Chapter 9: Slave

Darkness engulfed him.

Isaac felt his body grow heavy, his consciousness sink into a gentle sleep. It was as if he were falling endlessly into an invisible abyss, caught by a force he didn't understand.

Then, suddenly, a searing pain pierced his skull.

His mind was ripped from his body with unheard-of brutality, as if something-or someone-was pulling him out of himself. An icy sensation ran through his body, drowning his nerves in an unpleasant shiver.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

And his breath immediately caught in his throat.

The air around him was thick with a choking mixture of rancid sweat, damp earth and dried blood. He breathed in reflexively and felt an acrid, metallic taste invade his mouth. The smell was so strong it made him nauseous.

He was lying on a hard, uneven surface. A rough, splintery wooden floor. Certainly not his bed.

His heart pounded violently in his chest.

He wasn't home anymore.

- Where's my goddamn bed!

A weak torch hung on the wall, casting a flickering light over the room. His frightened gaze swept over his surroundings.

A long, dilapidated shack.

The ceiling low, the walls made of simple, ill-fitting wooden planks, letting in a cold, gloomy wind. But that wasn't the most worrying thing.

All around him, dozens of bodies were piled up on the floor, huddled under filthy, discarded rags. Skinny, skeletal figures, little more than shadows breathing faintly in the darkness.

He looked down at himself.

And felt his heart miss a beat.

It wasn't his body.

His hands trembled as he raised them in front of him.

Too thin. Too bony.

Her skin, covered with encrusted dirt, bore scars he didn't recognize. He touched her face apprehensively, discovering angular features, a jaw thinner than the one he knew.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

He wanted to stand up, but his body didn't respond as he'd hoped. His muscles were weak, aching, drained of energy. He felt as if he weighed a ton. His arms trembled under his own weight, and he had to hold on to the plank beneath him to keep from collapsing.

His breathing quickened. His heart was beating too fast.

Where was he?

What was happening to him?

Why wasn't he himself anymore?

A slight movement to his left startled him.

A faint voice, almost a whisper, rose in the half-light.

- Are... are you all right?

Isaac turned his head sharply.

Beside him, a young girl stared at him with concern. She looked barely older than him, or at least... than the body he was trapped in.

Her large, dark-rimmed eyes shone in the flickering torchlight.

Her face was emaciated, her skin dirty, her hair ragged and dry as straw. She wore patched clothes, covered with stains and holes.

She resembled the other figures lying in the shack.

Just like him.

A wave of panic swept through him.

He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

What the hell was going on?

Isaac felt his heart racing. Anguish knotted his throat as he tried to catch his breath. This wasn't a dream.

Everything seemed far too real: the grime under his fingernails, the rancid smell clinging to the blankets, the dull ache in his exhausted limbs.

He wanted to speak, but his lips were dry, his throat burning. His jerky breathing trembled like that of a man who had just narrowly escaped death.

- Mordred...?" she repeated.

Mordred... That's what she'd called him.

Was it him, here?

He opened his mouth, searching for words, but all he could breathe was a weak :

- Yeah... everything's fine.

The timbre of his own voice surprised him. Younger, huskier, as if he hadn't had a drink in days.

She seemed to hesitate, squinting slightly before sighing.

- Try to rest..." she murmured.

She lay back down, but he couldn't sleep.

He was awake. Too awake.

The darkness in the barracks seemed oppressive. He could hear the heavy breathing of others, the groans of pain from some. 

Shit... where did I fall?

Doubt assailed him with lightning intensity. He wanted to move, to get out, to understand. But he had no bearings.

How long did he go on like this? He couldn't say.

Then, a wrenching sound suddenly split the air.

A horn.

A low, hoarse roar, a call that brooked no hesitation.

Isaac gasped, his heart missing a beat.

And all around him, the barracks suddenly came to life.

Silhouettes that had been asleep only moments earlier leapt to their feet with mechanical precision.

Controlled chaos.

In a matter of seconds, everyone had risen to their feet, lined up in perfect rows without the slightest hesitation.

All except him.

Isaac froze, eyes wide. What the hell was going on?

Everyone knew exactly what to do. But him?

He didn't move. His mind was still too confused.

Until a hand violently grabbed his wrist.

- Mordred, move!" breathed the girl with ferocious urgency.

She tugged, and he barely had time to follow. His bare feet scraped the wooden floor, he almost stumbled, but she forced him to slide into line.

Barely a second later.

The door opened.

So violently that it almost flew off its hinges.

An icy silence fell instantly.

Isaac felt a chill run down his spine.

Something had entered.

And it wasn't human.

The creature that passed through the entrance was gigantic.

At least two meters. Maybe more.

A humanoid body, but one whose every inch breathed menace.

Dark scales, thick and rough as iron. An elongated jaw, lined with sharp fangs. Broad arms terminated by clawed fingers capable of disemboweling a man with a simple flick of the wrist.

And those golden, slitted, icy eyes.

They swept the assembly in a single movement.

Isaac held his breath.

The creature advanced slowly, its heavy steps sounding like thunderclaps.

It passed each row, observing.

Scrutinizing.

Like a farmer inspecting his cattle. Then it stopped suddenly in front of Isaac and frowned.