Chapter 3
Three
Ziggy
I t’s been twenty-eight days.
Twenty-eight days of isolation.
Twenty-eight days of endless obsidian.
The first week was mind numbing. The silence was so overwhelming I could hear every breath I took, each heartbeat, and of course, the gurgle of my insides begging for a bite of food. The next week food and water just appeared, and has been ever since. But still I remain here in the eighth circle of hell.
Sitting against the cold stone wall, I bring the cold bowl of soup to my mouth and take tiny sips—tricking my mind into thinking there’s more. Sadly, everything here is cold and I’m so very tired of it. At least I am alive. But what kind of life am I living? Is this it for me—locked away, never to be seen again?
This is not living.
A shuttered breath escapes my lips.
“Zigmund, don’t you dare.”
“This is a fate worse than death, Dorran. You can’t convince me otherwise.”
My empty dish flies across the cell making a satisfying crack followed by the clink of the shattered bits hitting the ground. On my hands and knees I crawl, feeling for any broken pieces. A sharp prick to the skin has me giddy, quickly wrapping my palm around it.
“Put it down.”
“No.” Hands shaking, I press the shard into the flesh just from my wrist dragging up to the crook of my elbow.
Finally, I feel something.
Sitting back, the broken bowl drops from my weak fingers as rivers of my life source pool into my open hand.
Today will be the day I am finally free.
“You’re being so stubborn. There are much better ways of leaving this godsforsaken place but you won’t submit.”
“SHUT UP DORRAN!”
Great, now I’m screaming at myself. At least its voice won’t taunt me anymore.
“Oh stop being dramatic. If you would just listen to me things would go so much smoother. I’m trying to help you.”
I try to tune Dorran out. It’s pretty easy now that I have significant blood loss.
Blissful.
No more running. No more testing. Simple nothingness.
“ Not today, motherfucker! You aren’t strong enough to fight me off now!”
My magic overflows, ready to explode from my pores. It searches for any traces of the healers' magic, locking onto the remnants of their blood and multiplying. Gods know that enough of them have been bled dry to keep me breathing over the years.
With my new found strength, I lift my arm to find my flesh stitching together.
“Now I’m hallucinating. I’ve officially gone crazy,” I mumble to myself.
In the midst of my fascination, my ears perk up at the distant sound of jingling keys. A flicker of hope blossoms in my chest—maybe Dorran’s right, there are better ways to get out of here. The tink of metal on metal becomes dangerously close, then stops.
This is what insanity feels like.
As my shoulders slump in defeat the whole room illuminates with a blinding white light. Instinctively my body curls into itself, with my lids screwed closed, stopping the burn.
“Oh no, no, no! He’s going to kill me,” a soft feminine voice says in a panic. Her loud footfalls echo throughout the small cell. Placing her hand on my back, she touches me so soft as if to not break me. “Don’t be dead.”
“Despite my best efforts, I’m very much alive,” I grunt horsley.
She draws a sharp breath, quickly turning into a sigh of relief. “Oh thank the gods. You’re my first assignment and my parents will disown me—probably murder me—if I fuck this up.”
Scoffing, I shake my head. “I’m so happy to have someone new to poke at me.”
“Actually, The Collective has found a better use for you. How joyous.” The last part drips with sarcasm.
A clank reverberates off the ground beside me, taunting me with delicious aromas. Two pieces of bread and a handful of elderberries sit in a bowl. Cautiously, I grip the bread between my fingers, afraid that this may be a test. Tears prick the sides of my eyes when I feel the heat radiating from the slice—I can’t remember the last time I’ve had fresh food.
“Eat. You’re going to need the strength for when I train you.”
Tilting my head up, I glower over my shoulder to give a snarky remark, but I can’t seem to form any words. I’m frozen in place. Hovering above me is the most gorgeous being I have ever seen. Wide cyan blue eyes stare down at me as her curly ice blond hair hangs around her face like a halo—so long it probably touches her hips. Her skin shines in the light of the room, complexion almost matching her hair, making her heart shaped lips, plum rose in color, pop.
“Uh, hello…” with brows pinched she waves her hand in front of my face.
I’m sure my mouth is hanging open, as I continue to gawk at her.
“Say something or I will. You look like an idiot.” Of course, Dorran has something to say.
Snapping my jaw shut, I clear my throat. “Sorry, I haven’t seen anyone in awhile.”
A flash of pity forms in her crystal eyes, quickly replaced with apathy. “Well whose fault is that?” She stands up straight, crossing her arms behind her back and begins to back away from me. “You have approximately five minutes, and then I’ll drag you out of here whether you're done or not.”
Snorting, I choke on little bits of bread. She’s so little. There’s no way she can get me further than two feet.
A flush blooms in her cheeks. “Something funny, Zigmund ?”
With lips pressed tightly together, I shake my head, trying not to laugh.
“I don’t know the last time you saw yourself, but a strong breeze could snap your bones.”
Popping the last berry into my mouth, I roll my eyes. I know that I look skeletal. I’m probably also as pale as bone, and smell like something foul. I mean, I’m covered in dirt and dried blood. I haven’t showered in weeks. And I have a designated piss and shit corner.
I have no dignity. Just my sarcasm and melancholia.
Licking my filthy fingers clean. I push myself off the ground, wobbling on the way up.
“Lead the way,” I say to her flatly.
Sliding her key into the lock, the girl glances back to find me wide-eyed with anticipation—pity fills her softened eyes. Quickly looking away, she stops the torture with the sound of the lock turning over.
My stomach fills with butterflies. I really thought I was going to die down here today, and here I am, about to walk out.
Taking a few tentative steps, I see the girl growing impatient. I force myself to move faster. My legs and feet weep with every step, burning from lack of use. When we reach the doorway, I freeze. She is so much more beautiful up close. The leather corset and pants she is wearing are molded to her body perfectly. The white billowy top underneath her corset is so sheer I can see her breast press against the leather with each of her breaths.
Dragging my eyes up past her sharp collar bone, I find her jaw clenched tight.
“Stop eye fucking me and hurry the fuck up. They’re going to wonder what’s taking us so long.”
Stepping over the threshold, a delicious warmth wraps around me like a blanket. The cell must have been spelled to stay freezing.
The girl shoves her shoulder into me as she pushes past me, giving me her back.
“Do you have a name, or am I going to just have to call you hey you ?”
“ They don’t want you calling me anything …” pausing, she turns around. Lifting a gloved hand, she rubs her forehead.
Softly she adds, “Lydia. My name is Lydia.”
The first breath of fresh air is glorious. The second smacks with reality. The air is heavy with despair—so thick you can almost smell the tears.
Camp Dolent seems unassuming with its simple burlap covered tents and shacks, but holds a much darker actuality. If you peer closer you’ll find it’s littered with armed guards stalking the grounds carrying magic depleting cuffs. Doctors covered in the blood of beaten and broken prisoners, or what they like to call patients . And worst of all if you look even closer, digging through all the grimey layers, you’ll find the underground fortress The Collective has created—fit for torture.
“Put these on.” Lydia holds out a pair of cuffs, expecting me to electively wear them.
Cocking my brow at her I almost laugh. “Yeah, I don't think so. I’m walking with you willingly, aren’t I?”
Sighing, she reaches a hand into a pouch hanging from her leathers. “Are you sure you don’t want to just listen to me? I’m trying to make this easier for you.”
I snort. “ Easier for me?! You're a funny little girl. Nothing about this hellhole is easy.”
“Fine,” she grunts, her face tightening with annoyance. “Have it your way.” Pulling her closed fist from the pouch she brings it to her lips, opens her hand, and blows a powder into my face.
Flailing my arms, I try to keep the substance away, but it’s no use. Sputtering a cough, I feel weak, quickly collapsing into the dirt. As I blink, trying to force myself to stay conscious, I see Lydia standing over me like a disappointed mother while she lifts my limp arm and locks the cuff around my wrist.
“You should have just listened.”
Everything goes black.
When I wake I find Lydia sitting in a chair across from me, legs crossed, reading a book—not a single care in the world.
“I’m sooo glad she’s content. We just love having our arms chained above our head and legs bound to a chair. It’s definitely my favorite pastime,” Dorran’s voice creeps to the forefront of my mind.
Craning my neck up, I confirm his thoughts. I am indeed locked up tight.
“Is this really necessary,” I croak.
Lydia pulls her nose from her book, quickly snapping it shut. “I did ask you nicely first. You have no one to blame but yourself.” When she walks toward me, it’s like she’s floating. Her footsteps don’t make a single sound. No dirt or dust is kicked up. All of her movements are so smooth and ethereal. “It’s time for your training.”
“How are you going to train me to be a good little soldier if I can’t use my hands or feet?”
Her face lights up with excitement slipping the thick leather gloves from her hands. Dark pink lips lean in, close enough for me to feel her breath against mine. My heart doubles in pace with equal parts excitement and confusion. This isn’t the type of training I was expecting. Tilting her head up slightly, our lips brush together. “Very simply,” she whispers against them.
Lydia takes full advantage of this moment. Slamming her hands on either side of my head, her eyes turn a milky white and a white hot pain pierces through my skull.
“I can’t fix this one, but I know someone who can. He’s, well, I guess you’re about to find out,” Dorran rushes out.
I don’t have the ability to decipher what my psychotic brain is trying to figure out right now. Lydia is too busy flipping through the last few years of my life with lightning speed.
My hands somehow slide free of the cuffs, dropping down, creeping underneath Lydia’s breastplate on their own accord. A tingling starts in my fingers traveling through my veins with a thump. I can feel her every emotion—I can feel her . The essence of her flowing into me.
“We can devour her right now—leave her a hull of skin and bone.” A new, older sounding, mysterious voice takes over.
I don’t want to kill her.
“What a shame.”
The thumping reverses, forcing energy back into Lydia. Her eyes turn back to their natural crystal blue but are now filled with terror.
Dorran! What the fuck was that?! Who the fuck else is in my gods damn head?!
“Malachi. Think of me as the darkest parts of you,” the new voice replies deep and rough.
While I’m busy trying to catalog how many beings are living inside of me, Lydia is crumpled at my feet, her body quivering as she sobs.
“She was digging through your mind, we can’t have that,” Malachi says without a drop of remorse.
“She’s too pretty to kill, Kai! You could have just–I don’t know—done almost anything else. Just not syphon her soul!” The high pitch shouts of Dorran enter.
The two of you, shut the fuck up! I didn’t ask for any of this.
Leaning down to the best of my ability, I touch Lydia’s back—she lets out a blood curdling scream. “Stay away from me! You’re—you’re a monster,” she stutters, crawling backward.
“I–I don’t. I didn’t!” I try to get the words out, but what am I going to say? Sorry the beings in my head made me do it. That won’t help my case. If anything, it will make it worse.
The clopping of hooves against gravel races toward the tent. A huge minotaur appears at the opening looking for a fight.
“Lydia, what’s going on? Are you okay,” he rushes out. She shakes her head with tears streaming down her cheeks. As he approaches I realize that he is the same minotaur that captured me three years ago—Markos. And apparently, I’m not the only one who remembers the other. Markos visibly vibrates with rage.
His hulking frame invades my sightline, blocking out everything but him. “Bitch boy,” he grunts. Markos grabs my long sage hair at the scalp, lifting me, and the wooden chair, to eye level. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to teach you a lesson.”
Dangling in his grasp, my flesh feels like it's being torn from my skull. I’m so fucked.
“Hey, buddy, long time no see!” Dorran’s voice escapes my mouth nonchalantly.
“Lydia, leave,” Markos demands.
She wastes no time, scurrying like a scared little mouse.
Pressing his snout to my face, he huffs hot air aggressively. “First you kill my best friend, then you hurt Major Sybil’s daughter.” He lets go of my hair, letting me freefall. I hit the ground with the loud crunch of the chair shattering beneath me.
With my legs now free, I claw at the dirt, trying to crawl away—I fail. Markos kicks me so hard in the stomach blood seeps into my mouth.
“So pathetic,” he chuckles, unlacing his trousers. Reaching a meaty hand inside he pulls out an enormous cock. Terror overwhelms my senses as I watch him give it a long stroke before squatting down, letting the monstrosity touch the ground—I truly didn’t think they could be that big. With his free hand he grabs me by the scruff of the neck and carries me to a large dining table, shoving my face into the splintering wood.
“I’m going to show you what happens to naughty little bitch boys.” Twisting the fabric in his palm, Markos tears the flimsy pants from my body, exposing my bare ass. Shoving a leg between my thighs, he spreads me, and positions himself at my entrance. “This is going to hurt.” He rams into me brutally.
From his size alone, I feel my insides tearing. He’s going to split me in half.
“That’s right, bitch boy. Bleed for me . Get this tight little asshole nice and slick,” Markos moans in my ear.
The pain is unbearable. Gradually I fade into the back of my mind, feeling someone take over.
Malachi
Forcing myself to the forefront, I block Ziggy from the torment. This glorified cow will not use our body for his own sick needs. No, we are far too strong for that.
The furry fuck loosens his hold on Ziggy, thinking the lax of our body is a sign of submission, giving me the perfect opening. Without a second thought I turn around, wrapping my hand around his wrist.
“Aww, you want to hold hands, little bitch boy,” Markos taunts us.
I let my magic burrow under his skin like a hoard of maggots until it reaches the depths of his soul.
“What’s wrong with you?” He cocks his head in frustration. “And why are your eyes red?”
Licking my lips, I flash a dangerous smile. “I’m just so hungry. ” With a hard yank, his soul flows through me, feeding me his darkness—I groan with pleasure. “Delicious.”