Obsession is the height of passion, but what does one do when they find themselves enthralled with their enemy. Talamayas Sol loses his mother when he stumbles upon a mage in the deserts of his territory, and he is plunged into a despair he's never...
****This chapter contains scenes of torture, thoughts of suicide, suicide, and violence****
****Please do not read ahead if these things are upsetting to you****
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Lieder's screams haunted him, and every time he woke to the man's whimpering as he lay in agony, Wren lost a bit more of himself. Time and again, Wren had begged Talamayas to torture him, but the man had insisted that wouldn't be enough to sate his hunger for revenge. Until Wren suffered like Talamayas was, the vampire wouldn't be happy, but Wren didn't know if he could take much more of this.
Each day more of his men were brought in, and true to Talamayas' word, none were children. The youngest had been nineteen this year and had fought in many battles. That didn't make it any better as Talamayas strapped him into that torture chair, making sure his hands remained in the magic-binding shackles, and began his fun. The vampire wanted Wren to watch, forcing him even with Shan Sol's steel fingers on his face if necessary, like he was now.
Coda Song's youth only made his screams shriller as Talamayas snapped the first finger. It had been well known prior to all of this that Talamayas Sol was a torturer, so they'd stayed far from him if possible. Talamayas was a powerful flame wielder, which showed as dark magic pulsed in his hand and he lay it on the boy's thigh. Flesh singed and smoked, and the boy screamed, struggling, crying, and begging.
The entire time, Talamayas smiled.
Coda didn't make it like Lieder. Near the end, his heart gave out, and he jerked in the chair before he settled into his end. The light dimmed in his grey eyes and his head lolled back in the chair as he left their world. Wren cried. For each and every one of his people who perished, he wept, but he never begged for their lives. There was no point and it would only satisfy this man further.
Many came and went, different men, different screams, and different tortures. The worst part was when Talamayas threw them at his feet unshackled. If they came to, they unshackled Wren, and Wren did his best to heal the damage done, but removing the manacles didn't allow him the ability to get out of his cage that bound him. He'd learned the first time that he'd fantasized about escaping that if his manacles weren't on, the vampires didn't come back.
They'd starve him to death, and Wren would die, but he couldn't do that to his people. So, each time, he allowed his man to shackle him once more, and then he shackled them with the pair of shackles left behind. Then his men would eat, usually their last meal. Most didn't make it more than a few rounds of torture, and no matter how much Wren tried to ease their pain by healing them, it was all in vain.
They all died.
One by one. For years.
A day finally came that Talamayas was standing outside of his cell, and Wren looked up to him with hollowed eyes from years of watching his people die, all except for Lieder who sat in a corner of his cage, whole physically, but not all there. The man had started mumbling to himself, talking to his son who was no longer there. It kept him as sane as possible, sort of like how Wren had started to name the shadows and see the faces of the lost within them.
