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Chapter 9: Trial
🕑 Added 2022-12-14 20:46:17 +0000 UTCThe dorm party was one of Dan’s best memories from college. It was hosted by Alpha Gamma Rho and was the weekend directly after the first week of class. It was the perfect time, before class got difficult but far enough after move-in week. Students were situated and not stressed yet, a prime combination.
It was hosted in the second largest dorm, Seeth, because the resident adviser was “chill.” There was drinking and music, multiple floors to spread out, and plenty of newly initiated freshmen. The culture around the party was one of smiles and freedom. For many, it was their first time away from home, it was their first real experience of college.
Those at the party, the ones Dan hung around with, were his friends forever. Going through the rough hazing of his fraternity, living through the torturous experience, was something he was not too keen on retrying. But he lived through it, and he was glad for it. He created real bonds during his time in college, the start of which began at the party.
A group of seven or eight stood around the patio’s bonfire, drinking cheap beer and cracking jokes. A crawfish boil was bubbling away a few dozen paces away, a century old cast iron flat top was sizzling away with seared sausage. Smells drifted across the area, blanketing the outside with deliciousness.
“No, no, no. You need to stay away from Professor Nayman. She doesn’t care about anything other than tenure. I’m surprised the department head hasn’t stepped in,” Daisy, a third year, spoke.
“Really? Do I need to change my schedule?” Dan asked, sipping his drink.
Tucker laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to her. She has a thing against Nayman after a rough few quizzes. You’ll be fine.”
An egg timer went off, causing all eyes on the patio to turn in unison.
“Finnnally!” Daisy sung, “I’m starving!”
Tucker smirked and rang the Dinner Bell, a triangular piece of metal hung by a string. It was located along the patio’s door frame and was only used once or twice a year. With the bell chiming, a mass of heavy footsteps barreled through the door.
“Come on, Dan. Grab a stack of plates and start passing them out. Tom has his work cut out for him,” Tucker said, hoisting a packet of paper plates to the freshman.
Dan didn’t envy Tom right now, especially since working the cauldron could have been his job if Tom hadn’t spoken up about liking to cook.
The party went on for a few more hours. Plenty of people left, others came in, there were a few near fights, and more than a couple of light drinkers passed out. All in all, Dan was glad for his dorm and his frat. He met more people at this one party than he met in the whole previous week. Honestly he had been worried about making new friends. Highschool to college was a large step, and he was glad he wasn’t alone in the process.
Although, the fraternity initiation was rough…
Dan shivered as the cultist pumped more icy wind into his cell. He was naked, having been stripped after his recaptured. At first he had tried rolling around to generate heat, but after his back and hip were shredded, he quickly stopped. The cold stone ground ate at his frozen skin, every small pebble turning into a miniature dagger. Having open wounds freeze over was not pleasant.
A monstrous smile in the corner gestured to the cultist, and the horrid chill was replaced with blazing heat. The small cell turned into a sauna, then an oven. Burns started appearing on Dan’s skin, creating near instantaneous blisters. He squirmed in pain, his frozen blood starting to boil. His screams echoed out of the cell and through the long dark hallway.
Seconds turned into hours, but eventually the smile relented and the magic ended. It spoke something, the words sounding like a hydraulic press crushing aluminum to Dan. He could only shake his head, muttering about not understanding.
Dan didn’t dare look at the smile directly. When he did, the cultist shocked him with a green snap of power. He was given six holes in his thigh before he figured it out. He did, however, watch the smile in his periphery. It was the only way for him to truly see it, it was the only way to hear its words.
As a new round of super heating and freezing started, Dan clutched his core. They had done something to it, to him. A spiral of ash and blood was centered on his chest, zapping his energy and mana away. He was as weak as ever, and that was more painful than the torture.
He couldn’t fathom losing magic. It was ridiculous, he knew. He had only known of magic for a week at this point, but he felt like it was a part of him. It was his guiding light, his saving grace. Dan realized that his pitiful understanding of magic bounded from reality, it was something so alien it could kill things beyond his understanding.
And having it taken hurt.
Every few hours the smile would shout something at the cultist and the sealing spiral would be redrawn. When that happened, the method of torture would change. They had started out by beating Dan, physically with bludgeons or their twisted, craggy fists. Electricity was next, followed by a silver flame that, oddly, didn’t hurt. The cultists quickly switched off the fire and moved to mock drowning, then extreme hot and cold.
Between each method, a short interlude transpired. A cultist wearing golden robes would enter the cell, mumble chant a set of words, then a golden circle would appear around Dan. The circle would burst into a pillar of delicate sparkles. All of Dan’s wounds would revert within moments, fueling him with enough strength to continue on for another round of pain.
This interlude was different, however. After a redrawn spiral and much needed healing, a cultist woman entered with a metal loop. It was quickly placed on Dan’s wrist, summoning three voices. They all spoke at once, each speaking at different pitches, speeds, and emphases.
One was yelling, another whispering, and Dan thought one was singing. He wasn’t sure, however, he couldn’t understand a word they were saying. The voices continued for hours, even after the other cultists left the prison. Only the smile remained, watching him like a hawk watches prey. His spiral was refreshed, but there was no torture, no blood, no wounds.
The lack of pain let Dan sleep rather easily. He was sure that the smile would zap him for drifting off, but nothing of the sort ever came. There were only the three voices, none of which were able to rouse him from desperately needed sleep.
He dreamt of words and sounds, conversations and discussions.
When Dan woke up, he cried. Long and hard, all the while the smile watched with fascination. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if his life would be better in the cave, past the red doors. What even was his life, at this point? This wasn’t living, this wasn’t anything. At least past the doors, there was survival. There was emotion and instinct. He was like the very monsters that had tried to kill him. That was a life, not this.
His tears, however, blocked the thought from continuing. He wanted to go back to his old life, to Earth, not back to the cave.
“H-ow di-d,”
Dan spun at the voice, only finding the smile in the corner. A zap smashed into his thigh, sending him back to the floor. He breathed deep a few times, finding his attacker in the corner of his eye. The smile had turned straight, its cheeks loose and relaxed. It repeated the broken words.
“A-are you speaking English?” Dan asked, his throat trembling in fear.
The smile didn’t answer his question, only repeating its own.
Dan realized it wasn’t English, it was their language. “How did I what?”
“Do-or,” the smile returned.
Thoughts came to the human, each one worse than the last. His time from the cave came back in weak memories, his body shivered trying to forget. He didn’t want to answer, he didn’t want to-
A green beam burned into his skin, sending wafts of black smoke into the air.
“Ans-wer,” the smile commanded
Dan had thought about the door a few times while living in the caves. His memories of the time told him that he pushed it open to escape capture. The issue was, however, that he knew the door was much too heavy for him to open. It was wood, metal, and bone, taller than a house and sealed into the walls. Having seen no evidence that the cultists followed him in only solidified his idea about the situation.
The door either opened by itself or someone opened it for him. Dan told the smile as much.
The smile didn’t say anything else and exited the cell. A moment later a cultist came in, placed a wire cage in the corner and quickly exited. The cage vibrated in agitation, a small creature fighting to break out. It threw its weight around, biting at the wires.
Dan’s eyes were wide in fear. The monster was only the size of a rabbit, but it perfumed a sickness into the air. Colors molded together, everything turned a bland gray. Textures disappeared, the metal cage melded into the stone cell, allowing the monster a way out. It snarled at the other captor, instilling its magic in long winded droves.
Feeling his inner self, Dan queried his core. The spiral sealing his magic had not been switched out since before he fell asleep. It was weak, almost falling apart.
He took no chances, rubbing his nude chest to break the ash formation. It didn’t help. The monster lunged, massive teeth appearing from its relatively small mouth. It splattered into the wall, Dan slipping past just in time.
The monster fell into the wall, becoming one with the stone. The cell went quiet for a brief moment until a disastrous presence formed from the ceiling. The monster dropped, claws made of ethereal stone lashing out. A deep cut appeared along Dan’s side, blood gushed onto the floor turning gray in the process.
Trying to force magic from his core, Dan stuck to the edges of the cell. He danced around the beast, his wounds slowing him down. Seconds ticked by as new cuts appeared, the monster ravaging his ankles and shins. But he gained ground within his core.
There was a blanket, a scab. Dan picked at it, splitting his consciousness into external survival and internal desire. The floor went dark, the monster disappearing into it. A spike entered the sole of his foot and out the top, he didn’t scream, however. He couldn’t, not really.
He was cultivating an orb, a small ball of radiant golden light. It was weak and diluted, the seal’s effects still in play. The color broke against the gray amalgamated cell, ripping reality back into the prison. Shadows widened along the floor and out the small window, signaling the cultist of the winner.
Dan didn’t hesitate, he smashed his open palm into the monster with the force of a broken man. Tears streamed down his cheeks and neck, mixing with dried blood. The golden orb collided with the monster, rage and hatred blasting it into the wall.
It fell to the ground, searching for an entry back into its magical safe haven, but the human didn’t relent. Dan jumped on it, casting both hands into the beast. Magic grew to life, not in spherical form but rather organic mist hovering just beyond his fingers.
The wild attack left Dan stunned, the brightness and power from his attack draining his weakened core and flaring a headache to life. He stammered back, away from the flattened roadkill. Slumping against the wall, he looked over his victory.
The monster was burnt and charred, ruptured into a bleeding mess of cannibalized stone and fur. His attack had cracked the floor under the beast, creating a web of fresh hazards. Dan knew the crumbled floor would only serve him poorly. It would invite more pain for the next time the cultists tortured him.
He could already feel himself rolling around in agonizing pain.
A strong hinge on the cell door unclasped and slid open. The gold robe wearing cultist stepped in, his hideous face only just better than the pile of molted monster flesh in the center of the room. A ring of magic formed before Dan could cower away, healing his mangled skin and fueling him with energy.
A thought stirred in Dan’s mind. His core was unsealed… he could attack the man and run. A tear streamed down his face, that was pointless. He would be recaptured, he would be tortured worse. He didn’t move, he didn’t stare. He closed his eyes and wished for it to be over.
Something was thrown at him, something soft. Dan opened his eyes, finding clothes. The golden cultists said something to him that he didn’t understand. It was too quick and mumbled, but he was able to catch some syllables. The intent was there, however.
Dan threw on the overly proportionate garb and followed the cultist out of the cell. The man led him through the prison, out into the camp, and toward an unassuming building. This was the first time he had seen the area while not under full duress.
It was large, very large. The area the dome cut off from the blood rain was large enough to hold a housing development. Although nearly half was taken up by the mountain, most of the space went unused. There were no farms, no wide houses. Most of the buildings were built with height in mind, easily eclipsing two or three stories. Only the prison broke the pattern, its stone chiseled rooms had been built into the ground.
Dan was led to the second floor where the cultist leader sat at a small table. The man was a humanoid monster, fit with spiny teeth and droopy flesh. He had spikes and horns jutting from his skin, each curving with the contours of his body. He wore a grand smile, one unfriendly and hellish. Dan’s skin crawled just looking at him, his heart beat like a drum.
“No ans-wer, m-ore tortu-re,” the leader said, flicking his finger like a metronome.
The gesture made Dan queasy and his nose bleed, his mind forcing him to look away. He nodded.
“Be-yond do-or?”
Dan told him. He recounted his time past the red doors. He spoke of memories he wished to bury, he spoke of his insatiable hunger, and he talked about his misery. He bumbled around the one-sided conversation, often going off on long tangents about different thoughts that came to his mind. Like how the monsters smelled, how much his feet hurt, or why he thought shovels were used rather than swords or magic.
But when Dan brought up the mucus cavern, the leader stopped him. “Ex-plai-n,” he commanded.
As he did, the cultist’s smile only got larger and larger. Pure glee erupted from the man, like he’d won the lottery.
Dan finished his story with a question of his own, “What is the cave past the door?”
He had thought long and hard about what was in the cave during his stay there. Why was crystalline bone being harvested? Why was there a sacrifice room with a massive doorway that led deeper? Why had the stone turned to muscle and flesh? He knew the answer in the back of his mind, he just didn’t want to believe it.
The cave was a monster, one far stronger than anything imaginable.
The leader flicked his wrist, sending a bolt of magic to Dan’s bracelet. It shrunk in size, tightening into his skin. Words spun to life, the three voices screeching in rushed tunes. They yelled for minutes until the leader did something to the bracelet again.
“The door has only opened once, no matter how many we sacrificed to our god,” The leader fell to his knees, his hands in prayer. “Rejoice! For you have met him! You have been graced by B’hithazad!”
The smiling man fell into a low laugh. Each giggle rebounded and churned, pooling the world into something of his own design. He leaned into Dan and whispered, “Your sacrifice will open the gate for all of us.”
Dan didn’t react to the words, nor when the man pulled the bracelet off of him. The three voices stopped, along with his understanding of the language. It seemed like a cruel joke to him, to remove one’s ability to understand a language. It was part of the torture, it was part of breaking him.
The golden robed cultists led him back to his cell in the prison. It was much the same, only the dead monster had been scraped out and the floor was fixed. A tray of food was shoved into Dan’s hands, and the door was locked behind him.
Dan’s heart fluttered when he saw the food. He scarfed it down, momentarily forgetting about the cold desolate stone prison. He cried himself to sleep, although no nightmares came. Instead he dreamt of a pure white globe of light. It burned like a star and warmed his frozen body.
A knock sounded on his door a few hours later. Dan roused himself, guessing it was morning in this perpetually nighttime hellhole. Finding that the cell door was unlocked, he opened it.
A man stood in front of him with a gentle smile on his face. The man was old, although with his alien appearance, it was hard for Dan to tell. The man had a graying beard, saggy eyes, and wrinkled skin. He had no augmented features, like a tail or horns, but something was off about him.
Dan just couldn't tell what it was.
The man brought both hands to his chest. “Sullethan,” he said slowly and deliberately, repeating the pronunciation a few times.
Mimicking the gesture, the human pointed to himself. “Dan.”
Sullethan smiled, said his name a few times and signaled to Dan to follow.
