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.


Thŷella was a sight to behold, or so she was told. Rich, crepuscular purple skin covered her body, and lustrous argent hair flowed from her head onto her shoulders in gentle waves. She was, after all, the rarest of breeds, a bastard child of a cloud nymph and an ocean deity. Not that she had ever known either of them, of course. Instead, she had grown up in a much different environment indeed. Thŷella had instead known only the rough touch of the gruff dracaena and telkhine slave trainers and the angelic, gentle touch of Palirroia, a fellow nymph who was only a few years older than her.

Despite this, Palirroia served the position of her older sister, teaching her the do's and don'ts, the ins and outs of life as a slave trainee. A slave trainee. As much as the meaning of those words ought to have bugged her, she never fully felt that there was anything wrong with that. Not that she had known anything else. The slavers were relatively kind, they fed her well, but not extravagantly, they kept her nourished and healthy, as most parents would.

They brought her up, and as she grew, she brought her childhood curiosity with her. As a child, she had always wondered about the why's and how's of the world, and what the sky was like, or the ocean, or what some of the foods that the guards ate tasted like, regardless of how unappetizing they may seem. She wanted to know why her "developed" body, caused by her nourished, comfortable upbringing compared to the other nymphs, made her supposedly more valuable. Normally, this was something that Palirroia tended to. On the time where Thŷella stole some of a guard's food to try it out, as she had always wanted to, Palirroia took the blame, saying she "had not been watching best she should."

Watching turned out to be a trouble for both of them. Palirroia could not, between seeing to the needs of other nymphs and performing her chores, monitor Thŷella as thoroughly as she needed to keep the young crossbreed out of trouble. Thŷella, on the other hand, watched too closely. She watched all that went on, and there were two things that piqued her interest greatly. Every once and awhile, one of the nymphs would leave. They would not come back, not in a few days, or weeks, or even in a few months. They were gone forever. But that wasn't the main object of her curiosity. There were many reasons for that. Most likely they were being sold, or maybe transferred. No, what really called out to the curiosity nestled deep within her soul was a very specific door.

She had no name for "the door", and so she thought of it as just that. Her limited exposure to it made it all the more enticing, as she only got to see it occasionally while cleaning the halls, as well as the curious actions of the powerful player that interacted with it. The head telkhine himself was the only one who went into that door, and he was always on edge, snooping around, carefully locking the door behind himself and only opening it up enough for him to get through. As much as she yearned to learn the meaning of it, she could not.

At least, that was the truth, until one fateful day. The head trainer was assigning them their daily tasks when one of the younger subordinates approached him, his hand trembling as he held a piece of paper out to the head trainer. He snatched it from the trembling apprentice, who promptly bolted from the room. The trainer read it, before a scowl appeared on his face, unconsciously crushing the paper note into a small ball. He muttered under his breath, cursing heavily, throughout which Thŷella could make out one name he seemed to despise. Ashe. The trainer stomped out of the room, and didn't return until the next day. He still seemed distraught, pacing as he read his instructions, cursing both us and anyone around him, namely the dracanae guards, for the lack of work we did the day prior. Despite this, Thŷella was ecstatic. Her area included the door, and maybe today she could glean further information about it.

As she drew within 20 yards of it, the main telkhine guard stalked past her, muttering a comment on her needing to resoak her mop. He unlocked the door, flung it open, and slammed it shut behind him. She had washed the floor all the way to the door, and a bit past it, when a crucial piece of information came to the forefront of her mind. There had been no click after the door was closed. In his rush, the telkhine had left it unlocked. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she dropped the mop and ran into the door herself.

It was hundreds of yards of claustrophobic tunnel, dimly lit by greek fire torches, before she heard the first scream. She froze, listening. Again the screams rang out, and a battle broke out inside her mind, logic vs curiosity, life vs knowledge. As always, her curiosity won out, smothering her fear in a thick layer of investigative exuberance. She traversed the little remaining hallway as quickly and quietly as she could, and peered into the room at the end. As her eyes traversed the volume, she froze.

Against the far wall was a massive brick oven, with a chimney going up to and through the dungeon ceiling. A large sled mechanism was positioned within it, a six foot long metal tray ready to be pushed into the glowing inferno at any time. Stacks of wood and boxes of coal lined the right wall. And on the left hung the nymph who had disappeared only a few days prior, chains dangling from the ceiling as the head telkhine indulged himself in the most carnal of acts. As she watched on, he tore into the tender flesh of her shoulder. He continued this for many minutes, maybe even half an hour, devouring the flesh of the nymph and ingurgitating her blood, every time he swallowed the look of carnal glee passing over his face at his sanguinary acts. Finally, he was done, and he carried the remains of the nymph across the room, throwing them onto the tray before shoving it into the oven.

His smile instantly fell when he looked across the room, Thŷella's effulgent hair displaying her presence clear as day in the dimly lit room. He surged forward faster than she could react, clawed hands digging into her arm as he dragged her away. He locked the door behind himself, and dragged her past a set of guards. "I'm going to the operating room. Bring Palirroia." They looked at him, sinew and blood still dripping from his maw. "NOW!"

He dragged her into the operating room, and strapped her to the table. Shortly after, Palirroia was brought in, held by two dracanae guards. "Keep them here, I am going to go cool off before I damage the merchandise." And he stormed out of the room. It was nearly an hour later that he finally returned, a jar of green liquid in his hands. He stepped over to the table, looming above Thŷella.

"What I have here is drakon acid. Extremely corrosive, and extremely painful compared to other standard acids." He held down Thŷella's head with one hand, and carefully poured a drop into one eye, and then the other. Thŷella screamed. Unlike the other nymphs, she had never been tortured before. She began to hyperventilate, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt. And the pain in her eyes… it was indescribable. Nothing, however, compared to the horror of the telkhine's face fading away, to be replaced by nothing but whiteness.

"NO! You can't! You'll blind her!" Palirroia sobbed.

"Really my dear? That's kinda the point." The telkhine sneered as he poured another two drops. "I will tell you something interesting about drakon acid though. I wondered for the longest time how they were able to withstand their own acid, when even steel melted before it. It turns out that the acids can't eat through fat. So here's what's gonna happen. This acid will slowly eat through her eyeball, pooling in the padding of fat that surrounds it. It'll finish off her eye, and then start to work its way through the optic nerve, guided by the layer of fat padding, until it reaches her brain and kills her. Unless, of course, you ask nicely. If you do that, I suppose we could settle for wiping her memory. If you didn't want this, you should have watched her closer."

It was a full minute before Palirroia's answer rang through her hazy, pain addled senses. "Wipe her memory. Please."

Thŷella was a sight to behold, or so she was told. Rich, crepuscular purple skin covered her body, and lustrous argent hair flowed from her head onto her shoulders in gentle waves. That was what her sight instructor told her. She had been in a coma for most of her younger life, a byproduct of the conflicting nature spirit and divine magic resulting from her birth. He never quite explained that part to her full satisfaction. Regardless, he was kind, and gentle, and very helpful. As far as she knew, she was the only blind nymph in the slave trainer's possession. That knowledge, at least according to the definition of the word, should have been at the least disgruntling for her. Instead, she found that her instructors words on the matter rung true as day. Being a slave was in many ways a gift. She would never have to struggle with the purpose of her life like so many others had to, for it was already determined. She was given the gift of certainty. Thŷella wasn't completely sure about that. She didn't know if she fully believed that. There was still a nagging doubt in her mind that she hadn't seen the other option, that maybe she would enjoy it despite the stryfe of choosing her own destiny.

It was while she massaged the shoulders of her sight instructor that she almost voiced her thoughts. She probably would have, had he not beat her to it. "Thŷella, you are an amazing nymph. And while I love the way the electricity flows across your fingers, I can't help but feel it would be so much better helping me out somewhere else." She heard the click of his belt coming undone, and the slight shff sound as his pants slid to the floor.

"Oh… Master Dolion, I'm so very sorry, but I don't feel like that's something I'm either comfortable doing or that we should be doing." He sighed heavily.

"I was afraid you'd say that." He turned faster than she could react, and clasped a hand over her mouth. He pushed her to the ground, the padded floor muffling her cries for help and barely allowing her to breathe. He ripped off her chiton, and positioned himself.

Dolion had taught her to see without her eyes. She could hear things, smell them, even pick up minute vibrations in the floor. She very clearly felt the door slamming open, and the quick, heavy footfalls approaching her. She heard the rasp of a blade being drawn from it's leather sheath. She heard the woosh of air, and the sickening crunch as the blade nestled it's edge in the crack between vertebrae and hacked through the connective tissue and spinal cord, the tearing sound as the blade split apart the soft tissue. And then Dolion's head came crashing down onto her back, the warm, sticky blood flowing across her. She should have been disgusted. She should have felt disgusted at her closest friend, besides Palirroia, betraying her.

Instead she just felt empty. Because as much as she loathed to admit it, Dolion was right. She wouldn't be able to pave her own path in life. Dolion had, and now his blood soaked the foam matts on the floor. No, she would serve those that had saved her from an unthinkable fate with vigor. She would do her duty, as that was the only safe way in life.

The day finally came when she was sold. As she stepped onto the warm sand beach of her new home, she was filled with gleed. Thŷella would serve her master till the end of time, and she cared not for the cost. She would do what it took to please him, to keep him happy, she had to, she must. After all, she was her master's alone to behold.