Page 109
Story: Dragon Gods
A scream caught in her throat, unable to work its way out without air. She was going to die here, alone in the dark before General Ocon even had a chance to break her.
No no no no no.
Her mind chanted the word until she finally choked it out, the sound of her own voice startling her in the dark.
“No!”
Her hand pressed against her chest, feeling the rapid patter of her heart. She was having another panic attack. She wouldn’t let this kill her. Screwing her eyes tightly closed as if she might forget the darkness around her, she hissed out a breath through her nose, trying her best to slow it. Her hand stayed firm against her chest and her breaths became a mantra.
She was left shivering in the darkness, a film of cold sweat layered upon her body. Pins and needles raced across her skin, but she curled up all the same, pressing herself into a tight ball until she could focus more on the feel of her own skin instead of the rough stone. She breathed in the odor of her body, sweaty and dirty, and pushed away the stale scent of the prison.
Sleep came slowly and she sank into the quiet darkness of oblivion until the nightmares tangled around her. She felt the bite of the whip against her skin and heard her own screams, echoing from every direction. But there was only blackness around her. When the pain stopped and she managed to turn and see the man holding the whip, it wasn’t General Ocon’s face she saw, but Fox’s, her blood sprayed across his brow.
* * *
She wokewith a start to the sound of metal on metal. Despite the heaviness in her limbs, she scrambled up before the guard could grab her. She was sick of being dragged about. Even still, by the time he’d snapped the rough cuffs onto her wrists, her shoulders were aching from his rough jerks that were anything but necessary.
She was led up a set of steps out of the basement of the prison onto a level with high windows. The light blinded her for a moment until her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight filtering in from outside, but then she was shoved once more into darkness.
When her eyes adjusted again, she was greeted with the sight of a small room devoid of any furniture. General Ocon stood against the wall, his eyes following her closely as the guard forced her to kneel in the middle of the room, moving her hands to the cuffs that sprouted from the ground in front of her. She tested the binds, wondering if the general would get close enough for her to claw his eyes out. She doubted it.
Her eyes darted around the rest of the room and she immediately regretted it. Not because of the wall of weapons hanging beside the general, but rather the man standing in the corner, blond hair tied up in a top knot, looking cleaner than she’d seen him in weeks.
Fox’s face was a pasty white, even for him, and he didn’t meet her eyes when she looked at him. Despite this, just the sight of him broke something in her and her stomach dropped, her heartbeat a staccato in her chest. Hehadtruly betrayed her—forgotten everything they had spoken about and seen in the forest. Had he given up so easily? She clenched her fists, nails biting in her skin as hard as she could manage, and she wished she could draw her own blood to distract her thoughts.
She needed to leave here. Now. And if she couldn’t do it physically, she’d do it mentally. She found herself seeking out Fox once more and she hated herself for it. But looking at him, as he stared anywhere but at her or his father, she could still smell the night blooms and damp moss growing between the stones in the cenote. The wind whistled through the trees, rustling the leaves of the canopy above, and she could feel the rush of water in the underground rivers just beneath her feet.
And then General Ocon was directly in front of her, voice pushing through over the sound of the forest.
“It’s really you. I kept thinking I’d made a mistake.”
She snarled as he grabbed her left hand, examining the stub of her ring finger. He didn’t even flinch at the empty gesture, but dropped her hand a moment later with a sneer of disgust. As if it were her fault he’d touched her.
He leaned down, his face a few inches from hers.
“How did you survive? You should have died of your wounds. You were supposed to be buried with the rest of the filth.”
She smelled the sour odor of his breath.
When she didn’t speak, he asked again, spit flicking across her face with every word.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t look away from him and watched as his pupils constricted with anger.
“Did one of my men save you? Sneak you out? Someone healed you—more than that. Was it a witch?”
The thought was laughable. Witchcraft had died out with the dragons generations before. Even the most skilled healers who knew the old medicines couldn’t truly practice magic.
The general didn’t seem to like the laugh that bubbled from her throat. He stepped away, blond hair brushing against his shoulders with every step. He’d have been a handsome man were it not for the perpetual twisted sneer. The thought made her shudder. It made her think of his son.
Her eyes flickered to Fox’s corner involuntarily, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was focused on his father. She followed his gaze and saw the general picking out a whip from the wall.
As he approached her again, she didn’t look away, knowing the surprise would hurt more. But she still couldn’t keep the low hiss of pain from escaping her lips as the whip lashed across her back. Once. Twice.
The hits radiated through her body, the air choking in her lungs for just a moment. But once she caught her breath, she smiled, looking up at him.
“Planning to add to your previous work?”
“I plan on finishing what I started. But I have some questions first.”
No no no no no.
Her mind chanted the word until she finally choked it out, the sound of her own voice startling her in the dark.
“No!”
Her hand pressed against her chest, feeling the rapid patter of her heart. She was having another panic attack. She wouldn’t let this kill her. Screwing her eyes tightly closed as if she might forget the darkness around her, she hissed out a breath through her nose, trying her best to slow it. Her hand stayed firm against her chest and her breaths became a mantra.
She was left shivering in the darkness, a film of cold sweat layered upon her body. Pins and needles raced across her skin, but she curled up all the same, pressing herself into a tight ball until she could focus more on the feel of her own skin instead of the rough stone. She breathed in the odor of her body, sweaty and dirty, and pushed away the stale scent of the prison.
Sleep came slowly and she sank into the quiet darkness of oblivion until the nightmares tangled around her. She felt the bite of the whip against her skin and heard her own screams, echoing from every direction. But there was only blackness around her. When the pain stopped and she managed to turn and see the man holding the whip, it wasn’t General Ocon’s face she saw, but Fox’s, her blood sprayed across his brow.
* * *
She wokewith a start to the sound of metal on metal. Despite the heaviness in her limbs, she scrambled up before the guard could grab her. She was sick of being dragged about. Even still, by the time he’d snapped the rough cuffs onto her wrists, her shoulders were aching from his rough jerks that were anything but necessary.
She was led up a set of steps out of the basement of the prison onto a level with high windows. The light blinded her for a moment until her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight filtering in from outside, but then she was shoved once more into darkness.
When her eyes adjusted again, she was greeted with the sight of a small room devoid of any furniture. General Ocon stood against the wall, his eyes following her closely as the guard forced her to kneel in the middle of the room, moving her hands to the cuffs that sprouted from the ground in front of her. She tested the binds, wondering if the general would get close enough for her to claw his eyes out. She doubted it.
Her eyes darted around the rest of the room and she immediately regretted it. Not because of the wall of weapons hanging beside the general, but rather the man standing in the corner, blond hair tied up in a top knot, looking cleaner than she’d seen him in weeks.
Fox’s face was a pasty white, even for him, and he didn’t meet her eyes when she looked at him. Despite this, just the sight of him broke something in her and her stomach dropped, her heartbeat a staccato in her chest. Hehadtruly betrayed her—forgotten everything they had spoken about and seen in the forest. Had he given up so easily? She clenched her fists, nails biting in her skin as hard as she could manage, and she wished she could draw her own blood to distract her thoughts.
She needed to leave here. Now. And if she couldn’t do it physically, she’d do it mentally. She found herself seeking out Fox once more and she hated herself for it. But looking at him, as he stared anywhere but at her or his father, she could still smell the night blooms and damp moss growing between the stones in the cenote. The wind whistled through the trees, rustling the leaves of the canopy above, and she could feel the rush of water in the underground rivers just beneath her feet.
And then General Ocon was directly in front of her, voice pushing through over the sound of the forest.
“It’s really you. I kept thinking I’d made a mistake.”
She snarled as he grabbed her left hand, examining the stub of her ring finger. He didn’t even flinch at the empty gesture, but dropped her hand a moment later with a sneer of disgust. As if it were her fault he’d touched her.
He leaned down, his face a few inches from hers.
“How did you survive? You should have died of your wounds. You were supposed to be buried with the rest of the filth.”
She smelled the sour odor of his breath.
When she didn’t speak, he asked again, spit flicking across her face with every word.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t look away from him and watched as his pupils constricted with anger.
“Did one of my men save you? Sneak you out? Someone healed you—more than that. Was it a witch?”
The thought was laughable. Witchcraft had died out with the dragons generations before. Even the most skilled healers who knew the old medicines couldn’t truly practice magic.
The general didn’t seem to like the laugh that bubbled from her throat. He stepped away, blond hair brushing against his shoulders with every step. He’d have been a handsome man were it not for the perpetual twisted sneer. The thought made her shudder. It made her think of his son.
Her eyes flickered to Fox’s corner involuntarily, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was focused on his father. She followed his gaze and saw the general picking out a whip from the wall.
As he approached her again, she didn’t look away, knowing the surprise would hurt more. But she still couldn’t keep the low hiss of pain from escaping her lips as the whip lashed across her back. Once. Twice.
The hits radiated through her body, the air choking in her lungs for just a moment. But once she caught her breath, she smiled, looking up at him.
“Planning to add to your previous work?”
“I plan on finishing what I started. But I have some questions first.”
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