The Obsidian Empire

Chapter 15: Hurt

At first, it hurt. The lash cutting through the skin of Llwell's back over and over, drawing red lines across his shoulders and spine. For a moment, it actually hurt so bad that he could no longer feel the pain in his hand. But in the moments he's given a second to breathe, that's when it returns. It always returns.

He thinks back to his clan. His sister. All her life, she never left the Living Forest. Guardian Ildilyntra was always so protective of her, and Llwell admits he had his moments too. Despite being twins, he never could help but feel like her 'older' brother growing up. They fought endlessly, of course. But he still always felt like he needed to protect her.

He wonders if Ysve had to suffer this pain after she was taken by Tessiavar. Each crack of the lash striking him again and again. Thinking his sister may have gone through this exact thing is almost more painful than the stinging gashes that run blood down his sides.

He tugs against the chains around his wrists that are attached to the stone ground of the kingdom square. Every time he's struck, he hears the crowd that's gathered clap and cheer. The human ones, anyway. The elves watched in broken silence before turning away, the sight of the hope of their people being flogged like a dog in a display of public humiliation was too much for them to take.

His teeth grit tightly together and his brows knot with the bridge of his nose. He keeps his eyes sealed shut, just trying to focus on anything but the pain. But when he tries, all that enters his mind are Artegal's words that he can't shake away.

"When you accept the burden of the Siphon you agree to surrender your soul to the spirits of the Reach."

He is an empty shell.

He still doesn't know whether or not he believes the things Artegal said. He admits to feeling a bit different since becoming the Hollow, but to say that's because he no longer has a soul is going a bit far, even for Artegal.

Another thrash, another bloody line drawn into his back. He doesn't know how long it's been since he was dragged out here, but it feels like hours. When Magister Galarius said failure to follow the rules would result in severe punishment, he wasn't joking. Apparently having his hand flare up and nearly kill him in the middle of the trial was considered 'breaking the rules.'

So now it's just a matter of waiting out the suffering.

The cheering of the crowd feeds into his anger the more he listens to it. How sadistic Tessians must be to enjoy watching an elf be senselessly ripped apart for things he had no control over. He never asked for any of this.

He didn't choose to be the Hollow.

Llwell just focuses on breathing to combat the pain, and in his fierce concentration he almost misses as some of the cheering dies down to then be followed by the sound of a faintly ringing bell.

"STOP!"

The elf shakily lifts his head as much as he can to see Etho trying to push through the crowd. To Llwell's great relief, he no longer has the black and shadows covering his skin and his eyes are back to their normal soft lilac color. But seeing the anger and panic in the boy's eyes only adds to his pain.

Eventually Etho stops trying to get past the crowd of humans and growls before bursting out with a cloud of shadows and reappearing next to Llwell with his sickles in his hands as he faces the soldier holding the whip.

The crowd gasps with their eyes all on Etho but the boy pays them no mind. "Stop! Why ignore the obvious truth for the sake of broken words that twist and tie into knotted lies, leering through the reality to tell only what the darkness wants you to believe?!" Etho cries and looks around at the crowd that stares at him with wide eyes.