First of His Name

Entry posted by Voltex November 30, 2017

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-Kamuk: New Makuta City Prison-

-ShadowVezon Raqmu-

He awoke with a start, his chains clanking against each other. His wrists burned as the cuffs scratched and tore at their scabbed surface. The brick wall of his cell was slick and moist, and the dirt on the floor had turned to muck. It had a strong, overpowering stench to it, and if he’d had the energy to do so, he would have flinched away.

It wasn’t muck.

His energy had abandoned him long ago, however, and so he remained where he was, huddled against the wall in the farthest corner of his cell, where the light of the torches did not reach, and the chains attached to his wrists and ankles bothered him the least. Breathing in and breathing out, his lungs filled with the stench of his own feces, dumped all over the floor of his cell as he’d been sleeping. His mind still foggy from exhaustion.

Across the cell, a shadow flickered on the opposite side of the bars. Movement. A person – though he had long since lost the ability to tell if it was simply a guard on patrol or someone with more sinister intentions. He had no friends here.

Nobody had been on his side for a long time. He had lost track of the years.

There was another flicker, prompting him to weakly lift his head, staring across the cell. He could make out a solitary shadow, the size of a Protector. He opened his mouth and wet his lips.

“Who goes there?” his voice came out as a croak, broken from disuse.

The shadow stepped closer, into the light of the torches. It was a figure not unlike other Protectors, with navy blue armor that had rusted orange at the edges. The armor itself was of an alien design, ancient in its construction – and, if he suspected correctly, somewhat magical in nature, or else the rust would have spread less uniformly. His yellow eyes shone brightly, two blinding beacons in the shadows, and he had a dark, cold aura.

The figure opened their mouth, and when they spoke, it was with a cold, cruel voice, dripping with sarcasm. “ShadowVezon Raqmu, the first of his name. The King of Stone, and Ruler of Kamuk. Kinslayer. Oathbreaker. The Faithful Disgraced. Murderer of Zatth Raqmu, rightful Ruler of Stone. Guilty of a thousand crimes both false and real.”

He remained silent, eyeing the figure for a long moment before his head slumped down against his chest, his neck too tired to continue supporting it. The bars of his cell creaked, and he heard footsteps on the stone, before two feet appeared. He forced his head back up, staring at the figure, who now stood in the middle of his cell. There was a look of disgust on their face – no doubt about why – but also disappointment.

“Look at how far you have fallen,” they murmured, crouching down and reaching out to hold his chin up with two fingers. “Once, you would have spat in the face of any who dared insult you. You would have had them executed, or vanished them into the night.”

Still, he said nothing. He wasn’t sure he could.

The figure shook his head, and released his chin; his head dropped back to his chest.

“Take care, your grace,” the figure said, standing again, walking away. The bars of his cell creaked again. “I will give you one more chance, as my master gave me. Do not disappoint us.”

And then, the figure was gone.