Slave moon by Brett Hicks

Author:Brett Hicks [Hicks, Brett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-12T22:00:00+00:00

“You are pleased to watch the mortals die like insects, yet to play an earthling game like mortals of my world, bothers you?” I asked, and the guards nearest me snatched up my wrists, and I glared at them each a single warning look.

“You will learn your place demi-goddess. You are beneath me, and it would not server you to forget this. I have been merciful to you, pampered you, and I have protected you from my brother and father.” Gekke warned, returning to his favorite line to keep me docile. He knew that I was dangerous, and he knew that he had to make me feel beholden to him. I had yet to display such levels of brokenness, or obedience.

“I merely gave you what you asked for, a human cultural experience of my world. Your actions now are like those of a small spoiled child plucking wings from a butterfly.” I said balefully to my captor and would-be liege-lord. Gekke stared into my eyes, and he huffed in frustration.

“Perhaps a week in solitude would help you remember my mercy. You can live a week without eating, if my memory of demi-goddess anatomy and endurance is true.” Gekke said. With a flick of his wrist, I was being dragged away from the field by the pair of guards. I growled, and I fought them, but their half-dragon bodies were solid with scaly muscles. They were like bastard off-shoots of Roken. They did not have his exact level of power and physic, but they were close enough to over-power me in my current state.

Gekke’s bright eyes glowed with power and trepidation at me. I turned as the screams on the field began to snag on my ears. To my supreme horror, Gekke’s dragon-kin guards had impaled the soccer players one by one. Gekke watched on unmoved by the casual grizzly display of carnage.

I screamed in my turbulent state of primal wrath.

“I will remember!”, I shouted my oath, and Gekke looked at me for a moment in contemplation, but he soon dismissed any notion of my threat ever coming to life. I snapped and bucked against the guards hauling me off like a heap of flour in their bulky griping hands. Magic spilled from me, but before I could gather it to use, I felt it slip from my meta-physical fingers. My mind seemed to be too over-ripe with pain and burning hatred to mold the power to my will.

The guards took me to the dungeons beneath the massive estate. They threw me in a stone cell, and I fell onto my ass. Above me the bars closed at the top of the pit-like a stone prison cell, I was trapped in the absolute dark as the torches of the guards died out with their retreating forms.

They left me with nothing but my thoughts for company. My ever-present agony brought on by the collar, and my own empathic abilities. The discord of the screams, and the unfiltered agony of the prison opened my psychic wounds anew.

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