Page 35 of When Death Called Life Home (When Deities Awaken #1)

Chapter 35

Tortures and Pleas

ALORA

D ays passed. How did Alora know that? Because she counted the meals brought down to her. Osiris couldn’t very well starve her to death when she was yet to provide him what he needed. She caught sight of any natural light that peeked through gaps whenever Osiris opened the door at the top of the stairs.

Each day was different and yet, the same. A meal, suffocation, a meal, suffocation, a meal, taunting. Each day Alora bit her tongue to stop any screams from leaving her. To stop herself from begging him to cease the torture. She couldn’t give in. She’d rather die than give in to him and put Ascian in danger, too. Even when she knew Ascian would be beside himself searching for her. She hoped he’d understand why she didn’t give any of his trusted allies above her the knowledge that she was there. She hoped he didn’t take it out on them for not investigating who exactly Osiris tortured every day. Whether they even asked at this point.

Alora hoped … she hoped she’d get herself free and find him, again. Gods above, she hoped this wasn’t the end of her story. She couldn’t imagine Ascian facing his Elders without her. Not necessarily alone. He had Maelo, but she knew she gave him strength. A kind of strength he gave right back to her. So similar to Life and Death, what was one without the other? They gave each other meaning. Without Death, Life lost its worth, and without Life, Death didn’t exist.

“Wake up.”

An open hand stung her cheek. Her jaw ached from the impact, and she clenched it shut upon the sudden wake up. Dazed, Alora glanced around and realised she hadn’t been peacefully sleeping. She’d passed out that time.

“Still mentally with me?”

“Haven’t broken me, yet,” she mustered up enough energy to retort.

Osiris released a genuine, humour filled laugh. “There’s still time for that, little flower, if I so wish it.”

“I won’t scream for you,” she muttered. Her head fell back against the wall behind her, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion settled into her bones. Clothing rustled in front of her, the pressure of Osiris’s hand disappearing from her throat.

“I think we need to try something different. Clearly the simple deprivation of oxygen isn’t working.”

Alora forced herself to look at him. “Are you actually trying to kill me?”

“No,” he scoffed. “If I were trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

He disappeared from view, into the darkness at the other end of the room through another door Alora hadn’t even realised was there. She didn’t respond, trying her hardest to listen to any clues on what this ‘something different’ might be. Nothing good, that she was sure of.

Wood thudded, liquid splashed and some type of wet material slapped against something hard. Osiris returned, walking carefully so as to not spill whatever he held in his hands. When his gaze met hers, coldness spread through every cell of her being.

“You’re going to scream for him, Alora, whether you want to or not.”

The words were like a knife to her chest, stabbed and removed, creating a new kind of suffocation. Panic seized her heart. She’d read about what those items would ensue when it came to torture.

“No,” she whispered and the joy that gleaned from Osiris's expression was childlike. Fucked up. Something she’d witnessed on a young girl who got picked first by one of the most sought after Viscounts to be betrothed. “I can’t scream if my mouth is filled with water, Osiris!”

“You wouldn’t know that unless you’ve tried it before. Have you tried it before?”

Alora slowly shook her head, a silent sob racked her body with trembles.

“So you’ll just have to trust that I won’t let you die from it.”

A choked, manic laugh left with the next sob. “Excuse me if I can’t put that much faith in you.”

Osiris shrugged. “You’ll have to.”

He crouched and gripped her hair, dragged her head down to the filthy floor and slapped the material over her mouth and nose. Alora sucked in a breath as big as she could muster before it landed, closed her eyes and waited for the water. It came immediately, covering her whole head in an icy chill. She blew the breath out. It worked until she had no more to give. Until the water kept coming while the breath disappeared and her chest demanded more. She shook her head, moving it frantically side to side, trying to find any pocket of air. Anything to relieve the pressure. Fingers gripped her chin and forced her head straight. Her mind thrashed before falling.

She fell. Water surrounded her, yet she didn’t float, didn’t even try to swim. It covered her, soaked through to her bones, but another, more sticky liquid flowed down her face.

What was she doing here? Why could she breathe so freely and yet be submerged in all this water?

“Alora!”

Her lips curved. She knew that voice, she was safe whenever that voice was near her.

“Alora!”

They sounded panicked, but why? She was safe. If they were near, she was safe.

“Alora, wake up!”

Water gushed from Alora’s throat, and she drew in a large gulp of air before coughing up more mucus. She frowned. Was that the memory of her leaving? When she’d been pushed through the portal?

She hacked more fluid from her lungs and met Osiris’ stare with a glare. “Do that again and I’ll wrap these chains around your neck-.”

He threw the soaked rag back over her mouth and nose, cutting her off. Water followed swiftly and threw her back.

Water bubbled within the ring of rocks. Rocks which held precise carvings in the centre of every single one that the water touched. She knew what this was, where it would lead, but not why the nymph brought her here. Why would Ascian meet her at a portal? He’d never run from the war. They would never run from this war, not when they’d found a solution, and the true cause behind it.

“What’s the portals have to do with our meeting?” She asked the nymph, turning to face her when hands shoved her side mid-action and she was falling. The bubbles met her ears, rock cracking against head, and a curse echoed around her mind from the nymph’s lips.

“Alora!”

He’d made it, but too late.

“Breathe.” The word whispered through her ears in a silent command, her lungs obeying immediately. She hacked up more liquid and mucus, filling up on sweet oxygen again, and finished with a pained whine.

“Please, no more.” Alora could barely part her eyelids to look at him. The view through a tiny crack only of his once again assessing expression.

Osiris hummed and scratched his chin. “Maybe the waterboarding won’t allow you to scream as loudly as I need you to.”

Alora swallowed, her breaths crackly. “You’re just now coming to that conclusion, are you?”

“You can never know things for certain until you trial them. I’ll make note of it for future prisoners.”

If she got the chance, she’d repay him for all of this. Make sure he knew what it felt like to be powerless, shackled and angry. To not be able to control any of his actions but be surrounded and filled with pain in a world he didn’t remember but at the same time, that feels like home. To have it tainted with torture.

“Let me guess, you have a torture journal?” Alora asked, heavy sarcasm to her voice that fell off when Osiris nodded in answer. “You’re serious?”

“Rarely am I not,” he replied. He stood and collected up the equipment he’d been using, moving it back to the end of the space and through the door. “When your brother killed Raine I started one as a way to cope, at the order of the Elders, and then I realised how helpful it would be when I needed information. Knowing what worked and what didn’t. Knowing how far would get a person killed.”

He returned with a blade, tilting his head and studying her again.

“For when you finally got your hands on Kallias, right? To pay him back for killing Raine?” Alora asked, her voice soft. It’d hurt, talking about the death of someone he loved, whether he admitted it or not. “Have you killed him yet?”

“No,” Osiris spat. “The Vitarce Elders were at his sentencing and didn’t allow a death sentence to be served. Pathetic. ”

Alora nibbled at the question waiting in her mouth, toying with it until it grew too much. Too salty to keep inside. “Do all Thirds opening their energy reserves react how Kallias did?”

Osiris paused, the anger slipping from his face. He considered her, and whether to answer her question or not. He closed the distance and crouched with the knife dangling from his fingers between his legs. “Scream and I’ll tell you.”

“I would rather greet Death at the bottom of a closed portal than scream Ascian's name for you,” Alora spat, glaring up at him. So he wasn’t as average in intelligence as she’d first thought. What an unfortunate surprise.

Osiris sighed with disappointment, gripping the knife more securely in his grasp and leaning forward to press the tip to Alora’s collarbone. He lowered his head further, lips brushing against her ear. She cringed away from it. The sensation was nothing like when Ascian did it.

“You’ve already greeted Death, but I need you to see Him again while you’re both alive.”

If Alora hadn’t already stilled from having the knife pressed to her skin, she would have then. Osiris’ lips spread into a wry grin.

“You didn’t think you were the only ones to know, did you?” Osiris clicked his tongue as disappointment shifted over his face. “I’m almost sad you don’t remember me. The old you never underestimated my intelligence.”

“I’m not underestimating your intelligence,” Alora breathed, keeping her breaths as shallow as she could without growing lightheaded. “It just doesn’t make sense that the Elders would warp our memories of that detail, but not yours.”

Osiris scoffed, drawing the knife back the slightest amount. Enough for Alora to take in a deeper breath.

“It doesn’t because they wouldn’t have. I simply wasn’t stupid enough to get caught with the knowledge. So they left my brain alone.”

Alora stared at him in silence for a beat, their breaths filling the room. “You don’t want to give Ascian over to the Elders?”

Osiris pursed his lips, resting back further on the heels of his feet. So many secrets hid within his eyes, swirling like the open portals. How many did he keep? How many put pressure on him, to the point of mental torture? It didn’t excuse his actions, but it sure as hell made them make sense.

“Contrary to popular belief, no. Is he currently in my way? Yes, and the Elders would solve that issue for me, but not in my preferred way,” Osiris grunted. He frowned at her, his furrowed brows darkening his eyes beneath. “You’re not stalling.”

Alora shook her head, and Osiris’ frown deepened.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“No, I am,” Alora admitted. “But I think it’s more because I understand why you do the things you do.”

Osiris lifted an eyebrow. “Please, enlighten me.”

“You’re scared,” Alora answered, swallowing down the fear that rose with it when anger blossomed on his face. She interrupted him before he could say more. “You’re angry, yes, but anger is secondary to fear. After Raine, I don’t blame you.”

His mouth immediately shut, jaw clenched. His gaze dropped to his knife and assessed it. Conflicting thoughts flashed beneath his lashes, his forehead wrinkling and then smoothing multiple times before he looked up and met her gaze again.

“Will you … please … scream for Ascian?” He choked on the plea. The word like an apple lodged in his throat.

“Why do you want him here?” Alora pushed.

“You’re not going to scream unless I tell you, aren’t you? ”

Alora shook her head. “Imagine this situation reversed. Would you scream for Raine if I asked you nicely after you’d been torturing me?”

Osiris rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t let myself get put in that situation in the first place.”

“Okay asshole, just humour me.”

He gritted his teeth before shaking his head. “I guess you’re getting some open wounds, then."