Knowing The End (SAA Book 2) ✔

9: A New Home

Oren woke up the next morning to whispers. As the silvery voices curled in around Oren's ears, hushed, never once were the quiet words audible.

Neither of the voices were Clayton's, and something about the air didn't feel right. Instead of that signature scent of his human lover, he came to a musky, dry heat. It was suffocating for the most part; he felt as if he could barely breathe.

He stirred to find little to no moving room. Fingers stretched and hands wiggled and wrists twisted. His arms... They were bound. That was when he suddenly became aware of the mechanism strapped onto his head. A bar ran across his nose and around his ears, under his chin and against his cheeks. A mask of some sort.

He opened his eyes to see... nothing. It was pitch black for a few moments before lights abruptly came flickering on. The elf jerked back to stare wide-eyed at the abundance of plants and trees surrounding him. The ground below him was made of turf, not real grass. There was a domed ceiling above him, supported by cemented bars. He wasn't outside.

He sat in the center of a large stone-covered room, the ceiling rounded. Glowing sconces made from what seemed to be goat horns hung on cobble walls, illuminating everything from the herbs spread lavishly over a table, to the large array of poisons on a bookshelf to the right.

There were robed people surrounding him, all of which standing behind a glass-like film that separated Oren from them. Each woman and man held golden laurel wreaths around their heads, glimmering in the smallest of light sources.

There must have been at least eight of these ancient people. Two were examining him thoroughly, and another three were checking clipboards and monitors. A pair of two were at an alchemy lab, injecting a mysterious magenta fluid into a syringe. One lonesome woman stood in the corner, observing them all. Though she looked familiar, despite her golden glow and ethereal presence.

Her tied dress was white and silky, and her hair was pulled into a bun at the crown of her head. Her eyes were a sweet honey, observing the environment with a pleased smile.

"Was I kidnapped..?" Oren pondered, struggling against his restraints. He looked down to his knees, noticing the white, shaggy rags he now wore. What happened to his clothes? Where was Clayton? Who were these robed people? Who was that woman?

I see you're awake. You're concealed within a glass exhibit. We made sure to make you feel right at home. Plants and trees are your strengths, are they not?

The woman's mouth moved subtly, as if she were mumbling.

Oren seethed, yanking forward from his binds. They seemed to resist mostly, but something in the leather seemed to give out, making it looser on his wrists. "Where am I? Who are you? What do you want with me?!" he demanded to the womanly voice.

Father Hephaestus has hired these servants and I to watch over you until I can reclaim your being, Oakley Pyrodomous. We've yet to find your wandering brother.

The voice echoed through the glass chamber like a ghost's lonely singsong. It seemed that it wasn't only in Oren's head anymore...

"Who-... Who is Hephaestus? How do you know my birth name?" Oren asked eagerly, brow furrowing. He felt the leather digging into his arm, so he pulled with all his strength and ripped it away from his hands, stumbling forward into the middle of the exhibit. The robed, white clothes he wore barely covered his genitals, which was both awkward and embarrassing.

Ah, so you've wrestled yourself free.

The voice laughed. Oren couldn't tell if it was malicious or not.

Look above you. There is a hatch above the exhibit in which you are kept tightly. From there, we will have someone drop down and give you food and necessary fluids as we run harmless experiments.

'This is a dream. This can't be real... Clayton, where are you? Did they take you too? I hope you're safe... I hope Hunter and Xenia are safe too. I love you all.' he finally tried to yell out for help.

"Clayton!!" he called out, voice echoing and bouncing off of the thin walls of his containment. Damn... he felt like a test subject. "Someone! Please, help me!!" he tried yelling out again, silently hoping that his family could hear his calls and desperate pleas for freedom.

He will never hear you. Please save your voice; we will need it.

The woman with the bun in her hair swiveled on her heel and walked out, leaving the robed people to Oren's containment. As the elf scrunched up his face, the metal bars on his mouth adjusted, keeping form. He looked down and clawed at the mask over his mouth, fingers slipping into narrow spaces between the thin black wires.

He pulled once, but to no avail. He had no idea how muzzles worked, so he fumbled and felt around for a latch or hook. He pried the loops around his fingers and unlocked a little hook at the back, watching as the metal mask fell to the ground with a thump.

"I have to get out of here. I need to find Clayton.." he muttered to himself, setting priorities.

I'm afraid you cannot do so. There is no way for you to stand with your legs sedated as they are presently. We had to make sure you were not able to run away.

"What's so important about me anyway?" he asked, annoyed.

You are the reason for my lack of prosperity and abundance. With your escape, I become more like my father, a pyromaniac; a crazed and obsessed metalworker.

'What the hell does that mean?' Oren wondered silently. He looked down to his legs and tried to flex his lower muscles, only to feel that he had no control of his legs. He was completely numb from the pelvis down.

Then, the metal hatch swung open with a creak, and down climbed a woman in a white toga, a laurel wreath sitting atop her head of long marigold hair. She held a syringe and a platter of colored herbs in the other hand. She knelt down to the elf and grabbed onto his arm, to which he yanked her hand away.

"Don't touch me!" he yelped with venom. He dragged himself back until his shoulder blades pressed against a glass wall. "Don't come near me." When she cautiously stepped forward, Oren's eyes widened and he raised an arm, opening his palm and ready to attack.

When he tried to summon nature to his aid, not a single leaf appeared from his skin.

She hurried over and pressed the syringe into his wrist, squeezing magenta fluid into his veins as he wriggled and screamed in denial. He thrashed away from her, eyes wide and ears pinned to his head. The pain throbbed throughout his arm, and he gasped for air, vision blurring slowly.

"Συγγνώμη." (I am sorry.) she uttered in Greek, eyes watering.

Oren's vision faded to black as he collapsed to the turf.

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Thanks for Reading!

my poor baby ugh