Moonless - The Eternal Night

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Orion

Isolated drops of cold water detached from the tips of his hair and landed on his bare back. He focused on that sensation. The cold, small needles on his skin. Forced back the remaining thoughts, subdued his exhaustion.

The exhaustion in his arms. The protest of his muscles. But he couldn't lower them, otherwise the chains on his wrists would pull, and the pain would drag him into unconsciousness. Of that, he was sure.

A new room. A smaller room. After the two human women had dried him.

Again, far too thoroughly. Everywhere. Absolutely everywhere, he had clenched his teeth, had welcomed the pain, anything to distract him from his shame as they went at it down there again. At least they had been quick. They wanted to touch him as little as he wanted to be touched.

In this room, he stood, the walls painted dark, he couldn't make out the exact color, under his bare soles, he felt a carpet, and could do nothing but stand there. Motionless. Naked.

Both women were still there. Standing in a corner of the room, he could just make them out, they had their heads lowered, the slave shackles on their wrists gleamed in sparse, indirect lighting, which cast everything in far too many shadows.

Despite their fear, their aversion to him, he wished he could do something to reassure them. To assure them he would get them out of here. He would free all the humans from here. Just as he would have done with his men. He would have encouraged them, even if he didn't feel it himself, and then he would have done everything to make his words come true.

Orion closed his eyes, his head sinking forward, he bit into the gag to keep from making a sound, no frustrated shout, no roar, nothing, and surrendered to the pain for a while, surrendered to the emptiness behind his forehead, which had nothing left to do but feel.

Silence enveloped him.

Occasionally interrupted by shifting weight, voices outside the small room conversed, too soft for him to understand the meaning behind them.

Then a door opened beyond the chamber, and footsteps could invaded the calm.

"Is everything prepared?" Orion recognized the merchant by his words.

"Yes, sir," someone else replied, probably one of the guards who had dragged him here and chained him. Big, broad gargoyles that towered over him by at least a head.

Inevitably, Orion's heartbeat quickened, he tensed, hands twitched, the chains rattled, but he had no way to defend himself unless he was willing to sacrifice his wrists.

Shortly after, the door opened again, and a palpable cold filled his surroundings, the last light seemed to want to flee, the colors themselves seeped away, and again, the premonition swelled within him. That primal, growling instinct that urged his legs to flee, to throw himself against the chains, just to gain distance from the creature whose voice he heard.

Not the deep growl.

Another voice.

One that seeped over his skin like smoke, gray velvet that clung to him, not loud, but in its own way, inescapable. A voice that didn't subjugate a room like the thundering bass, but traversed it, occupied it. And furthermore, the voice was devoid of any expression. Nothing and no one should be able to form such impassionate words, devoid of any emotion. Unnatural.

The cold drew nearer. Orion was sure; not much was needed, and his breath would have drawn small clouds in front of his nose, hectic clouds. His instincts grew louder, and he dug into his anger, clutched it with metaphorical fingers, embraced it, pressed against it, so that only that anger filled him, that burning hatred, so that no trace of fear seeped into the room.