WARNING

This story may contain torture, gore, and other unsavory topics.

It is not recommended for those faint of heart or stomach.

This story was not created out of the authors interests, but as a reminder that the atrocities committed in this story are far from fictional. Many such actions are taken against fellow humans every day. I think it's awful, and I heavily condemn it.


Rose ran. She ran and swerved and bolted around corners. The walls leered out at her, trapping her, the beautifully consistent architecture serving only to obfuscate her path to Sierra, where she needed to be. She bolted up the set of stairs, only to freeze. Laying upon the step before her was a single, solitary red rose petal. It was hers, and she had been on this staircase before. Her panic had caused her to lose her way, and she nearly flung herself back down the stairs and bolted through a doorway. She panted and strained, her chest heaving as she drew in breaths of air, leaning against the broad floor to ceiling windows in the room she had stumbled upon. She could worry about cleaning the oil marks she left on the pristine glass later, but for now she had a more important mission.

It was at that very moment, as she stared through the glass, past the garden and out towards the sea, that she saw her. Sierra, resolutely splashing her way out to sea. She had been zoned out while the the slavers told of the mortal consequence of such an action. No no no no no NO!

Rose dashed to the nearest door she could find, sprinting out onto the garden pathway. Rocks and pebbles cut her feet, but she continued running, screaming, desperately vying with the stiff ocean breeze for Sierra's attention. She was almost to the end of the garden when Sierra's cloud finally dispersed. She skidded to a halt, limbs locked up in shock. Slowly, shakily, she sat down on the cold stones of the garden terrace, before leaning over to lie on them. Every bump and burr and rough edge of the masonry pushed easily through her chiton, digging into her skin. She had been tasked with one simple thing, and failed. Why must this be her luck?

She sobbed quietly, biting her nails and shuddering as the cold stones and warm sunlight lulled her into a teary sleep. The embrace of sleep brought no safe haven, but only memories.

Her small hands nimbly swathed the broken branch that had taken her so long to get to. A strong gust of wind had caught it, partially snapping the leafy appendage. It had taken hours of trials and tribulation at scaling the tree to finally reach it, but it had been worth it. Now that she was finished, the descent was much easier indeed. She held the roll of linen she had traded for from a fellow nymph tightly between her teeth, her svelte form gliding down the previously established route along the trunk. She had always enjoyed caring for things, a bit too much according to her mother. She could lose an entire day with ease tending to an animal who had fallen ill or injured, touching them up, doing whatever she could to mend their ailment.

It was at this very time she felt a slight tingle-someone, or something, had touched her rose bush, her life source. She slowly meandered through the forest, heading towards her bush. She might as well check it out, as she had nothing else to do at the time.

It was a good thing she did. Limping near the bush was a young tawny rabbit. She swooped forward, gently picking up the rabbit and placing it in the crook of a nearby tree's roots. The rabbit forepaw was soaked in blood, a rose thorn embedded in it's flesh. She gently stroked the injured creature, before pulling the thorn smoothly out as she had done with other animals. Blood began to well up from the cut at an increased rate now that the thorn had been removed. She quickly reached out to grab her linen wrap.

It was not a roll of cloth her hand landed upon. Instead, it was grabbed by a scaled arm, yanking her away from the frightened rabbit, and pushing her face down onto the ground. "Get the shovelsssss," a voice hissed above her head, and as two other dracaena began to dig up her tree her world dissolved.

A burning sensation in her mouth woke her up. Her mouth tasted of ash, and the hot coals they had put inside. The occurences of the previous hour slowly came flooding back. She had been in captivity for weeks when her emotions finally overcame her. She was sick of the guilt trips, sick of the taunting, sick of doing nothing but thrashing and kicking when they grabbed her. She had cursed out the telkhine that trained her, and spat on his feet as he exited her cell. That was a mistake. He had spun around, viciously backhanding her into unconsciousness, from which she now awoke.

She thrashed against her restraints, but to no avail except causing a few of the dracaena guards to chortle in their snake-like way. The telkhine standing in the center of the room seemed to notice her discomfort, standing from the fire he stoked in the middle of the cell. "Well now Rose. I don't think you get how thoroughly not okay it is for you to act the way you did. Spitting on the feet of your superiors, cursing their existence? Do you know how much of a disappointment you are to me? Do you? You should be ashamed."

Rose glared at him, and with a great heaving breath, she flung the hot coals from her mouth, straight into a puddle on the ground. He looked on with dismay, and she almost felt bad for acting as she did. Almost.

"Well…"he sighed, pushing a few coals from the fire with his stick, "I had given the ones you had some time to cool before putting them in your mouth, but now you've gone and spit them out. I can't use those anymore, so I suppose these will do." He bent down and grabbed a glowing coal with his gloved hand, quickly striding over. He used one hand to hold open her mouth, while with the other he placed the coal between her teeth.

She recoiled her tongue as it sizzled against the burnt wood, raw heat emanating from it into the rest of her mouth at an uncomfortable level.

"I found out a little while ago that mortals do this funny little thing with campfires. They hold this fluffy, candied root near the embers, and let it melt, then use it with some crackers and chocolate to make a snack. I think they call it 'smorts', but I can't remember. In any case, what I found interesting is that you don't even have to touch the things to the embers. The heat it emits into the air is enough to cook it on it's own, albeit slowly. That's what's happening to the tissues in you mouth right now. They are cooking, and if that coal stays in too long, we might take your flesh and make our very own failure-flavored smorts."

He gestured towards the door, and another telkhine dragged in two young cloud nymphs. They appeared gaunt, their skin almost seeming flaky, their hair which was most likely once silky smooth looking tattered and flat. Rose recognized them, they were Nimba and Sierra, they were brought in a couple days prior. The main telkhine grinned, and began pacing about the room.

"Do you know what happens when cloud nymphs are denied water for a day or two? They dry out, like raisins, or old scabs. It's very painful I hear. Now, I was trying to keep them hydrated, but I've been so distracted. Mainly by a certain dryad who DOESN'T KNOW WHEN TO SHUT UP AND COME TO GRIPS WITH HER PLACE IN LIFE!" His even, measured tone abruptly mutated into a vehemently projected shout. He seemed to take a few deep breaths, something Rose new all too well would cause her pain. The extra air would feed the trace of fire on the coal, keeping it hot.

"I'm sorry, I lost my temper. I must learn to control that." He stopped his pacing, and withdrew a canteen of water from his belt. "The funny thing is, yet again my attention is needed between you and these nymphs here. You see, you Rose have a burning hot coal in your mouth, and I would be inclined to guess that this water could come in awful handy for you. Then again, these two sister need it too. They look just awful. Difference is, I won't let them die. I'll just leave them on the brink until I need them. You, however, are a different story. You see, I can't seem to see you being a worthwhile slave. And, quite frankly, if I deem you unworthy, I'll be happy to move your cheery little rose bush from the dirt outside to a vase in the mess hall."

Her eyes widened in panic, something that didn't go unnoticed. "Now, I'll give you one last chance. I'm gonna give you the opportunity to choose who gets this canteen here, the sisters or you. Tilt your head up if you want it, to the side if you want them to get it. Oh, and that last chance I'm giving you? If you want to stay alive, you are gonna go ahead and tilt your head up."

Rose's heart raced. She couldn't leave those sisters to suffer, but she didn't want to die. She couldn't choose. That wasn't a fair choice. Fair? Since when has life ever been fair? A voice spoke in her head. Don't you think you deserve a second chance? Don't you think that's fair? Because here's your choice to make your life fair.

Trembling, she tilted her head upwards. The telkhine smiled, gesturing for Nimba and Sierra to be taken from the room. He stalked over, opening the canteen before pouring a cool stream of water over the coal in her mouth. It hissed and sizzled, steam billowing off it's surface, before he finally picked it out and threw it to the floor. She collapsed in relief, sagging against her restraints.

"Well now," he chuckled, "I guess we'll have to use someone else for our flower vase. You're back in the running Rose. And yet you seem so sad. I know what you're thinking, 'What ever could I have done to deserve such rotten luck?'. I'll tell you why. You ever heard of a lucky rabbit's foot?"

As he said that, he pulled a tawny rabbit's foreleg from his pouch, the beautiful fur coated in old, dried blood originating from a puncture wound deep into the foot. It was the rabbit she had been nursing when she got captured.

"YOU BLOODIED YOUR LUCK WITH YOUR OWN THORNS!" He screamed, and she shrunk back against the wall, whimpering. He gave a derisive snort, dropping the paw on the floor in front of her before walking out.

She tried so hard to make it up to Nimba and Sierra and all the other Nymphs she hurt. She tried to treat their injuries, but her steady, practiced hand was long gone. In the months that followed, she found relief only in the massages she could give to the guards.

The memories of the following months passed in a blur, until once again, she was lying on the cold masonry on the garden terrace, only this time she was not alone. PalĂ­rroia embraced her, the lean blue Oceanid rubbing her shoulder softly, murmuring reassurances into her ear, some saccharine, some hackneyed, but still soothing and pleasant.

Rose wasn't swayed by it though. She knew the truth. It wasn't some god that cursed her with her wretched luck. It was her own fault. She was the cause of all the misfortune that surrounded her.

Eventually, all would feel her thorns.


Well now. That's the second chapter out. Read, review, and join the discord. Do it. Please. I need more people to torment converse with. Not much to say here, but let's all pray for Ronin's sleep schedule. It's awful, and it's really hard to irritate talk with him when he doesn't respond.

-Ignis