6. Aurel
6
AUREL
T hrough the dreamscape, I coil my massive form around her fragile presence, keeping enough distance to not overwhelm her completely. The shadows dance around us, obscuring parts of my serpentine body while revealing others. Perfect for maintaining an air of mystery.
"You're beginning to see, aren't you? That you are not as weak as they've made you believe."
Her small frame tenses, and I catch the slight tremble in her hands. Such a delicate thing, yet there's something about her that draws me in. The way her energy pulses, untapped and raw.
"I don't know... I've never been strong."
I lean closer, my upper body casting a shadow over her hunched form. "But you did something today, didn't you? A small act of defiance." My lips curl into a knowing smile. "Tell me how it felt."
Her cheeks flush pink. "You... you know about that?"
"The spitting?" I chuckle, the sound echoing in the vast dreamscape. "Of course I do. I see everything about you, Vera. That tiny spark of rebellion... it felt good, didn't it?"
She wraps her arms around herself, but I notice the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "It did."
"That's strength," I whisper, circling closer. "That's the power they fear. The power they've tried to crush." Every word is calculated, designed to stoke that ember of rebellion. This broken little human might be my key to freedom, but she needs to believe she's more than she is.
"But I'm just?—"
"You're just what they told you to be," I cut her off, my voice firm but gentle. "Nothing more than what they allowed you to believe."
I glide around her in the dreamscape, my serpentine body casting rippling shadows across the misty ground. Her fragile form stands in stark contrast to my massive coils, yet there's something captivating about her vulnerability. Perfect for molding into what I need.
"Strength isn't just about physical power." I keep my voice smooth, measured. "You're smarter than they know. More capable than they realize."
The magic stones scattered throughout my prison pulse with energy. Even from here, in this dream state, I can feel them. Such fools, these dark elves, to think mere distance would limit my power. I extend my hand, drawing the energy toward me. Shadowy tendrils of magic dance between my fingers, weaving intricate patterns in the air.
Vera's eyes widen, following the display. "How are you doing that?"
"Magic flows differently for beings like me." I let the shadows swirl closer to her, watching as she reaches out tentatively to touch them. "I can teach you more, Vera. You have potential beyond what they've let you see."
The shadows coalesce into shapes – birds, flowers, dancing figures – each more intricate than the last. Her breath catches, and I see that spark of wonder I've been waiting for.
"Could I... could I really learn?"
"Of course." I move closer, letting my magic brush against her consciousness. "You just need someone to show you the way."
The awe in her eyes is almost pathetic, yet oddly satisfying. Such a simple creature, so easily manipulated by a few pretty tricks. Still, there's something about her earnest response that makes me pause, if only for a moment.
I watch her face carefully as she stares at my magic display. Such innocent wonder, such desperate hope. It's almost too easy.
"I... I want to believe you."
Perfect. I keep my expression neutral, masking the satisfaction coursing through me. Humans are such simple creatures, so eager to grasp at any promise of salvation. And this one? She's practically begging to be used.
"Believe me, Vera. I can free you from this life."
I extend my hand toward her, my claws gleaming in the ethereal light of the dreamscape. My scales shimmer as I move, a calculated display of otherworldly power.
"But you have to trust me. You must be willing to take that first step toward your own strength."
The magic swirls between us, casting shadows across her pale face. Her eyes follow every movement, transfixed by the display. I can practically taste her desperation, her yearning for something – anything – better than her current existence. Centuries of imprisonment has dried out my sympathy. She's a means to an end, and I'll use her as I see fit.
The dreamscape pulses around us, my power threading through the very fabric of this shared space. Her life force flutters like a trapped bird, weak yet persistent. Yes, there's something different about this human. Something I can use.
I reach out, my fingers grazing her shoulder. The contact sends a jolt through my entire being. How long has it been since I've touched another living creature? The sensation is... unsettling.
"Stand up straight," I command, using my touch to guide her posture. "A slave cowers. You are not a slave in here."
She straightens her spine, though her eyes remain downcast. Another spark shoots through me as I lift her chin with my finger.
"Look at me when I speak to you. Fear is a choice, Vera. Choose differently."
Her eyes meet mine, uncertain but holding. Good. The first step.
"I..." She starts to look away.
"No. Keep your eyes on mine. The dark elves want you to look down, to feel small. Is that what you want?"
"No."
"Then don't give them what they want." The dreamscape ripples around us as I circle her. The magic here feels different – more tangible than it should be. I can actually feel the warmth of her skin, smell the soap she uses to scrub the floors. Strange.
"Magic flows in your veins," I tell her, though I'm not entirely sure why I can sense her so clearly. "I can teach you to harness it. To stand tall. To fight back."
The connection between us hums with energy. It's been so long since anyone has even approached my prison. The dark elves sealed me away and forgot me, left me to rot in the darkness. Yet this fragile human somehow found her way to my consciousness.
I become all too aware of how close Vera is to my snake skin. I sense her pulse quicken, can smell her fear. The dreamscape allows a certain intimacy, but it's different from physical touch. Hollow. Incomplete.
My tongue flicks out, tasting the air around her. Even here, in this shared consciousness, I catch hints of her scent - soap, sweat, and something else. Something uniquely her, like rich spices.
"Your hand," I command, extending my own. "Give it to me."
She hesitates, but reaches out. Her fingers brush against mine, and the contact sends electricity through my scales. Her skin is impossibly soft, delicate like flower petals. I want to know if she's this soft in the physical realm. This warm. This alive.
My grip tightens around her fingers. Such fragile bones beneath such delicate skin. I could crush them without effort, yet I find myself being gentle, careful. The urge to taste her overwhelms me. To drag my tongue across her pulse point, to feel her heartbeat against my lips.
"You're trembling," I observe, drawing her closer. My free hand traces up her arm, feeling goosebumps rise in its wake. "Are you afraid?"
"No," she whispers, though her heart races.
Her fingers brush against my hand again, more deliberately this time. "Okay... I'll try."
I bare my teeth in a grin, pushing these unwanted thoughts aside. She's a means to an end, nothing more. "Good. Now, let me show you what you're truly capable of."
But even as I say the words, I find myself wondering what her skin would taste like under my tongue. What sounds she'd make if I...
I pull back from her, shaking off these unwanted thoughts. Centuries of isolation must be affecting my mind more than I realized. This human is nothing but a tool, a means to break these cursed chains.
"We'll continue another time," I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. The dreamscape ripples around us, my coils shifting restlessly against the ground. "You need rest to build your strength."
Her face falls. "But I want to learn more."
"Patience." I bare my teeth in what I hope passes for a reassuring smile. "Your magic needs time to awaken properly. We can't rush it."
The truth is, I need to distance myself. These... distractions... are dangerous. The dark elves could sense our connection at any moment. I've already wasted too much time indulging in pointless fantasies.
"Will you come back?" Her voice is small, uncertain.
"Of course." The lie comes easily. "I'll always be here to guide you."
I begin severing our connection, watching as the dreamscape fades around us. Her form grows translucent, but those eyes... those damn eyes still look at me with such trust. Such hope.
I coil tighter in my prison as the dream dissolves completely. The familiar weight of my chains returns, along with the damp chill of my underground cell. At least the seeds are planted. Her magic will awaken soon enough, and then...
Then I'll be free.
The thought doesn't bring as much satisfaction as it should.
I sense her awakening, the tendrils of our connection still vibrating in the ether. From my dark prison, I can feel the subtle shifts in her energy - her racing heart, the lingering warmth where our essences touched in the dreamscape.
Through our bond, I catch glimpses of her day. She's cleaning, as usual, but something's different. Her spine straightens when a dark elf passes, her movements have purpose. The change is slight - barely noticeable to others - but to me, it's like watching a flower slowly turn toward the sun.
My coils shift restlessly against the cold stone floor. This connection... it's stronger than I anticipated. I shouldn't be able to sense her so clearly, shouldn't feel the ghost of her touch still lingering on my scales.
"Stand up straight," I whisper, though she can't hear me in her waking state. Yet somehow, she does exactly that, squaring her shoulders as she works.
The magic pulses between us, a steady thrum that's becoming harder to ignore. I watch through our bond as she pauses in her scrubbing, pressing a hand to her chest where mine had been in the dream. Her lips move, forming words I taught her: "I'm not worthless."
Something tightens in my chest - pride, perhaps? Or something more dangerous? I push the thought aside. She's merely a tool, nothing more. These... observations are purely strategic. The stronger she becomes, the more useful she'll be.
Yet I can't seem to tear my consciousness away from her, watching as she moves through her day with that new spark of defiance carefully hidden behind her eyes.
The sun finally dips behind the low-hanging clouds, signifying supper. I watch Vera prepare the evening meal and organise the cutlery on the table. Just before leaving the kitchen, I catch her doing the unthinkable. she glances around furtively. Then, quick as a shadow, her tongue darts out to lick the entire length of the spoon— Lady Moron's spoon, I realise.
A sound escapes me - harsh and foreign. It takes me a moment to realize I'm laughing.
"Clever girl," I murmur, coiling closer to the magical barrier to get a better sense of her movements.
She delivers the spoon with perfect servile grace, her eyes downcast, but I catch the tiny quirk at the corner of her mouth. Lady Moron takes her soup, completely unaware.
The entertainment doesn't end there. Through our bond, I feel Vera's pulse quicken with mischief as she spots a spindleworm crawling across the floor. She scoops it up, and with timing that surprises even me, drops it down the back of a dark elf soldier's armor just as he passes Lady Moron's chair.
The soldier yelps, jumping like he's been struck by lightning. His elbow catches Lady Moron's goblet, sending wine cascading down her expensive silk dress.
Another laugh tears from my throat, echoing off the stone walls of my prison. When was the last time I laughed? Decades? Centuries? The sound is rusty, almost painful, but genuine.
"Well done," I whisper, knowing she can't hear me but feeling oddly proud nonetheless. The little mouse is showing her claws at last.