Page 2 of His to Break
But fear reigns over reason; instinct finally kicks in as those nearby scream and scatter into the shadows of the mine's depths.
And so I run too—every ounce of desire to survive overriding whatever mysterious force had called me closer just moments ago.
What the fuck just happened?
2
AZRAEL
Chains clank as I struggle against the bonds that bind me, each link a reminder of my humiliation. Cold metal bites into my skin, pressing against my muscles as I twist and turn, veins bulging under the strain. The dim room offers little comfort; shadows creep across the stone walls like memories of a life that now feels light-years away. My heart pounds with fury and desperation, each beat igniting a fire within me—a fire that longs to consume everything in its path.
“A powerful demon, reduced to a mere slave,” one dark elf sneers from the doorway, a smug smile curling on his lips. He steps forward, flanked by two others, their laughter ringing in my ears like the death knell of my pride.
I snarl at them, teeth bared. My muscles tense beneath the weight of the chains, but they hold fast—enchanted by their magic to suppress what I once wielded effortlessly. I could have torn this room apart with a flick of my wrist, sent these pathetic mortals scurrying like insects. Instead, here I am—trapped and humiliated.
“Look at him,” another taunts, stepping closer to poke at my chest with a finger as if testing a beast caged for sport. “Such ferocity wasted on servitude.”
The urge to lash out swells inside me. I can feel the darkness coiling in response to my anger, clawing at the edges of my mind like an old friend seeking reunion. But each time I reach for it—each time I try to summon that power—I feel it snatched away as if pulled from my grasp by an invisible hand. The chains glow brighter with each effort; their magic holds me back tighter than any mortal could hope to.
My fists clench until my knuckles whiten, trembling with the need for release—a need to break free and remind them all of what true power looks like.
“Do you see him?” The first dark elf laughs again, cruel amusement lighting his violet eyes. “A mere shadow of his former self.”
I roar in fury—an animalistic sound that echoes through the room and reverberates against stone walls—but even that primal noise feels stripped of its power when met with their mocking laughter.
They approach closer now; every word feels like salt on open wounds.
“Tell us your name,” one demands mockingly as he leans down so close I can see the smirk etched on his face. “What’s left of your nobility? What do you want us to call you? Pet? Plaything?”
Each taunt digs deeper than any blade ever could—their words rip through layers of pride and ego until all that's left is raw rage and embarrassment bubbling just below the surface.
With every passing moment trapped here in this cursed place, chained down not just physically but spiritually by this damned contract they’ve thrust upon me—a binding thatweakens me more than any shackle could—it becomes harder to breathe through this agony of submission.
They step back slightly, reveling in their victory as if they’ve already won whatever battle we’re waging between us—the war raging in their eyes only stoking my anger further.
I envision ripping them apart piece by piece—clawing through flesh until nothing remains but bone and blood—but all I can do is stare helplessly as they circle around me like vultures waiting for carrion.
“Let’s see how long it takes before he begs for mercy,” one jeers over his shoulder at the others.
“Mercy?” I growl back despite myself; every ounce of defiance courses through me like fire igniting an inferno. “You’ll never see that day.”
Their laughter rises again—the sound grating against my ears—and something inside snaps just then. I lunge forward instinctively despite being anchored down by chains too strong for brute force alone.
But they whip me back down without hesitation; pain lances through my side where their cruel leather lashes strike hard enough to send shockwaves throughout my body—a painful reminder of who holds control here.
Each sting fuels another surge within me: anger morphs into determination—a burning desire not just to escape but obliterate everything that binds me here in this pitiful existence forced upon me by these lesser beings who dare mock my lineage.
But even while trapped beneath their laughter and arrogance—the weight pressing upon me grows heavier still—I swear silently: they will regret this day when freedom comes crashing back into my life once more.
The laughter fades into a dull roar in my ears, overshadowed by the pulsing fury within. I grip the chains tighter, feeling theirmagic constrict like a serpent around my throat. But then she steps into the room.
She’s small, barely reaching my shoulder, but her presence cuts through the haze of anger like a blade. Long, dark hair cascades down her back in disheveled waves, catching the dim light filtering through the barred window. The strands stick to her cheeks, matted with dirt and sweat—each droplet clinging like an anchor to her fading humanity. Her eyes dart nervously as she carries a tray of food, hazel depths shimmering with a mix of fear and determination.
Scars crisscross her arms and hands—remnants of labor that have carved their mark upon her flesh. She wears tattered clothing that barely conceals her slim frame; each rip tells a story of survival in this unforgiving place. Yet even in rags, there’s something striking about her posture—a defiance that clings stubbornly to her spirit despite the weight of despair pressing down.
“Her,” I growl, jerking my chin toward her. The dark elves pause, their laughter dying on their lips as they look between me and the human.
"What about her?" an elf grunts.
