Yelana’s ethics spoke of dark times as these. She spoke of the hunger of nature and how one must hunt as a predator to hunt the predator. Such things were neither for life nor death but for nature. One could be no more responsible for their prey than they were for the way the winds blow. As he was thrown into a small dark room, his world grew quiet beyond reason. Beyond sanity. He continued to empty himself as he felt an odd humidity fill the room, difficult to breathe and filling his body with a saturating warmth. When the humidity saturated his body and mind, he felt his spirit retreating.

Eventually, the walls began to shine with an odd crimson light before eventually going dark again. The pulsing was slow at first, seeming to synchronize with his heart rate. The more it pulsed the louder his heart seemed to grow and the faster they would flash. He closed his eyes to block it out but the lights just seemed to grow in intensity. Forcing its rhythm into his awareness. It felt like an eternity, ceaseless and oddly without rhythm. He couldn’t tell how long it had been but he could not allow that to shatter him. Eventually the pulsing faded into naught but white noise and he felt his awareness slip away.

The wolf pondered his odd cage, pawing at the walls as he wrenched his eyes into a glower. A voice spoke to him. ‘This room is your grave. Your life is mine, in life and in death. All is by my mercy. If you wish to repay my mercy, I require blood. Sacrifice on my altar and receive my mercy.’ The wall fell away and the wolf fell forward into a crimson sea. He felt Yelana’s hand at the nape of his neck, the silent goddess reassuring the beast as the pack of monsters growled and snapped. Beasts all seeking blood. Yelana’s eyes looked with pity upon her children. Gazing upon the noble wolf, she released his coat and turned away.

As the monsters approached, he was without hesitation. Thick scales like iron met his hand but his grip crushed the pipe beneath before his thumbs were jammed deep into the sockets of his prey. Binds lashed out from the crimson tide, but they were torn off, and the knot binding them was torn asunder. Another monster sought to strike him, a firm bite to his shoulder barely abated by his scales. Swinging his arm back, he encased the neck of his attacker and wrenched his neck until it snapped. As new monsters came into the room, he lunged and pulled their head into the pool of red he now stood in. He crushed their spine with a heavy stomp and was ready to strike at the next wave until a sharp pain spread through his back. He turned to see one of the monsters had jammed a sizable blade between his ribs.

The smirk the Beast wore was of Satisfaction. Of glee at the carnage and death. Yelana’s fury filled the wolf as he grabbed the monster’s throat and snapped it with one hand. Still, the monster smiled. Even in death his hunger had been endless. The wolf began to feel his limbs grow heavy, his crazed mind began to fade into the blackness.

Yelana watched the wolf fall to the ground, her moon high above her. She knelt down and rubbed his tired head. Such was nature. Neither cruel nor kind. Life nor death. So too was what he had done.

When he awoke he was in another of these barless cages. Walls flush with no clear door. He felt Yelana’s hand upon his muzzle. She inspected him and his eyes, her own reflecting his. He could taste the air, smell the dried blood, and hear the screams of those who no longer were. Ghosts of monsters feasting upon their own corpses.

He sniffed about the room, eventually discovering freshly butchered meat in his bowl. He pondered it for a moment but a few sniffs put him off the tainted meat. He would feast upon the next monster to cross his path instead. Yelana grasped the nape of his neck once more, guiding him back to the meat. All things are as nature. He must feast upon his hunt, for who knew when next his prey may appear. He would need his strength. As he chewed past the taint, he felt the warmth spread from his jaws down to his haunches. He did not meditate on his meal beyond this. Flavor and substance mattered less than a full belly for the next hunt. Yelana’s rage would suffice for these abominations. He was but a wolf in her pack, surviving among his prey.

————

Gavin was a statue, much to her amusement. She was hoping for a response but even nothing is some kind of reaction. Especially when it is so absolute and stalwart. A challenge for her to break, irresistible to the goddess. Holding up the bracer that he didn’t feel her remove she smiled teasingly and tossed it away. Walking back to her bed seductively, she tossed his emergency transformation device in her palm. She looked it over as she explained, “Di’saa was simply asking for my mercy after killing his own sister in my name. Soulshattering. So, I blessed my bed with his blood for our reunification. I hope my precious little Gavy hasn’t forgotten himself behind that Alabaster mask you put on for Heais.”

Stolen story; please report.

Gavin shook his head, leaning against the far wall. His stomach was churning and his balance weakened. She knew, but she couldn’t truly know. Every parting glance she sent his way caused his breathing to quicken and his heart to stop. Speaking as effortlessly as always, Gavin shook his head. “I could never forget your whispers in my ear. The feeling of your kiss on my cheek after my first kill. The drugs you pumped through my veins so you could have your way with me. How you tried to erase who I am and what matters to me…”

She didn’t look at or even acknowledge his rant. Not a hint of remorse, concern, or even belief. He may as well have been describing a bird he had seen since they had last met for all it mattered to her. As he petered off she placed his emergency device to the side and asked, “Is your tantrum finished? Did reciting that in the mirror every night make any difference?” When he was silent she shook her head to answer for him. “No. It did not. Wear any mask you want, you will still be my little Gavy.”

He drew his knife from his sleeve again, approaching her with it, the tip of his blade ever so slightly piercing the flesh of her neck. Her eyes lit up with excitement which chilled him to the bone. She grabbed his hand softly, but her grip was inescapable. She pushed the blade a bit deeper into her neck as she stood from the bed. Drinking in his fury, her smile could barely hide the drool escaping the corner of her mouth. He tried to muster words, to keep this mask on, but he could see her tunneling her way past it. Piercing into the dark memories he preferred to keep buried deep within.

She whispered in his ear, “There he is. The natural born predator. The cornered animal who would do anything to survive. Scared. Desperate. Hungry. You remember now how I saved you?” His blade still biting her neck, she wrapped her lips around his neck, her kisses chilling his blood, his hands shaking and his knees shuddering. Eventually, his grip faltered, as did his balance. As he fell hard to the floor, she sat on his chest, an elated smile on her face. She leaned down and pressed the wound on her neck onto his mouth, forcing him to taste her blood. The taste felt like fire in his mind, spreading and burning everything away but his nausea and fear.

Panic gripped him as he remembered this sensation. She leaned back, smacking his face few times in sadistic glee. She whispered in his ear as his body began to drift beyond him, “You talk too much, Gavy. You need to let go. Stop lying and come back to me, my dear precious Gavy.” A haze overtook his mind as whatever drug she had slipped him in that kiss began taking full effect. Grabbing his fallen blade, she ran it along his leg for a bit, as if tracing his veins by memory. Piercing his calf through with it, the searing pain broke through the fog. He tried to remain strong. This only invited her to try again. Same calf, same tracing, but a new wound. Again the agony shattered the cloud. Again, he fought it.

Leaving the blade sheathed in his leg, she whispered in his ear again, “You know, I’m so glad that I finally got to meet her.” His eyes snapped in anger despite the disconnect from his body. “Reijaa truly was a wonderful agent of my will. So many died so beautifully at her hands. You truly have wonderful taste in women, my dear Gavy.” Her hands ran their way across his chest, as she seemed to be checking him for any new scars or markings. She sighed in disappointment, clearly expecting more. She looked into his furious eyes, but her own had grown dark. Perhaps even agitated. She motioned the Pierrot to lift him, removing herself from him gracefully.

She motioned to the bed, the two carriers tossing him unceremoniously onto it. The smell of blood and the taste of copper nearly made him vomit, but the drugs were too powerful. She crawled onto him, her sad eyes almost seeming mournful. She spoke softly and fondly to him. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, Gavy. I just remembered the way things were. You would beg me to hurt you like that before. You found it exciting to be on the edge of my knife. So close to my greatest blessing, to dying beautiful in my arms.” She cradled his head in her bloodied hands. “I’m sorry the world has cost you so much joy. But don’t worry. I’ll fix it for you. Wait right here and rest. I won’t be long.” He watched her rush off as if she was getting medicine for the sick. And sick he was, immersed in the scent of blood and the sound of every lie she used to make him believe.