:~: One Shard :~:
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Dark, reference to torture.
-|-^-|-
He would come to her in a fog of delirium, asking one question, only ever one question.
She turned away.
"Where is it? Where is it?" His voice would change in pitch and volume, going through rage to frustration, to something neither of them could place. She would remain silent as he demanded, silent as he threatened her, gritting her teeth as he beat her for her insolence.
Still, she turned away, never looking at his face.
-|-^-|-
It was dark now, the sun setting behind the bars of her jail moments before. He would be coming soon. He favoured the night.
The feeble rays of the waning moon tried to raise her spirits, but in the silvery light she could only see his silver hair, so real that she could reach out and touch – no. It was long past that time now.
The rusty bolt screeched as the door was opened, the object of her repulsion less than an arms length away from her unclothed pale body. She raised her chocolate eyes to look at the figure in front of her, and she noted the frustration in his aura.
"Where is it wench?" He hissed, crimson eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.
She gave him a smile that would make Mona Lisa envious.
With a growl, he raised a clawed hand. Her blood would flow for this insult.
The cycle was the same, days on end. He would come to her, demanding information, and each time, she would remain silent. She knew it put him on edge, made him uncomfortable. She relished the power.
Sometimes he plagued her with visions of days past, carefree smiles, happy glances, the offer of freedom from this quest forever, if only they could find the very last piece.
Somehow, she saw through him each time.
It left her broken.
-|-^-|-
He didn't care about her. But he fed her – even when she refused to eat. He had her bathed. Forced his incarnations to watch her, see if she would crack. Within the tiny priestess was so much power, the key to his final victory, the very last piece to the puzzle. And he loathed her for holding it from him. She single-handedly held him from his destiny. How he loathed her.
-|-^-|-
She woke; sore, bruised, beaten, bloody, but alive. She looked to the thin sliver of daylight that came through the bars of the window, a ray of sun mocking her in it's freedom. Here there was no passage of time, no chance for rescue – yet she had hope. Hope resting in her one chance, her one salvation. Ironic.
-|-^-|-
Weary, he came again. "Why do you play these games miko?"
She would not speak.
"We both know that there is no one to rescue you." He continued, words twisting like a dagger in her heart. "No one will come for you now, yet you keep hoping Kagome."
Silence.
"Why is that?" He looked at her expectantly, but when she refused to speak, he sighed. "I offer you a quick end. Why do you put off the inevitable?"
She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the dark hair, the beautiful features, the firm physique. Her eyes delved into the very black pits of his soul, and for once, he felt unease. She licked her lips, voice coming out hoarse. "Because Naraku, you do not have that one piece. Nor will you ever."
He repressed a growl, continuing with the facade. "I grow closer to it each day."
She propped herself up with an elbow, giving him an even look. "If you were, you would have no need of me."
Within seconds his hand was at her throat. "You will tell me the location of the final Shikon shard priestess."
She had the audacity to laugh.
-|-^-|-
In the watery dawn light, Kagome sprang to her feet, looking up at the tiny window. She could feel it. He was here.
She gulped, wondering what this could mean.
Looking at the unyielding door, she squared her shoulders and sat down on the palate. There was nothing to do but wait.
-|-^-|-
Muffled noises from above gave the priestess no indication of what was really happening. She felt the very foundations of the fortress shake, and she knew fear. Then the silence descended again, all consuming, stifling in its enormity. At the edges of her powers, she felt something growing to massive proportions, building to a climax and releasing more demonic power than she ever thought possible. She shuddered with the building as she heard the cracks in the ceiling, loose stone falling towards her, and she closed her eyes for the roof to cave in.
-|-^-|-
The sweet song of a bird interrupted her terror, making her open her firmly shut eyes to see daylight flickering under the door, coming through the larger cracks in the ceiling. She gasped as the door swung open of its own accord, setting her free.
Climbing over rubble, she felt the cool touch of the wind once more, and nearly wept for joy. The sharp rocks were cutting her feet, and she nearly fell as she climbed from the crater. The forest around her was pristine, no longer did Naraku's foul miasma cloud the air. And standing in the blood soak grass in what used to be the hanyou's castle was a figured dressed purely in white, silvery hair moving with the breeze. It was so similar and so foreign it cause the ache in her heart to open again.
Within moments he stood beside her. "Come miko." He offered a hand.
She took it, and fell into oblivion.