Digging Blades

Kenon knew this place. It had once been one of the finer areas of his home, a grand hall, filled with luxurious furniture and pristine golden statues. One of his favourite relaxing areas, where he would invite his beloved Kinisis round for food and pleasure. It was no longer such a glorious place, it had now been twisted into a horrific mockery, a room of pain and torture.

A room made to contain Kenon.

A room redesigned to hurt him.

And so far, it was doing its job very well.

Kenon tried to move a little. He had been here for at least a few hours now, so the stabbing pains in his immobilized limbs had died down a lot. But the two large spikes that were slowly piercing deeper into his chest were definitely bothering him. At current pain levels, Kenon would probably be able to stand at least a few more days of this, although he would rather not have to suffer at all.

“I know you are there.”

The Voidborn wasn’t alone. He was being watched. In fact, the creature hadn’t looked away once. Kenon couldn’t tell whether they were enjoying his suffering or not.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Kenon grunted. He’d made the mistake of moving and doing so had caused the two spikes to dig deeper into his chest.

“I’ll be honest…” Kenon grunted. “You were never the sort to enjoy torture.”

Arkadin stepped out of the shadows. He seemed… larger than normal. Beefier. More muscular. More heavily armoured. But also far more damaged and scarred, every injury that had been inflicted on him on display across his black, rubbery skin.

“You always were though. You always enjoyed it. The feeling of others being crushed beneath you. You’d always get off on that feeling.”

“It was all to keep you down, Arkadin. To remind you to not become too powerful. Keep you in your place.”

The spikes were digging in deeper. Kenon noticed that they were now suddenly barbed, carving deeper holes into his chest.

“Nah. You just liked hurting me. Made you feel better about yourself, about the fact that all you do is create empty shadows, while us deities had all the real power. But rather than leaving and removing your jealousy, you would project your own failings on me.”

Arkadin wandered closer, summoning more horrible spikes. He placed them underneath Kenon and allowed the Voidborn to sink closer towards them.

“Making yourself look larger does nothing to hide your fear or make you look stronger…” Kenon attempted to taunt Arkadin, but the Thantophor ignored him. “Why shift into the form of a weaker race?”

“You’re suggesting Rethavok are weak. They only have one of the most capable armies in the universe…” Arkadin tutted. “But yet again you judge me. You judge how I hold myself, while swimming in your own hypocrisy. How many times have you changed your own hollow look, Kenon?”

The Voidborn didn’t answer. The second set of spikes began to puncture his flesh, forcing him to let out a small grunt of pain.

“You were supposed to be above torture. What happened to your honour?” Kenon growled. He tried to watch as Arkadin wandered behind him. He could hear a blade being extended.

“I’m not torturing you. Unfortunately, the only real way to imprison a nasty Voidborn such as yourself is to pin them down and immobilize them. You’ve done this to yourself.”

An agonizing flash of pain burned through Kenon’s neck as a blade pierced his throat. The Voidborn struggled and gurgled for a moment, before abruptly stopping. The pain had instantly vanished and Kenon could no longer even attempt to struggle.

“I’m going to leave you here for a few days,” Arkadin smiled as he reappeared in Kenon’s field of view. He ran one of his black claws across Kenon’s face, but Kenon couldn’t feel it. “You’re going to sit here and think about what you’ve done, on your own. In the mean time, I’m going to go and visit my poor little friends, then work out a way to get rid of you permanently…”