Wails of the Damned
Fate opened his eyes, finding himself in a dingy cell. It was damp and filthy, with a pile of shit in the corner and piss staining the stone walls. The wall of bars was made of rusty metal with bits and pieces here and there broken off, leaving jagged spikes of metal exposed.
The door was so rust-covered that logic said it shouldn't be capable of opening, which might have been the point. A thin slit set high up on the wall, barely big enough to slip a penny in and dripping with muddy water, provided the meager light with which Fate could see.
Fate was on a metal slab jutting out of the wall, held level by a chain on each end connected to the wall. Only the ratty, hole-covered pillowcase filled with old papers that his head was on told him that this was supposed to be a bed.
He stood up, or at least tried to, finding his body to no longer be under his control. As if sensing his thoughts, his body got to its feet of its own accord, walking to the bars.
His cell faced a wall. From what little he could see by the dim light, he was at the end of a hallway. To the left of his cell was a wall, and the right extended for as far as he could see in the darkness.
In the distance, he could hear a faint rattling of chains and rhythmic thuds. A boom sounded down the hallway, the thuds and rattling growing louder. Someone, or something, was coming.
'Very funny, Nikolas,' Fate thought calmly. He couldn't speak either. 'I know this is a dream. You've done this shit to me before; what makes you think I'll fall for it again?'
"This is no dream," he heard himself whisper, except it wasn't him. He felt his mouth move and form the words, but the voice that came out wasn't his own. It was higher-pitched but still masculine. The voice of a teenager. "You are seeing through my eyes."
'I'd rather not be doing that,' Fate thought. He felt the eyes that weren't his swivel, his view shifting to the silhouette lumbering out of the shadows.
A man walked out, his heavy brown boots producing the previously heard thudding noise that was steadily growing louder. He was a slight man, with a metal pauldron on his shoulder and greaves on his legs. The rest of his body was covered by pristine brown pants and a black shirt.
His face was fairly handsome, with sword-like, dark brows over cold black eyes. His long hair cascaded down his back, held away from his forehead by a golden circlet with a brilliant sapphire as the centerpiece. He was apathetic, completely devoid of emotion. His silk-gloved hand held a deep black chain, which extended behind him, connecting to some unseen thing.
Every step he made echoed in the hallway, failing to mask the rattling of the chain he held in his hand, the two sounds coming together to form a dreadful symphony. As the man stepped closer, the thing on the other end of the chains became visible. It was the most horrific beast Fate had ever seen.
It had the vague shape of a bear. Its purple, hairless body was covered in scars and pustules, and its beady black eyes matched those of its master. Its ursine snout lacked any skin or flesh whatsoever, exposing its teeth and jaw bones.
Its eyes were surrounded by skinless green flesh, which pulsed periodically to the tune of the beast's heart. Its claws were long and thick, leaving visible gouges on the floor with every step it took. It was easily six feet tall and almost as wide, barely fitting in the cramped corridor.
Scattered across its body were human faces, frozen in a state of perpetual screaming. Their eyes, previously flickering from place to place, all locked onto the man whose body Fate was in as soon as he was visible. The terror in their eyes turned to rage, the whites of their eyes becoming crimson as their pupils glowed.
The beast likewise focused on Fate's host, licking its bony teeth with a long blue tongue that seemed more fit for a snake than a bear. The raven-haired man stepped up to the cell's bars, looking Fate's host up and down as his eyes lit with contempt.
"Are you ready to talk, Samnul, or do I need to let Griffith here have another hour of fun with you?"
"I'll die before you break me," Fate heard his host say. "How you can work for such heartless monsters like those 'Advanced,' I'll never know. Maybe because you are heartless yourself, Ythmun."
"They have promised us an eternity at the top of the food chain," Ythmun hissed. "You and I both know that Hilinelia won't let us have this land forever. I am doing what is best for my people."
"If what you think is 'best for your people' is sending them off by the hundreds to be subjects for the fucked-up experiments of those assholes, then you truly are too far gone. The Advanced will destroy our planet and perhaps the rest of the solar system in their twisted quest for the 'perfect being.' You will lead Ontragna to ruin."
Ythmun chuckled darkly, tugging on the chain he held. The bear-creature-thing, Griffith, stepped forward, walking through the bars as if they weren't there as Samnul backed away. The bars were left with a thick coat of green slime when the bear passed through.
Griffith licked its chops, padding slowly toward Samnul as its master watched on coldly, the chain in his hand vanishing in a burst of ghostly black fire. The faces on Griffith's skin finally released the screams their expressions desperately tried to convey, the corridor filled with the wails of the damned as the bear lunged.
Fate lurched to a sitting position, his heart hammering in his chest. A quick glance around his room informed him that Nikolas, indeed, wasn't the culprit of that dream. He leaned back slowly hesitantly, staring at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of what he just saw.
'Ontragna…'