Abandoned (Born From Shadows #2)

“What were the times?” the woman asked. Her dark hair faded into the darkness of the room.

“1 hour and seventeen minutes screaming and five hours twenty-two minutes until his heart rate decreased within a normal range,” the Dwarf replied with pride.

The Fae had pleaded that time. Begged and begged for them to end his life during the longest six and a half hours of his life but death did greet him.

“Well done, and the blade was left in for only fifteen minutes, correct?” the woman asked.

“Yes, my Lady,” replied the Dwarf.

“That seems like a very successful test. Can you think of any other ways to increase the time without increasing the period that the knife is embedded into his body?” asked the woman.

“No, my Lady,” the Dwarf reluctantly replied. At that the Fae rejoiced, knowing it couldn’t get anymore painful. He managed to get through it, and that was the biggest achievement he had ever gotten.

“Nevermind the matter, it is good work. I want you to feed him, strengthen him up till he is back at peak physical condition, and then see if the effects differ,” the woman commanded. At the thought of food his body crumbled. His stomach seemed to jump and his heart began to race once more. They both left the room for a few minutes until the Dwarf returned carrying a tray.

The Dwarf placed it down on the bench beside him that was covered in an assortment of weapons. The dwarf fed him as if he were a baby, but he didn’t mind. It tasted so good he didn’t care how he was fed it.

He knew that the food wouldn’t taste good to any normal person, but to someone who couldn’t remember the last time he swallowed something it was absolutely delicious. However, no matter how amazing it tasted, it did not beat the feeling of cold water gliding down his throat. It was smoother than any liquor, gentler than any touch, and fresher than the richest mints.

Then he felt something odd, something he couldn’t remember ever feeling. It was strange and unfamiliar to him, so much so that he wished to reconnect his wrists to the chains on the table. His body remained still as the Dwarf walked over and released his other wrist from the chain. Freedom was wrong to him. He no longer had the comfort of the chains to ground him to the pain rather then let him float through the air. Drift away form reality and into insanity. He had lost many things, sacrificed so much but not once had he lost his sanity. He clung onto his mind as he watched his memories disappear day by day until they were no more, or at least they were out of his reach. It was better that way, it meant he didn’t hold out for hope that would never come.

The Dwarf moved his legs for him until they reached the floor. His bones cracked and muscles groaned at the shift in position. He hadn’t moved in…well a really long time. As if a physician the Dwarf began massaging out his body, moving and stretching each limb until he felt less like a puppet and more like a human. Weak and pathetic, but still able to control the most minimal movements. The Dwarf compressed his wings then stretched them back out, the air sliding through his dark feathers was so strange to him and he felt something trying to resurface in his mind. Was it a memory? Whatever it was the Fae decided it was best not to dwell on it.

Eventually the Dwarf rested him back down onto the bench, body chained back into its more familiar state. If his was his treatment from now on, then he should be happy. Yet the thought of being stabbed again once he reached a healthy state pressed again his mind. If he took longer to strengthen himself, it would delay the moment he would be stabbed again. Although in doing that he was just prolonging the inevitable like a mortal trying to escape death. One way or another it would come.