I had a dream. One where I was pulled away from my loved ones, but I couldn’t see their faces. Then I was alone, in the dark. Alone. Until the light shone through, and freed me from the darkness. And though I was free of the darkness, and with the light, I was still alone.

I woke with a start, then settled back down onto the nice, cold……...hard……. Ground? I bolted back upright, and took a good look at my surroundings. Instead of my cozy room, crammed full with 2 bookshelves, a desk, and a bed, I was in a stone chamber that resembled an old prison cell. It was about 3.5 meters to a side, and a perfect cube, with 5 sides being cold stone, and the last being thick metal bars. The only things in the room were me, and some weird shapes on the ground that resembled runes. Oh, this had to be a bad dream. The “Middle Eastern country finding oil” of dreams. I decided that I may as well see if someone was there. Even if this was just a freaky dream, there’s no sense in being alone.

“Hello? Is anyone there? I seem to have ended up in some sort of prison cell by mistake. I would appreciate it if i could wake up and go home please!” Oh lovely. What started off as a polite probe for attention turned into panicked yelling. This is what happens when I forget to take my medication. My anxiety wells up way too fast and far too often.

Amidst my internal grumbling about medicine and anxiety, the thud of a door being closed echoed down the hall, followed by a steady cadence of steps. Just judging by the sound, the jailer must be an absolute monster of a man.

“Mister Jailer! Hello! Just the man I was hoping to see! If you could kindly remooo……” My voice trailed off, as the jailer finally came into view, and my words dove back into my throat to hide. The jailer was indeed a monster, but was by no stretch of the imagination a man. Standing at least 2.5 meters tall, covered in chitin, rippling with muscles, with vaguely humanoid proportions and the features of a lizard, the only thing between me and the monster were thick metal bars, but given that the jailer’s shiny chitinous arms were as large around as my torso, I was under no illusions that I was safe. And that’s before considering that he has a ring of keys attached to a leather belt. Thank God for loincloths, otherwise I would probably have even more severe mental trauma from this meeting.

I retreated to the corner, curled up, and kept reminding myself it was a dream, because nothing else made sense. There’s no way in hell that I was kidnapped by the humanoid bastard child of a roided out crocodile and an ant. Such a thing doesn’t exist, can’t exist, and I must be tripping bad on the drugs I have never tried in my life. That had to be it! There was no possible, feasible way for me to be face to face with a television villains minion wet dream. Unfortunately, reality couldn’t give two shits what I believed, and brought my delusions crashing down with the simple creak of a metal door. The monstrous behemoth could not fit through the door, but it gestured for me to step out of the cell. I really didn’t want to, but the thing’s sheer size and obvious power meant that asking was merely a formality, an opportunity for me to cooperate and maintain some dignity, instead of being inconvenient cargo.

The jailer shut the door behind me, the creak of the hinges echoing down the hallway. Then, it turned and looked down at me, then gestured down the hallway. Looks like it would prefer to stay behind me, to keep me going where it wants me to go. No need to worry about that, mate, I’m too goddamn scared to even walk too fast, let alone make a break for it. And if you’re up here walking around, who knows what else might be lurking around the next corner? No thanks, I’ll take my chances with the less unfamiliar unknown.

We walked for a while in an uncomfortable quiet. Well, I was uncomfortable, but the brute of a jailer seemed content enough. The only sounds were that light padding noise of my steps, the dull thud of it’s steps, and our respective breathing. I’m breathing a little heavily, but it has been a long walk. There was no discernible change in the jailer’s breathing, it was just as heavy and loud as it was when he was retrieving me from my cell.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, I finally saw light up ahead. I was almost excited, until I remembered who, or rather, what, brought me to what I hoped was the surface. That washed any potential joy and hope right down the drain and out to sea, because such an abomination would doubtless be something that the good and just would condemn as evil, and summarily destroy. So, I was probably being led to meet some form of evil overseer, and maybe be chopped up for spare parts. That could be a bit of a stretch, I don’t have any parts worth being chopped up for. I digress; point is, I was terrified. An impossible and inhuman abomination of unknown origin is leading me from a place I don’t remember entering to somewhere it thought to prevent me from running from. I trust a rattlesnake with a “pet me” sign more than I trusted the situation.

I must have stopped in the middle of being super suspicious about the destination, because I went stumbling from a casual shove from the jailer. Holy hell, I could tell that he was strong, but he barely tried and I almost ate wall. I quickly recovered, and glared at it, but it was much better at glaring than I, and returned the favor. Having lost the short glaring showdown, I continued on out the door.

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

I would not have bet on a monster military base on a mountain, but having just come out of said mountain into the middle of the base, I would have bet wrong. There were creatures that could have almost passed for humans, and some that weren’t even humanoid in the most vague sense of the word. The only thing each and every one of them had in common, was that they were in no way human. They were all monstrous, and even the most human among them could have been the object of a horror film. Maybe especially the near human ones, because not quite human is a very deeply unsettling thing. And perhaps worst of all, definitely worst of all, each of these creatures from humanity’s darkest nightmares paused what they were doing to look at me. I am by no means a master of reading facial expressions, even in my fellow humans, but even I could see the hope in these things’ faces. Why in the Kentucky Fried Fuck are they looking at me like that?! Monsters shouldn’t look at humans like the humans just offered to pay their college tuition! Especially not humans like me, who can barely function enough for myself.

Well, that officially made things go from bad to worse. The only thing worse than evil overlords is expectations, and God knows I have to deal with plenty of those. Come to think of it, what do these things, this place, mean for religion? Who was right? Were any of us? Oh boy, an existential crisis is not something I feel like dealing with in the middle of a horde of the most horrifying things to ever set foot on a vaguely horizontal surface. I will have a breakdown later, in the comfort of my cold, dark cell, utterly and blissfully alone. If I go crazy enough, none of this will be my problem!

While I was busy plotting my inevitable descent into madness to avoid responsibility, the jailer had been leading me through the crowd, which trailed after us like horrifying ducklings. Some of the more human ones pushed through the crowd, so it seemed like they were more powerful, or at least more important. As our merry little band of monsters and one(1) terrified human who has no idea what is going on, and little inclination to do so, continued on our journey through the base, more and more monsters joined the trailing crowd, many of them becoming more and more human. Finally, the jailer came to a halt, and I ran into him because I was completely spaced out, engrossed in my plans for avoiding whatever was expected of me.

The hulking jailer stopped because the path did, or was at least blocked by tremendous doors. They were the massive kind of doors that a video game villain would put before his throne room, to show off how powerful, and rich, and evil he was, except they weren’t so much evil, and more just ostentatious. Don’t get me wrong, these doors were amazingly decorated, with intricate carvings and clever use of different metals and gems to create depth, contrast, and depict emotion. But there was so much wealth, effort, and time that had obviously gone into making these doors, and I was near certain that the doors could solve the college debt of every person in the United States, and still have some left over for tacos. It was obscene, the amount of wealth poured into making these dramatic doors.

The monster crowd had stopped a respectful distance behind the jailer and I, and were milling around in barely concealed impatience. Wow, already humanizing inhuman kidnapping monsters, Stockholm Syndrome 1, Emery 0. Anyway, the whole little parade just stood outside the doors, waiting. It was reaching the point where I was almost bored enough to try asking questions of the goliath that led me from my cell, but luckily the doors started to creep open before I said anything.

The doors swung inward, gliding silently on hinges that had obviously been oiled and well maintained, unlike certain other hinges that were definitely not the ones on my cell. I’m not that petty. Moving on, the doors swung open, and the tide of monsters poured in with the jailer and little old me at the front.

The room behind the doors was indeed a throne room, but thankfully with much more tasteful decor than the gaudy doors. Ionic columns, stately but not showy, mosaics of many colors, and a path of blood red bricks bisecting the marble floor. And, of course, a throne, though the throne ruins the aesthetic of the room. Large, made of gold and obsidian, studded with rubies, diamonds and emeralds, the throne practically screamed dramatic evil, but I could have guessed that anyway, from the whole little ordeal to get me here. What really gave the throne presence, however, was the individual sitting in it. Tall, nearly 2 meters in height, leanly muscular, and long limbed, even lounging the being gave off the impression of a taut spring. Unlike the creatures behind me, this one could pass for human even if you had 20/20 vision. He was dressed finely, but practically, his outfit well fitting and slightly loose to allow full range of movement. He looked like a European nobleman from the Dark Ages, wavy blond hair, strong jawline, and delicate cheekbones. However, when he looked up, and we made eye contact, the illusion of him being human vanished entirely. His looks changed not one bit, but his eyes were decidedly inhuman. For starters, they were a brilliant, shiny silver, and his pupils were a curvy “W” shape. He maintained the eye contact for but a moment, before sighing and looking back at the ceiling.

“You’re finally here.”