The creature wakes up. He looks around where he is. He tried to lift his arm first, but he realized he couldn’t feel it. It’s there but it’s not there. He recalled coming out of seclusion and noticing a huge fleet appearing from a distance. It was a monstrous island surrounded by thousands of ships surrounding gigantic ships and what seems to be a tamed monster carrying a whole island on its back.
He looks around and takes notice of a man in what seems to be a metal mask. He tries to tell a spell when he realizes that something seems to be constricting his spell-tongue.
“The weakness of spell chanters is their ability to command the sprites that are around them. It looks like you are speaking to certain sprites that are moonlight blessed.”
“What are you saying, cur?”
The human ignores him. No, is he even human? He smells like one but he has the stench of the elven-kin on him.
The masked man lifts what seems to be a skin. No, it looks like something familiar… then he looks down and realizes… there was only red flesh on him.
“What have you done to me?”
“You have bad skin. We had to make sure that you would not bring ruin to us. We cannot repeat the mistakes of the past and so I have decided to remove your skin as painlessly as possible.”
“I-I cannot feel pain… why is that?”
“I have drugged you. As you can see, the red flesh on you has been dried by my colleagues.”
“W-what have you done to me?”
The masked man looks up to him before checking on him. “It’s fascinating. Usually, getting rid of someone’s skin would cause anyone to die of shock. But you are quite durable. You’re not muscular. You’re barely average so it makes me wonder where you get your strength from.”
He picks an arm up from what seems to be a wooden container. The only thing left is the bone. He recognizes it. The engravings on the bones. It was his.
“It seems that this is an engraving technique. It makes you strong. Tell me, are all your bones engraved with these writings?”
The creature growled. The masked man stares through the glasses of his mechanical mask. “Well, I’m not expecting you to tell me. You are spirit-blooded so it will work on you and it will not. See, I have a hypothesis that even though it won’t work on myself. It might work if I have a vessel that will allow me to wield it with. See, there are things that need to be checked and guessed.”
“What are you saying, cur?”
The masked man takes out his rounded knife and then taps the tip. “At first I was wondering if I needed to restrain you with your head pointing downwards to keep you conscious longer. Starve you first so your skin would be looser and less likely to be damaged. Then again, I only need to check your skin if you have infections. It’s interesting. Your body composition is human-like, but the way your innards are designed makes me wonder what kind of sorcery was made to make it happen.”
“How am I alive?”
“I stilled your blood with the help of my colleagues here. You cannot see the sun or take a step outside without help.”
There are tiny roots pinned on his back. He could ‘feel’ it feeding him and keeping him alive. He has heard of the masked. The Soundless and the Jesters who wear the Quiet.
Then the man in front of him is the Quietus?
“So you’re the heads of these dogs?”
“Ah, I’m simply a Mime. Not as Soundless, and not a Jester either. See, I’m just an imitation of what they are. Anyway, I have confirmed that there are no problems with your body. Which brings us to the reason why you were dragged here. I do not understand. You did not have to show yourself to us. Is it overconfidence or do you think that we’ve become benevolent?”
The creature did not reply. The masked man nodded and took a jar of salt and threw some of it at him.
Pain. Like a thousand needles repeatedly piercing his flesh.
“It’s salt. Just salt. It’s quite painful even without the addition…”
“D-do you think I would answer to the man that flayed me alive!?”
“Do you know? As long as the down-the-belly cut wasn't made very deeply, causing the organs to sustain damage. Then the one subjected to it would be fine. There would be no chance of me committing such a beginner's mistake. It's usually one you only need to make once. I can put your skin on if you live. See, skinning requires a steady amount of gentle tension on the skin. Careful cuts to avoid damaging the layers. It takes experience to do so and humanoid creatures skins tear so easily with such scraping, leaving unattractive marks.”
“And your people think of me as a monster when you speak. I do not shed the skin of my kind.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Yes, but you are not of our kind. That’s the difference, friend. You are not human, and not an elven. I do admit that I have been taught how to skin a creature whether dead or alive. It’s a skill that has been passed down to me. See, you should count yourself lucky.”
“Lucky!?” The creature couldn’t believe what he was wearing from this masked man. How could someone consider this as lucky?
“Believe me when I say this, but there are more awful ways that my colleagues here can do for you. The Jesters here are quite inexperienced when it comes to art, and I have to teach some of them roughly in exchange for my surgical arts. You wouldn’t be able to breathe. I can put your skin back on and make you scurry. If you cooperate with me, I can fix your ripped skin and let you walk away.”
“I doubt it, but it’s not like I have any choices here. You Soundless and Jesters… always in the dark… thinking that you are what is simply right. I’m dead nevertheless.”
“Hmm, really? Now you make me feel bad. So, tell me.”
“You’ve lost.”
“We’ve lost? Elaborate. Why did we ‘lose’?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The creature tries to laugh, but finds it hard to do so with his injuries. “While your fleet tries to cross the endless seas. The battle is fought everywhere! Oh my, did you really think that your continent, your land that is located beyond dreaded lines matter? Educate yourself fool! There are seeds of light thrown everywhere. As there is Moonblessed! Your kind might have survived, but you’ve lost when the Moonblessed soothed the eye of the world! For hundreds of years we have made the lands ours and your people struggling like cornered animals!”
“I see. I guess what they said was right. There can’t only be one blinder in the world, at least in the continent. So is it safe to assume that there are many lands out there who have the seed of light, followed the orders and tried to win and fell. That is distressing news.”
There was no tremble. Almost as if they were simply confirming it.
“You seem to have some knowledge. Perhaps you can help us find the thousand islands.”
“Why would I?”
“Because it’s the nicest thing you can do for us.”
“Your people speak of honor and righteousness… and yet you do this.”
“We did? When?”
“Isn’t that your goal?”
“Not really,” the masked man said. “I think you shouldn’t mistake our kindness for our own kind. They are family. And even though the world is at stake, we have long understood what duties we have. And this fleet’s goal is to reach a thousand islands.”
“Then you will bring death to the islands. I have seen your people’s work for the last few weeks. You slaughter beasts. Turn their ashes into food for your crops and desecrate the forests! Ancient forests! Cut down because your kind wants to consume what you can! Your people do not care about the amount as long as you get what you want! You’ve disturbed our homes! Massacre innocent creatures… and now you target the lightless hidden in the biomes of this land! They have done nothing wrong!”
“Ah, is that what angers you? And you said… biomes? Oh, so there are biomes on this island, eh?”
The creature shivered at his mistake. He just told this masked man about the biomes?
“So you tried attacking our soldiers alone, thinking you can take them on.”
The masked man whispered something to one of the Jesters. The Jester went out of the room and left hurriedly.
“That is information we can use. The island is quite massive and there are many resources that will benefit the fleet here.”
“You are unashamed.”
“Survival is our priority. We haven't survived three generations of being under the sunless sky with just mercy and kindness. If you really think that, then I might praise you for believing that we have that capacity.”
He motions for the Soundless to give him a thick stack of papers. “Now, you will tell me everything you know. Oh, and don’t bother to bite your tongue. I’ll sew it back and my colleagues will make sure that you will tell us everything.”
One Jester and one of the Soundless prepares alongside the masked man. The creature looks at them before finally realizing what state he was in. A limbless torso to be asked by these monsters.
The questions lasted.
He didn’t know what they were injecting on him, but it made him truthful. He couldn’t resist as the tireless questions kept on coming. He saw a glimpse of light and he didn’t know how it was until it all became a complete blur of questions being asked.
The scratching of pen on paper. The bland voice and the mutterings of the Jesters and Soundless who are keeping him alive. Unanswered questions are treated with a sprinkle of salt on his flayed wounds.
The injections were the worst. When his eyelids fail him and when his heart stops beating. He would hear that awful noise of a needle being inserted.
He’d be awake to see that baleful mechanical mask alongside the masks of the Jesters and the Soundless.
Then it was simply blank.
He could feel his drool coming out of his mouth and the last thing he saw was those hateful eyes drilling into his soul. The creature held his breath. The Soundless next to him took out a tube with a sharpened end and stabbed it on his lungs.
“Not yet. You haven’t told us where the thousand islands are. Until then, do you really think you can rest? Friend, you just tried to murder my soldiers, and I did promise to let you go if you cooperate… but that if you live long enough to tell it all to me without resisting. I applaud you for your resistance, but until your secrets are spilled and all that is in your head is written on paper. So I will ask again and again.”
The creature looks at the masked man in defiance, gathers up saliva, and spits it on his face.
“Go to hell, curs. May the cold moonlight drown you in mighty waves. You sun-blighted fools should have drowned. Your evil shouldn’t have been allowed in this world! This is our world now! Not yours! Ours! It has been ours! Long live the Moonblessed! Long live the Sons of the Moonlight!”
The creature exerted the last of his voice. There was no stir. Not a single mutter of the masked humans in front of him.
The masked man, after a moment of silence, nodded quietly, took out a syringe and then inserted it through his ear. The constrictions made him unable to move. The numbed pain had returned and before the creature could shout in pain. The pain was gone and the question was asked again.
“Where can we find the thousand islands?”