Fallen Honor

Captive

HOI So sorry this is late! My body decided to get siiiiiick!!!

Hope y'all are doing well during the quarantine!

Vote, comment, and ENJOY!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RECAP

          Becoming quickly annoyed with the human's obvious reluctance, the being took the sharp end of his pickax and tapped it, none too gently, against the man's back. The human flinched and picked up his pace a little.

          It still wasn't fast enough.

______________________________________

         Steve felt the tip of the pickax dig into his back once again and he clenched his teeth and sped up a little more.

          He dimly wondered what would become of him.

END RECAP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          The sun had disappeared over the crest of a tall, black mountain, and the cold of night seeped into the dead lands. The kind of cold that would burrow into one's very bones, a kind one couldn't just shiver away.

          The stars and moon shone down, bathing two figures in pale light. One a captive, and the other, his captor. The one covered in bruises and blood, staggering with every step and barely standing, was, very obviously, the prisoner. The taller form, impatiently prodding at the weaker from time to time, was the master here.

___________________________

          It was so cold. His fingers were numb, he could barely feel his face. The wind didn't help, nor did his continuous shivering. His arm had gone numb, but with every misstep, a harsh reminder of his broken bone shot through him. Steve no longer had the strength to cry out.

          The being had kept him walking for hours, Steve still didn't know how he'd maintained his current pace for so long, he'd felt as if he was about to fall over for a long time. He was tired, so tired, and they'd been walking uphill.

          Steve's mind was dulled by grief and pain. He'd seen Ezan getting stabbed over and over in his memories. However, he soon felt too weary for even that. Only a monotone played in his head. Trip, recover, stumble again. Pain. Cold. Keep arm still, just one step at a time. Pain, more pain. There's no stopping it. Shove in the back. Stumble. On and on it went.

          He didn't realize the demon had stopped until he felt strong fingers grab the back of his filthy shirt, halting him. Breathing hard, Steve didn't even bother to look up or examine his surroundings, keeping his head bent down, the weight too much for his tired neck. It didn't really matter anyway.

          Not anymore.

____________________________

          The demon had been watching the man the entire trek to a secret place, deep in the confusing twists of the mountains. He planned to deposit the young soldier there, continue his hunt, then come back and question him later...see if the young man had any connections with the cursed creator.

          As the journey had worn on, the soldier began to lose focus, not paying attention anymore. His previous terror was replaced with that of a man who knew his fate was sealed, who had accepted that he was going to die.