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Scott Langston sat at his desk holding a strange cocktail. Unlike every other time in which he favored the bottle itself, he had decided against it for once. Rather than drink it, though, he just stared at the glass with a sprig of mint resting in it, while deep in thought. Sitting on the couch reading a book on disappearances, was Elysif, who made a habit of glancing over at Scott every now and then.
“Are you ever going to drink that, or are you considering going cold turkey?” she asked in a somewhat prude tone.
“I’m worried about Lou,” Scott said in a monotone voice, staring at his glass as he swirled it. This caused the stagnant mint leaves at the bottom of the strangely bubbling glass to lift upward with a light brown syrup.
“So am I, but didn’t you say he would be fine?” Elysif asked with an annoyed look.
“Yes. Though that was before he was missing for over a week. I was hoping that the changeling would attack in the same fashion as before, where it attacked after only a week of waiting. That hasn’t happened, though. The changeling hasn’t attacked, and I assume it has something to do with Lou’s disappearance.” He wasn’t entirely sure about this, but his gut feeling told him that he should lean towards this theory.
“I have thought the same thing, but it doesn’t make much sense. The only way that would sound rational is if Lou found the changeling and fought it. Either he lost, or they both lost. Even if that was the case, we would have seen evidence of it, such as Lou’s body being found somewhere,” Elysif rationalized.
“True. Maybe he successfully time-traveled? If he did, that would be a good reason for why he hasn’t come back yet,”
“He seemed really torn up about the whole thing. He kept saying that he knew it was going to happen,” Elysif pondered aloud with a depressed look.
“He might have. That may be the reason as to why he attempted to time travel… if he did, that is,” Scott said with a sigh.
“I wish that I had stopped him before he left. Then we wouldn’t be here wasting our time thinking about what could have happened,” Elysif said, lamenting, as she set her book down and stretched out on the couch.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. There was nothing you could have done to make him stay there. What I am truly worried about is the possibility that he was captured.”
“By whom, the changeling?” Elysif asked with an unconvinced look.
“Maybe, or perhaps by Sir Micheal.”
“What I find strange is that no one was really talking about this Sir Micheal character, except Mordred, until Lou showed up. Now, we see or hear about Sir Micheal all the time. He saved your drunk ass once, and now there’s the possibility that he is working with a changeling serial killer,” Elysif wondered.
“I know, it’s as if Lou is the catalyst for Sir Micheal reappearing. If Mordred were to hear that, she would probably find him, lock him up, and use him in some sort of trap for Sir Micheal,” Scott said as if deep in thought.
“Really? You think so?” Elysif asked, impressed.
“Yes, I do.”
“If Mordred is so motivated to find Sir Micheal, why don’t we have her come to London and find Lou? we could tell her what you just said with the promise that Lou stays with us,” Elysif suggested.
“No, that is out of the question. We have to find Lou without bringing Mordred into it. She is just too unpredictable when it comes to anything involving Sir Micheal. Remember what happened seven years ago? ” Scott said. Elysif knew what he was referring to, but she didn’t think that incident was similar. That said, bringing up that memory caused Elysif to tense up and shiver. As it became harder to breath, she squeezed her arm and forcibly slowed her breath, calming herself down before she reacted worse. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small metal vial and pulled the cork. Removing one of the pills from inside, she swallowed it dry, before speaking again.
“I understand where you are coming from, but this is different. Do you not trust the one who is running the Table with Lou’s life?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I can’t trust Mordred to worry about the life of her subordinate when it comes to her vendetta. She is too hate-driven to think rationally about it. I should know. Merlin knows this more than anyone so he always handles things involving that subject rather than have her do it.”
“Can that pervert actually be of use? I would never have thought Merlin would care so much,” Elysif asked as she had a very low view of him.
“You don’t understand them, do you? Merlin was good friends with Mordred’s father, so when he was killed, Mordred was filled with hate and he didn’t have time to mourn, because he was too worried about Mordred to come to terms with it properly; Or at least that’s what I’ve heard,” Scott said with a shake of his head.
“I see.”
“He took care of Mordred in her father’s place. Merlin may seem perverted, but that’s just a ruse he puts up to take Mordred’s mind off her hate. Haven’t you noticed that the only times he’s been truly perverted or obnoxious is after someone mentions Sir Micheal?”
“I didn’t realize that,” Elysif replied, thinking back to see if her memories could recall that.
“He took as much weight off her shoulders as he could, and is the laughingstock of the Table for her sake. It’s his way of coping, and the directors respect him for being that kind of person for nearly thirteen-hundred years,” Scott continued as if he looked up to him.
“I guess I never understood why you didn’t want to bring in Mordred... You only wanted to protect her and make Merlin’s job easier, I’m sorry,” Elysif said apologetically.
“It’s okay, but we have to find Lou, as well as this changeling. If we just so happen to find Sir Micheal on the way, then we’ll bring him in,” he said, before finally drinking the glass of liquor he had been examining for something earlier unknown. He made a face of refreshment and surprise, which quickly shifted to being unsure of the flavor.
“Got it,” Elysif replied with a determined smile.
***
I sat in the barber's chair completely unconscious. It had only been a week since I was captured, but it felt like an eternity. As the masked figure had said, my limbs were growing back. Albeit at a slow rate, they were. However, every time they started to grow back, he would cut them off again. He would cut the skin all over my body, then cover my wounds in salt and vinegar. It burned as my nerves cried out from under my skin. Death would have been a relief. On several occasions, I had tried to escape when he would leave me alone, thinking I was unconscious, but none of my attempts worked. Now, my arms and legs were nailed to the chair to keep me from attempting it again. Moving was agony because the nails scraped the inside of my flesh like coarse sandpaper.
Every so often, though, the nails would be pushed out from the holes where they once were, as they healed. Seeing this, my torturer would nail them in again as he felt necessary. Over time, I realized that the more he hurt me, the sooner it was until it had to be done again; As if my rate of healing was becoming faster. After the fifth day, I began to notice not only this, but I also realized that my pain tolerance increased ever so slightly. Each experience hurt slightly less than the last time.
No matter what, though, I would eventually succumb to the agonizing pain and lose consciousness. Those moments where I was asleep and not being tortured were the only moments I had to look forward to. Whenever I would, I always ended up talking to Sela. The kid was more annoying than useful, but atleast I wouldn’t be lonely during this endeavor. I wondered if Scott and Elysif ever came looking for me. They had to have done something. Wait, I take that back. Last time I was in trouble, Scott watched from a distance while drinking, and Elysif took a nap. It’s hopeless. No one is coming to save me.
To add to my list of issues, Sela refuses to help me at all. All the kid ever does is complain about my annoying screams and asks to play games. Why is everyone around me so selfish and useless? It didn’t matter though. I was slowly going crazy. With every severed limb, a pain like a lightning bolt would shoot through my body as if it were screaming to release my soul. I would get a second or two of relief, before another part of me would be cut off and the cycle repeated. How… How many? How many fingers, toes, limbs, fingernails, and teeth had been ripped out and grown back? By this point it was somewhere between 2,986… 2,987… 2,988… 2,989… it continued on and on. Counting each time I fell asleep caused my hand to shake in fear, despite being in the Realm of Stars.
“Whatcha thinkin about?” Sela asked whilst floating upside down. The long hair on one side of Sela’s head was nearly touching the floor, and had turned a sleek black, while the short hair, on the other hand, turned a silvery white.
“I’m thinking about how the hell I am going to get out of here, and also about how useless you are in this situation,” I replied. Sela continued floating until arriving back on the watery floor in a criss-crossed sitting position.
“Well, that’s rude,” Sela said with a sarcastic tone, making a pouty face as she did.
“You know, your sarcasm isn’t helping.”
“I know, but this whole torture thing is getting boring. Maybe you could get out of here faster if you actually talked to the guy instead of screaming at him,” Sela still seemed to feel the need to be sarcastic despite my comment.
“Oh, I didn’t think of that. You are so wise in the ways of being a dumbass. What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?” I snapped, standing up.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. You were the one who got yourself into this mess,” Sela replied with a haughty expression.
“You do realize that if you didn’t have the body of a child, I would kick your ass, right?” I stated, angrily. On many occasions I had considered punting the pint-sized being, but I couldn’t due to personal ideals.
“As if you could do that,” Sela stated pridefully as she stood up.
“Don’t tempt me you little shit. I will punt you to the moon,” I threatened. Although I couldn’t see any moons around... But I assumed there was one, and I would sure as hell try to hit it.
“You know what? I’ll help you. I know what you could try?” The spiteful look on Sela’s face made me both fearful and curious as she spoke.
“Oh, so now you want to help? This better be good,” I replied, giving in.
“Just piss him off,” Sela said with a strangely smug look.
“What?”
“You have realized that you heal faster and faster, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, once you can heal near instantly, you could piss him off enough to where he severs your held limbs. Once he does, you can heal quickly and escape,” Sela explained, like a know-it-all.
“That’s not a bad idea. Though I would rather not suffer through all that.”
“And that’s my cue to have you wake up,” Sela replied with a partial sadist's smile.
“Can’t I stay a little longer? You may be an insufferable bastard, but it’s better than being tortured,” I begged.
“Nope,” Sela said, snapping its fingers.
I opened my eyes, as I have many times over the past week, to see the masked man standing over me. He was in the middle of sharpening the large and menacing cleaver that he had already used several times to sever my fingers in a way that made me very uncomfortable. I strained in the chair in hopes of getting some leeway, but to no avail. It was only half a second before I realized that was a mistake.
The masked figure stopped sharpening the cleaver and looked me in the eye. I could feel his gaze eating at me like a fear toxin. All I could do was tremble, as dust blew up from the floor below him. “Good! You’re awake,” he said in such high spirits that it made me sick. I couldn’t believe that someone like this could even exist.
“P—Please let me go. I want to go home,” I begged, as tears began welling up in my eyes. I was too afraid to control my emotions. Being calm and rational within the Realm of Stars was easy, but only because pain didn’t register over there. Here, on the other hand, was different. I was mortified by this man and anything he could do to me. Some of the things he could do to me were probably beyond my imagination. Actually, my imagination wasn’t that far off from what he could actually do, since I could grow back my limbs.
“Oh, I would send you home now if I could, but do remember that I need you to do something for me, and you aren’t exactly complying as well as I had originally hoped,” he spouted in a menacing but nearly insane manner.
“I told you already, I can’t save them—” I started to say, but I was cut off by the sound of one of my fingers being smashed by the backside of the cleaver. My body jolted in pain, and all I could do was grit my teeth and glare angrily.
“Lies!!!” he yelled whilst punching my face. “You can save them! You just aren’t trying hard enough!”
“Jesus Christ, I’ve done everything I can. Please just let me go,” I retorted hatefully through my bruised jaw, causing spit to shoot in his direction.
“Perhaps, but even if I can’t make you go back, cutting you into pieces is absolutely therapeutic. To add to this, your ability to heal is improving marvelously. Your fingers have grown back completely overnight. I wonder how fast it will be in a fortnight,” the masked figure asked threateningly.
My fight-or-flight response kicked in with an uncontrollable urge to flee. I struggled in the chair desperately, in the hope that by some herculean miracle I could break out. I didn’t want the torture to continue as it had before, but I couldn’t break the bindings. They barely budged from their original spots. It was hopeless, though I kept trying, desperately.
“Now, let’s begin,” he said, picking the butcher's knife back up. “I think I’ll start here,” he exclaimed, as he held the cleaver to my shoulder and drew it down my chest at an angle, slowly. The cut was only deep enough to allow blood to leak out, but not enough to cut through my muscles. I couldn’t help but wince in pain as he did it, even though I was trying to tough it out.
“You bitch!” I cursed at him with a large amount of spit right on his mask.
“How rude, but it’s to be expected. I am hurting you. Although, I would like you to know that, as Sir Micheal, I have people I want to protect,” he said in a strangely carefree way.
“You’re not even Sir Micheal, just an imposter!” I spat. He grabbed my throat without hesitation.
With almost a whisper between seething teeth, he spoke in a deeply threatening voice, unlike before. “And what, may I ask, would bring you to that conclusion?” His breath stunk of rot and disease, similar to a rotting corpse. I gagged but held in my lunch out of fear of when my next would be.
“My power told me you aren’t the real Sir Micheal.” I heaved out through the stench and fear.
Releasing my throat, my captor’s mood shifted as he became more relaxed. Resting the cleaver on his shoulder as if he were a lumberjack, his mood shifted from threatening to casual. In a kind, almost respectful tone, he agreed. “Well, you’re correct. I am not the real Sir Micheal. The real one disappeared from existence when King Arthur died. There have been many imposters since then. I am simply the newest one.”
“But why?” I asked.
“Fear, the name itself can instill fear in anyone who knows of it. Even the legendary Mordred is terrified of the name. Why do you think she hates him so much?” the masked figure explained.
“Because he killed her father?”
“No, she has lived long enough that revenge has become pointless. She hates Sir Micheal because he was able to kill Arthur, who was capable of destroying an entire empire if he so desired. That is something anyone would find terrifying.”
I couldn’t reply. I didn’t think about it like that. Was Mordred really as scared, or even more so, of the real Sir Micheal as I was of this imposter? If that were the case, then he must truly be a monster. I couldn’t think about it for too long, though, as the masked figure dragged the cleaver from my other shoulder down to my stomach. Unable to push through it, I cried out in pain. As he ran the knife's edge across my skin, I saw the door open, and a rather plump woman in her mid to late thirties strolled in, holding a basket full of food.
She had her hair covered with a bonnet and was dressed similarly to that of a midwife, with a brown gown and white apron. Her face was covered in freckles and she had glazed-over hazel eyes. She wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes, but maybe she could save me. That idea, however, changed when she gave me a smug grin and sauntered over to me.
“Didn’t think you would have believed me so easily at that tavern. You actually went your own way sooner than we had hoped, and now, my part of the deal is done. I have you to thank for that,” the woman said with a smug look.
“What?” I asked in confusion.
“Oh, you probably don’t recognize me. I was the old man that you noticed at the tavern. To think that you would have known the man that I changed into,” she continued. It was then that I realized that this woman was the changeling.
“Wait… how did you know that I would be there?”
“I didn’t. I was just getting a drink. The plan, originally, was that I would follow you until I could get you alone and convince you, but instead, you just sat down beside me. I told you before that it was divine fate that we had met there, and I meant it,” the changeling stated with an erratic tone.
“But what about your code?”
“All lies. There is no such code for any changeling. That’s why we are almost extinct. If there were any with that sort of code, then they would have been wiped out just for being one of us,” the changeling spouted with a disturbingly proud expression.
“Enough, Elick. You’re ruining my fun,” the masked figure said calmly but firmly.
“Oh, come on now, masked one. I am enjoying this just as much as you. I wouldn’t have made a deal with you if it wasn’t a win-win situation for me,” the changeling said before slamming a piece of moldy bread into my mouth. It tasted like ass, but I didn’t know how long they were going to keep me from starving, so I chewed it as best I could without gagging.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
