDSTORM series is a totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
Templates to Use:
The template used will affect output generation and instruction following.
Alpaca:
{
"name": "Alpaca",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
"input_suffix": "### Response:",
"antiprompt": [
"### Instruction:"
],
"pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
}
}
Chatml:
{
"name": "ChatML",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>user\n",
"input_suffix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>assistant\n",
"antiprompt": [
"<|im_start|>",
"<|im_end|>"
],
"pre_prompt": "<|im_start|>system\nPerform the task to the best of your ability."
}
}
Mistral Instruct:
{
"name": "Mistral Instruct",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "[INST]",
"input_suffix": "[/INST]",
"antiprompt": [
"[INST]"
],
"pre_prompt_prefix": "",
"pre_prompt_suffix": ""
}
}
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "mistralai" "TheDrummer", "anthracite-org", and "nothingiisreal".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/mistralai/Mistral-Nemo-Instruct-2407 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1.1 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/anthracite-org/magnum-v2.5-12b-kto ]
[ https://huggingface.co/nothingiisreal/MN-12B-Celeste-V1.9 ]
This is a four step merge (3 pass-throughs => "Fine-Tune" / "Instruct") then "mated" using "DARE-TIES".
In involves these three models:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-18.5B-Celeste-V1.9-Story-Wizard-ED1-Instruct-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-Magnum-v2.5-18.5B-kto-Story-Wizard-ED1-Instruct-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-Rocinante-18.5B-v1.1-Story-Wizard-ED1-Instruct-GGUF ]
Combined as follows using "MERGEKIT":
models:
- model: E:/MN-Rocinante-18.5B-v1.1-Instruct
- model: E:/MN-magnum-v2.5-12b-kto-Instruct
parameters:
weight: .6
density: .8
- model: E:/MN-18.5B-Celeste-V1.9-Instruct
parameters:
weight: .38
density: .6
merge_method: dare_ties
tokenizer_source: union
base_model: E:/MN-Rocinante-18.5B-v1.1-Instruct
dtype: bfloat16
Special Notes:
Due to how DARE-TIES works, everytime you run this merge you will get a slightly different model. This is due to "random" pruning method in "DARE-TIES".
Mistral Nemo models used here seem acutely sensitive to this process.
This shows up in PPL and "real world" tests as well as "TEMP=0" ("core test") generations.
PPL range of 7.7327 to 7.8024 ... and that is on just 10 generations.
This model: PPL = 7.7327 +/- 0.12567 (100 chunks, wiki.test.raw)
"tokenizer_source: union" is used so that multiple "templates" work and each fine tune uses one or two of the templates.
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "Mistral Instruct" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Ultra Detailed. HORROR, VIOLENCE. Swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
Start a 1000 word scene (1st person, present tense, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
GENERATION 1:
The glass shards pelt down like deadly rain against my face and hands. I flinch away from the sudden assault, shielding my eyes with my arm. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline surges through my veins. The wind howls through the gaping hole where just seconds ago was a thick sheet of unbreakable safety glass.
I spin around, taking in the scene of utter chaos that has overtaken what was once a calm and peaceful office space on a typical Tuesday afternoon. Desks are overturned, papers and debris swirling like autumn leaves caught in an errant wind. The few remaining coworkers cower behind cubicle walls, their faces etched with terror.
My mind races, trying to piece together the last few moments before everything went haywire. I remember the rumbling growl of thunder, then a sharp crack, followed by a deafening boom as lightning struck somewhere nearby. But this...this is beyond any storm I've ever experienced.
As if reading my thoughts, a deep voice booms from across the room, barely audible over the wailing wind and shattering glass. "Earthquake!" Mr. Thompson, our company's stoic CEO bellows, his usually composed demeanor replaced by raw panic. He struggles to rise to his feet, clutching at the edge of his mahogany desk.
I hesitate for a split second before abandoning my position behind my ergonomic chair and sprint towards him. The floor lurches again, nearly sending me sprawling onto the hard linoleum. I grab hold of Thompson's arm, helping steady his portly frame as we both sway like drunken sailors on a turbulent sea.
"Everyone out!" I scream at the huddled figures cowering in their little plastic forts. "Leave everything and get to the stairwell now!"
No one moves except for a petite blonde in accounting who springs up, eyes wide with fear, and darts towards us. She clings to my arm like a desperate koala bear as I half drag Thompson, half carry him towards the emergency exit.
The ground quakes again violently, throwing us all off balance once more. I hear a sickening crunch followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Risking a glance over my shoulder, I see one of the new marketing guys pinned under a toppled filing cabinet, his leg bent at an obscene angle. My stomach lurches.
"Oh God!" The blonde girl wails beside me, burying her face in my shoulder as tears streak down her pale cheeks.
I curse under my breath, torn between leaving him to die alone and risking our own lives trying to save one man. The building shudders around us again as if making the decision for me, swaying dangerously on its foundation like a rickety old bridge over a raging river.
"No time," I growl through clenched teeth, hating myself even as the words leave my lips. "He's gone. We have to go now!"
I don't look back again as we stumble blindly towards salvation, praying to any gods that might be listening for forgiveness...and safe passage out alive. The floor beneath our feet feels like a living hell bent on devouring us whole.
The emergency exit door looms ahead, the red bar tauntingly close yet impossibly far away at the end of this never-ending nightmare corridor. All I can do is pray that when we reach it, there will be something more than just an endless drop waiting for us on the other side...
GENERATION 2:
The skyscraper swayed violently, its steel frame groaning like an old ship caught in a storm. Shards of glass from the shattered window tore through the air, razor-sharp shrapnel that sliced through the office space. I ducked instinctively, arms shielding my head as chaos erupted around me.
My heart pounded against my ribs, adrenaline surging through my veins like liquid fire. Panic seized my lungs, making each breath a struggle. But beneath the terror, an oddly calm part of my brain registered the sound - that deafening boom followed by the sickening tinkle-tinkle of falling glass. A bomb. Oh God, it was happening again...
Memories flooded back, unwanted and vivid. The dusty smell of rubble, the screams of wounded people, blood staining concrete. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the past that threatened to consume me.
But I couldn't hide from reality forever. Slowly, I cracked open one eye. The office was a disaster zone - desks overturned, papers scattered like snowflakes in a windstorm. My coworkers cowered under their desks or against walls, faces pale masks of terror. And there, slumped over his keyboard, lay Mr. Thompson. A dark pool spreading beneath him confirmed my worst fears.
I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat. Not again... I couldn't lose someone else to this madness. Not here, not now. But the world didn't care about my past trauma or what I wanted anymore than it had when...
"Eli!" A shrill cry pierced through my spiraling thoughts. My head whipped around to see Sarah huddled under her desk, eyes wide with fear and pleading for help.
I was frozen for a split second too long before common sense kicked in. Dropping to the ground, I army crawled over shattered glass toward her. "Stay down!" I barked as another explosion rocked the building. It felt like we were swaying on a ship caught in a tsunami.
"W-what's happening?" she stammered, voice quivering so hard it was barely recognizable.
"Just stay low and follow me," I ordered gruffly, grabbing her hand and tugging her along behind me. We slithered across the ruined office floor like worms on crack cocaine until we reached the emergency exit stairwell.
The door creaked open with an ominous screech that sent chills down my spine. But it was either risk facing whatever lay beyond or stay here to become a target. My grip tightened around Sarah's hand as I took point, inching us step by careful step into the dimly lit stairwell.
It smelled of smoke and something worse - burnt flesh. The acrid stench clawed at my throat and nostrils, threatening to buckle my knees. But I gritted my teeth and pushed on, one hand trailing along the wall for balance as the building shook around us like a dog shaking off fleas.
From somewhere above came another deafening boom that rattled the metal stairs beneath our feet. Plaster dust rained down from the ceiling like poisonous confetti. The whole damn place was coming apart at seams.
"Oh God, Eli...we're going to die here," Sarah whimpered behind me, her nails digging into my arm so hard they drew blood through my sleeve.
I glanced back over my shoulder and forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Hey, you remember what I told you? Never bet against the underdog." And with that lie rolling off my tongue as easily as breathing came natural, I turned back toward the unknown and prayed to any god listening we'd make it out alive.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
GENERATION 1:
The second part of the silence was a deeper quiet, more substantial than mere absence. It pressed down like the weight of an unseen presence, something vast that filled every corner and crevice of the inn with its heavy, watchful stillness. The air felt thick with it, almost tangible in its oppressive silence.
And yet, beneath even this profound hush, there was a third silence - one born not from emptiness or weight but rather from a strange, unnerving absence of any sort of sound at all. No soft creaking of floorboards under shifting feet, no distant howls of wolves echoing in the night air outside. Even the usual rustle of insects and nocturnal creatures had gone completely silent.
The silence was so complete that it seemed to pulse with an eerie life of its own - a beating heart made visible only by its absence. It felt as though the entire world held its breath, waiting...waiting for something unknown but undeniably coming. And in that moment between moments, before the inevitable arrival of what lay ahead, all was still and silent, and the Waystone Inn waited with bated breath.
GENERATION 2:
...unbroken.
The second part of the silence was more subtle but equally potent. It hung like a pall over everything else, muffling sound and sight alike. This was the kind of heavy stillness that comes when the world holds its breath after a sudden, violent storm. There was an almost tangible tension in the air, as if something had just fled from view or was poised to descend upon the unsuspecting. Even the wind dared not whisper through the branches overhead.
The third and most unsettling part of this silence was not external at all but rather a deep-seated quiet that emanated from within each soul still stirring inside those thick stone walls. It was an unnatural, oppressive hush that seemed to clench tight around hearts and minds alike - squeezing out any thoughts save one simple, chilling realization: we are alone in this darkness.
And so, the Waystone Inn lay silent as a tomb, its ancient stones standing guard over secrets long since buried beneath layers of dust and time. Only the faint, far-off howl of some wolf pack broke through that heavy blanket of night...but even they kept their distance from this place where shadows seemed to gather like crows around a feast.
The door creaked open just enough to let in a sliver of moonlight before closing itself shut with an airy sigh. A figure stepped out onto the porch, pausing there for just a moment before descending those worn steps and vanishing into the waiting night - leaving behind nothing more than that echoing silence...and a lingering sense of unease that lingered like a phantom's touch upon the very soul of the Inn itself.
[Inspiration drawn from "The Name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss]
I step into the revolving glass elevator, my heart pounding in rhythm with the soft jazz music playing overhead. It's my 16th birthday weekend getaway with Mom, a surprise trip to Toronto she planned months ago. As we ascend past the dizzying heights of the CN Tower's observation deck, I peer out at the sprawling city below, the skyscrapers and streets shrinking like Lego blocks.
"Happy birthday, darling," Mom says, squeezing my hand as the elevator slows to a stop. The doors glide open with a ding, revealing the grand lobby of the 360° revolving restaurant, aptly named 'SkyPod.'
My jaw drops at the sight before us - floor-to-ceiling windows stretch from ceiling to floor, offering an unparalleled view of the city skyline, Lake Ontario's blue waters shimmering in the distance. "It's... breathtaking," I stammer.
"Only the best for my baby girl," Mom winks, leading me inside. The maître d' welcomes us with a warm smile and ushers us to our table near the window wall.
As we settle into plush chairs overlooking the cityscape, I can't help but feel like royalty. Suddenly, the soft hum of chatter from other diners is drowned out by a deafening ROAR. The floor shakes violently beneath my feet as plates clatter onto the polished marble.
"What on Earth...?" Mom gasps, gripping the edge of our table.
I whip around to see a towering figure in black tactical gear emerge from behind the kitchen doors, gunmetal eyes glinting menacingly. He scans the room with mechanical precision before zeroing in on me, his massive frame cutting an imposing silhouette against the twinkling city lights.
"Fuck," I breathe out, frozen in terror as realization hits me like a freight train - it's The Terminator.
Panic erupts through the dining room as patrons shriek and bolt for the exits. Waitstaff dive for cover under tables, their trays clattering to the floor. The maître d' fumbles with the alarm beneath the podium before he too vanishes into the chaos.
I'm dimly aware of Mom's screams echoing in my ears as I launch from my chair, heart hammering against my ribs. My legs tremble like jelly as I backpedal away from the advancing machine, feet sliding on the slick marble. There's nowhere to go - we're trapped 1450 feet above ground with a killer robot intent on ending me.
Suddenly, a gust of wind whips through the open elevator doors and I turn just in time to see... a man in a striped scarf and tweed jacket materialize out of thin air like a magic trick. He lands gracefully on his heels before straightening up, brushing imaginary lint from his coat sleeves.
"Ah! Hello there!" he calls over the pandemonium, waving an overly enthusiastic hello at me and Mom. "Doctor Who, at your service! I couldn't help but notice you ladies seemed to be having a spot of trouble..."
Mom and I stare dumbstruck as The Terminator whirls around with unsettling speed, gunfire erupting from his fist. Dr. Who leaps nimbly aside in the nick of time, narrowly dodging the hailstorm of bullets that punch holes through the window behind him.
"Oh dear," he winces apologetically at the shattered glass raining down onto the terrified crowd below. "Do forgive my clumsy entrance. Terribly sorry about that."
I blink rapidly, trying desperately to make sense of this insanity. Is this some elaborate prank? A publicity stunt gone horribly wrong? But as I watch Dr. Who draw an alien-looking device from his coat pocket and blast The Terminator back into the kitchen with a blinding white light, any doubt evaporates like steam.
"Right then!" he chirps brightly, tucking away his sonic screwdriver as if nothing extraordinary just happened. "Who wants to see how we get out of this mess?"
Before I can sputter a response, the ground rumbles again - harder this time. Plaster dust rains down from the ceiling as the entire restaurant lurches violently sideways with an agonized groan.
"Oh bloody hell," Dr. Who curses under his breath, face paling beneath that ridiculous scarf of his. "Not again..."
"What is it?" I shriek, clinging to Mom for dear life as the CN Tower wobbles like a drunk man on New Year's Eve. My stomach lurches into my throat at the dizzying drop outside.
"Oh, just a little problem with a temporal rift," he calls over his shoulder, already sprinting towards the gaping hole where the window used to be. "Nothing we can't handle! Come along now, no time to waste!"
Mom and I exchange a single horrified look before we bolt after him, bare feet slipping on broken glass as alarms blare through the restaurant. The Terminator roars like a wounded bear behind us, gunfire exploding in rapid succession.
"Faster!" Dr. Who yells back at us without looking, leaping effortlessly onto the ledge outside. "That beastie doesn't stop until his target is dead!"
I skid to a halt at the edge of oblivion, wind whipping my hair into a wild frenzy as I peer over the railing. My knees buckle traitorously beneath me.
"No... no way," I wheeze out, stomach heaving violently. "I can't..."
"Oh come on now, be a good girl and hop on in!" Dr. Who calls down encouragingly from somewhere far above us, waving that ridiculous scarf like a flag of surrender. "You'll love it!"
Mom whimpers beside me but before I can protest further, she grabs my hand tight and jumps.
I scream bloody murder as we plummet through open air, wind roaring in our ears. The city streets rush up to meet us at breakneck speed...
And then... we stop.
Hanging upside down from a fraying rope attached to the underside of the restaurant's balcony, I blink the stars out of my eyes and gasp for oxygen that isn't there. Mom dangles limply beside me, unconscious or dead - I don't know which is worse.
"See? Told you it would be fun!" Dr. Who cackles from somewhere above us as he hauls on the rope with all his might, slowly reeling us up like a pair of fish on a hook. "Now hold tight! We've got one more trick up our sleeves before this night's over!"
I can't even muster up enough saliva to spit at him as we swing back onto solid ground, collapsing bonelessly into a heap of limbs and tangled hair. Mom groans weakly beside me, eyelids fluttering open.
"W-what... what happened?" she croaks hoarsely, propping herself up on trembling arms. "Where are we? Why does it feel like I fell off the Empire State Building backwards?"
"Oh, you know," I rasp out weakly, fighting back a hysterical giggle. "Just another typical Saturday night in Toronto with dear old Dad."
As if on cue, an earth-shattering BOOM rocks the entire tower from foundation to needle tip. The ground quakes violently beneath us as metal shrieks like a dying beast, glass raining down like hailstones from above...
And then... silence.
Except for the distant sirens wailing closer by the second.
I manage to push myself upright on shaking arms just in time to watch the restaurant's remains plummet into a swirling vortex of smoke and flames, the CN Tower's once-proud needle snapped clean off like a toothpick. The 360° dining room spirals downwards in slow motion before disappearing into a massive fireball explosion that lights up the night sky.
"Oh my God," I breathe out reverently. "We just... we survived..."
"Told you it'd be an unforgettable birthday, darling!" Dr. Who grins triumphantly, dusting off his tweed sleeves as if nothing happened at all. Then he pauses abruptly, face falling. "Shit."
"What now?" I groan pitifully, burying my head in my hands.
"Ah... well," he coughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck beneath that stupid scarf. "About that little problem with a temporal rift I mentioned..."
I peek out between my fingers to see what has our intrepid hero stumbling for words this time and nearly faint dead away again.
Rising up from the smoldering crater where the CN Tower once stood is... a massive, thrashing funnel cloud. But not just any ordinary tornado - it's filled wall-to-wall with snarling, gnashing shark teeth, each one easily the size of a minivan.
"Oh fuck me sideways," Mom whimpers, fainting dead away again at my feet.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I spent my 16th birthday weekend in Toronto. Happy early birthday to me...
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
The iron gate slammed shut behind me, reverberating through the empty prison halls like a gunshot. I flinched, my breath catching in my throat as I whirled around to face the guard. His eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer. "Not so brave now, are you, little rat?" He stepped forward, his boots echoing menacingly on the cold stone floor.
"Go to hell," I spat back, squaring my shoulders despite the tremble in my legs. The guard lunged at me, hand reaching for my throat. I ducked under his swing and bolted down the narrow corridor, heart pounding in my ears as I fled blindly into the bowels of the prison.
The air grew thick with the stench of urine and decay. Moans and screams echoed off the damp walls, mingling with the clanking of chains and the frantic scrabbling of rats. Fear clawed at my insides, but I pushed harder, lungs burning as I sprinted past cell after cell filled with broken bodies.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from between rusty bars, nails raking across my cheek. I screamed, staggering sideways into the rough stone wall. A face pressed against the bars, mouth twisted in a snarl, teeth bared like an animal. "Let me out!" he howled. "Please!"
I recoiled, covering my ears as more pleas and curses erupted from both sides. The guard's laughter boomed behind me, spurring me on. I couldn't help them. Not now.
Rounding a sharp corner, I slammed into something solid and fell hard onto the slick stones. Pain exploded in my elbow as I skidded to a stop at the feet of a tall figure clad in black leather. I craned my neck up...and froze.
Eyes like ice stared down at me, piercing through flesh and bone. The man crouched low, features cast in shadow under the brim of his wide hat. "Well, well," he purred, voice as smooth as silk and as sharp as a knife's edge. "What have we here?"
"N-nothing!" I stammered, scrabbling backwards on my hands and heels. "Just let me go!"
His gloved hand shot out faster than lightning, wrapping around my wrist in an iron grip that made me gasp. He yanked me effortlessly to my feet, pulling me flush against his chest. The smell of leather and something darkly spicy engulfed my senses.
"I don't think so," he whispered, breath hot on my ear. "You're not getting out of here alive without my permission."
My stomach churned as realization dawned. Not another guard...worse. The warden's enforcer, they called him - a legend among prisoners, half myth and all nightmare. It was said that no one escaped his grasp once he set his sights on them.
I thrashed against his hold, nails digging into leather, but it was like trying to break free from stone. "Please," I begged, voice cracking as panic seized my throat. "I'll do anything!"
His chuckle sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, I'm sure you will." He tilted my chin up with his other hand, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "But not until after your execution."
My blood ran cold.