Author's Note

Okay, it has been far too long. I'm terribly sorry for this insane delay. Let me tell you all what's been happening. So, in general, college has hit me hard as it always does. Second, my spine surgery recovery gets in the way sometimes. Third and most importantly, some really tough stuff went down recently, and I miss someone very, very much. So, dealing with all that, I have been very slow to write this chapter.

But the wait is finally over! Here is chapter four! Celebrate! Yay!

Enough is enough, go dig into this chapter and I'll see you afterward!

Enjoy!

Chapter IV

Slaves and Gods

X weakly stared at Judge Magister IV as if waiting for her to say it was all a ruse, an elaborate, crafty lie. He had heard horror stories of the Pits. It was the harrowing, soulless place that all experiments ended up, and it seemed like it was finally his time to go. He looked at her and did not move a single beat, even the breathing of his chest slowing to a silent, defiant no.

IV sighed. "You can either listen to me, or I will take you there by force. And trust me … you want the energy you have now." Her armor was as black as the void, a matching cape reaching to the ground. On her back, tucked beneath the cape, was a folded weapon where her hand lightly gripped. She did not pull it, as if challenging X to test her patience. He decided against it and slowly moved towards her. The pain from the testing earlier lingered in his bones and simmered in his muscles. Every step was crackling electricity in his veins.

"Hurry it up, Project X," she snapped. He walked behind her, wincing at every thud of her boots clacking against the stones. They left Cid's block, and took a right. They passed out of the grand hall to a corridor to the south.

After some twists and turns, he heard it. There was shouting, cheering, uproars of very human voices. There was an explosion of cheers as they rounded a corner into a large amphitheater outside. His bare feet met the softness of grass and his face felt the soothing breath of the wind. X glimpsed a ball of smoke dissipate into the air as sparks rained upward. He saw grandstands in a large oval, like some sort of coliseum. What sounded like hundreds of people on the inside cheered and booed. He stood, fear and wonder mixing inside his heart. IV grabbed him by the arm and kicked him down a set of stairs nearby, heading underground.

"Once they are done in there," IV said, gesturing to a metal door on the far wall, "you will be next." She thrusted him to a wooden bench. He sat down, trying not to get a splinter, and avoided dark stains. A crazed scream came from within the amphitheater, followed by roars of applause. X stared at the metal gate, the line running down the middle, sealed shut. He begged for it to never open, begged for a way to just dream, to drift off from this world and into another one, one where he could cry on his own, and maybe just relax. But those sweet thoughts were ripped from him without care.

"In the Pits, you will fight for the right to live," she said to him. He snapped his head to her own and tried to see some part of humanity hiding behind the dark helm and its shadows, but found none. The only lights were from the door they came in from the stairs, and a red light above the locked doors. Around the room were various weapons, all coated in ancient, dry blood. He looked back to her.

"And if I fail?" X asked.

"Then you won't have to worry about the Pits ever again."

There was another explosion, one more visceral and fiery, and then nothing but cheering. From another door in this grungy waiting room came two soldiers. They wore aprons and gloves, all covered in mud, blood, and chunks of flesh. A buzzing that was so loud that it shook the bench X sat on was followed by the gate instantly opening, either half of the door zooming into the metal walls. The red light above the door switched to green. They entered the amphitheater, and came back, each one carrying a half of a boy no older than seventeen. Blood and guts spilled onto the floor, and X felt his stomach turn inside out. He looked away, tears hot and salty flooding from him.

"You're up next. You will not receive a weapon, nor will your opponent. You are under special ordinance, so says the Slavemaster." IV stood up and brought X to his feet. She shoved him towards the gate, his feet clumsily wading through blood and dirt. He stumbled into the broad daylight to thunderous applause.

Metal walls surrounded him in the oval, reaching twenty feet upward. The stands held soldiers, citizens, nobles, knights … a bit of everyone. In a special box in the center, furthest up, sat a man. He was shrouded in cloaks and wraps, and a hood hiding his face. Next to him was Cid, who looked down at X with pity and worry. Below the Slavemaster and Cid sat a man with a microphone.

"Next up, is a special bout for survival. We have one of the special experiments, Project X. And our other competitor is Subject #1643." The crowd roared loud enough to overpower the announcer's gritty voice. X stared ahead, watching the last competitor leave as a new one arrived. The doors on either side of the oval locked. In front of him was a man in nothing but rags, just like he used to be. This man had long, oily brown hair, reaching to his chest. A matted beard clung to his face, holding sweat. Scars littered his body, the skin taut over bulging muscles.

The middle-aged man wasted no time running straight for X. He threw a right hook at X's face. He dodged deftly and watched the older man stumble forward. X retreated a bit, stepping backward precariously. Subject #1643 turned, hazel eyes full of fear and anger. He growled and ran back and tackled X to the ground. X wriggled free from him, and got to his feet, circling around and then backing away again.

"Kill him already!" A woman shouted angrily down at the older man.

"Stop running away, you bitch!" shouted some noble, throwing coins at X. While Subject #1643 got to his feet, X waited, his feet positioned for another turn. The man barreled at him and faked a punch, going instead for X's waist. X was taken to the ground, the oxygen knocked from his lungs. He glanced up and only felt a fist hit his jaw, nearly breaking it. Stars danced in front of his eyes. The crowd screamed in euphoria. Flesh met flesh, and X had to spit out blood. It was then that the gravity of it all hit him, the reality of live-or-die smacked him in the face.

"Aerora!" X shouted. A powerful rush of wind emanated from his body, throwing the man off of him. He scrambled to his feet and threw a Fira spell at him. The earth charred to black, and the man skittered back as the fire seared his hairs and flesh. He was up in a flash and rushing to X again. X tried to throw another Aero spell but was too exhausted from all the experimentation earlier that day. He was brought to the ground again. He twisted and turned but was met with a jab to the throat. Muscled, hairy hands gripped his neck, strangling him.

X's eyes looked up into the anger of this man, the pure hatred boiling from his pores. He lifted X's head and slammed it into the ground. He could not breathe, the world was darkening, fading in and out like a dream half-forming. A rock lay near him, and he tried to reach out for it.

"I will not die here!" the older man screamed, strangling harder. The world was slowly fizzling out. He reached and grazed the rock with the tips of his fingers. He latched onto it and bashed it into the side of Subject #1643's head. The man let go. Air rushed through X, crisp and burning. He coughed and hacked, regaining the little bit of consciousness he had been losing. The man lay next to him, dazed from the hit. X looked to the weapon in his hand and then at the man.

"I … I can't," he told himself. The crowd was deafening. He looked up to the Slavemaster and Cid. He knew his life was on the line. Sobs retched out of him, uncontrollable. The people held their hands to their mouths and screamed, they thrusted their fists into the air, they thirsted for the blood he did not want to draw. He looked down and gripped the rock so hard it bit through the skin of his fingertips, and his knuckles were ghostly white.

Why!? Why does this have to happen? He heard the sickening crunch of rock meeting bone. The man fell under his own weight into a cloud of dirt.

I don't want to … And the rock snapped into the man's nose, the bridge between the eyes. And they watered with blood. X's own eyes drained with clear tears.

I'm so sorry … Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Please … With one final smash, the man's skull caved in. X fell to the ground, crying, the bloody rock tumbling from his shaking hand. The crowd was ecstatic, cheering on his gory display. IV walked out to retrieve his weak body and hoisted him onto her shoulder. Cleaners came out to retrieve the man's body, leaving the white slivers of skull and chunks of brain in the dust.

"The first time is always the hardest." Her voice shook through her armor and into his bones. He was quiet as he let himself cry his emotions dry. What was the price of a life? Would anyone know if lives were only taken without question, without hesitation?

But he had hesitated, seeing fear, feeling it, too. But he took that life just the same.

Suddenly, while being carried, anger swelled within him violently, and he burst out in torrents of screams, echoes lashing off the walls. He felt inner darkness take a hold of him, chaining him to his own self, and as if a blindfold had been sewn to him, all things went black as he unleashed new rage. He thrust his fists against IV's armor.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME!?"

It churned and bubbled, frothing like a mad beast. She ignored him and let him continue to flail. Blood sprayed off his white knuckles, the skin peeling away with every slam. He cried and yelled; it was all he could do anymore.

It's inside of me …

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THW
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The bald man stood on the balcony looking over the Northern Vast. The ocean was a murky green, frothing and bashing wildly into the steep cliffside and jagged, teeth-like rocks below. He scratched his stubbled face with a ringed finger. His name was Argovaron, the emperor's right hand, advisor, and friend. He was also the savior of the nation, victor of a war from eras past. And like the bubbling ocean, those memories washed in and out of his mind, riptiding to the inner depths of his psyche.

His face held a jaded expression. The high winds snapped at the hem of his long, light cloak. It was white; ethereal and shadowy, wavering like smoke and water, and it was wide enough to enshroud his entire body. He wore a tight-fitting, black doublet that flowed out as it lengthened to his shins, a belt holding it in at his waist. He tapped the toes of his black boot in impatience. On his chest were two pins. One of them was the symbol of the emperor: a Yilgarian tree branch. And the second was of a textured, white oval, resting above his heart. The hilt of a broken sword was fixed at his thick belt.

"Where in Anuwëy's name is he?" Argovaron muttered, the shrill wind carrying his voice away from the throne room. This room was constructed at the base of the Soul Tower, for the top was too far into the sky. The songs of souls more ancient than he drifted through his ears, songs normal humans could never hear. They emanated from the very walls. And again the waves of his memories crashed into his mind, tearing at the shores, pulling a bit of sand away each time.

"Enough!" he screamed, casting a long arm out. An explosion of white fire, laced with blue and black, burst outward fifty feet from the balcony before transforming into rain that fell heavily into the ocean below. The doors of the throne room opened, creaking on ancient, heavy hinges. He turned and entered the room, circling around to the front of the throne. His bright, white cloak trailed wisps of smoke behind the black of his heels. He magicked the very thick curtains shut and snapped his fingers, and all the torches of the room went ablaze with light. An overhead brazier made of bronze filled with fire.

"Mateus," he said aloud. The emperor hardly gave him a glance before angrily strutting to his large, elevated Soulstone throne, sitting down and snapping his fingers. A door from his right opened and a servant dressed in rags scurried out, pouring Havian wine, white as bone into a goblet for the emperor. He took a healthy gulp before slamming it down on a small table next to him.

"Have you any news on her escape?" Mateus spat. He brushed his golden hair out of his soft, white face. Amethyst eyes penetrated into Argovaron.

"No, not yet, my lord," he answered. Mateus pounded a clenched fist down into the arm of the throne, purple, black, and gold flames scorching the seat.

"And why not!?" he screamed. A servant mopping the floor cowered from across the room.

"Because these things take time, and I'd rather have done it correctly than fail you." Argovaron walked to the side of the throne, his shimmering cloak seemingly weaving through the air like a still waterfall of snow.

"Do you think that I care? One of my strongest weapons has escaped! And if the blasted resistances across this nation find her before I do, they will think I am weak, that I have a weakness, that I am penetrable. I will not have it!" The room vibrated with the emperor's shouts.

"I assure you that the Harbingers will not be your downfall, Your Majesty." Argovaron had learned how to comfort the emperor. It was something you had to learn after millennia of consulting each one. "And you know that I do not lie."

"NO ONE!" Mateus shouted loud enough to shake the very curtains behind him. "No one will be my downfall!"

"I understand, Your Majesty. We will find Project Y, I assure you," Argovaron bowed slightly to the emperor, whose face was tinted red from anger.

"And you will find her before the Harbinger scum, or you will pay for it with your life." Mateus grit his teeth and spat to the side of the throne. The servant scurried over and cleaned it with a dirty, shredded rag before running back to his corner.

"Of course, Emperor Mateus," Argovaron said. His voice was as smooth as cream drizzled over bread, dripping with a tone of hardness that showed nothing but understanding.

"And where is my good for nothing son at?" Mateus said, drinking from his wine again.

"I sent Tor to go and fetch him from his room. The boy was exhausted from his outburst earlier."

"He's a weakling, just like his wench of a mother."

Argovaron's gaze lingered on Mateus. He rarely mentioned his wife since her death. Argovaron thought that maybe part of his resentment had grown from Aven, since his son was more of her than he himself.

"You must cut the boy some slack, he still hasn't learned to control—"

"You will not tell me what to do!" Mateus screamed. Argovaron held his gaze, and their eyes met, sparks flying between the two.

"As you wish."

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"Why do I have to?" Aven asked bitterly.

"Because your father commands it," Tor replied. He strode down the halls towards the throne room, the young prince—and something akin to a younger brother—followed closely behind. "And what you did was foolish."

"They were hurting a little girl!" Aven shouted. People they passed pressed themselves flat to the stone walls, clutching their items to their chests, as if afraid Aven would roast them alive as well. Tor gave them no attention.

"That does not give you a reason to slaughter one of my lieutenants," Tor responded swiftly. "As a captain, I am under command of the ten commanders. I lead one hundred men, and those lieutenants help me. I am now a man short and your father is angry at both of us."

"Why do you lead such horrible people?"

"Because it is my job, and we both know what happens if I don't do it properly."

"I know, bro …" Aven paused and picked at his tunic while they turned a corner. "I just hate it here. I hate all this cruelty."

"I know you do, but that's how things are. You have to play by these rules."

"Bullshit," Aven muttered and then turned his head away. Tor sighed and continued walking. Aven's emotions and inability to control them will be his death one day.

"You will never grow out of that feisty attitude, will you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, Aven, it does. You're the prince of I'ltorien, and that means—"

"Oh to Seltra with the damn prince stuff! All I care about is helping the prisoners, you and Celes … and X."

Tor snapped around instantly and grabbed him by the arm, throwing a finger up and shushing the prince. "Do not say those things out loud, Aven, do you understand me?"

"You know, grabbing me like this could lose you your head if the Four saw it," Aven said with a smirk.

"Watch it, Aven," Tor said, letting go. "I love you with every inch of my heart, but you must at least pretend to care about the rules, about how things work. For both of our sakes. And even X." Aven's face changed at that, and Tor knew he had picked the right string to pluck at. He gave Aven an understanding pat on the shoulder. They walked up to the doors to the throne room, large and looming in their metal mass.

"I talked to Argo, and nothing should be happening to you. Now, let's get this over with, okay?"

"Okay, big bro," Aven replied.

Tor opened the large doors and they slid smoothly over the shiny, granite floor. They entered the large, circular throne room, tiered rows of seats lined the walls on either side. There waited the emperor and his advisor at the elevated throne. In one corner was a door to a servant room, and in the other corner … was a young woman locked in glowing chains.

"Ah, Tor, thank you for bringing my worthless son to me," Mateus said. He rose from his seat and walked down the steps to the floor. They approached him.

"Aven, your love for the prisoners angers me," Mateus said firmly, but not loudly.

"It angers me that you torture and kill them," Aven retorted, his tongue as sharp as Tor's masamune.

"Watch yourself or you will become one of them," his father threatened. Tor watched as Aven just glared at him from beneath his black bangs.

"They were beating a little girl, and he hit me first," Aven answered.

"Oh? Well then, standing up for yourself as well? And I thought I was raising a girl all these years," Mateus smirked, clapping his hands together. The dirty servant brought more wine to him. He drank greedily, wiping a single drop the corner of his lush lips.

"I don't care that he hit me, I was saving her."

"And if she had disobeyed me, I would have killed her on the spot!" Mateus roared. Tor winced a bit, but Aven stood his ground. Tor thought it looked like a shadow standing up to the body that cast it upon the ground. Aven was too fierce sometimes.

"You're a monster," Aven spat.

"And yet I run an entire nation! I am the most powerful man to walk this world. Being ruthless will get you anywhere, where being nice will get you nothing but a sword through the heart!" Mateus gulped more wine.

"I would rather die fighting for what I believe in than fighting in vain for only power," Aven responded. Mateus looked down at him coldly before vanishing the goblet he held.

"You are too much like your bitch of a mother, her hair, her eyes, her face, and her soft, weak heart." Mateus gave Aven a sick smile. Tor continued to stand at attention next to Aven.

"Don't disgrace her like that, you worthless ass!" Aven screamed, blankets of fire scorching the ground around him. Tor sidestepped the flames. Aven, control yourself! He watched his young friend clench his slim, bony fists at his side.

In the corner of the room, the girl stood up into the light, the magical chains rattling from her wrists. A tiara glimmered on her head, nestled into a mane of light green hair. Fire glowed from her palms. Mateus snapped a finger, and she sat back down.

"Not now, pet," he said with a laugh. He looked back to Aven and continued to chuckle. "If only you could turn that emotion into something more productive."

"I hate you!" Aven said lowly, the sharpness slicing out from under his breath like a dagger out of the night.

"Aven, enough!" Argovaron yelled. Tor looked in surprise to his mentor, then back to Aven and the emperor. Aven went to open his mouth, but Argovaron gave him a menacing stare, forcing the boy to shut it again. Aven's face contorted into discontent, as if the words he bit back were trying to claw their way out of his mouth.

"Argovaron, what of the girl? The bitch that Aven saved?" Mateus asked.

"She is resting in Aven's quarters," the advisor answered. He strode over, his black boots snapping into the granite. His white, shadowy cloak flowed behind him.

"Take her to the Slavemaster, I want her toyed with until she can't take it any longer."

"NO!" Aven screamed.

"Say that to me one more time and I will break your jaw, my son." Mateus glared down at Aven, hardly raising his voice.

"I said no!" Aven yelled. Mateus grinned, his upper lip peeling slowly over white teeth.

"Such fiery energy. I will snuff that out," Mateus said. He went to raise his hand, ready to beat Aven with the back of his pristine gauntlet.

"My Lord! May I offer a suggestion?" Argovaron said instantly, stepping forward. His movement was jittered, as if his body moved beyond his mind's thoughts.

"What, my advisor? What is it that your brain could possibly concoct now?"

"Why not let the girl become Aven's personal slave? What better way to punish him than to give him that which he despises. It'll be more long term." Argovaron tilted his head, waiting for an answer. Tor's heart lifted at the idea, his mind approving it instantly.

"I see …" Mateus paused and grazed a finger down the side of his face, his violet eyes became slits, and his forehead wrinkled in thought. "Very well, she is now your slave, son."

"I will not have a slave in—"

"Aven, you heard your father clearly," Argovaron interrupted the boy with a forceful step forward. As Mateus turned to return to his throne, Argovaron widened his eyes and nodded at Aven, as if to say Just go with it you idiot! Tor grasped Aven's shoulder and squeezed it as he crouched down to his friend's ear.

"Don't start anything, Aven," he whispered. Aven's face flushed and his shoulders tensed, but then he relaxed his muscles and let out a long, ragged breath.

"Fine," he said to his father.

"Now, get lost before I change my mind," Mateus said without a backward glance. Tor nodded his head towards the large doors and gently pushed Aven towards them. Aven puffed his cheeks and crossed his arms before turning so hard that his cape swept out and crashed into Tor's legs. He marched out, his boots sounding as if they were cleaving through the stone floors. And then he was gone.

"What an insufferable brat," Mateus barked. He laughed and beat his knuckles off the glimmering Soulstone throne. The light from outside fractured as it passed through, splitting into vibrant colors. Slivers of the souls of ancient beings echoed from it, or at least Argovaron said that. He was one of the few that could hear the walls speak or hear the throne itself. Tor clenched his fists, hands shaking, as he listened to the emperor berate Aven.

"He is only a child, Mateus," Argovaron said, the edge of his voice having softened. His body was less rigid as he walked back to his side by the throne.

"And yet he is as worthless as his whore of a mother," Mateus spat, his pale cheeks reddening to crimson.

"And yet she was the most powerful user of magic this world has ever seen," Argovaron retorted. Tor caught the hint of a cocky grin, hidden behind the emperor.

"She was the key to my immortality! And then she went and killed herself!" The floor vibrated into Tor's boots from the energy Mateus was giving off.

"She died to protect the child both of you shared," Argovaron said. His voice sharpened then, as if struck by a whetstone a thousand times. Mateus turned to look at him, rising from his throne.

"You will watch how you speak to me, or I will have you dead, or even worse," Mateus said. "She died for a stupid reason, and with her went my immortality. Aven will never be what she was, he's too weak, too soft, and too kind. His magic will never suffice, he is nothing, and will always be nothing."

Tor feared Mateus like any sane man would. But if there were one person in the entire world that could stand as tall as the emperor, look him eye-to-eye, it was Argovaron. And in that moment, it was as if Argovaron was the one looming over the world.

"I have told you for years that you are wrong, and still you are."

"Get out of my sight."

Argovaron tugged his cape of ethereal light around him and strutted across the room, past Tor, and out of the doors. Mateus looked after him the entire way and only sat back down once Argovaron had left. Tor felt his muscles finally relax a minute later.

Soon after, Celes Chere, one of the ten royal commanders, walked in. She gave Tor the usual icy glare which he returned as if his face were a blank parchment. She sighed and brushed her long, blonde hair back over her metal armor.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Because I was summoned, what does it look like, sister?"

"Don't be smart with me."

"Would you rather I be dumb?"

"Tor, I—"

"Enough you two!" Mateus shouted. They both snapped to attention and knelt before the emperor.

"Forgive us, my lord," Celes said to the cold ground.

"Rise." And so they did. "Now, I shall get to the point because I've had enough trouble for one day. I know both of you are as weak as my good-for-nothing child. You have a soft spot for the prisoners. Celes … as you were one of them, I understand the natural inclination to feel pity, but in that carelessness, you let Project Y escape."

"Your Majesty, I had nothing to do with Project Y's escape, I—"

"And it was your love for my pet here that got her in the position she is." Mateus snapped his fingers and the girl with flowing green hair convulsed and screamed in pain, as if being struck by lightning. Tor and Celes both looked away.

"Look at her!" Mateus ordered. Tor brought his eyes back to her and watched her twitching on the ground, screams escaping her pale, cracked lips. Her broken nails clawed at the floor while her body shook, her back arched, and her feet kicked out at wild, random directions. Her piercing yells slammed off the Soulstone walls and ricocheted like stray arrows, jetting through the air. Tor glanced sideways at his sister, and saw tears well over her puffy cheeks, slipping over the bulges of the bags beneath her eyes. They betrayed sleepless nights since the escape. And in that moment, they shared something, and that was the pain that had come with everything that had occurred that day, just a week ago.

"Enough! Please!" Tor screamed. He stared at Mateus, a look begging for release. Seconds later, the girl stopped moving except to gasp for air as if there were none left in the world. "Please, not in front of my sister."

"As I said, you have too weak of hearts. And that is exactly why the one of my ten commanders of the Purple Legion is dead."

"Your Majesty, we didn't mean for King to die," Celes said.

"Have you reverted back to the names of the Pits, like uncivilized beasts? Well, Eighteen, he is dead, and now One has become the perfect pet of mass destruction," he said, waving a hand at the girl behind him, who had cowered into a corner. "Shin Verus' body doesn't even exist after what happened. And now I need someone that could match his skill, and frankly, I'm afraid neither of you could."

Celes let out a small sob next to Tor. Her hands fell flat to the floor, fingers spread wide, and tears splashed under her mess of hair. Tor broke rank and motioned toward her.

"Tor!" Mateus yelled.

"My Lord?" Tor asked, standing as still as a mountain.

"You're replacing Shin as one of the ten. Darkeye will see you, soon. Now take her and

get out of my sight."

Tor felt the world fade out for a moment, like black edges slowly seeped into his

peripherals, and the ice of Celes spread through him. Her frustration replaced her sorrow, and all through his body, he felt cold darkness, suppressing what should have been a happy feeling. Through the tall windows of the hall, oceanic wind sliced inside, whistling a harrowing tune.

"Tor! Go, now!"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty," he replied. When he went to grab Celes' arm, she was already up

and leaving, small shards of ice shattering from her footsteps, like percussive beats. He stared after her, looked back to the emperor, then to the girl named One recovering in her corner, then took his leave as a cloudy, cold day enveloped the nation of I'ltorien.

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X stopped yelling a few minutes later while being carried by the Judge Magister. He heaved great gasps of dry cries and his diaphragm contracted and swelled against the cold metal of her armor. Faces blurred with the stone walls as she took him deeper into the citadel, and eventually sat him in a chair in what looked like a dungeon cell. Fear bit through him, memories flashing like bursts of fire, igniting within him.

"Thank you, Claire," said a silky voice. It was deep and smooth, but X could sense an edge deep within it, like a cloaked dagger tipped with poison was ready to strike.

"I told you never to call me that," she answered back.

"As you wish." From the shadows walked the man X had seen in the Pits. The

Slavemaster. He wore all black clothes, and a dark hood hid his face. A gloved hand reached out and stroked X's cheek. He recoiled, as if touched by acid.

"You can leave now. I'll bring him back once I'm done," he said. She turned and left through the door, her boots smacking hard into the stone as she went. The ceiling in the room was low enough for a tall man to reach up and touch. Torches flickered to life along the walls, spluttering in their sockets. Many doors led out of the room, all were locked by a bolt.

"Well, Project X, welcome to the beginning of your new exercises. That is what we will call them from now on. You will exercise every day, and you will perform a new exercise every week. We need to …"

The Slavemaster paused. He ran his thick fingers through X's greasy, clumpy hair. The blond locks parted from his forehead and sweat glistened there in the torchlight.

"… tap into your true potential."

The Slavemaster grabbed X by the arm, pulling him fluidly from the chair, and led him into a darkly blue-tinted room. The walls and floor were bare and metal. X's feet felt cold at the touch. In the four corners were chains attached to large iron bands in the walls, with a large drainage grate in the middle. X's breath puffed out in white vapor, curling into nothing. His skin rippled in gooseflesh while every hair on his body prickled up. He involuntarily hunched his body forward and wrapped his body in his own arms.

"No, that will not be allowed in here," the Slavemaster said. He yanked X's arms away from each other as easily as ripping a bandage off. X felt the dull thud of the Slavemaster's boot kick him in the midsection. He was thrown back onto the floor and curled up in pain. The iciness of the floor bit into his back, and he gasped violently.

The Slavemaster clapped his hands, and the chains slithered to life. They slid towards X like predatory vipers, and they lashed out just the same. They wrapped around his wrists and ankles before melding together, locking in place. The chains pulled his limbs out, spreading him like a star. He looked up in the dark room at the ceiling and saw metal pipes over him. His eyes widened in fear.

X felt more coldness sink into his body when the Slavemaster ripped his clothes from his bruised body. He lay there, strapped to the ice-cold floor as naked as the day he was born. His body vibrated and thrummed with shivers. The Slavemaster stepped back towards the door and looked at him. X could not see his face, but knew that those eyes held some dark malice, something that wanted to see X suffer.

"Please … don't leave me here," X pleaded. The Slavemaster threw a switch down next to the wall and suddenly a spray of cold water erupted from the ceiling, showering X on the floor. He screamed at the sudden cold, and his breathing came and went like a ball racketing back and forth in a game of tennis. The water stopped pouring and began to drain under him. Small, cold drops rolled off his hairless chest. His blond hair lay in clumps around his head. He shook the water from his face, and felt his hair beginning to stiffen from the cold.

"I'll be back later," the man in the doorway said. He shut the door and locked it behind him. X found his voice and tried to scream. But only gasps came out, slowly, but uneven and shaky. The pain took over his body. He lay there, trying to count the time, but his mind would not work properly. Things blurred together, and sometime later, the water came again, colder than before, before stopping after a couple seconds.

He screamed, but it choked in his muscle's shock. The water began to freeze fully in his hair, and down what little leg hair he had. The metal chafed into his wrists and ankles. He tried to keep his eyes open in fear of them freezing shut. The cold seeped through every pore of his body and permeated into his bones. The skin pulled taut as slivers of ice formed around his body. He shook against the floor, wanting to scream, begging to scream, but the voice would not will itself from his body. His voice was the last bit of warmth he had in the world, the only fire that remained in this dark, barren wasteland of icy coldness.

The water came again, and so did the screams.

~-~-~-~-~-
THW
~-~-~-~-~-

"How are you feeling?"

She looked at him with a blank stare, like she had since she woke up. The boy sighed.

"Are you ever going to talk to me?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I do not know."

"Okay then."

Aven slumped against the large, wooden frame of his bed. He curled a leg up so he could rest his chin on his knee. She sat in a corner, looking as emotionless as a plate or dead leaf. The warm sun's rays were strewn across the carpeted floor. Wind blew in and out through the large balcony doors.

"What is your name?"

"Subject #9,357," she responded. Her green eyes, laced with bits of teal betrayed nothing. She looked tactiful and surgical in her mannerisms. She was blunt, to the point, and without any feeling; scientific.

"Did you not have a name from before you were captured?"

"My parents called me Cuore."

"And so will I."

Aven was more casually dressed in his room, in some cotton shorts and shirt. Master Doavar had brought the girl her own clothes, and another servant had bathed her. She had curly green hair that curtained her round face. A small button nose sat between pale cheeks. She was about nine years old.

"You are the Prince?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I am to serve you? Will I be hurt like the others?"

Aven sighed and ran his bony fingers through his hair. He breathed in deeply, with closed eyes, and let out the pent-up emotion in his heart. "You are supposed to serve me because the emperor said so. And no, I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."

"What is 'promise'?"

"It means …" Aven paused for a moment and felt as if his words had slid off his tongue and back down his throat. And while he tried to think of an answer for Cuore, his mind traveled backward through time.

"I'm going to kill you like the worthless brat you are!" The older soldier held Aven firmly by the neck and off the ground. He slapped at the man's arms, choking for air. The man drew a dagger from a sheath and was about to plunge it into Aven's abdomen when fire devoured the man. He let go instantly, and air rushed into Aven's parched lungs. He crawled away from the burning mass while more knights grabbed a struggling prisoner. He cast more spells at them, but too many had come. Aven and the other teen shared a quick glance, like a single drop of rain breaking the stillness of a pond, and then they broke.

"… it means you …"

"Why did you save me?"

"Why would I let someone die?"

"Thank you."

"Heh, it's okay. I just … lived my life doing what's right in my heart."

"Where did you come from?"

"I don't remember anything."

"I'll try my best to let you free, from behind these bars."

"Thank you … what's your name?"

"Aven."

"My … I don't remember."

"I promise I'll free you."

"I promise to remember one day, hah!"

"It means you never stop doing what you believe in. It means you always do what you say you will, to the very end."

Post Author's Note

So, there we have it! I really, really loved the ending to this chapter. Felt very poignant and strong to me. And writing the torture scene was a lot of fun, but it really made me feel uncomfortable, which I see as a good thing! There was a lot more to this chapter, so make sure to tell me what your favorite (or least favorite) bits were in the review! I'll try to update more regularly. I find myself with more time recently, so we'll see what I can do.

I love you all like Hobbits love food. See ya next time!

~TorNathan