The Birth of Ignaius - (Part 2 of the Ignaius-Saga)

Eclipse

Another abhoration appeared from the darkness, advanced on Variel, cast a dark shroud over him that weighed on him like a freezing block of stone. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to die. Why wouldn't they just kill him and get it over with?

Variel stared up at him, eyes unseeing and tears flowing in an endless stream down deathly pale cheeks. He sounded as though his breathing could stop at any moment, as though he were breathing through a space no larger than a strand of his fine, sweat- soaked silver hair.

Moving slowly to not further irritate the hallucinating boy, Tanier walked to the other side of the table and removed the collar. He couldn't see anything more he could do, except watch and make sure that Variel didn't hurt himself in his delirium. He sat down on the other end of the table, close enough to reach Variel quickly, far enough away to hopefully not appear as a threat.

After the recent exchange with Rovik he was wondering, if maybe it was the right time to kill Variel and himself. It would be the safest solution. Yet he had asked Variel to hold out, to not leave him, to endure for a slim chance to be saved. But for the first time he was no longer completely sure that he would be able to rather die than sign this damn paper. It was not so much the torture he had seen so far, even while knowing that he may eventually have to endure it himself. Not even Rovik's liquid terror in itself made him doubt it, but he was concerned what other means the man may have to manipulate his mind. If he carried fear in a bottle, he may as well have forgetfullness or docility.

It took a while, but Variel eventually started to come down. At first, the only real sign was that his throat seemed to open up a little, and while his breathing was heavy and quick, he was at least getting more air. He blinked rapidly as the strange dark fog and indistinct shapes faded from his vision to leave the uneven stone ceiling of the cell. He didn't move for a long time, frozen save for his trembling in the aftershock of what he had just endured.

When he at last dared to look around - moving only his eyes - he saw Tanier sitting nearby. A pitiful, shuddering sob filled his chest and he at long last let his eyes fall shut.

"....I can't take anymore.... please... please, d-don't... l-let them... I c-can't...."

"Variel?" Tanier asked, not sure yet, if the boy was truly back. He slwoly approached him. As he had his eyes closed, he couldn't really be sure, but somehow he appreared to be more present and his voice and his words seemed to indicate that he was back to normal - under the given circumstances. Carefully he put his hand on the trembling shoulder.

Variel still didn't move; he didn't think he could move. His sobs were harsh, rattling his frail body. He was fading into unconsciousness, but he vaguely registered the warm hand on his icy skin. "...please... n-no more... Help me, sire... p-please... please...."

Tanier did what he had done most the last few days: Stretched out at Variel's side, held him and tried to reach him with his words: "Calm down. We are alone. No one will hurt you now. You did fine." He pulled the trembling body as tight as Variel would allow, hoping that body heat and touch would comfort and calm him. Variel couldn't hear him. He'd fallen unconscious and lay limp against the table. His breathing had evened out, but it was the only sign of life he showed for a long time. His mind and body were growing incredibly weak. What resolve he had was cracking apart. Rovik's words had not been an exaggeration; at this rate, the boy would not last much longer.

Even when he awoke hours later, his eyelids only opened halfway. He didn't move or speak, just lay there staring at the ceiling. Flashes of what he'd seen haunted him, yet he couldn't yet feel the renewed pain of their violation. he was cold and numb, his breathing was shallow, and his heart seemed to be beating more slowly than was normal.

When Variel remained mostly unresponsive, Tanier finally gave up trying to reach him. He did use a conscious moment to force a little bit of food and especially water down his throat, but this didn't improve the situation much either. Still Tanier saw to it that he drank enough, even if in small portions.

He was wondering, if or if not he should do what Nevala wanted from him. It would end all this. He felt slightly embarassed that he considered this concession after only two days. But then he had considered it before, as this was not just about him. And his hurt pride was nothing compared to Variel's suffering.

Variel remained just barely lucid. He would nible at food or swallow water when he was coaxed to, and occasionally he would mumble something. It usually sounded like a meek plea, and it was never a complete thought. He didn't really know what was going on anymore, only that he was so very tired, frightened, and that Tanier was by his side.

There was only one phrase that served as a complete thought, and he murmured it a few times throughout the day.

"...kill me..."

Tanier wasn't sure he was ready to die yet. To be honest: He wasn't. He still had hope, hopes that he would throw away with his signature. But then he was as ready as he had always been. He had learned to accept his death as a possible move long before he had entered this cell. He had to. To most people death was a very personal matter, something they preferred to not deal with, unless they had to. Now he was not like most people. His death would create complications, options and was, amongst other things, a form of natural desaster that the realm had to be prepared for. Preparing for this contingency was just one of his many duties. So he had learned to face his own death when he was still young. The question that moved him more than anything was: Is it really the right time?

He didn't know, but he could feel Variel shiver in his arms. He had more or less promissed him that he would let him go when he couldn't take it any more. Maybe it was not the right time for him yet, but it was high time for Variel to be allowed out of this misery.

Tanier held him close and buried his nose in his neck. He still reeked of sweat and fear, but below this, Tanier could smell the man whom he loved. No, he didn't want to die, but the man whom he loved deserved peace. Suddenly his chest felt way too tight and silent tears started running down his face. No sound gave him away, just the way his breath became more heavy betrayed his emotions.

When the last tears dried on his face, he felt strangely peaceful and empty. He was just lying there, holding Variel, his mind void of anything.