Completed Fractures

[Oryn]

In the depths of despair, Oryn lay battered and bruised on the cold, unforgiving floor of the dank cell he'd called home for these past months. His mind was a whirlwind of agony and confusion, his body aching with every breath, just as it had done for so long now. As sleep threatened to overtake him, a harsh kick to his back jolted him awake, and he scrambled into the corner, his blackened hand raised in a feeble attempt to ward off further attacks.

"It's your lucky day, boy. You're free to go," the guard's gruff voice pierced through the haze of Oryn's mind, but he couldn't comprehend the words. Freedom seemed like such a distant dream, an illusion taunting him with its unreachable promise. A trick, his mind murmured. Don't trust it.

"Go?.." he rasped, his voice barely a whisper as he stared at the open cell door, unable to trust the reality before him. "No." he shook his head, his trembling hands clutching at the fabric of his torn clothing. "Nonononono.."

They're here to breeeeak yoooou, the voice sang in his mind.

"Shhhh." Oryn frowned, his hands covering his ears as though that would quieten the voices. He squinted up at the silhouettes of the guards here to collect him, whispering the words that the shadows in his mind spoke to him. "Trick trick trick..Pain. More pain..." How many times did they have to break him? Offering him hope only to snatch it away was a game they'd enjoyed playing with him.

The walls of his cell seemed to close in around him, suffocating him. "Let me be.." he whimpered, his words a broken mantra of despair. "Let me be.." In the suffocating silence, he found solace in the rhythm of his own heartbeat, a steady drumbeat echoing the ache within his soul. With trembling fingers, he traced the contours of his prison walls.

"Gods.. They might be better just leavin' the lad here.." another guard muttered, his words a distant echo in the darkness. But before Oryn could comprehend the meaning behind them, strong hands gripped his arms and dragged him from his cell, pulling him towards an uncertain fate despite his wailing.

"Probably.. But orders are orders. Erlking wants to see him," another voice declared, the words like ice slipping down his spine. And yet, his rigid body slumped in the grip of those who dragged him, a sense of calm settling over him. Today, he'd die.

In shadows deep, where whispers lie,
Death's icy fingers reach and sigh.
A broken soul, a shattered dream,
Lost in darkness, no light to gleam.

He whispered broken pieces of the lilting poem, he conjured, his lips curling as a nervous laugh tumbled from his lips.

"Finally.."

Midir

 

[Midir]

"No, leave him."

The two guards paused in the act of shovelling what remained of the fae male off the floor. They glanced at one another then back to The Erlking who sat atop the throne of bleached bones, calmly cleaning his hands of the blood that coated them. They knew better than to argue so they merely bowed and backed away, casting nervous looks at the corpse. It was a jarring reminder for the reason why The Erlking had ruled for all those centuries. Let them carry the story through the realms, Midir thought idly to himself as the guards took up their positions either side of the throne room doors again. Let the people know what happens to those who try to fool me.

Justice was one of the founding pillars on which the Autumn Court had been built. When fae and mortal alike tried to avert its course, he took it as an insult not only to the Court but himself. Midir did not take kindly to being insulted.

The doors swung open whilst he was still cleaning the blood from his hands. He didn't bother trying to remove any that coated his shirt or breeches for it was not that he disliked blood, just the feeling of it drying on his bare skin. The guards dragged the poor wretch in making Midir's lips press into a thin line.

"A little kindness, gentlemen," he reprimanded. The guards paled a fraction but their hold became gentler and rather than drag the poor male they turned instead to supporting him. "I believe I owe you an apology, Oryn."

 

[Oryn]

The guard's grip eased, and Oryn's body trembled with exhaustion and so much pain as he struggled to maintain his balance, his weakened limbs barely able to support him. The moment they let go entirely, his battered form crumpled to its knees with a muted thud, every movement sending fresh waves of agony rippling through him. His head hung low, a silent acknowledgment of his defeat and submission to the power that loomed over him. Of his willingness to die..

Death.. There was death here, close by. After so long in darkness, the light was too blinding for him to fully open his eyes, but the scent of too much blood was a heady assault on his senses. He assumed it would be his turn now, and so as the Erlking's voice spoke of apology, Oryn's dark brow knit together.

"My King?" His voice was a trembled, a broken melody of pain and uncertainty, barely audible amidst the oppressive silence of the throne room. Confusion etched his features, his head tilted in bewilderment as he struggled to comprehend the Erlking's unexpected gesture of contrition. He dared to lift his gaze, squinting against the harsh glare of the light that flooded the chamber. His eyes, crushed amber veiled by a curtain of dark waves, sought out Midir's gaze in attempt to convey his resilience, his determination to endure despite the cruelty inflicted upon him.

Another cruel trick?... Just kill me already.

 

[Midir]

"It appears... there was a mistake," contempt dripped from the last word and a muscle flickered in his jaw. Mistakes were not meant to happen, not in the Autumn Court. Not when it came to justice. It upset the balance the Erlking so strongly sought to uphold. That he was even admitting it to one such as Oryn was a mark of just how serious it was.

"The true criminal was uncovered. You are free to go."

 

[Oryn]

Free to go free to go free to go, to go free, go free to, go go go.. Oryn's mind ticked over as he stared back at the Erlking, and then turned his gaze upward to the guards that'd brought him here.

"A..Mistake.." his voice broke, and he turned his bleary gaze back to Midir, his teeth gritting rather than risk it all by spitting at his feet. Mistake, how many times had he screamed those words at those who tortured him, how many times had he pleaded, insisted his freedom. Mistake mistake mistake...

The shuck trembled where he knelt. He'd been so ready to die that he considered asking for a swift death even in the face of freedom. He was no longer whole, so broken that he knew his mind would never allow him to be truly free again.

He drew in a breath, quickly reminded of the thick scent of blood, and his head turned slowly toward the beaten body that lay in a heap on the flagstone. He had never envied a corpse before now..

 

[Midir]

"Your brother," Midir said, choosing to take Oryn's sudden focus on the corpse as curiosity rather than envy. He spared no mercy in telling the truth. "It was an easy mistake to make, of course, with you looking so similar. But still one I would expect my Court not to have fallen prey to," his lips pressed into a displeased line as he thought on the subject again.

"From the evidence we recovered, it appears he has been plotting for you to be caught for his actions for some time. He had a life set up for himself in the Dawn Court ready and waiting. He just couldn't help one last kill..."

 

[Oryn]

Oryn's gaze remained fixed on the lifeless form of his brother, the one who had made his life a living nightmare on more occasions than he could count. Despite the turmoil within him, a part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow at the sight of his sibling's lifeless body. The sorrow however, soon gave way to rage as Midir revealed that he'd planned to leave the Autumn Court.

It was a bitter reminder of the betrayal that had been lurking beneath the surface all along. His brother had been plotting against him for so long, orchestrating events to frame Oryn for his own misdeeds. The revelation struck him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling with a mix of anger, hurt, and a strange sense of emptiness.

"Plotting against me... setting me up..." Oryn muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to process the truth of it all. His brother's actions had condemned him to a life of suffering, locked away in a dark cell going slowly mad while his sibling went about his plans without a second thought for the consequences.

But the past was gone, and all that remained was the harsh reality of the present. With a heavy heart, Oryn turned away from the body, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions as he tried to come to terms with the truth of his brother's betrayal and his death all at once.

"So I just.. I just go back home?" he asked, disbelief still colouring his words. "I'm free to leave?" he frowned, turning to look over his shoulder at the guards now stationed by the door. He got feebly to his feet and staggered, beaten down and malnourished. His blackened fingers curled into fists and he pushed them behind his back, out if sight.

"You lock me up.. Have me tortured for all this time, and I'm supposed to just, accept that?.." he snorted and chuckled darkly to himself, and whispered frantically..

"A shattered soul, a broken frame,
Freedom's call, a bitter game.
For in the light, I still must roam,
Haunted by the shadows' home."

 

[Midir]

"If that is what you wish," The Erlking watched the madman with cold cunning. It was a delicate game he played; revealing the betrayal of his own brother could send Oryn over the edge. Or it could forge him into a valuable weapon for Midir to wield.

He flicked an invisible bit of lint from his shirt.

"Or... if you would prefer, you could stay and ensure such injustice never happens again. You could join The Hunt."

 

[Oryn]

For a long moment, he felt the abyss of madness tugging at him, threatening to swallow him whole. The revelation of his brother's betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound he had endured. A part of him wanted to crumble, to give in to the despair and rage boiling inside him.

But then, another part of him, the part that had survived the torture and the darkness of his cell, began to stir. It whispered of vengeance, of justice, of reclaiming control over his shattered life.

Oryn stood straighter, his fists clenching at his sides as he stared up at Midir. "The Hunt.." he repeated, tasting the words. They were not bitter, but rather filled with a cold, hard purpose. He could see the path the Erlking was offering him, a path of retribution and redemption. The idea of becoming a weapon, of channeling his pain and anger into something powerful, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

'Join the hunt, join the hunt, join the hunt..'

He paced. Oryn had no home to go back to. No family. Nothing. Without purpose, he would no doubt wander aimlessly and succumb to the shadows. And Gods, did he want to kill. His amber eyes gleamed with a newfound resolve as he locked onto Midir's. "I will serve you." he agreed.

 

[Midir]

The only sign of Midir's pleasure was the curl of his lips at the very corner.

"Very good. Then, for your service already rendered I shall name you thus: Lord of Retribution." There was a power to his words that echoed through the room, and Oryn would feel a weight settle on him though not uncomfortable. It was the weight of purpose fuelled by magic, and a bond to something larger than just him.

It was a bond to The Hunt.

 

[Oryn]

Oryn felt the weight of the title settle upon him, a tangible force imbued with Midir's magic. The words he spoke resonated through his being, filling the hollow spaces left by his brother's betrayal and the suffering he'd endured.

He straightened further, shoulders squaring as he accepted this new mantle. There was a power in it, a purpose that transcended his personal pain. He saw a path forward, where there had been none before, now illuminated by the dark promise of vengeance and justice.

'Retribution, retribution, retribution.' he murmured to himself, tasting the word and nodding to himself in acceptance.

"Thank you, my King." Oryn replied. "I.. will wear this title with honour and serve The Hunt with all my strength. Those who betray and deceive will learn to fear the shadows once more. I am yours to call upon." he bowed his head, casting a glance at his brother's body, a mix of sorrow and resolve in his eyes. The past could not be undone, but the future was now a canvas for him to paint with his pain.