Feral Bonds

Chapter 33: Nowhere to Go

Akecheta's body trembled violently as the transformation completed, his hulking form sagging against the grimy alley wall. His fur, once thick and powerful, was now matted and patchy, each bristle standing on end as the feral rage surged inside him. Yet even as the beast within roared for action, his body failed him. His limbs were heavy, every movement strained as if he were fighting against the very air. The dark magic that had cursed him was tearing him apart from the inside, eating away at his strength. Once a fearsome creature, he was now barely able to stand, a mere shadow of the monster he had become.

His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. Every inhale was a battle, his chest heaving as if the weight of the world pressed against it. The runes etched into his skin, once blazing with dark power, now flickered faintly, like embers struggling against a dying fire. Pain rippled through him in relentless waves, each pulse a reminder that the magic that had once made him powerful was now the very thing destroying him.

The fae circled him like predators, their mocking amusement slowly turning to cold calculation. They had expected Akecheta to lash out, to fight with the same ferocity that had once made him a fearsome opponent. But now, as he slumped against the wall, his body weak and trembling, they saw a different reality—a creature too broken to resist, too far gone to even rise to his feet.

The silver-haired fae, the leader of the group, stepped forward, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he looked down at Akecheta's crumpled form. "Look at you," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "All that power, and yet you can barely stand. What a waste."

Akecheta could barely lift his head. His vision swam, the world around him a dizzying swirl of colors and shadows. His limbs felt like lead, the weight of his own body too much to bear. He curled in on himself, trying to shield what little was left of him, but even that small act of self-preservation seemed futile. His claws scraped weakly against the pavement, but there was no strength behind the movement. The feral rage that had once driven him had been smothered, buried beneath layers of exhaustion and despair.

"You're pathetic," spat another fae, a tall figure with dark hair and sharp eyes. He took a step closer, his boot connecting with Akecheta's side in a vicious kick. The impact sent a dull thud through Akecheta's body, but he barely reacted. The pain was just another layer on top of the agony already coursing through him. His body twitched, a low growl of pain escaping his throat, but there was no fight left in him.

Another kick followed, this time to his ribs. Akecheta felt the sharp crack of bone, and a weak whimper escaped him, but his body refused to respond. He was too far gone, his muscles seizing and cramping with every breath. The beast inside him, the thing that had once made him unstoppable, now lay dormant, caged by his own failing body.

The silver-haired fae watched with cold amusement as his companions struck Akecheta again and again. "Enough," he finally said, his voice low and commanding. "He's not going anywhere. Call the authorities. There's a bounty on this creature. We'll be paid well for bringing it in."

Akecheta's heart pounded in his chest, fear tightening its grip around him like a vice. This was it. He was too weak to fight back, too broken to escape. He was surrounded, cornered like an animal, and there was no way out. His red eyes, dimmed by fatigue, flickered between the fae as they closed in around him, their cold, calculating gazes stripping away what little dignity he had left. They didn't see him as anything more than a monster, something to be hunted and sold.

One of the fae approached, a blade in hand, its edge glowing faintly with magic. Akecheta's body stiffened, instinct telling him to fight, to flee, but his muscles refused to obey. The dark magic inside him pulsed weakly, too faint to offer any real resistance. He could feel the magic pressing against him, forcing him to stay still, locking his body in place as the blade hovered over him.

"He's a dangerous one," another fae muttered, his voice filled with cruel satisfaction. "But not anymore."

Akecheta's muscles seized as the magic intensified, pinning him to the cold pavement. His mind screamed for action, for escape, but his body was unresponsive, trapped in a prison of pain and exhaustion. His vision blurred further, the edges darkening as the weight of his injuries pulled him deeper into unconsciousness.

The world around him was fading. He could hear the distant hum of voices, the muffled sound of footsteps as more fae gathered, but the words didn't matter. All that existed was the pain, the relentless ache that gnawed at his bones, and the suffocating sense of helplessness that came with it.

He had come here seeking refuge, searching for some way to survive. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for him to find safety, to escape the curse that had twisted him into this thing. But now, lying broken on the cold pavement, he realized how foolish that hope had been. There was no safety for someone like him. No peace. Only the endless pain and the ever-present hunger that had driven him to this point. He had nowhere to go.

Akecheta's breath came in ragged gasps as the last remnants of his strength faded. His vision tunneled, darkness creeping in at the edges, but the fear still gripped him. The knowledge that he was truly helpless, that he would be captured, that his life would be sold for a bounty—his mind couldn't let go of that final, terrible truth.

The silver-haired fae knelt beside him, his cold gaze piercing through the haze of pain. "You should have stayed in the woods, beast," he whispered, his voice laced with mockery. "But now you're ours."

Akecheta's chest heaved, his heart pounding in his ears. He could feel himself slipping away, the world growing distant, but there was nothing he could do. His body had given up, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of his exhaustion and the dark magic that had poisoned his soul.