It always started with a gentle touch, cool fingers made of Chitinous scales sliding over skin, “be pretty for me Jamie.” I was unable to move, trapped like a mouse in the gaze of a snake. The will of the Master touching my skin overcoming any primal urge I felt to run. 

Which I felt on the most basic of levels. My Master was a being that stood multiple heads taller than me. Their skin was made of a mass of scales and bulging rippling muscles. It’s voice, a parody of the warmth one might feel from a  mother or a teacher. 

The fingers moved along my skin and I felt the scale touching me grow tiny hooks and my flesh moved to it’s will. “You have such agreeable flesh Jamie. It feels like it wants to beg for my touch.”   

I could feel bone and flesh move at the Master's will and I knew that I was in for a long day. It would have been easier, but the worst was the pleasure of it. My skin and bone sang in a deep ringing pleasure that filled me deeply. 

And I fought it. “I am who I am!” I thought for the thousandth time, you will not change me!” A mantra I repeated as I felt skin give way to the touch of the master who, for now, owned me. Knowing my flesh would take the shape they desired, and screaming in my mind to keep my soul whole.

I snapped awake with a deep gasping breath at first terrified as I felt myself unable to move then feeling my muscles regaining control of themselves. “You’re safe.” I kept repeating again and again as my arms wrapped themselves around my stomach and I tried to remember how to breathe normally. 

I saw the set of workout pants I wore for pajamas at the side of the bed. My brother in escape, Hiro was asleep and so far looked like he was doing well in the land of dreams.

It was going to take a while before I could settle down again. How do you handle it when your skin begs for the touch of fingers that rend your flesh and make you love it?

So I slipped on the pants and didn't bother with a shirt. 

Walking out of my room I walked into the hall. The lines of the hall angled up as they headed to the ceiling, the walls made of poured concrete. The effect had a mix of brutality and pleasant aesthetic lines. 

I walked down the long hall seeing the guards standing with a look of attention that made me aware of my status as an unknown quality. All of them clad in nanotech armor that the imperium favored. Long swords were strapped to their backs and large auto canons were perched in their arms. I could feel their eyes on me as I made my way down the tiled floors.

My bare feet carried me to the open portal leading into the interior courtyard of the Emperor's summer palace. Where we were being held in quarantine after our somewhat unexpected arrival outside of the capital. 

The sound of a gentle rain filled the air and a smell of damp air and earth took me back to a moment. Sitting on my grandparents back porch late at night. Letting the sound and smell of the world lull me to sleep As I lounged in an old chair. 

I tried to remember what they looked like. A man with a face like old leather came to mind, and a woman with well worn features. My old Masters would have called them beings of flesh and rot. Age was an unknown quality to them so the notion of it felt less like maturity to them and more like decay. 

I walked into the courtyard and let my skin sing to the sensation of the warm rain falling onto and over me. A reminder that I was free, or at least freer than I had been.

In the middle of the courtyard was a bench, ground out of a giant piece of dark green rock. It could have been jade but my eye for stones has never been good.

The stone held the warmth of the day in it, and I took a seat and let the warm water wash over me. I had no idea how long I sat there. Just allowing my mind to be empty of all thought or memory when I heard steps pad up to me. The crunch of pebbles under feet. As they drew closer I opened my eyes and saw the robed and cloaked figure of a member of the Amethyst Order. 

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

They were a semi religious order of women who were healers, concubines and protectors of Orphans. Which to be honest was for all basic purposes my state of being now. 

“May I share your bench?” The sister said. I recognized the warm sound of the voice instantly. A mixture of matronly richness of tone and an hint of mirth. 

“Of course Sister Maelin your company is always welcome.” I answered. She was the leader of the healers looking over us as we waited to be let loose from our quarantine. We had spent days talking over the experiences we had endured in the realm of the Masters. 

“What brings you out at this hour, into the damp and wet?”

“I had a dream. And I wanted to work it out of my system before I tried to sleep again.”

“Another nightmare?”

“I’m afraid they’re a constant.”

“With all that you and yours have been through I am unsurprised.”

I let out a long sigh. “When do we stop being victims?”

“Do you mean in general or in an immediate sense?”

“All of us went through the stuff of nightmares.”

“And yet you managed to kill some of your masters and escaped. You saved a number of your friends. I would say that makes you less a victim and more of a hero.” She paused and her hand found mine. “No one has walked out of the Master’s realm that we are aware of. The Imperium has need of you.” 

One of the guards had told me she was the mother of the woman who was third in line for the throne. So there was a very real chance she had the emperor's ear.

“I want to kill them all.” I said quietly. 

Maelin let out a long breath. “And when you do, what then?”

I looked at her wondering what she meant. 

“You cannot let your anger define your life. If your enemy defines you, once they are gone you are nothing. To truly defeat the Masters you have to build yourself into a person who has defined themselves. You need to find and create your best self.” 

“What is that? I’ve been…living for the idea of my revenge and it’s all I’ve wanted for.” I paused and took a deep breath. “Time is such an odd thing in their realm I don’t know how long I've wanted it, but it feels like it’s part of my blood now.” 

She squeezed my hand gently. “If all you know is anger and hate then you might never know things like happiness, or dare I say Love.” She let her hood fall back. I could see her features. A face more pretty than beautiful, dark hair framing her face. I could see a sense of genuine concern in her features. 

“When you chose to escape. Why did you take the others with you?” She asked. 

“Because they’re my friends.” I said simply. 

"Wouldn't it have been easier to escape by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Than why didn't you?"

I had never even considered it. "We all, shared in the life we were forced to live, and I knew if I left them there, the Masters  would have made them suffer."

“Then there is hope for you.” 

I stared at her blankly. 

“Escaping would have been easier for you alone but you chose to risk your escape to help them too.” 

“So I’m not totally taken with hate?”

“Exactly.” She smiled warmly. “A warrior who fights with hate will kill for his desire.  A warrior who fights from love will die to save what he loves.”

“Is dying to save others my fate?”

“Think of it this way. Is your heart so filled with love for those you would fight that you would give yourself for them? A man filled full of hate might run when he realizes he can’t kill the one he hates. A heart full of love will stand and face any trial they see before them to save those they love.”

I let the thought roll through my mind like a wave. “I can see the difference.” I said finally. 

“Then we will help to bring that out in you. Should you wish for it.” She pulled her hood up. “How long do you plan on being out here?”

“Not much longer. I was hoping to feel clean, but that's going to take a lot longer than this night.” 

“We’ll discuss that part later should you wish it.” She said. I could hear the warmth in her voice 

“Thank you.” 

“May I share this space with you till you want to go try and sleep again?”

I was glad for the rain at that moment, it hid the tears I was leaking slowly. “If it's of no concern to you.”

“Not at all.” 

It was something spoken of in whispers. Parents eyeing their children as the word left their mouth quietly. “Summoning.” It happened every seven years. 

Parents spoke quietly about it in the way a lot of people speak quietly when they name their personal demon for fear of calling it to them. Every seven years The summoning would begin. Homes and families would watch as one of their children would simply stand and leave. Walking out a door into. 

Nowhere? No one was sure. But in the end it was the price of pleasing the masters. 

Their presence on our world was a blessing and a curse. The masters had ended any notion of war since their arrival and had gifted the nations of our world with forms of technology that improved our world and did away with issues like pollution from fuels and gave us wells of power that seemed to have no bottom. 

And all it cost us as a people was the loss of a few thousand children every seven years. I’m sure in the great calculator of outcomes that was seen as an overall win. 

Unless of course you were a family whose child took the trip out the door. Or the child.

I was 12 when I felt the wave of pleasurable dizziness wash over me, and my legs pulled themselves under me and carried me out the door. When it opened I saw my neighborhood and the rows of houses along the street. When I stepped past the threshold I found myself.

In a forest.