Epilogue 3
EPILOGUE 3
GAbrIEL
I stand on a ridge overlooking the Greenway, where morning sunlight filters down through carefully engineered vents cut into the cavern ceiling. The air here in Haven always smells of new life—fresh soil, growing things, and the subtle hints of bioluminescent fungi that glow by night.
A few feet away, a metal wind chime hangs from a low-hanging vine, clinking softly in the mild breeze. I remember forging it a few months ago, shaping the scraps of an old Imperial panel into something melodic. I used to hate the sound of metal, it reminded me too much of collars, cages, and the clang of training equipment. Now, I’ve learned to make it sing.
A lot of my activities in Haven revolve around dissecting elements of my trauma and reshaping them in my mind. Or ‘unconditioning’ myself as the doctor on Gael’s ship called it.
I rub the back of my neck, an old habit from when I used to feel the weight of my collar. Even though it’s been two years since I threw it into the fire, part of me still expects to find cool metal under my fingers. Instead, I feel only my own skin. Sometimes, that realization leaves me dizzy.
Fifi’s name is etched on a plaque in the Sanctuary behind me. I think of her sometimes—how I failed her. I know I can’t change that past. But in the quiet moments, I let myself hope that by living here, free, I honor her memory better than if I’d died in that arena too.
A small voice breaks my reverie. “Papa?” A tug at my trousers follows.
“Tu es déjà réveillé?” I murmur in French, scooping him up. “Does your mother know where you are?”
Briar appears, her blonde hair, devoid of any pink or purple, is pulled back in a loose braid. Our eyes meet, and for a brief moment, I’m overwhelmed by how far we’ve come. How we once crouched in cages and wore collars, never imagining we’d see a day like this.
“Hey,” Briar calls softly, crossing the mossy clearing to join us. “Festivities are about to start. Did you lose track of time? We need to set up the stall.”
In the last few weeks, I’ve spent my free time at the Forge, hammering old Imperial scraps into something new. It’s my way of purifying myself, by taking old shards of our oppressors’ technology and reshaping them into harmless trinkets. I’m far from a master craftsman—my decorations are uneven, the welds imperfect, but each one is made with a quiet resolve, proof I’m no longer a “pet” or a “champion.” Here, I’m simply Gabriel, a man forging his own path.
I place a gentle kiss on our son’s temple, Orion, our little hunter, and set him on his feet. He toddles eagerly toward Briar, tiny fingers grabbing for the fabric of her shirt. She scoops him up, and he giggles with delight.
This morning, these simple moments catch me off guard, these small reminders of how free I am, and I suppress my strong emotions of joy and relief.
This is real.
Haven’s plaza is alive with color and sound. People bustle between stalls where bartered goods are displayed, hand-sewn clothes, fresh produce from the Greenway, small electronics the engineers have refurbished, and of course, my little stall of imperfect trinkets. Overhead, vines and mosses create a living tapestry that filters the daylight. Strings of metal lanterns, some from my own forging, hang between columns of rock, casting a playful glow.
After a few hours, Anna, our leader stands atop a makeshift stage, addressing a group of newcomers who arrived on the last supply ship. There looks to be about twenty of them. All young humans, like I was when I was first taken. They’re trembling with fear. They’re all holding their half-fused collars.
“Here, you can learn to be yourselves again,” Anna is saying, her voice carrying through the plaza. “We don’t require perfection, just honesty. You are safe here—no masters, no owners.”
The crowd claps softly, welcoming them, but it’s not without emotion. I hear some sobs and not from the newcomers. Some of us are still processing our freedom. I share a look with Briar. I remember the day we threw our collars into the fire; how final and uncertain it felt.
Freedom is a complicated gift.
There’s always that worry, Will Aefre come after us? Will he track us down, determined to reclaim what he once owned? Maybe. But if Aefre tries, he’ll find we aren’t his obedient pets anymore.
On the way back home, Briar stops in front of a new mosaic, small tiles depicting a child in the arms of a mother, ringed by silhouettes of others. It’s a testament to the colonists’ unity, a future we’re trying to build. She turns to me. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I slip an arm around her waist. “Yeah.” My gaze settles on the child in the mural. I wonder what our son will grow up to be in this place, someone free and maybe even unafraid. “Orion will never have to fight in an arena. Never wear a collar. Never be breed. Never be owned by another.”
Briar nods. “He’ll just… be. Our Orion.”
At the sound of his name Orion says uncertainly, “Papa… maison.”
I have a sudden rush of affection for this little boy who wants to go “home,” even though we’ve only just built this life here. “ D’accord, Orion,” I answer quietly, lifting him into my arms. He clings to my shirt, relief reflected in his green eyes. The same green eyes that I looked into for twelve years of my imprisonment. “It’s all right,” I murmur in French, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “ On rentre à la maison, d’accord? We’ll go home.”
He nods, his tiny grey hand clasping my thumb. I stand, holding him close, and head down the winding path. I pause by the wind chime I made, now set up near a small patch of blooming flowers. I hold Orion up so he can tap one of the metal rods gently, letting a soft, resonant note ring out.
“What do we call that Orion?” Briar asks in English.
“Chime,” he answers.
Briar and I share a smile. There’s something very fitting about Orion, Aefre’s son, speaking French and English, and this is something we take pleasure in every day. And one day, we hope he grows up to be just like the man who saved us, Gael the Returner.
Every citizen of Haven who can pass for an Imperial is trained in their ways to serve as Protectors of Haven. As far as I’m concerned nothing could be more fitting. And in this way, Orion is loved and cared for within the community in the same way as the human children.
“We’re really here, aren’t we? Actually… living . No simulation could last this long, could it?” I ask Briar as we reach our humble three room cottage.
“We really are here, Gabriel, it’s not a dream. Childbirth hurt too much for that.”
I kiss the side of her cheek remembering my first request. The first sign I couldn’t fully ‘just act human.’ Soon after Orion was born, I asked her to breastfeed me too. Briar was reluctant at first. But after some thought she allowed me. However, in doing so, she cured me of the Imperial way I had been trained to crave the act. Briar made it sexual and about two adults loving each other. And it was a way for her to give me a piece of my humanity back. And I stopped wanting to feed from her before Orion was three months old. It just felt wrong then.
But other habits have been much harder to break.
Orion finally dozes off in the next room, his little breaths steady and comforting. I stand at the doorway, watching Briar as she tidies away a few things, then gives me a soft smile.
I love this woman, this life we’ve built since escaping. But there are nights when the shadows of captivity still press down on me, threatening to choke out all sense of normalcy.
I swallow. “Briar,” I begin, voice unsteady. “Est-ce que tu peux…? Can you…?” Even after two years of freedom, my throat tightens at the words.
She sets down a small plush toy. “If that’s what you need tonight.” Her eyes reflect understanding, not judgment. An acceptance of the parts of me that never fully healed.
We retreat to our bedroom— our space, no cages, no cameras, no technology. The door closes with a soft click, sealing us in a sanctuary that, ironically, sometimes becomes a stage for the old roles I can’t quite let go of. My pulse quickens as she opens a small trunk we keep hidden in the corner, removing a narrow leather leash. She offers it to me with both hands, her gaze unwavering.
I inhale shakily, trying to anchor myself in the present—reminding myself this is a choice we both make, not something forced. “ Merci, ” I whisper, feeling the hot sting of tears at the corners of my eyes. My captive past is a tangle of pain and identity, and though we’re free, a piece of me still craves the twisted familiarity of submission and control.
“Undress,” I tell her. Then with trembling hands, I slip the collar around her neck and she slips another collar around my neck.
She touches my wrist as a silent reassurance. “I trust you,” she says. Her acceptance is part of my healing, even as it feeds the darker side of my psyche that seeks release through the very acts that once enslaved me.
I lead her gently to the bed, the leash draping between us. My heart hammers in my chest. This is the moment I simultaneously fear and crave. “ Je suis désolé, ” I murmur, choking on the apology. “I hate that I need this sometimes.”
She tilts her chin up, eyes warm with empathy. “You’re not forcing me, Gabriel. I choose this because I love you, and we’re free to rewrite what these chains mean.”
Her words stir something in me, shame, gratitude, and desire.
“Hands and legs out,” I tell her and she obeys. Then I tie her wrists and ankles with fabric strips. I shudder with each knot. Sometimes, just the simple act of binding her wrists and ankles is enough but not today. Not after seeing those new members.
Then I take a small leather whip and I begin to strike her beautiful body. Her skin turning red where the leather licks her. “Count,” I command her in Imperial.
“One, two, three…” she stumbles as I strike her vulva, increasing the pain.
I stop and rub her there, my fingers slipping into her wet labia. Then I grab my own leash and pull hard, like Aefre used to do before a breeding. I still hear the sound of his voice in my head, ‘Smell that desire, Ember? You must bring her to climax first or you’ll be hurting her. Understand? There’s your reward. Good boy.”
I think all of these things as I lick Briar between her legs. I circle my tongue around her clit and then use long strokes across the entirety of her vulva. This is the way Aefre wanted me to do it and a style I no longer use because it’s not my own. But on nights like tonight, I do everything as Aefre used to instruct me.
Soon Briar’s muscles are contracting around me and the scent of her desire is so strong I want to continue licking her, but I pull on my leash again and imagine Aefre’s voice in my head, “That’s a good boy. Seven minutes. Not bad. Now enter her slowly. She’s got a small vagina; you don’t want to hurt her. Don’t give into your human barbarism. You want to breed a happy human pet, don’t you?”
I hold my leash against my neck hard as I slowly plunge into Briar’s wet core. I close my eyes and I’m back on the Luminous Arc , Aefre holding my leash while I have sex with another human. The doctor and Kaelin giving me advice.
When I orgasm into Briar I moan with the pleasure of it and pull my leash tighter almost choking myself. I can hear the doctor’s voice in my head, “That’s it, let it all out, Ember.”
Then I withdraw. And release Briar and I say the words as they were always said, “Lick him clean, pet.”
I lie on my back while Briar licks the remaining semen from me.
Then she looks at me with a lingering question in her eyes, “Do you need me to hurt you this time?” She doesn’t say it out loud, she never does. But sometimes I see the concern, the sorrow, when I ask her to deliver the beating I once endured from so many trainers.
Mon Dieu , I loathe that part of me.
I nod. “Please. Just a little. ” My hands clench, and I brace for the sting that used to define my existence.
Her eyes reflect her mixed emotions but that doesn’t stop her. She pulls me up with my leash and positions me naked against the wall and then comes up behind me. Sometimes she uses the whip other times just her hand.
The first strikes are barely more than taps with her hands. She’s reminding me that I need to count in Imperial. And I do. I begin to count in Imperial as Aefre and Kaelin used to make me do. Then she begins to spank me as hard as she can. Each blow stings both physically and emotionally, but it’s the only path I’ve found to transform that old fear into something I can control.
Then she takes the whip and continues. Every time I exhale from the pain between my breaths I feel like I’m releasing ghosts from my lungs. Finally, I lean my forehead against the wall, tears slipping freely from my eyes. “ Je t’aime, ” I murmur. “ Merci. I’m… sorry.”
She presses her lips softly to my bloody back. “I know,” she breathes in between kisses. “We’re… rewriting it together. Remember?”
We sink onto the bed, leashes, knots, shame, and hope. All tangled together into one heartbeat.
When we are both stated a strange calm settles over me and my mind quiets. What I saw today no longer haunts me.
Briar looks into my eyes, face flushed. “You okay?”
“ Oui. You?”
“I don’t feel the pain like you do,” she says. “And I want to do things that help you heal.”
“ Mon amour, you already do. Every day.”
I carefully remove the leash from her neck, and she does the same for me. This is an important part of our role play and we do it every time. Symbolically granting each other freedom again and again and again.
Two broken souls daring to mend each other.