It was common to see a rebellious prisoner, but he still felt angry at the blatant act of disrespect. He tried to keep calm, especially because he didn't process well when fuming,and he still had a lot to explore before relocation.
A few steps more, and anger turned into recognition. A while ago, he had been travelling with Ronan and Khalifa, aimlessly wandering without any reasonable ambition, apart from survival. Noticing a thick patch of tree canopies, he had decided that it was a perfect spot to deactivate his invisibility ability and expose them to the snares of the forest. Moments later, he caught sight of shadows that didn't belong to trees, hanging over them.
One crouched, the other one flapping. The girl had been looming over them, stuck on whether to leave or take the supposed surprise attack. He didn't point her out for two reasons. Considering their current state, taking a fight with someone who was not willing to fight, was just too stupid. Also, from the looks of it, the Owl was somewhat working with her. Even if it was temporary, there was no telling was it would do if she was attacked, so he simply did nothing.
Luckily, they had left soon after without forcing unfavorable outcomes. With that out of the way, he just pretended he hadn't seen anything and let things continue with relative peace.
Now, an eternity later, she had again crossed paths with him, but not in ways that would concern him at all. She was now prisoner.
'What was her name again?...ahh, I could swear Ronan had said it before.'
The realisation was just that. There was nothing special about it, just the boring fact that the forest was small enough to make strangers familiar. She had only offended him with her intentions, and frankly, it was too petty for him to make hostility out of.
Besides, she was not his to punish. The heads of Chamber would decide what to do what her, and whatever it was, was not his problem.
So, just as he had done before, he pretended he didn't see anything and kept on walking.
***
Thea was paying her sanity to the air with each second that went by.
Mira was paying too, but with a different currency and for a different purpose. Hunger was deadlier than poison once left alone long enough. It weighed on the body in ways one couldn't just cough out or take drugs to combat. Whenever the gnawing emptiness snapped at her too hard, she expended spirit to keep herself whole. The body knew it was being lied to, but for a moment it let it slide. In those moments, she felt dull relief, not absolute, but manageable.
Thea didn't have spirit to expend. She had already been ground down before she got the mark, and after that, things only went downhill. She was a piled of butchered flesh with sentience. The worst of bruises, burns and cuts all had their pound in flesh across her body. And the mark only made it worse as it constantly drew spirit from her faster than she could even tell. The pain was a special kind, affecting something deeper than body. And after a while of long suffering, her body eventually went numb to everything including her intelligence.
She rested against cold walls, mumbling inaudibly, trying to hold unto the fundamental bits that made her human.
'Maybe she's begging death to take her away... smart.'
Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. It wasn't her fault in any way, and the fact that she couldn't do anything about it was even worse.
Thea didn't beg Mira to say whatever they wanted her to say. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would provide some sort of relief. She wasn't in any place to argue, after all, it was her weakness that had indirectly led them here.
And even if Mira unwittingly decided to hold unto her secret...she would just endure until...
She didn't want to think about it.
***
The man who had interrogated them walked along the perimeters that defined the scope of the Chamber's territory. He did not possess the regality anymore. Instead, he had adorned himself with something deeper. Something more human.
His eyes darted around, searching the trees for roots that came from no trees. He wasn't just expectant, he was fearful.
Then suddenly, a patch of thick vines and moss rose slowly. The figure that rose with it looked like it had been made from the land it stood on.
There wasn't anything to say about him. He was as lackluster as a footprint, resembling stitches of vines and leaves. But his aura was... plain.
The man's eyes constricted when he saw the figure.
"Is it ready?" he asked with a bit of respect.
The vine-clad figure huffed silently. "Not yet," he replied evenly. "Materials are scarce, I'll need more time to source for them."
The interrogator's face tensed with displeasure. He was used to racing against time, but he wasn't used to having his speed dictated by someone else.
"But it would be ready before we relocate," the figure continued, unconcerned that the man was upset.
The answer was not satisfactory, but it was all he had, so he accepted it with a nod. The person in front of him was a hired blade, but not the kind that fought. He was the kind that knew too much, and his words were just as lethal as knifes.
The figure turned back, disappearing into the mist. But just before his silhouette faded, he turned back and smiled, but of course no one saw it. He admired something interesting, something novel.
Fear.
Hidden, but present.
The interrogator wasn't in a cage, but his prison was far superior to the ones of those girls.
***
If this was a movie, heavy bass would have been playing in the background. Ronan and Khalifa stood before the rusted metal door of the third floor, listening to the low ferocious growl that permeated its dead medium.
Ronan gripped his weapon tightly. It was a stone pickaxe, crude but heavy duty. Khalifa stood a step behind, casually swinging the machete, unaware she was actually doing it. It had been an odd choice to say the least, but if she trusted it with her life, she must have felt some sort of connection.
"Ready?" Ronan asked with shaky determination.
Khalifa wasn't, but she nodded either way. Ronan knew, but he wasn't going to give her the chance to go back on her word. He kicked the door open and bolted in, brandishing the pickaxe violently.
But in that same moment, he bolted out. But not by he own will. A predator rammed at him, pummeling him with the side of its flank, rattling his bones and telling him that he was no match alone.
He dusted himself up, ashamedly refusing to look at his smirking partner. Khalifa patted him on the back, chuckled slightly before they wordless synced.
They rushed in together, crossing the doorway and not knowing what they had gotten into. The predators lunged before they noticed that the ground of the third floor was metal and not rock.
They did not look as grotesque, simply because they did not look like anything. Or rather, they didn't not look like anything describable. Shadows moved swiftly through darkness, sparking claws against metal, brilliantly off-putting their attackers.
The problem was visible because everything else wasn't. The beast could see in the dark and they couldn't. Khalifa reacted quickly, booming distortion out in a wave that toppled momentum sideways. The predators dragged, forgetting how to move for half a second. The time was incredibly short, but for people who had only survived this long because of quickness, it was just enough.
Ronan timed it perfectly, feet pushing off the ground the moment the advantage faded. He swung with herculean force, sending a torrent of blood out of the predator's head the moment stone met bark.
Another leapt his way, catching him in a bad position. He turned, clipping the teeth of it with the weapon's handle, sending the abominable skidding back.
He feigned commission, stepping forward with force that resembled lunging. The predator blitzed in retaliation, sinking it's claw into Ronan's side. His plan was not to leave him wounded, but he had already accounted for the possibility of being too slow to dodge it. He wriggled out of the claw as he moved farther out, striking the belly of the beast like a baseball.
Across the room, Khalifa fought just as desperately. She was of lighter gear, so he movements were more versatile.
A predator lunged for her legs, stretching itself out enough to ensure Khalifa didn't see its hump stick up as it approached from behind. She didn't see it, but she heard the sound of matter whistling through the air. She spun around, carving a deep grove along its back, tossing it away with its momentum.
Another came again, attacking from the opposite side. She spun once again, but fatigue dragged her movements a bit too much. It would have killed her but for the ink spear that impaled it a second later.
She smiled weakly, happy he was still paying attention to her. But if they were to survive, they would need coordination surpassing what telepathy could offer.
And as usual, her silly thoughts left her a second too late to react.
The predators had blocked the entrance, and there was no way out now...