Seth and the Prometheus Guild

Memories

​​Donovan had screamed his throat raw when his next painfully rasping breath refused to reach his lungs. Seth watched as the human gasped at his feet, his useless body twitching like a stranded fish. Donovan's face slowly turned from red to purple to something blueish and dead. Seth wiped his knife on Donovan's sweat-soaked shirt and turned away from the body.

The dog's growling turned into whimpering. Seth left him be - as long as he didn't start barking again he would ignore the creature.

Instead he stepped up to the trapdoor built into the concrete and hidden beneath one of the crates. Donovan had told him all about what was beneath them and how to use the keys Seth had lifted from his pocket.

Seth hesitated. Kaya was down there, true ... but she might have heard what had happened. She would certainly see what had happened once she got up here.

Seth glanced at the puddle of blood and piss beneath Donovan's still form and at Benson's faceless corpse still cluttering the doorway. It didn't matter if Kaya saw, but what about the other humans? What about Pack Leader? Would The Director be able to shield Seth from this situation?

Shortly weighing the effort against the cost, Seth sighed before grabbing Donovan's arm and picking up Benson's leg on the way out.

Leaving them out at night in the Uncharted Region would take care of it.

The forest was always hungry.

~~~

A stench of unwashed bodies, fur, excrements and urine slapped Seth's face, making his stomach churn and tongue curl.

And overlaying it was the familiar stink of fear.

Soft whimpers and sobs were carried on the disgusting air, clear and unmuffled now that Seth had opened the trapdoor. Staring down at the blackness gaping before him like an opened maw, Seth's hackles rose.

This all felt ... familiar. The fear, the despair, the smell and sounds ...

Even these steps leading down.

But underneath the heavy perfume of imprisonment there was a very faint trace of home.

Taking that first step down was the hardest part. Seth felt his muscles tremble from the strain of keeping still. He wouldn't be able to get out, he would be jailed down there, never to escape, never to be free ...

Another step. The fragrance of Donovan's blood wafted from the keys he clutched in his numb fingers.

The jailor was dead, it would be fine ...

Not all of them are dead.

Another step. The Whitecloaks were far away, this wasn't their prison he was entering.

A prison, he was entering a prison ...

Another step and another.

Until he finally reached the end and there were no more steps to take.

A cavernous room stretched around him, much bigger than the one he'd come from. Moisture ran down the gritty cement walls and the air was cold but stuffy with all the different scents. Bars gleamed in the low light coming from above. Metal bars all along the sides of the room.

Cells. So many cells.

And Seth knew them. He knew them all too well.

Because he'd once sat behind those same bars.

~~~

It had been a long time before Seth was found by the Guild and released. It was one of the first hideouts the Whitecloaks had used - crude and a lot less practical than their latter one. It was dank and dark and difficult to keep clean.