Imprisoned in the Orinovan priori labs, Ainreth undergoes torturous treatments daily in an attempt to crack the code to lightweaver creation. Things seem hopeless, until unlikely allies join his side to help him.
Meanwhile back home in Lys-Akkaria...
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Ainreth gritted his teeth as the needle pierced his arm, wincing as the crazy woman he was at the mercy of pushed down the plunger, forcing whatever liquid had been in it into his veins, burning him inside.
The pain was manageable so far, but he was certain it would get much worse.
"What is that?" he growled. He dreaded what might happen to him, but he had to know. He had to know what kind of torture he was in for.
"I am so happy you asked," the woman said, putting the syringe away in a tray on the table next to her. Ainreth grimaced as the burning pain increased, slowly but surely, swallowing thickly. What was happening to his arm?
"What makes you a priori is a component in the blood. I've come to call it preo. That is what makes you unnatural," the woman explained.
Ainreth gritted his teeth harder, groaning a little as he fought against his bonds. His arm felt like it was on fire, an angry red color spreading out in a circle around the puncture wound. And his skin was swelling.
"And that is what I seek to harvest from you. Unfortunately, preo breaks down under light. So it cannot be extracted from collected blood," the woman continued, sounding so pleased with herself while Ainreth was fighting not to make noise. He didn't want to give her the pleasure of seeing him in audible agony. "What I injected you with will make your blood congeal, nicely separating preo."
Ainreth's stomach twisted at those words. The blood in his arm was clotting. So that was why it hurt so much, that was why it was swelling. And that would mean—
"All that is left now is to wait for that to happen and then I'll extract the processed blood from you." The mad woman picked up a scalpel then, moving it around, studying it.
Ainreth squeezed his eyes shut even as he fought harder, swallowing down his noises of pain from the pain in his swollen arm burning ever harder. He wanted to claw at his arm, but he couldn't even do that. And it was only going to get worse.
His arm would need to be cut open for the clots to be taken out. The thought horrified him. He'd gotten cut and stabbed on the battlefield, but this was somehow different. It made him sick with horror.
"I am most curious about your preo. If preo hates light, how could it create something that can not only control it, but also generate it?"
Ainreth glared at her, trying to push through the pain to snark. "M-maybe your theories are all wrong then."
The woman laughed. "Oh, you are so amusing, svetlokrive." She shook her head, a wide, unhinged smile on her face. "Your breed are rare. But you should be impossible altogether. I intend to find out why."
Ainreth grunted as fighting against his shackles became impossible from how much his arm hurt. It just made things worse. "W-what about shadowforgers then? Th-they're shadow. And rare."
