When you eventually regain some sort of consciousness. You are aware only of the starry sky above you and the fact that you are being dragged on the ground by your ankles. Your head keeps hitting things that litter the dirt path you seem to be on. If you get out of this, you know you'll have a terrible time trying to wash all of the debris and dirt out of your hair. You try to resist whoever is dragging you, but your legs don't want to cooperate. In the pale light of the moon, an overhead sign made of dark metal reads "Graveyard" and your attempts at escape become more frantic. You manage to move your left leg! It's a jerking motion that you may have been halfway in control of, but it was a motion nonetheless.
Your captor drops your legs and moves toward your face, pressing a cloth over your nose and mouth.
"Come on, just --- You'll be --- soon enough."
His voice keeps fading in and out of your hearing. It must be the drug. You move your face away briefly, cough, and weakly say: "no..."
He turns your head back sharply and keeps a tight hold on your chin, pressing the cloth to your face again.
You hold your breath for as long as you can, fighting to regain the use of your limbs and escape, but it's futile. There's only so long you can hold your breath and your captor is much stronger than you would be even if you weren't slowly recovering from whatever drug they put in your food. You slip again into the darkness of semi-consciousness. You are placed somewhere cold and hard, possibly a grave slab or a rock, and you vaguely hear the sound of stone being moved. Is this psycho putting you in a tomb? Your captor picks you up and you hear feet on stone stairs but you can't tell if you're moving up or down. You assume down. This place smells musty.
You hear the mutterings of your captor and at least one other person as they place you somewhere cold that gets warm and wet all too quickly. What little clothing you had on is cut away, your necklace included. Do tombs have plumbing? You're hoping it's a bath and not a gigantic soup pot. Someone scrubs you with something scratchy and the smell of chemical citrus fills your nose. You sneeze.
After scrubbing every inch of your skin raw, they push you under the water. You freak out, trying to move but not being able to. Are they trying to drown you?
Your breathing is shallow when they bring you back up. Just a rinse. They're not going to kill you... yet.
They wash your hair, too, but everything they do is a little too harsh and a little too rough. After rinsing your hair, they drag you out of the tub and lay you on a cold slab of some kind. They brush your hair so hard you think they're trying to tear it out and you wince. They notice.
"------ chloroform."
They press a cloth over your nose and mouth again.
"Take it ---- no point---- can't escape anyway."
The cloth is removed.
"------ begin."
You smell... smoke? You can't make your eyes open. There's a low chant coming from all around you. You can't tell what language the chant is in. You think it's English. You can make out one word, or maybe it's a name.
Zeldris.
They chant the word over and over as they bind your limbs, torso, and abdomen with ropes. They do the same with your head. The rope is coarse and rough and tied far too tightly. Your heart thuds in your chest and drowns out half of the noise in the room, if you're in a room. Your face goes numb at the realization that you are still naked and they tied your legs down so you couldn't close them. Your breathing becomes ragged as you panic, trying to move, to struggle, to be anywhere but here but it's futile, useless. You're going to die. They're going to kill you. They say other things but before each phrase there's that word.
Zeldris.
It must be a name.
Your brain is foggy but you try to remember.
Is Zeldris some old Mesopotamian god?
No.
Did we cover Zeldris in history class? Are they trying to summon a ghost ouija board style?
No. And you're not sure.
Zeldris. Maybe the name is Greek? Oh! Maybe Zeldris is the name of a nymph.
No. That's not right.
Zeldris...
A booming voice interrupts your thought.
"Zeldris!" it exclaims "we bid you collect your sacrifice!"
Oh shit. Sacrifice? Okay. A god or a demon, then. You just hope it's not a blood sacrifice. The smoke makes it hard to breathe and you pass out before you find an answer.
YOU ARE READING
The Graveyard (Zeldris x Female Reader)
Fanfiction(AU) You just wanted a nice relaxing beach day but nooooooo you had to get kidnapped by a cult and sacrificed to a demon prince. You're not dead. That's a start. But you would definitely prefer not to be naked. Stupid cults with their stupid rituals...
