Darkness Ascendant, Part I

Disclaimer: See prologue

Warning: Chapter contains somewhat graphic torture. If that bothers you or squicks you in any way, don't read.

A/N: Please please review. It's what I live for (and as you can see I'm not above begging).


Chapter 4

Death stalked her. She knew it and despaired. She scrambled through some debris and around the building corner. Flattening herself against the hard, cold wall she could taste her own fear like bile on the back of her throat, despair coating her tongue. Once she was certain that no one else was about she began to move again, heading towards the wharf. The only noise around her besides the quiet, muted sounds of the night was that of her pounding heart. She was certain that even if she made no other noise, he would hear her by her pulse alone. Moving quickly yet carefully, the silk of her shirt swishing softly against her pants, she clung to the shadows as she exited the narrow alleyway. Her eyes frantically scanned the docks, there had to be a boat somewhere that she could use-be it bought, borrowed or stolen. She cared not. Her world had narrowed down to a single focus. Escape. Survival.

Eyes like twilight observed her progress as she made her way along the wharf, searching futily. The sight of a Dark Lady fallen so far, laid low by such warring emotions as hope and despair, drew a dark, cruel chuckle from the shadow watcher. Snake-like his tongue flickered out to taste the air, savoring her scent of fear. Sweet. So sweet. Her pain would be sweeter. With that thought, he pushed himself effortlessly away from the wall, silently moving among the shadows of the dock as if he were one of them. Just another wisp of darkness slithering along in the night. Soon now the Hunt would reach its climax. Poor deluded fool believing that she’d managed to elude him so far, that she’d found her own way to the wharf where a possible means of escape could be found. Never guessing that she’d been allowed to come here; had in fact been herded carefully, subtly and delicately to this exact place-for this was where he would make his move. After all no true Hunter allowed his prey any realistic means of escape, if anything appeared to the contrary then it was simply illusion. And he was the Hunter of Hunters.

There! Inanna gasped in relief and exhilaration. A boat-small, simple and dilapidated enough that it would not immediately nor sorely be missed, and yet apparently firm enough and in solid enough condition that it would suit her purpose. Making one last furtive glance around herself, gathering heat around her body in order to insulate it from the early morning mist beginning to creep in from the ocean, she stilled for a moment, breathing in a calming pattern before exploding with energy. Wings tucked tightly against her back, her legs seemed to barely skim the ground as she abandoned the cover of the buildings-the safety and shelter they represented and raced across the open dock. As she drew steadily nearer to her destination, the brighter that glimmer of hope grew within-almost there.

Foolish. This one deserved to be prey if only due to sheer panic driven stupidity. Intently focused on his prey to the point of single-minded obsession, he observed all the little nuances of the Dark Lady’s body language as well as the flickering shifts of energy in her aural field. Patience in this game was not only a virtue but a necessity, one, which he had in abundance and so he waited, never moving, for that perfect moment to strike. A moment that came just she was about to launch herself onto the boat-the sense of hope that had steadily been growing became almost a tangible thing as her aura flared with it. Ripping the prey’s hope out from under them when it was at its zenith was always far more enjoyable then at any other time like snatching promised cheese away from a starving rat right before it is about to sink its teeth in-the agony was delicious. Lashing out swiftly he struck from the shadows attacking her not physically but pranically. Invisible dark tendrils of energy rose from the shallows of the night and wrapped around Inanna, tangling in her mind, spearing her aura, ripping at her psyche. With a sharp, strangled cry she jerked spastically like a marionette whose strings have suddenly been jerked too tight, too quickly. Then with an epileptic shudder she collapsed to the ground mere centimeters away from her goal.

NOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Her scream went unheard as it echoed only inside her own head. She had been so close. So close!! Tears would have trickled from her eyes if crying in front of an enemy had not been beneath her dignity. At least that was what she convinced herself. For in truth the pain was too great. Too much to allow her body any form of release or comfort as an icy paralysis crept over her even as every muscle fiber in her body contracted and spasmed, sending her into nearly back breaking convulsions. Mercifully darkness crawl across her vision in streaks and flecks, even as he terror and despair increased tenfold at the thought of being unconscious and at the Hounds mercy. For she knew now, who it was that had been sent after her, who had been stalking her so tirelessly through out the night. Umbra Archeo. Rhadu’s chief Blood Hound. One of the most feared among the Dark Folk, perhaps more so than Rhode, in his own way for, although he was not as powerful, he was not exactly known for his compassion….or sanity.

Umbra melted out of the shadows and stalked towards his prey, seemingly not touching the ground as he moved. Straight raven’s wing hair hung just above his shoulders, brushing his ears as it swung in time with his strides. Tilted almond shaped cat-like eyes the pale blue of a husky’s eyes glowing like pale flames as he stared disdainfully down at the fallen Dark Lady. Although her wings were full out, spread around her like a feathered cloak for all to see, his were not-a useful trick his master had taught him as a reward for loyal and unwavering service. Crouching down next to the inert body, he ran a finger softly, gently across the feathers of the nearest wing. A strange, twisting of his lips in what could hardly be called a smile occurred as he contemplated all the things he planned to do with her before allowing her a finally release. In the end, whether she knew it or not, the Lady Inanna would beg for death.

In one swift motion, almost too fast for the human eye to see, he’d hauled her up and draped her over one shoulder. Such a dark deeds as ran rampant through his snake like mind where best left done for some place more private. After all there had been a purpose to herding the Lady to the docks-she’d been right about her thoughts concerning the usefulness of boats-only not in the sense that he had. A dark fearful mockery of a smile grew on his face and the few works around there in the early hours of the morning, hastened to scramble out of his way.

Shadows dance on the shadowed, mold covered wall on her left-the dull light of the occasional oil lamp hardly piercing the darkness that surrounds her. A faint noise to her right along with a slight deepening of the shadows, her only indication that there was water flowing off in that direction, parallel to her walking path. The emptiness of the place echoed inside her making her swallow hard and leaving her feeling strangely detattched as if none of this was real-no fear, no confusion, nothing. Just the urge to keep moving forward.

Suddenly she came to a halt as a shadowed shape seemed to simply materialize in front of her. Definitely a masculine shape but to go beyond that and describe the exact details was beyond her. Whenever she tried to wrap her mind around it, the man’s features simply ran together like so many watercolors-all blurry around the edges. But at the moment that didn’t seem to matter-details were irrelevant. He gestured with his hand, motioning for her to follow him as he turned around and kept walking in the direction she had originally been moving.

Yet as she moved something kept nagging at her, some primal instinct warning her not to trust this ‘man’ that she was following. A fear that only increased as the lamps became fewer, and the darkness heavier, more pronounced. Her frown deepened as the approached a section where the wall jutted out a bit-as if entering a new and different section-one enshrouded in nearly pitch blackness.

As she moved past the makeshift doorway, something to her left caught her eye, someone…or something was there in the darkness with them. Stopping, much to the impatience of her ‘guide’-she could sense the frustration rolling of off ‘him’-she turned halfway around to study what was there. A figure was huddled there against the barrier, shadowed by the darkness and lack of light. And still somehow she could see it clearly, in perfect detail-in almost painful detail. Everything focusing with the razor sharp clarity only found possible in dreams.

At first she couldn’t make out anything of the figure as it was covered from head to foot in midnight robes, the cowl drawn down over the face and the hands pulled into the folds of the sleeves. A strange swell of pity and compassion for this huddled, wheezing mass, made her reach her hand out to it-to do what she didn’t know-but she froze scant inches from it as she finally caught a glimpse-first of the hands then the face. A choked gasp that rattled in her throat the only response as she bit back a scream.

Taking a stumbling step back, she stared in dawning horror. Grey parched skin, breaking off in places, crumbling like dust. Thick purplish fluid, a mocking reminiscence of blood. Milky white sightless eyes that seemed to see too much peered out at her from the cowls of the robe. Backing away as it reached for her she threw a brief glance at her ‘guide’. He was smiling-a glinting, predatory smile that froze her blood. Red the color of blood glinted back at her from where his eyes should be. She didn’t think twice-she turned around and ran.

Running was surreal. The first thing that really drove it home that this wasn’t really, that it was all a dream, all in her head. Everything flowed around her, the scenery-if it could be called that-whipping past yet never seeming to change as if she were swimming in place through jello. That was the only way to describe the heavy, oppressive feeling of her movements. Daring a glance behind her into the darkness-seeing nothing she wanted to sigh with relief but didn’t dare. Something was still off. And that something hit her as she turned back to face the front-only to come to a screeching halt as she nearly ran into her ‘guide’ who she was certain now wasn’t that at all but rather someone to fear, to flee from.

The features were sharply in focus now but if pressed to recall them later, she wouldn’t have been able to if her life depended on it. The harsh lamplight threw sharp shadows all over his features-marking them as sinister. Time stretched on for infinity as they just stared at each other-her terrified nearly beyond the ability to think, him with a lopsided predatory smile.

“Who are you?” The question seemed to be dragged out of her-sounding slow and thick-like a record on skip. No answer beyond the stretching of muscles, pulling that macabre mockery of a smile even further. And then he began to change or rather his features did-melting like hot wax and reforming-slowly at first and then faster and faster till she was dizzy. She couldn’t breath, everything was closing in on her bring out full-fledged claustrophobic terror, couldn’t move-her legs paralyzed-just stare in growing horror as the features shuffled at an increased rhythm from one to another. Some part of her knew that the end was near, soon he would stop metamorphosizing and reveal his true form. Wake up, she chanted to herself, it’s only a dream. Only a dream. Wake up. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know what the true form was. And yet…a part of her did want to know, was almost longing to know.

The part that didn’t want to know won out as she wrenched with all her will and…



Found herself bolting upright in bed, nightshirt drenched with sweat, hair plastered to her forehead. Hanging one leg over the side of the bed, she tucked the other one against her body and sat hunched over for a few breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. Once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness she swung her other leg around and hopped off the bed. Stumbling around her work desk, nightstand and other objects strewn haphazardly around the room, she made her way to the bathroom. Maybe some cold water would help her shake that creepy sense of foreboding. She’d never been too fond of the dark as a kid, who was she kidding-she was still some what afraid of the dark, and dreams like that one didn’t help any. She staggered into the comfortably small, private bathroom and without flicking on the light switch turned on the faucet. Splashing some ice-cold water into her face, she glanced up and with a frozen breath in her throat frantically clawed at the wall to throw on the light switch.

Pupils dilated, she gazed unseeingly forward at the mirror. For a moment, just a split second or so, she hadn’t seen herself staring back from the reflective glaze. Someone else, something else, something not human, something almost…demonic had gazed back at her from her own face. Forcing her racing hard to slow down, she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. When she opened her eyes again, she saw nothing but her own image reflected back at her, framed by the glaring light overhead. Normal. Just like every other day or night before. Girl, you are losing it, she thought to herself. First your having funky dreams, well, funkier than usual, and now your seeing things. You need sleep-now. With that thought spurring her own, she dried her face, shut the light off and stumbled back into bad. Drawing the covers over her head, allowing for just a small space for fresh air, she shivered until finally her eyes sagged shut on their own accord and she fell into a light, restless sleep.


Pain. It hammered through her skull as she slowly, blearily blinked her eyes open. Something was wrong. One such as she shouldn’t be feeling pain like this. It was a universally known fact that the Sky Folk-whether Bright or Dark-were extraordinarily fast healers and that included an incredibly high pain tolerance. She tried raising her head and found that it required far more effort than she’d anticipated. Only succeeded after about three tries, and then it was to loll her head against her arm which was raised. Trying to clear her head of the cotton-like fuzziness, she tried to understand what was going on, tried to remember what had happened, where she was. That’s when it hit her. Umbra. She closed her eyes again fighting down the despair, the sense of hopelessness. There had to be a way out of this. So she’d been caught by Umbra, by Rhadu’s chief Bloodhound, one of the most feared Dark Lord’s due to his inherent cruelty. Still there had to be a way out after all she was a Dark Lady herself, and one not without a considerable amount of power at her disposal. Yet she couldn’t shake the sense of something being wrong, something she was missing.

Raising her head once more with some effort, she tried to move her arms, and found that she couldn’t. Glancing up she was hit with the true nature of her situation. Her arms were shackled together at the wrists and chained to the ceiling, which wasn’t that far above her, just enough so that her feet were left dangling above the ground. Tugging on the chains with all her strength made her realize that whatever they were made of was far stronger than any common metal for even with her enhanced strength she could not break them-either that or there was some hidden quality to them that she couldn’t distinguish.

“They are spelled.” A quiet voice spoke from her left without inflection as if reading her mind. Twisting as much as the chains allowed she looked towards the voice and watched as Umbra detached himself from the shadows of the room and headed for her. Pulling herself up haughtily, as much as she can in her position, she glares icily at him.

“I suggest you release me this instant, Hound, or you shall most certainly regret it. Do you have any idea who I am?” A slight malicious grin appears on his face previously expressionless face as he circles her chained form.

“Of course I do, Lady. And I won’t let you go, of course I won’t. It’s been too long since I have had anyone as….interesting as you to…play with.” A shudder ran down her spine at the way he dragged out the word ‘play’. She knew that his idea and any sane person’s idea of playing varied greatly, and the fear she’d been so valiantly attempting to suppress blossomed again, although pride would not allow her to show it.

He licked his lips as he came to a stop in front of her, face inches away from her own, “Besides no one can hear you scream in the middle of nowhere.”

“Middle of nowhere? What do you….” She didn’t finish the question as it hit her that the whole room was swaying, gently, almost imperceptibly. “Oh Ancestors!” She exhaled softly. “We’re on a boat.” She stared at her fellow Dark Lord in growing apprehension. “You don’t have to do this Umbra. Please.” Her eyes followed him frantically as he moved gracefully around in the dark as he picked something up from a nearby table. “You can just let me go.”

Turning back to face her, his glowing cat green eyes met her silvery gray ones, “Ah but I do. The Master has commanded that you be dealt with-you threatened his safety.” He paused only once to light a fluorescence lamp, “And all those who threaten my Master must be silenced.” The vicious smirk he gave her as he stood face to face with her once more, caused her to frantically tug once more on her chains in a vain attempt to free herself. “Besides, he said I could enjoy myself with you.” No matter who she tried she couldn’t get lose, not by means of physical force and not my any pranic means either-every time she tried to use her pranic abilities it was as if she’d hit a brick wall. Damned bastard must have shielded me, she thought bitterly, whilst I was unconscious.

A sharp sting across her check brought her attention back to the present. Umbra had slapped her with just a portion of his strength-not enough to cause any permanent harm but enough to gain her undivided attention once more.

“Ah ah.” He gently admonished her. “Mustn’t have you drifting away before we even begin.” As if to emphasis his words he raised his left hand, artificial light glinting off of liquid metal as he gently drew the blade across her cheek.

“Begin what?” She asked licking her lips, which were suddenly dry, although she had a fairly good idea, of what exactly he was talking about. She just didn’t want to believe it hating how childlike and whiney her voice sounded as her confidence evaporated in face of the inevitability and helplessness of her circumstances. Umbra didn’t answer her, not with words at least. He simply smiled at her like a parent to a child after a nightmare-full of reassurance and gentleness-and pressed the blade harder to her flesh. Stinging pain shot across her nerves as she felt warm liquid slide down her cheek. Blood.

Umbra watched avidly as the red liquid slid slowly down her otherwise perfect cheek, making a smooth red trail as it went. This was part of why he was so good at what he did, what made him feared amongst the predators of his people-he enjoyed what he did, enjoyed the pain he could inflict on others. The other part was his clinical inventiveness. Leaning forward till he could feel Inanna’s breath on his face he licked the blood away, licked along the cut even as it healed before his eyes, savoring the incredible taste of her life force.

“Delicious.” He whispered in her ear. “Your pain. Your fear. It’s intoxicating.” Pulling back slight so that he could study her eyes he continued, “Have you ever wondered how much our bodies can take, how much damage can be inflicted before they simply give out?” Watched as she frantically shook her head, relishing the horrid knowing look in her eyes that told him everything about her state of mind. She did not know what he would do to her, only that it would be bad. He chuckled darkly as he took a step back, eyeing her critically.

Finally satisfied with his next course of action he exploded in a flurry of movements-too fast for her to comprehend until the pain hit. Nothing could have prepared her for the pain. Yet she gritted her teeth, determined not to let him hear her scream. She would not scream. The words became her mantra as he made what seemed to be an infinite amount of tiny shallow slashes all over her body. He stopped as abruptly as he’d begun, and took a step back to study her blood soaked form. Inanna let out a ragged huff trying to regain her breath, her bearings. It had been so hard not too scream-made infinitely more so by the fact that Umbra never spoke while he worked, never uttered a word-just had that twisted, enigmatic smile hanging from his lips.

Umbra waited for a few minutes as he watched the shallow wounds close. Now the fun would begin. He sneered slightly at his prisoner, knowing that she probably thought that he was contemplating his next step, however, that was not so. Each act had already been carefully plotted out, now it was merely for the players to follow the script. And he would make her scream. Would revel in each and every pain filled sound she could make, would draw them forth like a lover would.

Stepping closer to her he slowly reached up to where her hands were manacled, and without taking his eyes away from hers gripped a finger, and bent it backwards, snapping the bone. But he didn’t stop there-he moved from one finger to another-breaking each individual joint and bone before moving on to the arms and then continuing on down the body. She screamed when he crushed her pelvis, and continued to scream as he moved on downward. Eyes gone hazy with pain, tears leaking down the sides, she sobbed, her throat feeling raw and worn from the screaming when he once again stopped and studied her.

Hanging limply scant inches from the ground, the chains the only thing keeping her up, she felt empty inside, disconnected as she waited for whatever new torment he could think of to inflict upon her. Shame filled her at how easily she’d broken-despite her oath to not to, she’d screamed-oh how she’d screamed. Tears streamed down faster than she could control them, she didn’t even bother trying to blink her eyes clear any more.

“Ah how the mighty have fallen.” Umbra’s soft, compelling voice broke the silence she’d gotten used to. Hatred replaced shame yet she could not muster the energy to so much as glare at him. She didn’t need to. He could see it in her eyes. Hatred literally radiated off of her. Good, Umbra thought, that meant she was back with him-no longer separated from her body and the pain. “Enough with the preliminaries-time to step things up.” Inanna couldn’t help the slight whimper that escaped from her lips-preliminaries? He called that preliminaries. Oh ancestors, she thought frantically, if he considers that nothing more than a warm up, I don’t want to know what comes next.

Once more picking up the dagger, he placed the hilt under her chin and forced her head up so that his luminous cat green eyes held her even after he removed the dagger from beneath her chin. Some unknown force connecting them between their steady gazes kept her head from collapsing to her chest. The world had faded away and all that remained was the green of his eyes. That was until sharp piercing pain in her left cheek brought her back to awareness, made her realize that Umbra had used her weakened state to hypnotize her for no other purpose than to prove to her that he could, to show her how far she’d fallen, how much control he had over her.

The source of the pain was the knife’s point thrust into her cheek-just enough to break the skin. He then pulled his hand towards himself causing it to drag across her face, cutting it. The cut healed almost instantaneously. At which point he repeated the cut, this time a bit deeper-the healing would take a few seconds longer to heal. But those precious seconds was all Umbra needed as he pushed first one finger and then another and another into the cut until all but his thumb were embedded in the cut. Inanna had thought that he’d inflected upon her before had been nearly unbearable but this…oh this was proving to her just how wrong she was.

Whimpering, her eyelids fluttered but she could not force herself to look away-away from those eyes, that smirk. His fingers wormed their way through her flesh, past muscles, nerves and blood vessels till they hit bone. The progress made all the worse for the rapidly healing flesh surrounding the fingers. Touching the bone of her jaw, the fingers curled around what they could and closed with the full strength of a centuries old Dark Lord behind the movement-shattering the mandible. Choking, gurgling pathetic sounds were drawn torturously from her throat as agony spiked through her face, her skull. No longer could she scream just groan and whinny pitifully. The iron hot spikes drove further into her skull as he slowly, deliberately withdrew his fingers from her face-pulling flesh and bone as he did.

With a simple flick of his wrist he freed his hand and cleaned it of most of the gore the journey had attached to them-sending gobs of flesh flying across the room, shards of bone sticking half out of her healed cheek-looking equally grotesque as the rest of her body which was even now beginning to heal the broken, shattered bones but healing them wrong as they had not been reset, healing in their twisted, crushed positions. If she ever found some way out of this alive-the chances of which were rapidly decreasing with each second-the pain of resetting them would be infinitely worse than the breaks themselves since all the bones would have to be re-broken.

Umbra inspected his handy work. He’d been fascinated by the feel of skin and muscles re-knitting themselves around his fingers as he’d dug through to her bone. The range of the Sky Folk’s healing capabilities had always entranced him. Never before had he been presented with such an opportunity to explore its limits-or lack thereof. With Inanna as his prisoner to do with as he pleased, before he disposed of her and the threat she represented, he had free reign to do as he wished, whatever he wished and the things he could think off was the stuff which nightmares were made off. Even the most hardened among his kind avoided taking a dive through his mind.

Reversing his grip on the blade, Umbra swung his arm downward slicing her clothes in half-straight down the center leaving a thin trail of red from the hollow of her throat to her groin. Much to Inanna’s stunned mortification he then proceeded to peel the cloth from her body-made even more so by the acute knowledge that he could do whatever he wished to her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop him. Not with her body mangled beyond use and her powers blocked and depleted by blood loss. He surprised her though by speaking,

“Ever wonder what you look like under the skin-in amongst the bone?” Not allowing her answer, as the question was rhetorical, he proceeded to answer for her, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. In any case we’re about to find out.” Skin to skin contact made her shiver-in a combination of revulsion and enthrallment-as the skin of those hated hands that tortured her were velvety smooth and soft, more like those of an artist than a sadistic sociopath.

The question had not been meant idly-it was one, which haunted him sometimes-and he was about to find out. Placing his fingertips against the red streak of the cut, he flexed his fingers, curling them slightly so that the tips of the fingernails were parallel to the edges of the cut. It was at times like this it paid to have enhanced senses-well from his end at any rate, he was sure the Lady Inanna wouldn’t agree, right about now she would be cursing her ability to feel the slightest touches. Exerting a small amount of focused thought, forcing his body to bend to his will as the fingernails lengthened till they were sharp as any blade and far thinner and harder. Satisfied he began to peel. Slowly, one patch at a time, one strip at a time, he skinned her front. And Inanna found that pulverized jaw or no, raw throat or no, she could still scream. Screamed and screamed. Screamed as he exposed raw nerve endings, layers of fat and muscle to the open air, blood spreading in an ever widening pool at their feet, soaking both their clothes. Blood from her mouth joined in as she began to cough violently from screaming so much with her throat already a raw pound of flesh. She lost her voice, her ability to think coherently, began to lose touch with reality at the pain that enveloped her especially as with one swift sideways slash cut off one lump of fat and blood vessels. Flashes of white hot all encompassing agony raced through every fiber of her being, of her soul, and she knew no more. Her conscious mind unable to cope with anymore.

Umbra frowned slightly in disappointment. He’d been hoping that she would be stronger, that she would last longer. Alas, she was weaker than he’d given her credit for being. Still perhaps it was for the best that she’d collapsed on him at his point-no fun in losing her too soon. There were many more things he wished to try. But first time to allow her to recuperate, then he could begin a new with a fresh canvas of untouched flesh. With a wave of his hand all light died in the cabin, as he turned away from the sight of Inanna’s brutalized body and left to hunt. Over regular intervals he repeatedly checked on her progress, to wait for her body to finish repairing itself, for her to regain consciousness so that he might begin a new.

It took 33 hours 49 minutes and 12 seconds for the Dark Lady to heal, and then the bones were fused together at unnatural angles and powdered lumps. From the doorway he could see that she was unnaturally pale-a clear sign of her weakened, starved condition-it must have taken nearly everything her body had conserved in order for her to heal. Watched her stir and weakly raise her head, ashen blonde hair clinging to her forehead and waited for her to notice him. Her eyes roamed the room in an unfocused visual rambling. Saw how she froze as if in slow motion-one muscle at a time.

Inanna rose through the murky blackness of her mind to consciousness slowly. Pale light of the lamps the same as before, stabbed through her sensitive eyes making her wince. Her entire body felt sore and heavy, but whole. Awakening, she became aware that she was fully healed if a bit starving. Licking her cracked and dried lips, her eyes landed on her tormentor, where he stood silhouetted by slivers of pale moonlight. She was yet again struck by how deceptive his appearance was-medium height, slender build, high cheekbones and a face just shy of being feminine, silky straight black hair falling to his shoulders, wide almond shaped cat green eyes-eyes which were trained on her the way a hawk would watch its prey-steady and unwavering, and bronzed skin fairly glowing in the faint light. She realized with a strange sort of numb scorn that she must be hysterical….or insane; as she was contemplating how such a pretty a packet could hide such insidious, hideous..evil. A dry, high pitched chuckled fell from her lips and continued on until it changed, ending as a strangled, half choked shuddering sob.

Umbra glanced at her askance wondering if perhaps he had not broken her too soon, as it seemed she had little to no rationality left. Not that it would matter much longer. His master was becoming impatient-not for a body to be found but for the threat Inanna posed to be dealt with as swiftly as possible. For as long as she was alive, she could still find some way to escape or to contact one of her own people. The risk, however, minute, was too great to take as matters stood.

“Time to end this game.” He whispered softly to the darkness, knowing the stillness of the shadows would carry his words to the mutilated being in front of him. He watched with dark amusement and barely veiled contempt as she gathered herself, and in a false show of bravado, raised her head to glare at him, “Do your worst.” She spat at him. His answer was to simply smile magnanimously at her, “Have no fear my Lady of the Dark, that is exactly what I intend to do.” Gliding over the short space separating them, he moved towards her and around her, circling like a vulture until he came to stop behind her. If she’d had been capable of coherent thought during their last session, she would have wondered why with all his deliberate, cold blooded cruelty, Umbra had left her wings alone and whole. However, she was about to find out the answer to that now-the hard way.

Bringing out his ever-present dagger he drove it through her right arm just below the shackled wrist, drove it through to the hilt till the blade burst through on the other side. At which point he sawed down word, stopping just below the elbow, leaving an enormous gapping slit along the arm-blood gushed forth. And as it did he replaced the dagger at his belt, grasped her arm at the wrist and elbow to keep it steady despite her thrashing and jerking, twitching on the chain like a hanging corpse, and leaning forward placed his mouth on the beginning of the wound. With slow deliberate movements he maneuvered his mouth and tongue along it, swallowing the rich sanguine life force by the mouthfuls until the wound had closed, which caused him to pull back and move on to the other arm. Where he repeated the process, savoring the rush of power he could drain from her, the taste of her pain, her deepest fears, her darkest emotions, her most secret knowledge. All were his for the taking, his for the owning. As soon as the second wound healed he pulled completely back, seeing her sag in the chance-completely drained of energy and power, and if she would be honest with herself, will as well.

Time to end it he had told her, and indeed it was. Time for the coupe de grace. He knew what she thought, what she believed. That the pain he had inflicted on her before was the pinnacle of what could be experienced, that nothing he could do to her now would be worse. Umbra smiled with malicious satisfaction, he was about to show her just how wrong she was.

A whispering soft touch ghosted over the now dull black feathers of her wings, tracing their outlines as Umbra moved his fingers over every single contour. Immediately every muscle tensed in her body, the wings reflexively snapping outward, straight behind her.

“Do you know what the most sensitive part of our anatomy is?” He asked almost conversationally as he kept ghosting his fingers over the feathers.

“No.” She lied through her teeth, knowing perfectly well what he was getting at, but not willing to admit so out loud. The recovery time had allowed her to gather the remaining shreds of her tattered pride-if she was going to die, she would do so with dignity. From the corner of her eyes she could see him arch an eyebrow at her in condensation, “No?” One corner of his mouth quirked as if threatening to turn into a smile. “Then allow me to educate you. The wings. The wings are the most sensitive to stimuli-whether it be for pleasure” and he applied slight pressure to the base of either wing before dragging his fingers with the same pressure down the length of her wings; her body spasmed as a thrill of excitement ran along her nerves from her wings, “or pain.” Umbra grasped one of her longer feathers tightly and yanked it out by the root. A sharp cry exploded from her chest at the indescribable anguish the loss of the feather caused her.

All pretense of dignity and pride crumbled then as he began to, with calculated menace, and ruthless cruelty, pluck each feather out-one by one. She was drowning in torment, awash with new waves of pure unadulterated savage, soul-numbing agony. Never before had she felt anything like it. With every feather he removed, it felt as if a part of her died. She screamed until she had no more voice, till blood from her throat began to fill her lungs, till she was begging for death, for release, till the sheer volume of sensation caused her pain centers to overload, her nerves to shut down or misfire, and as her vision began to gray around the edges, as her body went into shock she could see with her mind’s eye, somewhere as if at the end of a long tunnel, a velvety comforting, darkness-blacker than the deepest midnight, writhing as if alive. This strange darkness called to her, beckoning to her with promises of release from the pain. Knowing that she was dead either way she left her body behind, fled the pain, and sped along the strange metaphysical tunnel towards this welcoming darkness, the relief so great at the respite from torment that she was not aware of the gradual lose of self-only the last final stab of thousands of icy needles as Umbra shattered the bones of her now featherless wings, a move which wrenched one last cry of denial from her-for she would not even be allowed to die as a Lady of the Sky, and then there was nothing but peace and the void.

Further away, Ash twisted and turned in her sleep, face contorted in a grimace, as her dreams were haunted by a pain filled denial, a scream of soul searing horror and hurting seemed to stretch forth into eternity.