Trials of the Nameless

The Captive awoke gasping. His eyes shot open and darted across a cold, brassy laboratory. Incisions, some fresh and some having begun to heal, dotted the gray skin of his torso and arms with stitches that itched to the bone. He’d worn his wrists and ankles raw struggling against the restraints clasped over them. He was uncertain of how long he had been here. Only flashes and blurred spots served as his memories.

The door clicked shut. A woman emerged from the shadows, tall and silver-skinned with eyes as black as the void. Her thin linen dress left her lithe and comely figure to no mystery. Dust fell from her moth-like wings which fluttered as a mischievous smile curled her lips.

Graceful and unhurried, she made her way to a wooden table which creaked and wobbled as she set down the items she carried: two flasks of murky liquid, a luminescent blue crystal, and an arrow which skewered a spherical object the Captive could not identify. Beside the table stood a lever which, if pulled, would free him from his restraints. The woman let her thin fingers graze its handle.

Her intent, however, resided not in freeing him; she had done so once before, convinced he would stay of his own volition, but he betrayed her trust by trying to escape. Now, instead, she was teasing him as she often did, reminding him of that day so he’d know it would never happen again – though this would be her last playful gesture.

Once she decided she had taunted him enough, she approached the side of the stone bed and looked down into his crimson eyes. Strands of smooth, straight platinum hair fell over her freckled shoulders as she positioned herself astride him. She emanated the sweet scent of lilies, accompanied by a sickly metallic tang. A tattered pair of trousers was the only separation between them, a merciful comfort afforded to him among the prodding and cutting he often endured.

Hands supple and delicate rested upon his cheeks. She lowered her face until her soft lips brushed against his own. A joyous, near-silent whisper poured from her tongue.

“Today is the final day,” she said, tears falling from the bridge of her nose. “You will ascend. You will suffer here no more.”

Though her words shook him with uncertainty, he relented to her kiss. She leaned forward and pressed their chests together, melting him with the warmth of her body. As their breaths quickened, she slowly moved her hips against his.

Familiar and comforting, her touch and her swaying captivated him as though they had done this before – but he trusted neither his senses nor his memory. He did not care in spite of this; she had already enveloped him in a state of decadence. Unable to lay his hands upon her, he felt his mind overflowing with regret, with longing.

A contented sigh slipped past her lips, as did her tongue in search of his. Gentle caresses traced the firm muscle of his arms and traveled up his neck. She followed the stubble along his jawline and found the pointed tips of his ears, then his temples.

She pulled away, lingering close to his face, and spoke once more.

“All will know that I am the one who loved you,” she said. A sudden, sharp pressure pierced his eyelid.

Two long nails on her thumb and forefinger burrowed deep into either side of his right eye. Shouting in agony, he broke out in tremors as her fingers scooped inside the socket. He tossed and writhed, but he could not shake her off. Whether or not he were to succeed, half of his sight remained in her grasp.

Hushing him gently, she tightened the grip of her legs around him, placing a firm hand over his throat as she severed the eye and plucked it out. One last outcry forced all the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping and choking to find more.

The vision in his remaining eye blurred and faded, and in its moments of clarity he gazed upon the woman’s face. Blood oozed between her fingers and dripped onto her white dress. She rolled the small ruby orb in her palm, a serene smile accompanying the tears that rolled down her face and neck. Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on his cheek, letting the warm, red liquid stream past her lips as it poured, uninhibited, from the empty cavity.

Struggling with all his strength against the encumbering weight of unconsciousness, the Captive’s movements slowed and weakened. No hope remained of fighting her off, and moreover, she had taken what she needed.

“Tem Talur will awaken, but you must go to sleep,” she said, her voice wavering. As she clutched her chest with bloodied hands, her voidlike gaze penetrated his core. The words she spoke echoed and dilated, less recognizable each time they repeated in his ears. A lightness in his head and body welcomed him to oblivion.

The echoes, though they faded, still repeated in a steady rhythm. Reduced to whispers, they soon gave way to the ticking of a clock.