The young man's eyes lit up, his face bathed in green light as chains of electricity twirled in his hand. "That's it!" he shouted. The light abruptly ceased as he lowered his hand and began to scribble furiously in a book. He muttered to himself as he did so, his voice a quick stream of excitement, the words tumbling over each other. When he finished his writing, he gazed down on the book and smiled, satisfied with his discovery and his explanation. He held his hand aloft to enjoy the fruits of his labor again when several taps resounded on the door of his lab.
He sighed and turned. "Enter."
A woman close to his age opened the door, but stayed put in the hall outside. "Brought another in. Need you."
The young man pursed his lips. "What is it this time?"
"Werewolf."
He shook his head. They'd been bringing in more of them lately what with their current quest to root out a hidden group.
"I know you don't like to do it, but it's your job."
He scowled at the woman. "I've never not done it, have I?"
The woman sneered. "You'd stay here all day if we let you!" She gestured wildly around his lab.
"Tell them I'll be there soon," the young man snapped, turning back to his book.
"I'll never know why she chose to bring you here. You aren't one of us!"
The young man pulled his hand into his chest as it began to glow. It took all his willpower not to fling energy at the woman. He heard the door slam shut. He took several deep breaths to calm himself as he'd been taught. She's not worth your anger, he told himself, but it still took time to cool nonetheless.
The young man let out another sigh as he closed his book. The woman was right. He didn't like to do it, but it was his duty. He walked to the door and down the hall, passing another couple members of his order. He traversed a hall where members were chatting and eating, then down some steps that twisted round and round. He paused at the bottom when he heard a sharp cry. "They're beasts not people. Not people," he reminded himself. He followed the sound of the cry to a solid cell door. Shouting sounded inside, voices of his order.
"Transform, creature!"
"You can't hide! We saw you!"
"We know what you are!"
The young man heard several thuds and a human scream again. No, not a human. A beast. She'd told him that when she first explained all this to him. They were no longer human. They were abominable beasts in need of extinction.
The human cry escalated, roughened and heightened. Chills tingled the young man's spine as the voice changed into an angry howl. The truth had been revealed. There was no human, only beast.
The young man steeled himself and rapped on the cell door. A face appeared as the tiny window in the top slid up. It was the woman. "Took you long enough."
The young man bit back a bitter reply as the door opened for him. He ignored the woman and focused his attention on the captive chained to a board tilted upright. He knew he was safe. The beast's arms, legs, chest and neck were securely fastened. A muzzle had been tightened around its pointed nose and mouth. He walked towards the beast. Its eyes were darting back and forth as two members of the order stood on each side, silver swords in hand, ready to cut down the beast if needed. Once he was close enough, the beast fixed his stare on the young man.
The young man broke his gaze. He didn't want to see what he saw. Those eyes, they should belong to a beast, but he always thought he saw a hint of humanness. It would distract him and he couldn't afford that now. Instead he looked to the left shoulder of the beast where the mark would be placed. He reached into a satchel he had carried with him and withdrew a jar. He opened it briefly, dipping his fingers inside it. He closed it and put it back in his satchel, then rubbed the beast's left shoulder, pushing the ointment through fur and into skin. Finally, he took a deep breath and kindled the energy in his hand. It crackled yellow at first, then coalesced into a tight glowing ball. The young man wielded it slowly, holding his palm out to the shoulder then pressing it in, concentrating as he did so. He heard the whimper of the werewolf as its skin absorbed the energy. It had stiffened against the pain. The young man withdrew his hand. A mark patterned in swirls glowed on the shoulder. It disappeared as the werewolf fur dissolved into skin. That happened sometimes when he applied the mark, as if the werewolves wanted to hide it, though they wouldn't be able to rid themselves of it.
The young man pulled back and turned, unwilling to see what the beast looked like now. He walked towards the door. He heard a man of his order lecturing the beast. "We can track you now so it is no use to escape. You will tell us the location of your pack."
The beast didn't answer and the young man heard the thwack of a cudgel against flesh and a grunt. He bit the inside of his lip against the sound.
"You feel such sympathy for them?" The woman had blocked the young man's exit.
"No." He didn't lie. It wasn't sympathy exactly. He didn't regret beasts and abominations being removed from Skyrim. It's just...when he heard the torture, it reminded him of five years of his life he'd rather forget.
The woman narrowed her eyes. "Hroar the Lion. You're no lion. You're a mouse." The woman stepped away from the door to let him pass.
Hroar ground his teeth, but walked on without fighting back. He'd put up with her ever since he'd come here. She'd always been arrogant and angry. Not worth my time, he reminded himself.
As he made to exit, a voice screamed out and not one of his order.
"I won't tell you!"
He stalled in the doorway. His heart stuttered. He slowly looked over his shoulder. The man strapped to the board had welts all down his chest. He was staring defiantly at the members of the order in front of him. One of them punched him in the face.
"Where are they?"
"Never!"
"Get going!" the woman said, shoving him out the door and shutting it behind him. Hroar stood frozen in the hall, listening to the muted questions and answers. He regained his legs and fled back the way he'd come, members he passed turning their heads, wondering why he was in such a hurry.
When he made it to the safety of his lab, he shut and locked the door, then slid into a chair, hand to his mouth. The voice had been familiar, like something from a distant memory. He recognized the cadence, the accent, but he couldn't place it. He didn't know any werewolves. Or did he?