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Chapter 28 - Rohan - Beyond Broken

Rohan Behl

Tuesday, April 19th, 2022 (Four weeks after the Shutdown)

Seven days ago, his mind had awoken from its slumber.

Like a broken record, his last moments of consciousness replayed in his mind, the torture of having his heart crushed and his left arm shattered scalding his receptors until they were overwhelmed.

His mind crumbled from the onslaught of images and sank into the murky waters of oblivion, his consciousness fading away.

***

Two days ago, he’d awoken again but the arduous memories that had taxed his mind had disappeared. He was alone in a vantablack abyss.

Examining his body, he was taken aback by how light it felt. He’d been of middling height before, reaching a respectable 5’11”, but now, whatever entity he’d possessed reached a measly 4 feet tall with a gremlin’s build.

His arms were twisted and mutilated, his fingers ending in claws, and the gossamer sinews connecting the underside of his arm and his body restricted his arm movement. His chest had collapsed into itself, accentuating his typically thin frame and his skin was a sickly gray, glowing faintly like a beacon in the night sea.

It felt like he was in Limbo.

Looking down to examine the ground, he realized he was nude and hairless and his nether region had vanished from sight. Not that that really concerned him. He didn’t use it for much.

Interestingly enough, the snake had disappeared from his body which would’ve been cause for celebration, if it weren’t for a growing sense of foreboding stifling any comfort he might feel. Reaching out to examine his hand, he observed in morbid fascination as it disappeared within a thick mist.

Pulling it back, he tried squeezing it into a fist when he made his first observation. He couldn’t feel his extremities. In fact, his whole body felt numb to physical contact.

Stepping forward, a ripple spread out from his foot. Rohan stood motionless in his tracks, a spike of fear dissuading him from continuing any further. Waiting for a count of ten, he released a muted sigh of relief when he was sure there was nothing lurking in the dark. He took another step forwards and the darkness came alive.

An alabaster radiance emanated from under his feet, spiraling outwards. Everywhere it touched, it repelled the encroaching black fog until it was finally forced to retreat, revealing the walls of his prison. From what he could tell, he was in the center of a deep pit, and the walls of it were unnaturally circular.

Standing at the crest of a lone spire, the ground around him crumbled into the chasm below. Peering downwards, he watched until it disappeared into the depths of the pit. Seconds later, the darkness there vanished as well.

Mounds of minerals covered the bottom of the trench, providing a faint brilliance that illuminated the lower walls. As the last of the rubble clattered into what appeared to be calcite, a low hissing filled the air, and the entire bottom of the pit began to move. Jaw agape, Rohan understood what he was in the presence of. The damned thing was a monstrous albino serpent.

It must’ve been thousands of miles long, vigorously moving in every direction. What he’d mistaken as minerals were interlocking scales, forming complex patterns that were eerily similar to a certain tattoo he’d known.

Struggling to get an understanding of its anatomy, Rohan’s stunted body stumbled backward, nearly slipping off the edge of his small platform into the vast chasm below. Clambering back up with the help of his claws, he flattened himself against the rock, afraid he’d been noticed.

Straining his ears, the whistling sounds of the scales chafing against each other continued uninterrupted. Debating whether to peer over the edge just to make sure, his curiosity won over him.

Crawling to the edge, he froze.

Literally.

A slit pupil caught sight of him, the depths of it capable of swallowing galaxies. Unable to tear his eyes away, his mind was filled with memories of corruption and death that weren’t his own. Unbeknownst to him, petrification spread like wildfire across his skin, making his body go as rigid as stone. Only Rohan’s eyes were untouched, the rest of his face frozen in a portrait of horror.

Its head slithered back until its entirety was visible. Its eyes were the size of a male African elephant, its head alone was as large as a 20-story skyscraper. Enormous and hypnotic, it slithered backward to study him, viridescent lenses flooding his small platform in light. The black mist returned to cloak its presence.

“Announccce yourself, little creature… The ssshadowsss will not provide you with… ssssssanctuary,” it commanded with a voice that rolled over him like honey over thunder.

The sound echoed from all around him, the mist distorting its origin.

The petrification broke away and his body moved on its own, walking to the edge of his circular platform.

Fwisshhh!

Rohan flinched at the sound and caught a glimpse of an ornate tail shearing the back half of the platform before returning back into the fold of the mist.

“Youuuu… What are you little creature? A goblin… no… Peculiar… Youuu… What are you little creature?” the voice caressed his ear like an insistent lover. “You have… wings? No… that’s broken flesh between your arms…”

Its body slammed into the pillar, throwing Rohan onto his knees. The coiling of the snake grew agitated as its frustration leaked into its movements.

“Are you a product of alchemy?... No… your soul is pure… I see youuuu little creature but what dominion are you from?… An orcling, stumbling in the dark?... WHAT… ARE… YOU?”

The last three words buffeted him like shockwaves, pulverizing his body. Choking on his own tongue from the serpent’s power, his thoughts surrendered themselves without resistance.

“A hu… man…,” it said, struggling with the foreign word. “What is a hu… man?”

Rohan felt the sensation of his skull being tickled as more strands of thought pulled from him.

“Selfish… deceitful… greedy… yes… yes… you’ll do nicely. You’ll do nicely…” it intoned, its voice turning into an eldritch whisper. “Hu-man… the devils’ pets will be upon you within your… Mo… on’s turn… Mo… on… what is a Mo… on?…”

Mumbling to itself, the sensation of having his head crushed warned him of an incoming assault but he was powerless as an ashen wisp was sucked from his mouth, drifting off into the mist. Rohan doubled over, his mind ablaze and his vision went white. Moaning in anguish, he only understood snippets of the serpent's words.

“... befriend the ancient highways… safe…”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

***

The next time he woke up, Rohan could sense the world around him. There was a support under his head, a gentle pressure providing a reprieve from the discomfort pouring out from his left arm. Whereas the last time he had a dream he was able to wake up and move around, a swell of hysteria started to eat at him when he couldn't get up; he was paralyzed.

He felt the humidity of the surrounding air, the pressure exerted on his body, and the stale odor of a room neglected for a long time, yet he couldn’t communicate with any of his muscles. In the time he’d been asleep, it was like he built a backlog of stimuli that now bombarded him. Progressively frantic in its attempts to reconnect with his physical body, his heart beat faster as he struggled.

The sudden sound of voices brought him back.

“Why the hell do we have to take care of the zombie? He doesn’t do anything.”

“Yo, shut up. Hold your breath and let’s go.”

The statement was followed by two audible gasps and the groaning of a door as it was opened. A set of footsteps approached him, and with a grumble from one of them, he felt a cold liquid gradually enter his bloodstream.

“Aughh, I think I touched him,” the first complained. "What kind of human molts? This fucker is swallowing resources… we would be better off if he wasn't… here.”

There was a heavy pause filling the uncomfortable silence.

“... Shut up,” the second finally said. "Did you replace the IV pack? Yeah? Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

He briefly heard the sharp clacks of footsteps stepping on ceramic tiles before it disappeared behind the door. The encounter left him confused.

How long had he been unconscious? Once someone gets injured, the natural behavior was to care for them. If their negligent behavior was starting to show, it was either correlated to his condition or the length of care. He didn’t understand what they meant by “molts”, so Rohan assumed their animosity was due to the length of care.

Which led to his second question. How was his body faring? If it’d been more than a week, then his body would be experiencing tremendous hunger and thirst. That may be the reason I can't get up.

He’d read in an article for a chemistry paper that around three days into a fast, the human body breaks down fatty tissue and the produced fatty acids are your body’s main source of fuel. His body had been thin, a condition which had been drastically aggravated by the serpent tattoo when it caused the fat in his body to liquify and leak out.

This meant his only sustenance was the IV packs they were talking about. However, that could only provide enough supplements to keep him on the brink of death.

Struggling to get a concrete understanding of his situation, time slipped by as he considered his predicament. Descending the rabbit hole, every thought led to a web of questions.

His confusion bred panic and he felt his heart rate start to rise again.

Still your heart, little hu-man, a warm voice cautioned him, resonating outwards from his chest.

His heart stopped.

Pace yourself.

His heartbeat resumed at a slower pace.

It took a second to dawn on him that it was the white serpent’s voice, the gargantuan creature he’d seen in the pit.

How did it do that? How is it controlling my body? … Can it read my thoughts?

Goosebumps pushed against his skin as his room grew colder, indicating night had fallen outside. Scattered voices reached his ears as people passed in front of his room, many lowering their voices, afraid to disturb the "horrid mutation" inside. With his sight gone, his hearing heightened to distinguish different speech patterns from one another.

There was talk about tyrannical soldiers and child labor, but all roads led back to him.

Fake, huh? he thought bitterly, repeating one person’s words.

The pain from his left arm had slightly diminished, but the memory was still etched in his mind; his bones shattering and twisting the wrong way and the despair that he felt when the snake tattoo sank into his chest.

How the hell could that possibly be “fake”?

No one would believe him if he told them a tattoo that he’d magically gotten was responsible for breaking his arm. Maybe they thought he was losing his mind and broke his arm on purpose.

Remembering that day, he wondered if that was where the white serpent came from. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

If I were to follow it chronologically, the day it appeared in my dreams, a magical tattoo appeared on my arm. But… then why was there black gunk coming out of my skin?

It was like… it was like I was shedding like a snake and after each “shedding” the tattoo was able to move a bit more like it grew stronger. No… no it wasn’t that. It was like my body had grown accommodating… he reflected, disbelievingly. It was physically changing my body to survive.

So… he mused, working things out. If it finally shattered my arm and then I saw big snake, is that symbolic of it breaking its final restraint? Then it stands to reason that the snake has free range over my body…

He scoffed in disgust.

Why? The universe just decided to add “broken arm” and “mind-controlling snake” to the list of shit I have to deal with?

Fuck. I don’t understand what’s happening. Maybe… Maybe I was the one to break my arm. I’m hearing voices in my fucking head, my body is acting on its own, and I’m imagining a tattoo that I’ve never seen before.

Imaging the day it all started, he chortled; a weak cough that rattled his lungs.

Is it because I was outside during the red sky? My fucking luck.

Steering away from his thoughts before he fell into another panic attack, he directed his attention to his environment and found his eardrums couldn’t detect any sounds. It was deathly quiet like the world was holding its breath.

Brace yourself, little hu-man, the white serpent cautioned him.

Taking the opportunity, he asked, Can you hear me?

Rohan was met with silence. If the white serpent was some split personality disorder he was suffering from, he was no closer to figuring it out.

Preparing to ask again, a ringing started to fill his mind, like thousands of silver bells dancing in harmony. One by one, the bells fell out of tune and the sound devolved into cacophony.

The noise scraped against the inside of his skull and a sharp rush of cold air surged into his lungs, producing a rush of dopamine to inundate his brain. He felt like laughing till tears ran down his face, concerns regarding the serpent now a distant thought.

Unwittingly, he sent a tremor along his arm and his right index finger twitched in response.

Stunned, he tried sending another command along his nervous system to his right hand. His middle finger remained silent. Again. Rohan concentrated his scattered brain, directing his willpower to move his finger. Perspiration popped up on the surface of his skin

Slytherin, can you help?

When it didn't respond he added a mental note to its profile.

Selfish, friggin' parasite.

His middle finger flinched. Then his ring finger. And then his right pinky.

Like his body had been released from its incorporeal prison, his extremities began to shiver as if they'd woken up after a long slumber. His face was stiff, making Rohan grimace until the corners of his mouth twitched.

As the rest of him regained motor control, he exercised his jaw, repeatedly opening and closing his jaw till the soreness disappeared.

The last step was his eyes. After being left in the dark, his yearning to see the light had grown fierce.

Relying on his other senses only created incomplete images and at last, he could add the missing puzzle piece. He’d been traumatized, his mind and body being played like a marionette… He was a prisoner to forces outside of his control. He wanted to be free of it. He wanted his eyes back.

Something was stopping him though. Lifting an arm, the weight was different from what he remembered, and it essentially flung itself into the air. Groaning at the uncomfortable position it landed in, Rohan moved it over his eyes and let it explore the obstruction, discovering a layer of grime on top of it.

Nervous, he peeled it off his eyes, holding his breath the entire time.

C’mon now...

Slowly, he opened them and saw an oasis of colors filter through his room’s small window. Unbidden, tears came to his face as he saw the world anew.

He could finally see.