Lena’s screams dulled slightly as the druid worked his spell, but she was still curled tightly around herself on the bed, oblivious to the growing group around her, sobbing and clutching at her hair. Her horns had been broken off, right down to the quick, and the more she scratched at herself, the larger the wounds grew in her scalp. Nhadi’s teas and salves could only heal so much, and while the druid’s soothing spell seemed to help marginally, even he couldn’t pull her out of her living nightmare.
–
Thuleos stood in the dark corner, watching them all fuss over the woman. He seethed angrily to himself and glowered in the shadows. Whoever they were, they would pay. Lena hadn’t spoken to him – or to his knowledge, at all – since the day he begged her not to let them win. They took his one remaining blood kin. He had respected and loved Krastos like a father figure. They were not going to take Lena, too.
And she continued to scream.
–
As the dagger pierced her eye, Lena stumbled back, falling against the wall. The human woman leapt forward and cackled, smashing Lena’s head against the stone before pulling the dagger out, wiping the blue blood and flesh from the blade on Lena’s robe before resheathing it. Lena clawed at the socket with a howl and she slumped to the floor. Her hands trembled as she pulled them away from her face and saw the blue blood glistening on her fingertips. Her remaining eye swam with tears, and she fell over, losing consciousness.
A large, dark figure towered over her body, nudging at her with a shiny black boot. The human’s gruff voice growled at his companions, “That’s enough. Keep her unconscious until you can get her back to the remains of the Exodar. Take his body, too. They’re useless to us now. She obviously doesn’t know anything – or is too loyal to open her mouth. I don’t care. But her people need to know that we are not to be trifled with.” The leader turned on a heel and stalked out of the pit, slamming the iron door behind him. The humans engaged in a brief shoving match over who would be the one to carry her, and a couple scuttled off to prepare the ship for the journey.
One of the powerful warlocks of the Underground was called, and he swept in, robes dragging along the cobbled floor, and he performed several rituals. One, ensuring that Lena would remain unconscious for the trip. Another, to attempt to take her waking memory. The third, and most complex, required absolute concentration. He banished the remaining humans from the room and set to work. He bent down and smirked as he picked up her collar. “Won’t be needing that anymore, mage.” Straightening up, he laughed, “Although I don’t think we’ll be calling you “mage” anymore.” He clapped his hands together and began his chant, eyes wild as he began to siphon the magic from Lena. Her essence was pulled in a large, flashing purple mass from her body, and the warlock grinned deviously as he carefully extracted all of her magical knowledge, as if plucking books from a shelf in the library. He funneled her power into a small trinket box. Once finished with this “cleansing,” he shouted the remaining lines of the spell and roughly shoved her essence back into her, tucking the small box into his robes and striding confidently out of the room.
–
Five days later, on the other side of their tiny world, the captain of the ship lead the brief expedition in the dark of night toward the center of the crater where the Exodar once stood. Krastos’s rapidly decomposing body was flung to the ground unceremoniously. Lena’s barely breathing form, however, was artfully draped over his, curled around him as if she were seeking his comfort. The woman who lusted after Lena’s collar spat on the bodies before marching defiantly off into the night, back toward the ship. The rest of the crew followed, eager to leave the evidence behind.
–
My little Lena… Krastos whispered and shifted under her, trying gently to wake her. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Something hurt. Everything hurt, she realized, as she stirred. You have to get up, little one. She winced, then winced again at the pain in her face. She opened her eyes. Things looked strange. She was outside, things were familiar, the color, the shape of the trees… the crystals. What was wrong with her face? She lifted a hand to her cheek and groaned as her fingers touched the tender scars. Her eye…Oh, no, her eye. She groaned loudly as she felt around the fleshy part of her eye socket, realizing what had happened.
Lena sat up, screaming loudly when she saw her dead mate’s body under hers. She stumbled to her feet and lurched away, sickened by what they had done to him. He was battered, sliced up, his armor in tatters, skin exposed, limbs mutilated. They’d cut off his tendrils. Sliced his neck from ear to ear. The flies and maggots were already flocking toward him, attracted to the stench. How long had he been dead? It smelled… He smelled… She gagged and kept lumbering away, every broken step a struggle with her body battered as it was, finally remembering what this place was. She yelled, whimpering as the sound reverberated in her head far too loudly, then continued to call for help. There would be a patrol eventually…
She turned back toward Krastos’s body and let out a choked sob which spiralled into a scream. She hardly noticed when members of the Shadows started emerging from the wood, curious at the disturbance she was making.
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