The boy's bare feet moved noiselessly over the cold stone floor, one step after another, as he trailed behind the guard. He didn't know where they were going, but he knew better than to ask. Questions led to trouble. Trouble led to pain. So he had learned to keep his mouth shut and his head down, watching the floor as it trotted past.
The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, lit by flickering candles nestled in metal housings that sent shadows dancing along the walls. He didn't focus on the shadows, they scared him, though he'd never admit it. They reminded him of the stories whispered among the other slaves. They spoke of monsters and creatures but he found that the shadows of the masters were much more scary. The memory of his mom being dragged away and only her screams and silhouettes on the walls solidified his belief of that.
A door loomed ahead, its iron surface dull and heavy. He wondered what was on the other side. A part of him hoped it might be a good place. The guards had sometimes spoken about feasts and games in the upper halls, laughing as they described tables heavy with food and music that echoed for days. He imagined what it might be like to see those things, even if he knew he wouldn't. Not him, those like him never were meant to have more than the bare minimum.
The door creaked open, and a burst of white light made him squint. The room was brighter than any place he'd ever been, the light bouncing off floors of polished white stone. His eyes adjusted slowly, and when they did, he wished they hadn't. In the center of the room locked to one of two tables, was something he failed to understand.
She wasn't human that much was evident, it didn't look like the guards, slaves, or even the masters. She looked softer, brighter and very much like it didn't belong in this place… she had long wings sprawled outward, feathers bent and broken in ways that made his chest hurt just to see, she was like looking at a bird that had flown into a wall. Blood streaked though the soft white feathers, turning the tips crimson. He stared at the restraints around her arms and legs, glowing faintly with markings he couldn't read. It wasn't moving, not really, but its chest rose and fell in shallow, shaky breaths.
Looking at it the stories of monsters seemed more plausible now but if this being was what was spoken about then he couldn't see why the other feared the dark.
"Stop gawking and move," the guard grunted behind him, and a cold metal hand hit him from behind, shoving him forward.
Stumbling and catching himself before he fully fell. When he lifted his head he was able to look at more of the details around the room with his eyes adjusted, sharp metal knives lay on nearby tables with dishes of clear liquid sitting next to them, along with those things with edges and points that made his skin crawl. They looked like hand drills the woodworkers would use and the talons of a predatory bird. The air smelled strange, like copper and the liquid he would often see the guards drink. His eyes kept drifting back to being restrained to the table. Each glance made something deep inside him hurt, unsure as to why so those feelings confused him more.
A man in a long white coat stepped around the tables. His face was thin, pale, and full of wrinkles around the eyes. But it was a face the boy did recognize. It was the man who picked him out and brought him here. It was odd seeing him look so cold as a week ago he was much more lively. He saved him from the master he had been serving so regardless the boy felt more inclined to be cooperative as this man had helped him so much already with that one action.
"Put him on the table and move away. I needn't you to disrupt my personnel or myself while we work."
Dutchmund said to the guard with a slightly worn out tone.
The guard let out a grunt and moved to grab the boy by the waist, lifting him like a sack of grain and dropping him onto the table. The metal was freezing against his back, and he flinched as the nurses put straps around his wrists and ankles, the leather of them biting into his skin.. He bit his lip, breathing sharply through his nose, willing himself not to cry. Despite everything he told himself that the man who helped him before had his best interest in mind.
The man leaned over him, holding a syringe filled with a swirling clearish liquid. The boy flinched as the needle pricked his arm in the tricep, the sting of it was sharp and very painful but it was over quickly. A tingling spread through his veins, it made what little strength his body held less so. His limbs failed to even twitch with the commands he sent to them. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as even his own panic was not enough to force his lungs to do any different. He was frozen, paralyzed, but his mind remained fully alert and he noticed that he could still feel everything.
Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the woman looking at him, she seemed very sad which puzzled him as he wasn't one to feel sad over… maybe she felt uncomfortable too. The longer the boy held his gaze at this woman the more he noticed that she did resemble his mother, not directly, but little details looked similar.
"Good, Now you lot begin your chants. "
Dutchmund pointed at the robed men gathered around the table. The sight of them made the boy feel wrong as something about them looked unnatural. A seeping feeling formed in the boy's mind that maybe this man wasn't as good as he originally made himself out to be.
The boy's eyes darted to the side, watching as a blade was drawn across the woman's chest. Her skin parted with little resistance, golden blood spilling out in rivulets but was collected into drainage ports on the table. The assistants worked quickly, their hands moving with precision as they removed organ after organ and brought them to his side. He wanted to scream as he felt the scalpel press against his own skin, but his lips wouldn't move. The sharp knife was used against his abdomen much like the woman's, and despite the blinding pain filling the boys every thought. He was able to notice that along with the assistants that did the surgery there were those hooded figures that now kept chanting words that when he listened to them fragmented out of his mind. The boy tried harder to concentrate on what they were saying. It was a way to force himself to focus on something else.
The procedure continued, the woman's body yielding her parts one by one. Each organ was carefully extracted and placed into the boy, and in return he had his parts taken out and discarded. His body burned, his nerves aflame with sensations he couldn't describe. He could feel the foreignness of the new organs being forced into his smaller frame, the more undesirable feeling was that somehow his flesh knitted together with these new pieces at a pace he could feel.
The room blurred at the edges of his vision as the pain mounted, his focus narrowing to the words spoken by the hooded people and the woman's breathing until that ended and soon with another cut and pain of his own ended as well, only soon to be brought back with new lungs.
Moments moved by and the boy thought it was over, but then he noticed that the shadows parted as Dutchmund moved forward holding two orbs in his gloved hand. They looked like eyes and the more the boy looked he felt like vomiting as that's exactly what they were.
"We will need to be quick with this, use the drops and hold the sockets open." Dutchmund walked to the boy's side and looked down with a stare that showed him not thinking of the boy as a human, and more of just a test subject.
The boy tried to close his eyes, to look away, but he couldn't as the drops the assistant used made his eyes frozen. He felt the pressure as the tool was placed in each socket and with a quick jerk the bright room faded, only after what felt like hours light finally returned to the boy's vision only each color the boy knew seemed different.
The assistants murmured to each other, their voices hushed as they worked. The boy couldn't see what they were doing, but he felt the warmth of something along the base of his skull, the pressure of something piercing the skull's bone, a pain so profound it turned the edges of his mind black. Then his mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself, it was like something was being taken. Then something foreign was replacing it.
"This should help him later if the muscles for the wings do take hold. But I'm concerned about the implications of using her brain tissue… no matter… it will be up to Thorne to notice those issues."
The boy barely heard it but Dutchmund was muttering to himself as he worked.
When it was over, Dutchmund, while wiping his hands on a bloodied cloth, spoke to the assistants .
"Close him up, and bring him over to the medical ward. Make sure he looks clear as his majesty will be looking at him. Oh and you can dispose of the beast as it's of no purpose now."
Dutchmund walked out of the room not giving the boy or the woman another glance, his leather and wood soled shoes clicking in the still air of the operation room.
The boy lay still, his body trembling inside, though it showed no outward sign. He stared at the ceiling, his new eyes forcing him to notice every new crack and crevasse overloading his mind more than it already was. With another prick on his arm by one of the assistants his vision blacked and he lost consciousness.