Page 10 of Rescued By the Alien Acolyte

They continue their preparations, occasionally casting glances my way, their eyes filled with a mixture of religious fervor and sadistic glee. Each movement, each adjustment they make, sends a fresh wave of terror through me.

I hang there, helpless and in agony, my mind reeling with fear of what’s coming. The heat from the pit washes over me in oppressive waves, making it hard to breathe as my branded flesh throbs with the pain they inflicted.

As I watch them work, dread settles in my stomach like a lead weight. Whatever they’re planning, I know it will be far worse than anything I’ve experienced so far.

The larger acolyte approaches me, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “It is time for your final purification, heretic,” he says, his voice dripping with venom. “You will be cleansed in the fires of the sun, and your screams will be a testament to the glory of the sun gods.”

I steel myself, muscles tensing in anticipation of more pain. Suddenly, the Sun Room’s door crashes open with a thunderous bang.

Finzar looms in the doorway, his imposing figure silhouetted against the corridor’s darkness. His pale eyes, so cold and calculating earlier, now blaze with an inferno of rage. His gaze sweeps the room, lingering on the angry, blistered brands marring my shoulders. “What,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, “is the meaning of this?”

The acolytes recoil, their faces draining of color. “Master Finzar, we were only—” the smaller one stammers, but Finzar silences him with his furious response.

“Silence!” he roars, the word reverberating off the mirrored walls. “I did not authorize this, Vixar. You had no right to touch her, let alone brand her!”

I hiss in agony as the larger acolyte, Vixar, squeezes my newly branded shoulder, causing pain to flare through my body. He sneers at Finzar, who remains in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury. “Master Finzar,” Vixar mocks, “we were merely doing what you lacked the courage to do. The heretic needs to be broken, and we will do it.”

Finzar’s eyes narrow to slits of unbridled fury as he watches Vixar’s cruel grip on my shoulder. With a primal roar that shakes the very foundations of the Sun Room, he surges forward, his robes billowing behind him like dark wings. His hand, calloused and powerful, closes around Vixar’s throat, effortlessly lifting the larger acolyte off the ground. “How dare you touch her!” he bellows, his voice reverberating off the mirrored walls, amplifying it to a deafening level.

Vixar’s eyes bulge grotesquely, blood vessels bursting as Finzar’s grip inexorably tightens. His feet kick uselessly in the air, hands clawing desperately at Finzar’s iron grip. But Finzar’s strength, fueled by rage, is insurmountable. With a sickening, wet crunch that turns my stomach, Vixar’s neck gives way. His body goes instantly limp, like a puppet with cut strings. Without hesitation, Finzar hurls the lifeless form into the pit of glowingcoals. The body lands with a dull thud, flesh sizzling as it makes contact with the burning embers.

The smaller acolyte, face ashen with terror, stumbles backward. His back hits the wall of mirrors, shattering one and sending a waterfall of glittering shards to the floor. “Master Finzar, mercy!” he pleads, voice quavering. His trembling hands rise in a futile gesture for mercy.

Finzar rounds on him, his eyes now twin infernos of murderous intent. “You dared to defy me,” he snarls, each word dripping with lethal promise. “To touch what was not yours to touch. You will pay for your insolence.”

In a blur of motion, Finzar snatches a wicked-looking device from the torture table. Its metal gleams ominously in the harsh light as he swings it in a vicious arc. The acolyte’s scream of agony is cut short as the implement connects with his chest in a sickening crunch of shattering bone. He crumples to the ground, a broken marionette, blood spreading in a crimson pool around his prone form. Finzar towers over him, chest heaving, the torture device still clutched in his white-knuckled grip.

I watch in stunned silence as Finzar turns to me, his eyes a maelstrom of emotions—fury and something else I can’t quite name. “I should never have left you alone with them. I… I should have known they would disobey my orders.” His voice is hoarse and barely audible over the crackling of the coals.

He reaches out, his hand hovering near one of my branded shoulders. I flinch involuntarily, the memory of searing pain still fresh. Finzar withdraws, a flicker of understanding passing over his face.

“We must move quickly,” he says, his tone urgent. “The Solstice approaches, and Sakar will not wait to begin the ritual.”

Finzar strides to the instrument table, selecting a small, wickedly sharp knife. The blade glints ominously in the firelight.

“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

His expression grim, Finzar approaches. “I need to remove these restraints,” he explains, his voice low and gruff.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I plead, my heart racing. But Finzar’s hands are steady as he carefully cuts through the ropes.

As the restraints fall away, I rub my raw wrists, my gaze darting between Finzar and the lifeless acolytes. “You killed them,” I whisper, still processing the brutal scene.

Finzar nods grimly. “They defied me. They would have hurt you further. I… could not allow that.”

He hands me a robe, which I gratefully pull on, wincing as it brushes my burns. “We must hurry,” he urges.

“What exactly are you doing?” I ask, my mind reeling.

“Getting you out,” he says fiercely. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

“But what about you?” I ask, suddenly concerned. “Won’t they punish you for this?”

He nods, his jaw set. “I’ve made my choice. Now hurry.”

As we rush through dark corridors, my mind races. This man, who not long ago had me strapped naked to an altar, is now risking everything to save me. What he did to me was not torture. I see the truth of that now, and although it makes little sense, I am grateful. And I realize I can’t let him face this alone.

“Come with me,” I say impulsively.

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