I AM PEN

Asha

Tachyon embedded Com-line>>> Channel: 091.2

Passcode: Teagarden

Ram-class deep sat probes confirm the anomalistic jet alignments of 202 intermediate-mass black holes. STOP. Looks like you were right (REDACTED). Heaven help us... the (REDACTED). STOP. Please advise, I repeat. Please advise.

SIGNAL LOST END TRANSMISSION

Asha

"Leave us!" The two men surrounding Caesious jump and turn, their lust withering as they see me standing there bleeding. They shuffle off swiftly, retreating into the darkness. Caesious slowly releases the girl. Her whimpers fade as she leaps for the cage. Emaciated arms wrap around her; some pat her head, and others attempt to cover her naked body while she sobs. The girl is in her late teens, with chopped hair and vibrant brown eyes. Her complexion is supple, betrayed only by the melted flesh that runs down the left side of her neck, covering her lower jaw. There's something beneath, but I pay little mind to it. Caesious still has his back to me; he shifts his shoulders, his muscular arms working to make himself presentable.

"Heard you were summoned!" His voice rings, wincing as he labors to steady his breathing. Few things sickened me anymore, but this, combined with the audacity of ignoring my orders, is like salt in an open wound. I shrug even though heat fills the line of fire around my wounded face.

"I was," I say, looking from him to the cage. He holds his square chin high, flashing me that perfect smile of his. "I thought I told you not in front of the slaves." Caesious rears back, then lowers his eyes as he notices the rent line of flesh on my cheek.

"The Counsel's spoken, ready the men, Captain." He looks back to the cage, smiling a promise. "Now!"

"Fine," he hisses, stamping his hooves as he stomps off into the night. I watch him go and begin to consider my options. Something dances on the edge of my vision. At first, I take it for dust, but it blooms, glittering in and out of view like stars winking in the night. It ends at the cage. I approach and lean in, earning squeaks of fear from those inside. Some shelter children behind them, others cower and cover their eyes.

I ignore them, looking at the dark-skinned girl and the glittering path before her. "Come closer." The girl's whimpers fade as she does her best to cover herself. I stare at her, and her fingers loosen, the garment slipping.

"No," I say. She jumps, pulling the garment tight. "Show me your wound." She hesitates, turns her head, and then tries to back away. I grip the girl's head between the bars, eliciting shrill screams from the slaves behind her. Her mouth hangs open, gasping for air. Her face is defiant despite the apparent panic. I relax my grip, slowly turning her head myself. I feel her body trembling beneath my fingers but continue. Hidden beneath the filth and seared pink flesh is something I haven't seen in a million worlds: the solar cross. I unfasten the gate. Its rusty, grime-filled hinges whine as they swing open. I cannot tell if it's the monster they believe me to be, or the cruelty of seeing freedom so close that sends the cage's occupant huddling deeper into corner. Only she doesn't cower. Extending my hand, I reach for her but pull my hand back when I notice it's still covered in blood from the attack.

"Come."

The women inside wail. Yet I knew not why. Had they seen the blood? Do they know who I am? For all I was known to be, a marauder, the sword and shield of the Dusk Bringer empire, a rapist was not among them. I see the girl's eyes linger on my back, where my filthy hands are hidden. To my relief, she leaves the cage.