"You are only the second, to find his way in here since him," the chained woman said. Her voice was calm, deliberate, but her eyes were cold glass — fixed, merciless. "How did you do it?"
The chain around his neck snapped tight, hauling him upward. His feet left the floor, dangling as metal bit into his skin, dragging him toward her level. When their faces aligned, her expression twisted.
"And what," she murmured, nostrils flaring, "is this stench clinging to you?"
His chest seized. Air vanished as the chain constrained him.
"—can't—" The word shattered as he clawed at the metal. Fingers slipped. Nails tore skin instead of breaking the chain. Panic flared, vision narrowing, darkness pressing at the edges.
"I asked you a question," she continued, calm, watching him struggle. "Instead of answering, you beg for your life."
Then she released him.
Sebastian hit the floor hard, curling into himself. He coughed violently, dragging ragged air into his lungs. His throat burned, raw. Tears streamed down his face as he lifted his gaze — an apparition of chains and shadow framed her perfectly.
"Th—thank y—"
Impact.
Her knee smashed into his face, hurling him backward into the unyielding wall. A loud snap echoed as something broke in his back while his head whipped against stone. The world detonated into noise and color. Warm liquid poured into his mouth; copper flooded his senses.
He spat blood, sliding down the wall.
She's fast, he thought.
Alex had been fast — quick enough to track — but this was different. He hadn't seen the strike at all. Just a shadow, vanishing as he flew.
He forced himself upright. Ears ringing, legs trembling, arms locking into a tight guard: elbows to ribs, forearms shielding his face. Survival stance. Every movement measured. Eyes never leaving her.
"You're trying to fight back," she said softly, almost fondly. "Adorable. But I asked a question. What is that stench?" Her face twisted further.
He barely adjusted his footing before the next blow arrived.
Pain obliterated his awareness as he was thrown across the chamber, skidding along the stone beside the pool. He rolled, scraped, forced a knee under himself. The room tilted violently. Hands already rose, preparing to block.
A shadow flickered too fast.
He struck first — left hand snapping out.
Impact.
He followed immediately, knee smashing into her side, right elbow snapping toward her face. He twisted, aiming to flank her —
Too slow.
A force seized him mid-motion, yanking him upward. His stomach dropped as disbelief flooded him. Had she recovered that quickly — or had she never been affected at all?
Something blurred toward him, and he glimpsed it, perhaps deliberately, for him to see.
Supreme Fuckery.
The impact slammed him into the wall. Pain wasn't sharp this time; it was wrong, deep, all-consuming. His body folded as if strength itself had been stripped away. Breath tore from his lungs in sounds alien to him. Pressure radiated through his torso, crushing, unrelenting.
I can't fight her.
Agony piled upon agony. Vision swam and darkened at the edges. Sounds warped, stretched. Legs trembled, useless beneath him.
Chains dragged him along the floor. Metal bit, stone scraped his skin raw.
"I could kill you," she said coldly. "But a covenant was made. You will die in time — like the others before you, and those yet to come."
She paused.
"Now speak. What is that stench?"
His head cleared just enough to perceive the world.
"What… stench?" he rasped, lips bloodied.
She tilted her head. "The scent of a woman. Philanderer."
Philanderer? Perhaps an insult — weak, maybe meaningless.
He didn't respond.
"Infidel," she snapped. A chain lashed across his face, exploding pain. Vision flared white.
Tears streamed freely.
"You weep," she said, contempt thick in her voice. "Just like the last one. Your generation is weak."
"Infid…el," he choked, sniffing, tears threatening to fall but held back by sheer will. "I… I haven't even gotten a girlfriend."
Her expression faltered.
"A girl — what is that? You mean you have not… consorted with a woman?"
"The only scent on me is my mother's," he cried. "Please. You've made a mistake."
She studied him long, silent.
"It seems you take me for a fool. Now answer truthfully — have you laid with any woman?"
Sebastian shook his head violently. "I SWEAR! I haven't… not even once!" he shouted.
"Yes or no," she asked again. A chain whizzed past, slamming into his legs. He screamed. Pain tore through him. Twisting his leg was impossible, only causing more torture.
"Nooooo!" he sobbed, agony blinding him.
"So you haven't consummated with any woman, I see. Open your mouth — there are ways to know," she muttered coldly.
My mouth… does lying make it stink? I haven't brushed in forever.
The chain coiled gently, unnervingly around his tongue. He froze — confusion and terror overwhelming him. Sharp sensation, then nothing. Pressure vanished. Chains loosened. Blood splattered across his face.
He looked up.
The chain held a pink, fleshy object. Dark gray lines snaked through it.
(゜-゜) What is that thing? he questioned.
Sebastian collapsed to his knees, numb, mind blank. Something vital was missing, but his body refused to comprehend.
He looked up.
The girl stood calmly, feeding something unseen to a golden skull. Its surface gleamed dully in torchlight, blackened teeth fixed in a permanent grin. Unlike the others, its chain remained gold, untouched by blood.
Attempting to stand, his pain returned all at once.
It wasn't sharp — it was total, overwhelming. Vision swam violently. Legs abandoned purpose.
Darkness swallowed him.
"Speak," she said, looking at his coiled form softly.
"He speaks the truth, Mistress," a dark voice intoned. The skull clanged, jaw echoing in a haunting symphony.
"And the stench, Sol?" she asked.
"The stench is forced on him by the other invading entity," the skull replied.
"I see. Let's go make quick work of the fool who made me punish my betrothed."
"A feast, then," she said. The skull's jaw stretched unnaturally, releasing a chilling, echoing cackle.
The door closed.
⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹⨹
She sprinted, heart hammering, air thick with tension. Every step felt like survival itself depended on speed. Lesson learned: nothing came without cost. Not her life. Not a meal.
She passed another numbered door — 10. Rotten, brittle, almost begging to be forced open. Air smelled of mildew, decay. The entity's reach seemed weaker here, control faltering.
She skidded to the junction, panic tightening her chest. Ahead: only a dead end. Pivoting on instinct, she tore down the next corridor.
Something came at her. Instinct screamed: don't be touched. She ducked low, slammed legs into the ground, pushing body into flight posture. Back parallel to the floor, eyes locked on her assailant, a blur of lethal intent.
Useless, she thought. Why couldn't he slow it longer?
She hurtled past a prong of chains, twisting mid-air. Feet hit the cracked stone floor; nails gouged shallow lines, arresting momentum. Chains whistled like steel serpents, screaming past. Reflex took over: twist, bend backward, hands slammed into the floor, springing into a backflip. She bent elbows at the apex, launching herself away with explosive force. A chain splintered the floor — her nails could only scratch.
Landing running, she shifted momentum, hurtling forward. The attackers overextended; she hoped to use it to her advantage. Feet pounding, lungs burning, she dashed toward the girl controlling them.
She leapt, fingers swiping across her face — blur of skin tearing, sting of success mingling with horror.
But before she could pass, a monstrous grip seized her leg, yanking her violently backward. She flew faster than ever on her own power. Corridor blurred. Floor rushed up to meet her.