The latest two stories of mine are almost a two-parter, really. In the first, a kitsune merchant named Leshana is travelling to Alphasiron, the capital city of the strange Seraphian empire, famed for its mysterious, incredibly powerful ruler, the monstrous Emperor Goldeneye the First and Eternal. But she’s just here to trade. The world is safe for people who aren’t actually doing anything bad, because it is ultimately a fair and just universe. Right?
Wrong. Accused of a crime she did not commit by a financial rival, Leshana is taken to the inescapable Alsar Prison to serve her time. And really, her bad luck has barely started
Goldeneye’s empire, this time to be a terrible tourist attraction for :iconLeshana: who is the delectable fox.
In the second, Goldeneye decides to give his own form of "justice", in this case to the judge who declared the poor vulpine guilty. Milo is not corrupt or greedy, simply unfortunately wrong. Very unfortunately wrong.
They can be read here -
http://aryion.com/g4/view/329948 - and here -
http://aryion.com/g4/view/351333. I'll also post them below, but go to the page for proper italics and such. Hope you enjoy!
Crime and Cruel and Unusual PunishmentBy GoldeneyeA commission for Leshana“But wait, please! I’m not - you can’t - this, this isn’t right!”
The guard with the key managed to indicate, through sheer force of silence, just how monumentally uninterested he was in the rightness, or otherwise, of the situation.
“Please!” Leshana grappled for the thin cloth of the lanky kangaroo’s desert robe, her small hands outstretched. “That bastard Carsen, he paid the jury off! I-I, I want to appeal!”
He continued to ignore her entirely, shaking off her grasping paws, and began to walk away.
“I’m a trader! I can pay you, I promise, j-just get a message to my partners. They’re lodging at Whitefeather Way, they can-”
The cart, little more than a large iron cage on wheels drawn by feral camels, jolted into movement and she was knocked off her feet, yelping as she hit the ground. The outskirts of Seraphia’s capital, Alphasiron, began to slowly rumble past, the pale stone of the buildings starting to give way to the lonely heat of the desert. Leshana desperately tried to find someone else to help her, answer her, give her a way out, but only saw the weary, glum gazes of her fellow prisoners. The two guards driving the cart were Immortals, tall and strong, clad in heavy bronze armour despite the sweltering sun with the Emperor’s sigil standing proud on every plate. They were a lost cause, automata-like beings who wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence unless you were breaking the law. They would be no help in the slightest.
She curled up the rumbling wooden floor, trying to think, wrapping her two tails around her knees. The soft, fluffy feeling calmed her and helped her think. She’d only gained her second tail a few years ago, and still found it odd sometimes. Leshana was two hundred and ten, which put her in young adulthood for a kitsune. Her fur was soft orange, pure white on her belly and throat and at the tips of her tail. She wore small lenses in a wire frame on her hazel eyes, a new invention from Palutia nicknamed “spectacles”, very useful for correcting the slight blur in her vision. Short but fairly curvaceous, beautiful in a wide-eyed innocent sort of way… and very aware that prison was not the best habitat for someone like that. It had all gone horribly, horribly wrong. This was insane. There had to, had to be some way out.
“They won’t be interested either,” growled a male voice from across the rumbling floor. Leshana looked up, thankful that her spectacles hid her glistening eyes. A brawny crocodile nodded at her from the other side, leaning against the hot iron bars of the cage. “The guards at Alsar Prison. I’ve been there before. They’ve heard it all. You can offer them the Emperor’s treasuries and they won’t lift a finger to help you. Face it, foxy,” he scratched at his bare, powerful chest, the scales making a rough grating noise. “you’re stuck here.”
“But…” Leshana tried very hard to stop her lip quivering. “Look, I d-didn’t do it! Carsen just wanted me out of the way! He must have bribed gods know how many-”
“Woah.” A voluptuous gazelle sitting next to her, clad in the silk veils of a professional courtesan, kicked at her leg. The hoof stung. “Not so loud, honey.” She motioned towards the two Immortals sitting at the front of the cart. “There’s only one god here, you know.”
“Yes, I know, I know, the Emperor. Sorry...” Leshana had heard of Seraphia’s “Emperor”. Most of the planet had by now. Merchants like her had to keep a special tab open for that strange, horrifically powerful creature, to make sure they didn’t send a wagonload of goods to a city which had been attacked, defeated and devoured the week before. “But anyone can see it couldn’t have been me! I just need a review of the case…”
“You’re not getting one.” said the gazelle flatly. “Thanks to Our Lord And Master,” she kept her voice carefully neutral, “the Seraphian Empire now covers two continents. Fastest expansion in history. The bureaucracy is barely keeping up. They’re not spending more court time on you. Like ‘e said, you’re stuck here.”
Leshana said nothing, clenching her fists helplessly. The crocodile reached over, placing a large, clawed hand on her leg.
“Stick with us, foxy. We’ve done this before,” He grinned, exposing a large number of sharp teeth. “You’ll need some friends in there. The whore next to you is Jezeval. I’m Kaskar. What’s your name?”
Jezeval gave a quiet snort next to her. The kitsune swallowed back her fear and dread and raised her eyes to look at him.
“I-... I’m Leshana.”
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Five years wasn’t the rest of her life. And when she got out, she and her partners would make sure Carsen’s ugly avian face never smirked again. If there was any justice in the world.
***
Alsar had been a prison camp for a long time, even before the Emperor fell from the sky in a blaze of flame and desire. It was in effect a small fortified town, except that it had been fortified for assault from the inside as well. Tall, sweeping walls rose up over the lonely desert sands, the battlements accessible only by the bridges which lay crisscrossing the rooftops, allowing the guards to observe their charges from above. The only way to get from below to above was via crane lifts, controlled, of course, from the bridges.
The buildings of the complex were in the traditional Seraphian style, pale stone with designs in faded colour, strong and flat-roofed. It was perhaps the morning break or similar, as prisoners seemed to be fairly free to move around the “streets”, always under the watchful eye of a guard or the impassive bronze helm of an Immortal. The sun beat down overhead, unrelenting and cruel, and competition for shaded spaces was fierce. As Leshana and her new friends entered the prison, she was greeted with the sight of a savage brawl between four prisoners, yells of pain and exertion ringing over the half-hearted cheers of a few onlookers. As the cart rolled past, an Immortal entered the fray, her wide bladed spear tossed aside. Moving with dextrous, unnatural swiftness, the bronze clad figure broke a bellowing rams arm, threw him into his opponent so hard they both hit the opposite wall, floored an eagle before he could even react to her, and grabbed the fleeing lynx who had apparently started it all by his throat, lifting him off the ground. The Immortal gave no warnings to the other, groaning figures, simply striding off and dragging her helpless prey behind her, casually picking up her spear on the way.
Leshana was left open-mouthed, but the other inhabitants displayed only weary resignation. A few friends of the broken men and women helped them to their feet, leading them away to whatever passed for medical attention in this godsforsaken place. The cart rumbled on.
They were led out, manacled, at the edge of a massive square in the centre, easily big enough to hold the entire prison population. Kazkar and Jezeval stepped out ahead of Leshana, stretching and joking amongst themselves as if this was just the end of a long journey home - although they too went silent when the Immortals stepped down from the driver’s bench.
Leshana looked around, the stone hot and dry beneath her bare paws, and curled her tails around her legs. There was a raised stone dais in the middle of the square, perhaps once used to execute prisoners whose crimes were too heinous.
She was wondering if it still happened when the doors ahead opened and another Immortal appeared, leading a tall, sinuous lizard with scales the colour of the shining forest and an expression of even more disinterest and disdain than the guard who’d locked her up in the first place.
“Good morning,” he said coldly, his accent pure Seraphian. “I am Warden Aliquab. In the name of His Divine Majesty, Emperor Goldeneye the First and Eternal, I now legally own your lives. If I decide you are to be punished, in any way, I have the right of it and I guarantee you I have the means for it.”
His eyes roamed over them, staying on Leshana’s body for longer than the kitsune would have liked. She flushed, glaring at him. The lizard smiled thinly. “I advise that you do not give me or any of the guards here a reason to decide that you should be punished. There are various rules in this new home of yours, but they all boil down to three main ideas. Firstly, don’t try anything with your fellow filth-sacks. No stealing, no fighting, no raping or killing. Secondly, and this one is easier: obey your superiors at all times. Any command given by any one of us is not to be questioned or hesitated about, it is to be performed. And finally, not that you could anyway, but do not attempt to escape. We have had zero successful escapees since the Silver Summer claimed this prison upon His ascension to the throne, and that is not going to change.” Aliquab clapped his hands together. “As long as everyone here obeys those rules, I will not have to see your pretty little faces once during your stay here, and everyone will be happy. Understand?”
They nodded. Kaskar looked bored, Jezeval amused. Leshana tried to look sincerely afraid, which was thankfully not hard.
“Good. Now get them out of my sight.”
***
They were given simple desert robes and leather collars which rubbed against the fur of Leshana’s neck, tagged with their name, number and the ever-present crest of the damned Emperor. Sure enough, the relaxed atmosphere when they entered had just been a break, and before the middle of the afternoon Leshana had been assigned to Gang 162, a group of some dozen individuals - various species all short and slim like her, unsuited to heavy lifting - who were currently engaged in weaving cloth on a large, surprisingly advanced loom in one of the innumerable buildings, under the cold empty eye-holes of an Immortal. The work was hard and long, but survivable. Her fingers ached by the time the sun sank over the horizon, and there was no way to signal the passing of minutes until the sonorous toll of a bell rang out over the prison and freed them from the work.
She found Kaskar and Jezeval that evening at the kitchens, hunched in a corner talking quietly, and made her way over to them, carrying a bowl of tagine with grains and some sort of meat. The two looked up stonily, and Leshana hesitated and eyed the empty space next to the crocodile politely.
Kaskar grunted assent, and Jezeval scowled at him, but Leshana sat down, rubbing her sore fingers. “So, um, how was the first day?”
“Ask me again after I do it seven thousand more times,” muttered the gazelle bitterly. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
Seven thousand days was nearly twenty years, Leshana calculated. “Well, what did you do? Were you framed as well, or…”
She wilted under Jezeval’s angry glare. “S… sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“And you won’t need to,” Kaskar said, scraping his bowl clean. “We’re going to let you in on a secret, foxy. We’re getting out of here.”
“You… you mean…” the kitsune leaned close. “You’re… you’re escaping?”
She could only dare to mouth the last word. Kaskar rolled his eyes.
“We are. You’re coming too, foxy.”
There was a noisy clatter from across the table as Jezeval attacked her vegetables ferociously, glaring into the bowl. Kaskar ignored her.
“We’re... mostly united on this. You’re innocent, and you don’t belong in here. So we’re taking you with us when we go.”
“But… but… how?” Leshana pushed aside her conflicting thoughts. “Isn’t it too dangerous? There are walls, and the bridges above us, and gods, these freakish Immortals, whatever in the Hells they are, and-”
“Yes, I know it’s not exactly easy!” Kaskar snapped. “I know that. We won’t be ready to go for a few weeks at least.”
“Make that a month,” Jezeval said testily. “Getting caught is not an option here. Seraphia doesn’t take kindly to people who get found.”
“Fine! A month! Look, the point is we’re not staying here a second longer than we have to!” Kaskar glared at the antelope. “And that goes for all three of us, understand?”
“Is… is there a problem with me coming?” Leshana asked timidly. “I mean, you, you barely know me, and you just said you had to be especially careful. So why… why are you giving me the chance?”
The crocodile looked at her, suddenly lost for words. “Well,” he muttered, “you... you, uh-”
Jezeval groaned. “For the Emperor’s sake. Kaskar couldn’t bear the thought of someone so clearly innocent suffering with these hardened criminals. You deserve to be free. Of course he’s too much a hard old beast to say it out loud, but he’s got soft insides.”
Leshana peered at Kaskar’s scaly outside, which grunted in irritation and embarrassed assent. He didn’t smile, but that might be just because teeth like that didn’t look good in a smile.
“I… Well, thank you. Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.”
The two inmates exchanged glances. “Good. Now, we have some of the plan so far, and you’re going to have to help. First of all...”
***
The days blurred into one another.
Or rather, they should have done, Leshana reflected sourly as she trudged out of the loom halls into the soft evening heat. Why couldn’t she become absorbed in her new life and forget everything until the escape was ready? Instead, every hour and minute was spent waiting for the next bell to ring, every meal spent exchanging glances and significant coughs with Jezeval and Kaskar (they shouldn’t be seen together too much, lest someone become suspicious). She’d been given a few assignments herself, mainly just observing the guards’ positions at certain times of day and when they were changed. It wasn’t much, but she had to admit it fitted her low experience level. The antelope and crocodile were handling the heavier missions.
Not for the first time, she wondered about them. Jezeval and Kaskar had so far refused to tell her anything personal of themselves, or even whether those were their real names. And what crimes had they committed to end up in here? Neither of them had ever claimed they were innocent.
Then again, helping her escape at such personal risk was a pretty major act of kindness. Despite their refusal to trust her - probably justified - the two were good people underneath. She’d be willing to look past whatever misdemeanours they’d committed.
The kitsune twirled her tails wearily as she exhausted her train of thought, heading towards the mess halls for the evening meal. Time would pass, and if this country’s feathered god really was a god, and a merciful one, she’d be free eventually.
“...and it is by his mercy that you reside here rather than in the pits of the Hells where you would meet your end. All flesh and souls alike are to be rendered unto him as he sees fit, and yet he has chosen to allow you the chance to take the rudder of your own lives once again even after you have steered them into the path of devastation.”
There weren’t usually any preachers on the grounds. Apparently Emperor Goldeneye didn’t go into ritualised worship that much. Leshana drifted towards the gathering crowd beneath the official, a stout patridge in the gold-edged robes of Seraphia’s considerable bureaucracy who stood on one of the guard bridges above them. What was he actually talking about?
“And yet his Divinity is like no other so-called “deity”, for he walks the earth with those who are his property. He is your god as much as you are his possession, and he would see all of you secure in your rightful place in this universe.” Finally she seemed to be getting to some sort of point. “His Divinity will visit unto this prison upon the morrow, to see the state in which his wayward followers are kept and to judge them for himself.” The avian sniffed, looking down at the rabble beneath her. “His word is law and his deeds are will made manifest, and without even a glance he can read your soul in its entirety. They had best be pure souls or you will find his mercy suddenly coming to an end.”
She continued, speaking about confessionals to be held and rites to be done, but Leshana was not listening. She stumbled away from the crowd, tails twisting around her ankles and head whirling.
The Emperor was a telepath. Everyone knew that, though few seemed very clear on exactly how it worked. What was certain was that he’d be able to see her conspiracy to escape clear as day in her mind.
But on the other hand, he’d see her innocence, how she was framed for a crime she had never committed. How she was only trying to sneak out unfairly because she had been locked in unfairly. His word is law. He could free her without the slightest effort. But would he?
Another thought spun into her brain. Kaskar and Jezeval - probably not innocent, and actively plotting to escape. The Emperor would know, and unlike Leshana they’d have no mitigating circumstances. They’d be dead unless they escaped tonight. She couldn’t let that happen. But they weren’t ready! They couldn’t smuggle three out tonight
The kitsune leant against a wall, flicking her hazel eyes across the twilight. Either she stayed here and hoped for mercy, or she tried to escape and hoped for success. Neither option seemed wonderful. Not for the first time, she was struck with the bitter unfairness of all her situation, the hot helplessness burning in her chest.
No. Think about Kaskar and Jezeval! They had no choice at all but to attempt escape. She was lucky by comparison. Whether she stayed or went, they had to be warned.
She hurried off into the gathering gloom, breathing hard with exertion and anxiety. They weren’t in the mess hall, nor in the corner of the main grounds where they’d meet and discuss plans. They weren’t at the site where Kaskar’s strength had been employed to help build a new block of cells, or where Jezeval had worked as a cook. Finally, she tried to recall the cells they inhabited. Third building from the square of execution, seventeenth and eighteenth cells - somehow they’d managed to stay together. And there they were through an arched doorway, huddled in a corner, speaking in low, urgent whispers. Leshana hurried towards them
“...how the hell are we going to get her past them as well?” Kaskar muttered, his bass rumble carrying across the hall. They must have heard already. Leshana slowed to a halt, her large ears twitching curiously. For a second, she hung back.
“I don’t know!” hissed the gazelle. “This is like last time. You’re the reason we’re bringing the bitch so it’s your bloody problem!”
“If we get caught it’s our problem, Jezeval. And right now you can shut up about that, alright? We have bigger problems.”
“No, listen. Just because you never got used to eating vegetables, you want to jeopardise both of our lives? Listen, we have to leave her behind.”
“We are not leaving her behind! That’s desert out there for a hundred miles. We will not be able to carry supplies for the whole damn trip! So we’re taking the self-carrying supplies, alright?”
“This is just because you like how she looks. I said this, I said there are dozens of morons in this godforsaken place who’d jump at the chance at escape and also have the experience to not probably cock it up! But no, she looks tasty, she’s what the goddamn predator wants, so here comes Kaskar’s Kitsune!”
She was so stunned that she didn’t even gasp, simply standing in the doorway with her mouth open, so quiet and so still that Kaskar and Jezeval didn’t even notice her. It might have saved her life.
Then a noise came from outside, some brawl or argument. Who knows what it was? Perhaps just the universe tripping her up once again.
Kaskar looked up, and saw the kitsune standing there. He froze, as did Jezeval. No-one spoke for a moment.
Then Leshana said, quietly, “You were… you were going to… to eat me.”
Kaskar ran his clawed fingers over his scaly skull. “No..no, no, no...” he groaned, more to himself than to her.
“You’ve, you’ve done it before, and you were just going to let me tag along until you got hungry.”
Jezeval clenched her fists.
“Is that why you’re here? Is that what you did? They never found the bodies so they couldn’t charge you with murder? You, you utter, utter-”
“SHUT THE HELLS UP!” Jezeval roared, charging into her. She was six inches taller and who knew how many pounds heavier than the small slender fox, and before Leshana could react she had been barreled into the walls. Her vision sparked, her head exploding in bright fireworks of pain. The gazelle smashed her fist into her gut, sending her choking and reeling, and as the kitsune doubled over Jezeval drove her hoof into Leshana’s knee, which snapped gorily.
The kitsune gave a gargled scream of agony, a tattered heap of soft fur on the floor, and Jezeval gave her another kick. “Someone will have heard. We’ve gotta get out, right now. Emperor’s Claws, what a mess.”
She snatched up a pack, or at least a brown blur picked up a paler brown blur. Leshana’s eyes were glazed with pain and tears. She had hoped so much…
“Kaskar, come on. We’ll just have to ration things, okay?”
The crocodile stood over her. Leshana tried to crawl away from him, making a small whining noise.
“What a waste of good meat,” he snarled, and stamped on her neck with horrible strength. And everything went black.
***
The blackness twisted. Like a deepsea leviathan, something larger than she could imagine moved beneath the surface, brushing against her tiny mind here and there. And slowly, she rose.
She did not hurt any more, Leshana realised as she filled her body again. Her bones were unbroken, her muscles no longer bruised. She lay on a silken sheet, bright sunlight pouring in from the arched window.
It had been a dream. All of it. She had slept too late at Whitefeather Way and awoken from a dreadful nightmare. She slid out of bed, tails curling around her knees, and stumbled over to the window, taking great, heavy breaths.
Outside lay Alsar’s great square, with the executioning dais in the middle.The air was heavy and hot, but far too silent for this time of day. She was still here. The world was not fair but cruel.
Leshana felt her knees shaking, as if they remembered being broken. What in the name of the gods was going on? She spun around, tails awhirl, heartbeat back to the usual fearful tempo. There was the luxurious bed, far finer than the rough cots she’d slept on before. Rich furnishings in Seraphian style. Even a suit of bronze armour standing next to the door.
The suit moved. Leshana yelped in alarm. It was an Immortal, so silent and so still that she hadn’t even recognised it before. “Gods! I… uh, sorry. I didn’t...”
The Immortal ignored her, raising its shining arm and pointing to an open doorway. Its great spear stood ramrod straight in its other hand.
“I… alright.” She went through, hesitantly, eyeing the creature behind her. It did not move to follow, at least.
This seemed to be some sort of guest quarters for Alsar. Even the corridor was finely furnished, and she glimpsed other rich rooms on her way down. On ground level was a larger dining hall, with benches and tables currently pushed to the sides. It was occupied.
Leshana froze. The occupant looked up from a dossier they were reading, clasped in one gigantic claw like a doll’s book, and fixed her with a bright, mismatched gaze.
There was no mistaking the massive frame, eyes higher than her own even though the creature was quadrupedal, even though it was lying on its flank. Two great wings lay folded at the sides, thickly plumaged in silver and icy blue. A bronzed wreath lay upon the avian brow above heterochromatic eyes, one deep purple and one shining gold, both gazing deep into her own. Long, elegant ears swept back from an avian visage expressed in stylised grace many times in murals and statues.
She was a merchant. She was good at reading people. But this creature… there was arrogance, yes. Power and confidence and playfulness and even kindness too. But that was just what he was displaying. She couldn’t tell a thing about what he was.
Emperor Goldeneye the First and Eternal, the Silver Summer and Lord and Master of the Empire of Seraphia, grinned at her. His beak pulled into a coy smile, and his voice was smooth and rich just as unknowable. “So good of you to join us, Leshana. We hope you slept well?”
He knew her name. The kitsune started, managing to wrest her muscles back into action. She knelt hurriedly, keeping her eyes lowered. “Y-your, your majesty. Um, I, y-yes.”
“We are delighted. Not bad for a little fox found with a broken neck, internal haemorrhaging, and nineteen fractures.” The strange creature set aside his papers, folding his claws before her. For the first time, Leshana noticed that he wasn’t alone. Sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin, against Goldeneye’s great fluffy chest, was Warden Aliquab. The lizard looked at her, quivering very faintly, his eyes full of pleading desperation. Leshana stared at him, helpless and confused, as the gryphon continued. “I healed you, of course. It’s a skill which I have learned with great difficulty, so I hope it’s appreciated. Now, on to business.” He ruffled his feathers, his smile widening. “In one way, it’s actually quite pleasing. Alsar has never had an escape in three hundred years of service. It’s been incredibly, boringly… ugh... competent. But in another way… this prison is my property, as are its inhabitants. And defying it is defying me.” The gryphons voice turned to ice and steel without even a pause, and Aliquab trembled, closing his eyes in feeble terror. “And no-one, no-one ever does that twice.”
Then the smile was back. “Now, sweet little fox, I need to know where they were headed. Obviously I could pluck the details out of your head, but sifting through all the memories is rather boring work. So, where?”
Leshana swallowed, her brain thankfully kicking into autopilot through terror. “They… they were planning to head away from Alphasiron, y-your majesty. Escape capture. Then they’d circle round towards the nearby settlements, try to blend in with them. That’s why they… they needed… supplies…”
Leshana remembered. She hunched over, keening weakly with horror at the memory. Kaskar had… he had been going to…
“A hunter was he?” The gryphon had plucked the details straight from her head. “Preying on my citizens? What a despicable creature. He’ll get worse than death this time, rest assured.” He spoke with a total lack of irony, and only chuckled when Leshana failed to stop herself from thinking this. “Don’t worry, my dear. A lot of people think that. Yes, I do dine almost exclusively upon my subjects,” Aliquab whimpered very quietly, “but that doesn’t mean they can do the same. You are all equal to my stomach, and none of you should be raised above another without fair process.”
“I… I see.”
“You don’t, you just don’t want to be eaten.” The gryphon smirked playfully, his tail twisting. “Yes, you did take part in the escape. Aided them too. But it doesn’t look like you would have really gained from it…” He blinked, and again Leshana felt the vastness of his strange, fragmented soul. “Ohh. And now it seems that you’re innocent?”
She gasped despite herself. Finally, to hear someone say it out loud. Stay calm. Stay steady. “I… there is no hiding the truth from y-you, your m-majesty.”
“Which of my judges sent you down? They’ll need a talk after this. I, and only I, am above the law, Leshana. This is ridiculous.” Goldeneye flicked his long ears with frustration. “Well, nothing for it. I’ve already chosen most of my meals for today, and there’s no reason to have you rotting away here with no good reason. You’re free.”
The kitsune opened her mouth and closed it again. That was it? All this terror and it was so suddenly over? Finally she managed to mumble a weak “R… Really?”
The Emperor waved a claw. “Well, you will be. I’ll get the paperwork done by this afternoon. Blasted bureaucracy... anyway, just go get packed up and you’ll leave on the evening supply carriage. I promise it.” He ruffled a wing coyly. “And you’ll have a wonderful tale to tell your fellow merchants. Minus Carsen, that is. Now go on. And worship me sometime. Your soul is rather adorable.” His eyes winked. “Your little spectacles doubly so.”
The traitor’s name made her jump again. Everything seemed to be oversaturated and gleaming. Goldeneye’s feathers were the softest, sleekest silver Leshana had ever known. Or maybe she was just able to see the world’s colour again. She pushed her spectacles back up her nose with an embarrassed flush, bowing again. “You will not regret this, your Majesty. Th-thank you. Thank y-you so much.”
The Emperor didn’t answer, already disinterested as he lowered his beak to murmur something to the presumably ex-Warden, who trembled. Even now, Leshana understood that he had not acted out of mercy or kindness but simple amusement. She left quickly, stepping out into the sunlight as if she had just emerged from three months of night. Free! Free! After all this the universe finally showed her what she knew to be true: in the end, it would work out.
Leshana almost skipped back to her quarters, ignoring the baleful stares of her now ex-cellmates, and was packed in ten minutes flat. No souvenirs. All she wanted was to leave this hellish chapter far behind. A few short hours of waiting and she’d be on her way back to her alife.
Once again, the waiting became difficult. She’d been granted exemption from work that day, so Leshana sat on her cot and watched the bright sun climb higher in the sky, her tails twisting with anticipation. Time passed appallingly slowly
When the sun hung directly overhead and she was certain she was going mad, a guard knocked on the bars. Leshana started. She’d finally been close to dozing off. “Oi!” he snapped. “Get moving! All prisoners to the main square!”
“Oh, um… I’m, I’m not a prisoner. Not anymore. I was… I will be pardoned, you see.” Leshana smiled politely. The guard, a blocky, red-furred muskrat, glowered at her through the bars.
“Dunno what we’re supposed to do with you, then. If you’re still a prisoner right I’d say bleedin’ well get going. It’s the Emperor himself. You do not wanna pull an absence today, kitsune girl.”
He left, leaving her fuming at “kitsune girl”. But still, she had absolutely mindnumbingly nothing else to do. And the monstrous gryphon had not pardoned her yet… best she be a good prisoner until she finally didn’t have to be a prisoner at all.. Leshana sighed, leaving her pack behind, and trudged off one last time to the main square. The sun beat down on streets utterly deserted, beneath the crisscrossing shade of the upper bridges. It was rather unnerving.
The entire prison population filled the square. A sea of heads, shifting in impatience and confusion. They were hemmed in by lines of guards and Immortals, surrounding the central platform completely. Leya squirmed in at the back and craned her head to see. Nothing on the platform. What were they here for?
A glint caught her eye, a sparkle of white in the sky just beneath the boiling sun. A ball of fire was streaking down towards them, perfectly vertical and eye-wateringly fast. The crowd saw it, and reacted as crowds do, slowly and confusedly, the air filling with the rumble of fearful voices and shuffling feet as people tried to get out of the way, pressing into others, the panic rose, and the entire thing could almost have become a riot-
The fireball landed with a roar of burning air and a noisy splintering sound on the stone platform, dissipating in an instead as heat washed over the crowd, replaced by the click of cooling rock. Suddenly everyone was quiet. Slow as death itself, Emperor Goldeneye straightened up from the crouch he had landed in and surveyed his property.
“Do I have your attention?” he said softly. The rich tones carried through the entire square. No-one dared speak.
The gryphon smiled. “Excellent. Prisoners of Alsar, you are here because life is a changeable thing, and I know that better than anyone. That is why your crimes are paid with hard labour and incarceration, rather than a slow, lingering death. I believe you can be of use to my Empire again, even if you have strayed from the path once.”
“But no-one ever defies me twice. Those who do not submit to me in mind and soul can serve me in only one way.” He was stalking around the dais, displaying to full effect the sheer size and power of his form. He’d been carrying something, a sealed bronze pot the size of a small table, which glowed a little with residual heat. “And I think you know what that way is. Yesterday this prison defied me again. Two escapees dared to try and take back their lives, now mine by divine right. They will not get far. But some of you may not believe me. Or maybe the lure of freedom will be too much.”
He returned to the centre, ears ramrod straight. “You do that, little prisoners, and you condemn not just yourselves but this very prison. And today I am going to punish the prison for its defiance.”
There was a moment of confused, terrified silence.Goldeneye rolled his mismatched eyes. “No, obviously not all of you. That sort of renders the whole point of prison a bit pointless, doesn’t it? Come on. No, what I am going to do is pick from this contained one piece of parchment. There are over five thousand pieces, one for each prisoner in my possession. And if you’re chosen, then I don't care what your crime is. You... will... die.”
He caressed the words like a lover.
“You will come to me, and I will swallow you whole.” Goldeneye laughed aloud, feeling the psychic ripple of the words pour through his prey. “Oh, believe me, it’s no rumour or propaganda. I really do eat like that. No-one enters my belly already dead… and no-one leaves it alive. You, poor, poor chosen prisoner, will slide down my gullet - I’m told it could almost be a pleasant trip if it wasn’t so one-way - and slowly - oh, I like to take my time administering my justice, so very slowly - you shall enter my stomach.” Suddenly, the gryphon’s proud stance seemed to be deliberately emphasising the soft, slim pale blue of his underbelly, showing it off to every horrified eye. “Digestion will occur, as is only natural. You will, still, be alive for almost all of it until you are little more than a brain, floating in liquefied flesh and agony. Only after that will I give you oblivion. And to everyone who counts themselves lucky to escape… until the squirms have ceased, not a single creature leaves this square. Watch well and remember, this is the price for freedom. You are mine, every one of you. Mine forever.”
He flashed a dazzling smile, padding smoothly to the pot, and raised a claw over it. He giggled cruelly, holding the position for a few seconds, sweeping his terrible eyes over the crowd. Life and death was in his talons.
There was nothing but stunned, fearful silence. Leshana felt certain that five thousand people had never been so quiet. The Emperor's ears twitched sensuously, as if he was listening to the hush itself.
He plucked a single scrap of parchment from the bowl, and looked at it. The population held their breath.
Goldeneye's eyes widened. He gave a little snort of what could have been amusement or regret or both. That hooked beak parted, and spoke a name.
At this point, dear reader, there is hardly any point in writing the name spoken. You know who’s name it was.
No...
Leshana's entire being seemed to have become frozen in time. Her body could not move, and more, her mind could not function. She was still standing there, her ears still filled with the gryphon's silky tones as he said it.
A moment passed.
There was a moment of horrible dysjunction as she realised that he had said her name again. It was even smoother this time. It was playful.
"Well? You entered this lottery, little fox. Come up and claim your prize." Goldeneye purred the words, now looking straight at her, along with a growing number of prisoners. There were three hundred feet between them and yet he spoke like a lover. She managed to regain control of her lips.
"But I...I was..."
"Leshana. Come up here."
Swallowed... digested... death... agony...
"Don't disobey your owner, little fox. Remember what I said about people who defy me a second time." The crowd was watching her in silence.
Her legs suddenly took a step forwards, without her brain being involved in the activity at all. Leshana started, and Goldeneye laughed again.
"Don't worry. Plenty of people need my help walking when they know what's coming." The kitsune took another step, and now she could feel the monstrous alien influence of the gryphon, pulling her towards him. His mind brushed over her motor functions, ripping them from her and puppeteering her to keep walking even as her breath quickened and she began to shake with unbearable adrenaline - a fight or flight response which could do neither.
“P-please…” she mumbled, her lithe form transfixed by the thousands of eyes now watching her slow walk. Some held lewd, cruel amusement. Most just held relief. Very, very few seemed to have the slightest bit of pity, and that was far outmatched by fear. Goldeneye stood two hundred feet away now, his eyes not leaving her face.
“I’m delighted, really,” he crooned. “Now that I look at you like that… what a treat you’ll be. Soft and slender… and two tails, oh, I should taste your species more often. Vulpine tails tickle my throat perfectly.”
Leshana barely managed to whimper, so terrifying was it to hear. But she was still walking towards him. One hundred paces.
He licked his beak, tongue thick and pointed and glistening wet. Her mind was fleeing in circles, round and round.
Fifty paces. Ten. Five.
She placed a foot on the first step. Goldeneye extended a cruel claw towards her, as if to help her up. She had never been so close to the Emperor before. He was gigantic, a statuesque mountain of sleek silver and blue.
“But… I… I… I was pardoned…” she said, weakly. “I shouldn’t be here. You, you told me! Why was I even on the list? W-w-why? I… I s-shouldn’t be here…”
The god-gryphon cocked his head, looking down at her. "Oh, I know. Leshana… I am so sorry, my darling. I'm afraid I was planning on signing your release forms immediately after this little demonstration was over. I’m a busy deity, after all." He laughed, still almost too soft and tender to be cruel. "Honestly, little thing, it never even crossed my mind that you’d be here. To me you were already free. And then… well, even I have to give in to chance sometimes. Especially when it serves me so well." He inhaled, greedily, and Leshana realised he was breathing in her scent.
A pulse of thought, and Goldeneye reached up with her hand and took his claw, pulling her onto the dais. A sea of faces surrounded them, and Goldeneye gave his shaking, helpless prey a little twirl, showing her off.
“Alsar Prison, each and every one of you belongs to me. Remember how this could have been you… and could still be.”
He pushed her to the centre of the dais, and Leshana staggered as his mind left her at last. Without the gryphon’s talons in her brain she could barely stand, wave after wave of fear and dread crashing over her and driving her almost to her knees.
Goldeneye leant over her shaking, swaying form, breathing deep again. His beak and those eyes seemed to fill the whole world. Even though she felt the delight it caused, Leshana held on to the smooth bone. She stared at him, begging with every part of her.
“P… please… this… this isn’t right…”
She began to cry, still looking at him. Goldeneye smiled, and as she looked into his eyes his tongue lapped at her neck. “I know.” He whispered. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
Leshana had privately wondered, from what she had heard of him, if Seraphia’s ruler was insane or simply cold-hearted and cruel. But he was neither. The strange gryphon’s eyes possessed a sentience so utterly alien to her own that ideas of sanity and empathy were as relevant as colour was to music. His Divine Majesty Emperor Goldeneye the First and Eternal was simply… above her.
There was no justice, nothing which was right or wrong. A universe where this thing was god didn’t care for either. She was going to die screaming through horrible coincidence and nothing else and the world would simply let it happen.
The kitsune gave a small, feeble squeak, trying to give some word which tried to convey her renewed, horrified understanding of the universe. Goldeneye nodded slowly, for he of course heard her.
“Welcome to my world.” he purred. “Now suffer for me.”
His beak opened, and Leshana tried to turn and run, but before she had taken a step her head and shoulders were engulfed in hot, wet darkness. Flesh gripped at her from all sides, drenched in thick, sticky liquids which in a second covered her just as completely. Leshana screamed a high, wordless cry of terror sourced down in her deepest genes: a cornered animal’s scream, sentience an unnecessary obstacle when all that mattered was survival. She tried frantically to pull back and out of the gryphon’s beak, but it simply squeezed, and suddenly the silkily smooth flesh was holding her with a grip of iron.
“Nnn!” she shrieked, thrashing claustrophobically in the utter darkness. “Nnnno! No, please!” But the gryphons tongue offered no words of mercy, only a wet, abrasive series of licks which seemed to probe every possible crevice on her muzzle, making her splutter and cough at the oppressive heat until she realised that the sharp edges were sliding slickly deeper over her arms and chest. Goldeneye’s mouth moulded in a dripping, sweltering embrace around her curvaceous form, gently but firmly lifting her feet from the ground. The sense of vertigo was horrendous, Leshana’s paws pedalling at nothing, tails lashing, entire body contorting with every choked scream.
Goldeneye smirked. In reality the kitsune’s toes were less than six inches from the ground. He lifted her a little higher, still slurping her body deeper with the power of his maw alone, and continued his slow, leisured tasting. No-one was going anywhere.
The god-gryphon flicked an iridescent eyeball to his audience. No more muted fear. Whispers of shock and disgust ran through the crowd, fear arcing across their minds like paint strokes on a canvas. He smirked, and jerked his head in a deliberately exaggerated movement, locking his beak around the kitsune’s slender belly. Leshana’s head slammed into the back of his throat, right in front of the dark, endless gullet. She screamed, the sound producing a pleasant tickling in his maw and very little else.
Her hips were now being tickled by the beak. It was really, genuinely happening. Leshana lashed her tails in great panicky arcs, wailing in discomfort as her head was forced by the rest of her body into the tight, formfitting tunnel of Goldeneye’s throat. “Please!” she screamed, and got a mouthful of saliva for her trouble. “Urgh… p-p-please! I’ll g-give you a-anything! I-I’ll… I’ll… I’ll do anyth-thing!”
Come now, little fox, came the gryphon’s voice, pressing straight into her mind like a branding iron so that Leshana’s eyes began watering and her squirms redoubled. We’ve established that I’m god, by right of power. Even with so much of your mind on fire with instinct and fear, you have enough logic to recognise that no-one needs to give anything to me. I take it. He lifted her higher, and higher, so that her body was about level in the terrible sweltering darkness, and gravity was inevitable, easing her body inch by inch into the wet suckling gullet. Goldeneye hadn’t even swallowed yet.
“But… but…” she tried to protest, and could find no more words, kicking as Goldeneye’s tongue lapped ticklishly against her navel. What more could possibly work?
Don’t worry, sweet, it’s never easy. Hope is a painful thing to lose. That’s why I’m here with you.
And he swallowed. The entire universe around Leshana came to life and motion, a great wave of crushing muscle shifting over her from chest to head and pulling it ten inches into the darkness. She gasped for breath, winded by the monstrous power, and with no more begging to do, simply screamed.
Goldeneye sat on massive haunches, ruffling his wings contentedly, and stroked the kitsune’s ankle with a talon. He preferred to do this part with eyes closed, every part of his considerable being focused on the sensations from inside, but every now and then he roamed his gaze over the silent crowds. Several had turned away, and with casual mental tugs he swivelled them straight back round. The whispering he didn’t mind, however. Panic was more infectious when it could spread orally.
And speaking of that…
He swallowed again, slower this time, his prey sinking into a delightful rippling bulge in the hollow of his throat, and shook his head, both to even out the distension and to display it to his watchers. Such a sweet taste. The gryphon flicked his tongue up and to the places between Leshana’s legs, pushing her deeper inside and purring softly at the taste, as well as the redoubled wriggling.
Such a treat. You’ll last so long in there.
The kitsune whimpered, her throat hurting by now. Her head was buzzing with thoughts too vast to take in. “In… t-there…”
She felt the tongue finally leave her, and Goldeneye gave another agonising swallow, pressing the breath from her lungs and making her see stars in the darkness as her ribcage creaked. I’d say it’s not as bad as you’d imagine… but it is. It’s worse. Keep squirming for now. Such a good little thing. Keep squirming. He lapped at her ankles, raising his head and giving another slow, rolling swallow. Her paws and tails slipped inside the beak, and with a casual snap, carrying somehow through the layers of flesh and feathers, Leshana heard the gryphon’s beak shut.
If anything, the utter darkness she was sliding into became more complete. Goldeneye raised his to the skies, his throat moving in slow, rhythmic half-swallows which eased his prey further and further to the back of his throat. In a semiconscious way, the kitsune sensed the line that would be crossed when she went from maw to gullet. She would no longer exist outside of the gryphon’s immense, terrifying body. She would turn from living creature to twitching, sinking bulge.
Goldeneye lapped hungrily at her ankles, taking all the pleasure he could before she was gone. Any more words? he purred. There are none which will do anything.
And he was right. Leshana mouthed helpless pleas in the sweltering black, a hundred phrases running through her head which each would do nothing. With her brain paralysed, her mouth came out with the protest which had run through her entire being for two months of misery and nearly half an hour now of utter horror.“This… this isn’t… r-right...”
And like that, you have nothing more to say. Just scream now, food. Goldeneye winked to the shifting, fearful subjects around him, and swallowed her whole.
He wasn’t toying any more. This was a true swallow, powerful and devastating and cruel. Leshana’s squirms were barely felt as the muscle around her twisted and rippled and pulled her all the way. The visceral machinery of the gryphon’s body engulfed her in an instant, dragging her slowly and inexorably down, down into the suffocating pitch-black hell. She choked on her screams, barely able to move beneath the sheer compression, feeling her bones grinding against each other. There was a little snap somewhere in her chest and suddenly her mouth tasted of blood as well as the beast’s saliva. The kitsune gave tiny, gurgling sobs, and still she sank, passing Goldeneye’s slow-thundering heart.
The gryphon shuddered pleasurably, his entire body wrapped around the twitching, fluttering mass in his throat. For a moment, he allowed himself to close his mind’s eyes, ignoring the shuddering horror all around him, and focused totally inwards. Leshana’s suffering, Leshana’s pain and torment, and then his own pleasure. The perfect unequal exchange.
He felt her settle deep within his ribcage, such a sweet, gluttonous weight, held her there, and then continued the rolling motion of his throat to send her to her final destination. As the kitsune twitched and shook in her despair, Goldeneye opened his eyes again, slowly licking his beak. The crowd was restless now, many members shaking and shrinking back. Hushed voices trembled with awe and fear. He smirked. Little lives finally coming to understand their position on the food chain. It was a good day.
It was hell. Leshana felt her ears, so firmly compressed and squeezed, break through into open air. She gasped in relief in the utter darkness, and then in discomfort. The air was thick, humid, and almost painfully hot, and the alchemical, acidic scent was so strong she could taste it. Her shoulders and arms were pushed free of Goldeneye’s gullet and she instinctively clawed out in front, trying to stop herself from falling straight on her face.They just managed to touched a soft, slimy wall of flesh.
It would just about be large enough for her to curl up in. She squealed in panic as she began to fall again and frantically waved her hands below. Instantly they were submerged to the elbows in a pool of thick, churning liquid. This was… no…
She screamed as Goldeneye slowly ejected her, submerging her headfirst into the brimming, growing lake of digestive fluids. The taste was hideous, and the hot acids felt hideous against her flesh. And they hadn’t even begun to burn.
Digest… no… no… no…
She sprawled in a packed, tangled mass in the gryphon’s guts, covered head to toe in acids and gods only knew what else.
Naughty. Blasphemy in the very embrace of your deity?
Leshana managed to surface, gasping for breath. She was horribly cramped, and the pocket of fresh, vile air was so small that she had to press her muzzle against the dripping ceiling to get at it. Already the heat was sapping her strength, and with it her sanity. There had to be a way out. There had to be something she could do. There had to be. Please…
No. Just suffering. The gryphon shifted his position subtly, standing more majestically, more proudly, and displaying his smooth, soft stomach to everyone. He closed his eyes, a smile of perfect bliss suffusing his features, and with a silent, muffled squelch, that belly sagged. Beneath the massive brawn of the gryphon’s body, it looked insignificant. And the fact that the fox looked so little hanging beneath her emperor’s body made it worse, so that the plump bulge was gruesomely distended, all at once.bulging and shifting as the kitsune slipped into her new home.
There was an audible murmur of horror, running around all five thousand. Goldeneye opened his eyes, spine undulating with sinuous pleasure. And Leshana finally began to scream. A faint handprint appeared on his stomach, grasping frantically, and then the weak imprint of Leshana’s face, rendered skull like with the intensity she pressed it against the hellish walls of his gut. The blind eye sockets shook. She was screaming.
The crowd snapped. Outright screaming broke the imposed silence, the mass of prisoners surging en masse away from the monstrous, gluttonous beast. It was a stampede. Those at the very back saw the Immortals level their spears, merciless and perfect, and tried to pull back, but the vast crowd behind them was thundering on in blind panic, and the screams of horror became pained as they fell and were mercilessly trampled. And then, just as the spears were about to sink into horribly yielding flesh:
STOP.
Even Leshana, gasping and whimpering deep inside his guts, froze in her wriggling. Even the Immortals, so stalwart and unyielding, staggered. Goldeneye’s mental power fell over the prisoners like a hundred tonnes of bricks, overriding their emotions, their movements, their consciousnesses themselves. In an instant the entire square was frozen.
The gryphon smirked, eyes narrowed and faintly glowing deep, deep violet as he directed the devastating power. Slowly, five thousand people turned round and filed back into place, shaking and in many cases crying.
Goldeneye sat down, rolling onto his flank and allowing his shifting, heavy stomach to spill out from between his legs. He began, birdlike, to lick his talons, idly preening himself as the squirming became tangibly more urgent.
“Don’t you remember? Until the squirms have ceased, not a single creature leaves this square. Did you think that was a command, little ones? It was a statement of fact. Keep watching. All of you.”
He paused to stroke a talon over the rippling bulge, letting loose an audible, cascading gurgle from deep within. Once more the kitsune’s handprint appeared from inside. The gryphon sighed pleasantly, and lay back, enjoying the sunshine, probing Leshana’s mind. The fun part was about to start…
***
It began as a prickling on her skin. Leshana, already oversensitized on the heat and the wetness and the dreadful air, barely noticed, continuing to try to force her way back into the gryphon’s firmly closed gullet. The muscles were nigh unshiftable. She felt a shifting, as if the monstrous predator had sat down, and in the moment of distraction realised that the sweltering climate hadn’t been hot enough to sting until a moment ago.
It had begun. Leshana gave a tiny, tiny whimper of fear, followed by a louder whimper of pain as the prickling increased, and kept going. She paused in her squirms to kneel, bent almost double, and rub at her tails. They had always been sensitive.
The sensation of flesh on flesh was so painful that she cried aloud, jerking her hand away. Worse, with it came a full handful of her fur. The kitsune screamed in horror, kicking out at the churning walls all around her and inadvertently chafing the rest of herself. It was like an instant, full body laceration. Leshana went under the gurgling sea of acids in her thrashing and came up spluttering and yelling. The pain only deepened as the minutes ticked by, and her muscles began to burn with tiredness as well as the exposed patches of raw, bloody - oh gods, her tongue and her eyes were on fire now, but she could still taste her own blood - flesh. But the agony peaked again, and again, and she couldn’t stop. She screamed, and screamed. Her muscles were red-raw.
One hour. Goldeneye’s words hummed inside the kitsune’s shattered head. Not going well so far, is it?
“P-please!” she yelled, cowering away from the cruel, cruel voice. One hour? That was all? When she had been in here for an eternity of pain and terror? Surely not… surely...
“P-please, y-you can’t… you can’t…”
She knew she was wrong. He could. That was all. And yet she also knew that her squirming was useless, but still she wriggled and writhed and kicked against the tight, crushing walls as the gryphon left her soul to watch her agony as a spectator once more.
Goldeneye cast an eye over his audience, still telepathically mesmerised by his squirming stomach. He shifted around to present it to another side of the helpless crowd, extended a wing, and began to preen the feathers. The air hummed with misery and sadistic glee.
Time passed. Years? Maybe. Leshana was not able to sweat any more. When her legs rubbed against each other it was like a fiery brand, and she felt no fur, but slick, fibrous muscle and globs of melted flesh. Her fur had liquefied, her body a bloody mass of meat. Already her circulation was tainted with acid, beginning to boil her from the inside out. It was quite remarkable really - to have every single nerve in body her screaming, all at once. Not that she could comprehend that. The pain had ceased to have words a long, long, long time ago.
The sun’s setting, little fox. Do you think you’ll last the night?
Leshana’s tongue was a slimy lump of pain in her mouth. Even her teeth were starting to slowly soften. She could not speak beyond screaming, and she would have been blinded had the gryphon’s gut not devoured all light anyway. She cringed away from Goldeneye’s touch… and then, in desperation, pushed towards it instead. The kitsune poured all her pain and suffering into the Emperor’s soul, all her despair, all her innocence. Maybe he hadn’t understood how wrong this was, how much she burned. Maybe there was still hope.
She was mad. Some part of her knew that she was mad and wrong. She broke down, weeping bloody tears as one of her tails worked its way to the bone.
And Goldeneye did not even treat the madness kindly. His stomach, so tight and massaging, jerked suddenly. Leshana shrieked incoherently, swallowing another mouthful of molten acid. Only when the spasm did she realise. He was laughing, out loud. The sound echoed in her ears before the drums started to liquefy.
Goldeneye looked up at the confusion all around him. “Oh, don’t worry.” he purred, licking his beak again. “Her hope finally died completely. There’ll be no more pleas. Honestly, it was more satisfying than funny, really. Maybe you had to be there.”
He curled up more comfortably as the sun set, ignoring the groans as people’s feet began to ache. They would watch all the way through the cold desert night: Goldeneye and his special kitsune were quite comfortably warm. She was burning so nicely, in fact.
He closed his eyes - not to sleep but to watch her better in his mind’s eyes - and licked his beak contentedly. So much pain…
The night passed. Leshana was no longer sane. Her mind dug into itself, like a never-ending scream which bit deeper with every fresh spike of agony.
She heard the snap as one, then the other of her vertebrae snapped, and her tails fell off. The loss hit her harder than the endless hellish agony. Her tails… so precious, so much a part of her. They had been her comfort blankets, her excitable pets, her fluffy sidekicks. Gone. Snatched away. She found the bony, sticky tendrils which were all that was left in the mire of acid and melted flesh and clutched them to her, spluttering digestive fluids, still kicking and squirming - no longer to get out, but simply out of reflex.
Time passed in eternity, and she could count her rib bones one by one. She was blind and deaf and still writhing and screaming, and yet she still felt pain. How was this possible?
The remains-of-a fox knelt, hunched and broken, in her predator’s belly, and retched, kicking out against the walls once more, and fell back. Her muscles were liquefying. Every movement made her dizzy with exhaustion. But the agony was still there, and so she could not stop wriggling against the crushing, massaging flesh.
Her mind broke further, and she realised she couldn’t remember who she was anymore. She was misery personified. No, that was still an identity. She was part of Goldeneye. His name she remembered. She was nothing but a layer on his stomach, waiting to be made perfect like the rest of him.
Hours passed, still. If Goldeneye had talked to her she could not remember. Her squirming was weak now, and she had to gasp for spluttery, leaking breaths with every wriggle. Still she went on, sobbing silently at the pain. And finally a coldness started to spread through her, overcoming even the agony of her monstrous master’s guts.
Despite everything, despite her madness, the fox formerly called Leshana’s mind fled from death. NO it wailed, writhing frantically as she grew still. PLEASE, NO! THIS ISN’T… THIS ISN’T.
There was a word meaning “what should happen”. But she couldn’t remember it. She couldn’t remember anything. Her soul was like her body: nothing.
Leshana’s last words were a tiny, spluttering whimper. Goldeneye didn’t even notice them until her felt her fluttering, abused heart finally grow still. Her spirit faded into absolute oblivion.
The gryphon prodded his bulging, still belly, and gave a slow, satisfied moan. It was mid-morning, two days later. Several hundred prisoners were close to collapse, kept on the feet by only the gryphon’s cruel telepathy. All were shattered and broken. No more resistance, no more fear. Only utter submission. If he had commanded then to form a line before his gullet they would do it without hesitation.
Goldeneye rose, letting his churning stomach sway beneath him, and smiled. “Let that be a warning, citizens,” he said, voice soft with weary pleasure. “You’re mine. That’s the only real law in this empire. I’ll see you next time some poor, poor fool tries to break it, eh?”
He blew a kiss, carrying with it the scent of Leshana’s last breath, and took off into the sky, releasing his mental control. To his delight, nearly two thirds of the crowd collapsed instantly, from tireness, hunger, and terror. No more rebellions at this prison. Perhaps he should do it more often?
For now, he had escapees to hunt, an official either corrupt enough to be bribed or stupid enough to be deceived to… deal with, and an empire the size of a continent to run. The Emperor’s work was never done.
But of course, his play was unending. He tasted Leshana again, giving a soft belch and coughing up her prison collar and spectacles. The glasses were cracked by the potent power of his digestive tract, and he dropped them lazily, but the collar… oh, delicious. The leather was stained and frayed, but unbroken, and the clasp was still locked shut. Mortals were such fun!
The Subjective Nature of Justice, and Also DeliciousnessBy GoldeneyeA commission for AliclanThe Empire of Seraphia had to be recognised for what it was, argued the scholar Parocles in his dissertation Deum Natuman: an entirely new system of government. To merely describe it as an tyranny, or a theocracy, was to miss out on the unique nature of the tyrant, or the religion. In the long and somewhat brutal history of the world, many similar civilisations had risen and fallen (and a lot of them quite recently to this new one), but they had been ruled over by simple men and women with mere political power - a flimsy, intangible thing. Instead, the esteemed scholar claimed, Seraphia must be recognised as a new form of dictatorship, for it was one which the head of state not only held absolute political power, but absolute power in every other regard.
He called it a deiocracy. One nation under one, extremely active, god.
There were several major differences in this god’s politics as a result of the immense power he wielded. The Emperor did not need to worry about heirs to carry on his line, as he was immortal and would not give up control of his empire until the sun fell from the sky. Intrigue at court to control the decisions of his Divinity was nigh impossible, as he saw everyone’s ulterior motives sitting in their minds plain as day. The same with spies - although at least two dozen had to vanish into the god-being’s mighty form before the other nations got the message - and with corruption. International diplomacy became rather more difficult, since the Emperor’s patience was generally fairly short, but he didn’t seem to mind the various short-lived wars which sprung up as a result, ending inevitably with an expanded empire and an expanded stomach pressing against the straps of the his magnificent battle plate.
However, in many cases things went on as they would normally. The Emperor was far too busy to concern himself with the day-to-day running of his palace, or with keeping his Empire’s ever-growing population fed, housed and safe. But he did not tolerate failure by the ranks of civil servants who took on the responsibility. In his eyes, he explained playfully, all were equal, rich or poor, male or female or more, noble or peasant: for all were but nothing next to him. Anyone who upset this order would be reminded of where they stood in very, very definite terms.
As a result of this, as Wreathed Judge Milo Grey stepped out of the litter into the hot desert sun, blinking at the sudden light, he found he was shivering slightly. His official robes, silver silk trimmed with leaves of bronze, would normally feel light enough to allow him to withstand the heat, but today the flowing material seemed to hang on him like iron chains. He managed to keep his dignity, at least, standing calm and sombre but for a nervous twitch of the tail. Milo was a feline, a housecat with fur the deep navy of the night sky and bright, round eyes of an even bluer hue. He was twenty seven years of age, and looked even younger, a slight, youthful figure leading to many officials to mistake him for an usher or underling. He’d grown used to it by now, even laughed at it.
Right now he didn’t feel very much like laughing, so instead he swallowed and began walking up the steps. The Imperial Palace loomed above, an edifice which reflected its master in every way. It was quite possibly the largest building on the planet, a sprawling, spiralling array of towers, bridges and cathedral-like halls which somehow retained a kind of elegant symmetry. It wasn’t totally clear how it had been built. The days of Goldeneye’s ascension to his eternal throne hadn’t been that long ago but already they were half-shrouded by myths. Not surprising considering their subject matter.
Up the wide, wide steps for a half a hundred feet, feeling the silent gazes of the Immortals, strange, merciless figures in all-enclosing bronze armour, flanking each end of each step as they watched him. Towards the threshold of the great open bronze doors, depicting in relief two vast Emperors standing tall on hind legs, claws spread regally, and here he was. The open archway led straight to the Imperial Palace’s entrance Atrium. It was the largest room he had ever stood in in his life, an expanse of pale smooth stone polished to perfect smoothness and spreading out for a hundred feet in every direction. And this was merely the entrance hall.
He stood in the doorway, shivering a little, and checked the summons for the dozenth time. Yes, it definitely required him to go in via the front door. The analytical part of his mind noted that this was part of a simple intimidation tactic: to overwhelm him with a sense of the Emperor’s great power and wealth. The rest of his mind conceded, apprehensively, that it was working very, very well.
But he was an Wreathed Judge, chosen to represent his Divinity’s unyielding will. He had followed his duties and given fairness and justice to all. He had never so much as dreamed of taking bribes or performing favouring anyone, regardless of status or power. He had no reason whatsoever to be afraid, surely.
And yet he was. Milo had never met the Emperor, but it was clear from what was known of him that he did not tolerate any failings to live up to standard.
He swallowed, composed himself, and entered.
Milo’s placement had been in the courthouse towards the east, in the merchant’s quarter. He’d trained in the Imperial University, and received his wreath from the hands of an Immortal, rather than the Emperor himself. He’d never actually seen inside the palace yet, and so this was… quite an experience. A hall cut from glass-smooth sandy stone, flooded with sunlight from golden windows three hundred paces high. Balconies lined the walls, and pillars of bronze as thick as three men were tall supported the arching, cathedral-like roof. And this was just the entrance hall.
The cat’s big blue eyes followed the pillar to the ceiling, goggling at their sheer scale. Far above, a mural depicted a boiling mass of fire streaking down towards the viewer, with the faintest indications of leonine shape amidst the flames. The weight of the Emperor’s power hung over their heads.
Milo gazed up at it for almost a minute before he realised he was being spoken to. He jumped slightly at the quiet cough, tearing his eyes away to see a duo of palace attendants standing at his side: a slender female lizard of some species he didn’t recognise and an dark-feathered, male osprey. Both wore little but simple silk loincloths and leather collars, marking them out as property of the Emperor which was currently being used by him personally, rather than simply property, like Milo and every other inhabitant of Seraphia, which had been trusted to take care of itself for his pleasure. Fairly little was left to the imagination, and Milo restrained his flush as he spoke to them again. “I… I’m sorry?”
“You’re Wreathed Judge Milo Grau, yes?” the osprey repeated, smiling a little at the sides of his beak. “We’re to bring you to the Emperor’s personal receiving chambe-”
He froze, and his smile vanished instantly. The lizard beside him swallowed and straightened noticeably, obviously aware of the meaning of this even if Milo was not. The pause lasted only a second, and then whatever it was had gone. The bird shook his feathers a little and smiled again, his sharp yellow eyes betraying a trace of fear. “Sorry, sir. Right this way.”
They turned and set off, walking towards one of the smaller doors at the side, and Milo followed, determinedly keeping his head held high. Internally, meanwhile, he tried to calm the fear churning inside. Personal receiving chambers? Personal? The summons hadn’t mentioned him actually meeting with the Emperor himself!
It must just be a term, surely. He’d be meeting with a secretary or similar. Nothing would warrant actually meeting the Emperor. Even if he had been accused of murdering half the jury or something, he’d be dealt with by administration, not the head of state.
He dismissed the thoughts, or tried to, as the two slaves ahead led him down some stairs, along a series of seemingly endless corridors, and to a large set of bronze doors guarded, as ever, by two silent Immortals. They waited for a few minutes, during which Milo tried to smooth the fur on his ears and clean his whiskers - embarrassingly animalistic behaviour, but he wanted to look as neat as he possibly could - and then the osprey gave another slight intake of breath, and nodded. He could go in now.
The doors creaked open and Milo took a breath and slipped in, to face destiny. Stairs upwards, into somewhere filled with light. He squinted and stumbled up the steps, cat eyes unused to such sudden, blinding brightness. And then...
And then…
A chuckle ran around the gallery as the feline’s mouth fell slightly open, his mask of judicial calm lost in the bewildering, terrifying realisation of where he really was. A hall so vast it made the entrance look like a broom closet, lined not with pillars but with shining silver and bronze statues of the Emperor himself, almost a thousand feet tall and standing rampant to bear the weight of the ceiling far, far above. He stood in the centre of an avenue fifty paces across, paved with what appeared to be genuine gold. On either side, between the vast feline hindpaws of the mighty statues, an array of marble seats lined the sides. Barely one in ten was filled, and yet there were still more than a hundred pairs of eyes watching him. He recognised high ranking officials, foreign diplomats, a good few creatures which he didn’t even recognise the species of. The Emperor’s Royal Court, eyes all fixed unmercifully upon him.
The other inhabitant of the room waited, quite patiently, for Milo to turn to see him. He sat sprawled comfortably upon the specially adapted throne, which was more a raised dais with armrests of beaten gold. Compared to the sheer size of this room and everything in it, any ruler should have seemed dwarfed by his decorations, compensating for their own weakness with the oversized depictions.
But not this one. Emperor Goldeneye, the Silver Summer, the First and Eternal, somehow carried a sheer presence which outshone any statue. It was as if you were seeing a star in the night sky, and though it seemed of comprehendible size and magnitude the truth was you simply weren’t looking at it properly, for in reality it was vast beyond words. The gryphon lounged elegantly on his great flank, watching his new arrival unblinkingly. Even several hundred feet away, Milo could already tell that the god-gryphon would have stood nearly three times his height, and far, far longer and wider. Sleek, leonine hindquarters merged with a chest bound with flying muscles to power the cloak of silver feathered wings folded snugly against his side, and then avian forelegs leading to grey-scaled claws, cruelly taloned and strong enough to tear stone. His eyes, one purple and one gold as the sun, narrowed just a little in amusement, and he called out to the stunned feline in a voice which carried easily across the hall.
“Milo Grey. Wreathed Judge, ordained to act with the authority of your owner and Emperor… welcome to my court. I’ve rather been looking forward to meeting you.”
Behind Milo, the hidden door, allowing him to walk straight into the middle of the throne room without even realising slid slowly closed again. The click echoed in the silence which had fallen.
Emperor Goldeneye watched for a few more seconds with a slow, spreading smile before he spoke again. “You may approach. Unless you need some help walking?”
Not a single feather moved, but suddenly Milo’s legs were no longer Milo’s. He started, giving a small mew as, without his own thoughts, his body took one step forward, then another, drawing him closer to the Emperor’s divine presence. Telepathic control. The final and surest proof, Goldeneye had proclaimed at his coronation many years ago, of his unquestionable ownership of all things. His raw strength alone was enough to force others to do his will or face certain, painful death, but with this power the choice was removed completely. All were made his. The experience was nothing short of terrifying, and when, an instant later, he was released again, Milo nearly fell over, his dignified mask cracking sharply. The Emperor smirked.
But he had done nothing wrong and he would not be intimidated. Milo swallowed, and straightened his back. “N-no, your majesty. I’m fine.” Carefully, he began to walk down the long avenue, aware at every step of the many eyes on him - although he didn’t dare break the gaze of the two which lay straight ahead.
The journey seemed to take a long time, and the Emperor didn’t seem to blink much. He simply watched, smiling slightly, as Milo drew to the edge of the raised golden dais and bowed to his knees. There was a moment of tense silence. Milo broke it, and immediately regretted it.
“Your… your majesty?”
The Emperor looked at him, and this time far more intensely. His gaze had an almost physical weight to it, far stronger than the many other eyes of the court. He smiled. “Ah, yes. The matter at hand. Tell me, Wreathed Judge Milo Grey, do you remember the case you presided over at eleven of the clock in the morning, upon the third day of the month of Feathersong?”
Milo did, and judging from the sudden, slithering sensation in his skull, the Emperor knew that he did. “... of course, your… your majesty…” he said, slowly. “Defendant was one Leshana Kitsune, a foreign citizen accused of breaking the terms of her trader’s license by-”
“That’s enough.” Goldeneye silenced him again. “Unusual surname. I must visit her kind sometime… anyway. Did you notice anything unusual about the case, little Milo?” His voice had become quieter, with a certain silky edge which was extremely unnerving.
“Unusual? I… um…” Desperately he wracked his brains. “She… she claimed innocence, but that’s, that’s nothing new. We investigated her claim of being set up by a rival merchant, and found no evidence of any wrongdoing on his part. All that was left was the sentencing. As per your laws, your majesty… five years hard labour. Alsar Prison, I believe.”
The Emperor nodded. “I see. All according to the rule of law, as set out by me, was it?”
“Y… yes, your majesty.” Milo swallowed, resisting the urge to flatten his large ears against his skull.
“With the authority vested upon you to act in my name.”
“Yes.”
The gryphon blinked once, with reptilian slowness. And then suddenly his great beak spread into a wide, benevolent smile.
“Well then, there’s nothing more to do here, is there? I had reason to believe that Miss Leshana was unfairly imprisoned, and wanted to make sure that there was no corruption amongst the ranks of my subordinates. But you’re clearly an honest servant of the Empire. Thank you kindly for your time, Judge Grey. You can go now.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the ranks of courtiers exploded into hushed whispers and murmurs, evidently as surprised as Milo was. He stood, barely, his legs feeling like wet sand beneath him as he stammered out words. “You… what.... you… really?”
“Of course!” The gryphon’s voice was as silky and comforting as the finest feather bed. “I can’t ask any more than what you gave me, can I? To expect my judges to be able to see the truth as I do would be simply ridiculous. Run along, good servant. I’ll compensate you for your time.”
“I… I… see? Th-thank you.” He managed to take one step, then another, back towards the doors and freedom and safety to live his life. “Thank you so much y-your majesty. Thank you. Thank you.” Milo’s eyes were glazed, and he blinked back the tears of relief as he stumbled away, bowing three times over in his haste. Suddenly his robes felt as light and free as air. He remembered reading testimony from prisoners unexpectedly pardoned, and how much brighter the world had seemed, intoxicated by the joy of relief.
And then from behind him came another word.
“Hold on.”
Milo froze. The murmuring from the galleries silenced. For a moment, he thought that he was just surprised, but no, he couldn’t move at all. Goldeneye’s malign influence controlled his very limbs. From behind him, he felt the floor quiver as the emperor stepped down off his throne and began to pad towards him.
“Silly me. So sorry, Milo, but I just remembered something important. Yes, you had nothing but the best of intentions when you sentenced little Leshana. Yes, the fact that she was innocent is something that it’d be ridiculous to expect you to know. Yes, you are blameless.”
Milo felt hot breath on the back of his neck. His muscles trembled against the Emperor’s iron mental hold. Goldeneye’s voice came from just behind him.
“But I. Don’t. Care.”
With a shock of casual power, he was released, falling to his knees. The murmuring ranks were silent, and Milo tried to scramble up as Goldeneye slowly circled him. The cat’s trembling limbs caught in his robes, and he staggered and fell again. His hands flailed, and suddenly, with a brush of air and speed, Goldeneye’s beak was there to grab onto. The great shimmering eyes locked with Milo’s. Up close, it felt like the gryphon-creature was looking at him through more dimensions than he should have been able to.
The trembles slowly died, Milo’s fear overwhelmed by a new kind of paralytic, choking terror which left him limp, dependent on the beak for support. He could barely breathe, could not comprehend anything but the Emperor’s bejeweled, alien eyes.
Goldeneye chuckled softly, not blinking. His breath seeped through the cat’s robes and left his fur ruffled and hot. “I have to say, little kitten, you look far better like this. Weak and quivery. Just because I’ve given you authority doesn’t mean I wanted you to have dignity.”
“I… w… what do y-you want?” Milo could not tear himself away. “I… If she was innocent, can’t you just pardon her? Your… your majesty?”
The gryphon rolled his eyes. “Of course I could. I did, in fact, as soon as I found it.”
“You d-did? Then I don’t understand the-”
“And then,” Goldeneye continued, “later that same day in fact, I ate her alive.”
Milo opened his mouth, and couldn’t really seem to find any words to put in it. He gave a small noise which made the Emperor’s eyes glitter with amusement.
“It wasn’t even planned. Her name just came up at a public event, and… well, she squirmed for days, but even that wasn’t as delicious as the cruel irony of it. The real world has a wonderful habit of accommodating me, really. I’ve actually theorised that my sheer weight of power actually distorts the fabric of reality around my whims, making things simply go my way even when outside of my considerable control… but that’s not related. The point is, this isn’t about making sure everyone gets fair treatment. It’s about me and all of you subjects of mine. It’s about my possessions.”
“I… I don’t…” Milo’s voice finally returned a bit more solidly, albeit still in a weak, bewildered croak. “I don’t understand what you want me for. Please, If, if I… I was wrong… it wasn’t intentional! I can’t see minds, I can’t command the resources of, of an empire! Your laws, your laws say that I can’t be punished for acting as best I could! Surely I… I can have a-at least a second, a second chance...”
Goldeneye flicked his ears lazily, watching him. The cat felt a bit more of his natural acumen returning to him, and he spoke a little stronger.
“I… I mean… legally, in this case we ought to get the defendant released for her innocence. But… that’s not really possible. You, you knew she was innocent when you… when you… er…”
The gryphon raised an eyeridge.
“Anyway,” Milo said, “you’re not interested in her wellbeing, it… it appears. So I just… I don’t understand why you’re so… so angry with me. Your majesty. I swear, I, I did nothing wrong by your laws and methods. I… I was wrong, but… that’s not a crime, is it? Is it? Maybe… maybe you’re above the law - I mean, maybe you have… unique status… but… you can’t claim I deserve to be punished for this! S-surely! Or at least, that I shouldn’t be instantly… that I should have a s-second chance for it!”
Goldeneye watched. Then he laughed again, soft and hot and washing over Milo with each deep, rumbling chuckle. Like waves against a sandy beach the feline’s composure and confidence was simply washed away by the second.
The gryphon lifted his head up and away, sending Milo toppling to the ground. “This is,” he said loudly, “actually quite a common delusion for those in Milo’s position, everyone.”
Who… who is he talking to? Weakly, through the dread, Milo remembered the courtiers watching from the galleries. He parted his lips, trying to speak, but all that came out was a kittenish mew of fear.
“I find it’s especially popular amongst those high enough to have some authority, but low enough that they don’t interact with me at all. They start to misunderstand the purpose of the law which they uphold in my name. Thinking it’s in the name of justice and fairness. In the name of good. That I am somehow… “benevolent” in my tyranny.”
Distantly, Milo heard the sound of a few voices in mocking laughter.
“Perhaps we should educate him. Milo Gray, I ask that you keep my laws so that you might keep my empire in order, so that my subjects - my possessions - are kept in the best possible state. I do not allow slavery because only I have the right to own anyone - or rather, everyone. I despise corruption because only I have the right to control and destroy the lives of anyone for my own gain. And because my laws are only there to keep you all ripe and tender for me, I don’t care about following them myself in the slightest. I’m not simply above the law, Milo. I am the only reason that the law exists.”
Milo tried to mumble something, but his words were not even ignored, simply not recognised as existing.
“Is this unfair? Is it unreasonable? Is it against my own laws? Oh, yes. It is. But I liked Leshana, both before and after she slid down my gullet so delightfully. And I would have wanted to meet her when her life wasn’t already so full of suffering inflicted by someone else. My prey is mine, and hurting them is mine.” He spoke the word with a burning, religious fervour. “All of it mine.”
“This… this isn’t right, though. P-please, your majesty, I’m sorry, I… I can’t… I just wanted to… to help the people of this world… please...”
“The people of this world do not deserve help. They deserve only to make as good a meal for me as they can. That’s what you are, little kitten. Helping to season them.” Goldeneye leant down, hooking a talon under the hem of the judge’s silk robe. “But equally, you are part of the menu.”
He ripped the robe open, tearing it straight through with barely a shred of resistance. Milo whimpered, trying to defend his soft slender body from the terrible knife-edge, but it had no interest in his flesh, just his garments. His smallclothes were in rags as well, his body naked and revealed, like a fruit freshly peeled of its rind. The gryphon towered over him, his presence like physical pressure on the little, shaking cat’s soul. Milo was trying so, so hard not to think of the very obvious.
“You’re… you’re nnn… n-not going to…”
“Not saying it?” The gryphon laughed softly. “I will then. I’m going to devour you. Swallow you whole. Every inch. By now, it seems like most of the planet knows about Seraphia and its predatory Emperor… but not a single morsel seems prepared for the actual sensations of it. You’ve probably sentenced a fair few to the death penalty in your time - or “lunch”, as I call it - so I’ll be delighted to be able to give you a first hand experience.”
Every word struck him down to the bone. Milo gave the weakest, feeblest moan he had ever heard, a sound which could barely come from a living thing. He tried to rise, tried to avert his eyes from Goldeneye’s merciless stare, but his body would not respond. The gryphon drew closer, his nares flaring as he drew a deep breath and took in gallons of the feline’s scent. His eyes seemed to physically glimmer with hunger. Milo couldn’t bear to watch. He managed to wrench his eyes shut. Goldeneye said something, but he was beyond hearing.
...but rather than sudden wet, all-enclosing darkness, he felt the thick bony surface of the gryphon’s beak nudging him towards getting up. His eyes fluttered open, locking again with the Emperor’s as if drawn by some mad magnet. Goldeneye smiled lazily.
“Well? You’re dismissed, I said.”
“W...what?”
“Little kitten, I had to rearrange a diplomatic ceremony, three signings of legislation, and a meeting with my architects just to have this five minute meeting with you at such short notice. Do you think I have time to eat you properly right now?” Goldeneye chuckled, nosing his prey back fully onto their feet. “Fair enough, I could do it now. It’d take less than a second. But where’s the fun in wasting all your taste like that? No. Milo, I want you to go to my quarters and wait there until I finally finish all this damn Empire-running business and get the chance to properly enjoy my lunch.”
Milo blinked. “You… you’re going to… what?”
“Come on.” Goldeneye clicked his talons, the sound clacking oddly, and out of nowhere the two slaves of before seemed to have drawn up behind him. The osprey and the lizard. He jumped, and backed away - straight into Goldeneye’s soft expanse of chestfeathers. The gryphon giggled.
“Don’t worry about it. Give him a loincloth… but nothing else. He looks so delectable like that. Milo, I’ll be along soon enough. And relax, sweetling... it’s not like you have somewhere to get to.”
He thrust Milo forwards and began to walk back to his throne, giving the trembling cat a last teasing caress with the fluffy tip of his tail.
“You have the rest of your life, after all.”
***
For all his flamboyancy and casual disregard of all laws of decency, morality, and on many occasions physics, the Emperor was actually a fairly private person. He did not generally hold the traditional feasts and banquets of the Royal Seraphian tradition, although that was probably because no-one was very keen to attend a meal with him. He would often vanish completely for days on end, and in some cases entire weeks or months, only returning every few days from out of thin air - literally - for a few minutes to settle vital matters of state and remind his empire of his rule by devouring the nearest unlucky individual. So to see exactly what lay inside his personal chambers was probably supposed to be a rare and glorious privilege.
Milo did not feel this way. He had not spoken much to the two slaves as they escorted him to the Emperor’s quarters. The lizard girl had placed a hand on his shoulder in what he thought was a silent, helpless gesture of solidarity, and mercifully, one of them had given him a loincloth. It was as far from clothing as clothing could be, but at least he wasn’t totally naked.
He tried to appreciate the kindness of strangers, but found he couldn’t think of much at all beyond what was happening right now. It was ridiculous. It was wrong. It was completely insane.
Well, the Emperor had never claimed to be otherwise.
That was the problem. That was where everything Milo stood for, everything he had spent his life learning to argue for, everything he was, simply fell down like a house built on sand. Goldeneye just didn’t care. He was not right, he was not fair, he was not good. But he was the god-gryphon Emperor of an empire expanding over its second continent, and that meant he had decided… this.
Milo sat down against the wall, hugging his knees miserably. He sat opposite a strange tapestry, displaying a stylised rendition of a dozen figures he knew nothing of. A creature like the Emperor himself, but in black, a white wolf, or maybe fox, a bird and a mouse, another bird entwined with some kind of snake in deep ocean blue, a silver wolf and rat, one character - or was it two? the boundaries seemed too blurred - in black and white. They seemed locked in some weird dance which might have been fighting or amorous affection. It seemed a lot like the Emperor himself, in fact - inscrutable, unexplainable and completely distant to his suffering.
A few minutes ticked by.
This was insane.
Now he was repeating things he already knew.
Milo stood up, beginning to pace the room. Come on then, he pounded into his brain. You can come up with an argument for anything, can’t you! You’re a damn Wreathed Judge! Think! THINK! There has to be something to say. There has to be.. some thing! Logically in an infinite universe, there must exist some combination of words and action to reach the truth in the situation. To let you go free, or just get a second chance, even. There has to be.
But, he argued, first of all this isn’t a decision in your hands. You’re not the judge here. Nor the jury. Nor the execu… well, anyway. And secondly… every judicial decision you’ve made you’ve based upon the law of the land. Law which applies to you, to the accused, to the witnesses, to the prisons, to the entire Empire. To everyone.
Save one.
I’m not simply above the law, Milo. I am the only reason that the law exists.
That was it, then? More than a decade of study, work and passionate perseverance - almost half his life - was simply to do… that? Not to give fairness to the world, not to protect the innocent and punish the guilty, no, his life had simply been a case of keeping the Emperor’s “possessions” in line so he could enjoy them at his leisure?
He came to another room, staring at what appeared to be a bed, strewn with thick pillows and blankets - but the ocean of feathers was about the size of a small garden. No. That couldn’t be right. Having power did not make Goldeneye right. Justice was an idea, and nothing, not godly strength or tyrannical rule or telepathic ability, could destroy an idea.
That made him feel a little better, but then he realised that he was still going to be swallowed alive, and he felt even worse. Should he be crying, maybe? He didn’t feel like crying. He felt far, far too scared for crying. Crying was useless, his body was reasoning. What he needed was a way out of this horrific, fatal situation. It was up to Milo’s mind to provide the solution. And oh gods oh gods he couldn’t think of anything.
He’d come to a balcony window, the blast of sunlight on the creamy stone stinging his eyes. On the left lay the palace gardens, walled off to the general public, a lush oasis of exotic green in the hot desert sun. On the right lay what looked like to be a delivery area for carts and merchant caravans, and then an open gate out to the city. He could see the shining forms of two Immortals flanking the space, resolute and unmoving.
You could leap onto that wall.
The drop was barely twenty feet. Milo was young, and as agile as any cat, and the Immortals might be guarding the gates, but they weren’t likely to look at the tops of the walls. If he just balanced there when he landed, then crawled along to a safe place to get down, he’d be in the city. Away. Safe.
Safe from the mind of a telepath? He stared at it, at the freedom so close, and so distant. Come on. How far would he have to run to stop the Emperor from finding him without lifting a claw?
Oh, and what would Goldeneye do do if he did find him? Eat him? What a horrific fate! Much better to stay here and just suffer the current ordeal, which was… oh yes, being eaten. What had he got to lose by trying something, anything, that had even the slightest chance of success? How could this get worse?
Another part of Milo said something quietly, so quietly that he barely heard it, and had to focus consciously on the unease before he heard it properly. It said it again.
He could make it worse.
The feline leaned against the wall of the balcony, his limbs beginning to shake uncontrollably as the truth of that sentence began, wave-like, to break over him. Of course he could. He could take longer to die. He could hurt more. He could come back just to die again. He could simply never expire at all, living out an endless existence in the deepest, hottest, darkest corner of the gryphon’s rapacious digestive tract. Or other things, things outside of sane comprehension. The Emperor’s true nature had a thousand theories and a million rumours, and his only certainty was that he was powerful enough to subjugate and control any living creature on this world he had claimed, beyond all hope of resistance. Who know what he would do?
But it was right there in front of him. And as it was, all his life held right now was the certainty of pain and death. How much he received might vary, but the end would be the same. Whereas with flight, there was a chance of life. Maybe small. Maybe not at all. But maybe, something up there might be kind to him. This was the chance.
Oh, gods and demons.
He stared at the top of the wall below, frozen in an agony of indecision, as the distant Imperial Bell struck, sonorous and echoing, to mark the hour. It struck again an hour later and he was still there, lims locked against the wall, mind locked in an endless cycle of fear and helplessness. The sun grew higher in the sky, and Milo’s fur soaked it up as he breathed, almost meditatively and argued against himself.
Another hour passed, Milo stayed where he was. He was a judge, after all. He was used to careful deliberation. But usually he had no emotional investment beyond wanting to do the right thing. This time, the punishment would be horrific. It was the greatest challenge of his career.
Another distant series of bells, and then another. He realised at last that his throat was almost cracked with the dry fear boiling inside him, and tore his mind away from the agony of choice to see if he could find a jug of water or some other drink inside. Milo took a few steadying breaths, settling his thoughts - if only temporarily - and turned to go back inside.
The Emperor was sprawled lazily in the doorway, watching him with intense interest.
“Oh, come on, don’t go without making a decision.”
Milo’s muscles might as well have been wound steel wire for all he was able to move. He gave a feeble noise which he could barely hear.
Goldeneye sighed softly. “I was enjoying that. Was rather hoping you’d try it, in fact. Why else do you think I have this balcony?”
Milo tried to say something, but his throat was so dry that he couldn’t even rasp a word if he’d been able to think of any. It was as if every second he had spent along with his thoughts had let the fear feed on them, and suddenly he was more scared than he had ever imagined existing. The enormity of the terror itself frightened and shocked him.
Because he knew what was going to happen.
The gryphon breathed in, very slowly, watching him without blinking. A smile lingered around the edges of his beak, and it was clear that he could practically taste the emotions. They stayed like that for a minute, maybe more, utterly frozen. The sounds of the city hummed in the distance.
Milo managed to break it first, but only with the most massive effort he could imagine. “Please…”
Those mismatched eyes sparkled again, and Goldeneye stood up, padding a few steps forward and sitting down again, next to the feline, back against the balcony wall. Milo, stood fully, barely came up to the lower edge of his beak. He tried again, not daring to step away but cowering from that monstrous, hot, feather presence. “Please… I… I’ll do whatever you wish me to to make it right. I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’ll… I swear, name it and I’ll do it. Just give me… give me a second chance... please. Please. I… I don’t...”
He trailed off. Goldeneye was ignoring him, looking instead out over the spreading skyline. “You know,” he said softly. “I never really planned on becoming serious about this “empire” business.”
Milo closed his mouth, his train of thought so loaded with adrenaline that the comment derailed him completely. “Um,” he said, rather weakly. The Emperor chuckled.
“Your world was the first, see. I came out of the space between worlds in a blaze of molten fiery energy, and I could barely figure out how to actually have a body. I was weak, I was confused and honestly, I was about as intelligent as a large insect. But your minds are just naturally intelligent. They fit properly, and you don’t even have to try. I took the first little creature to come across me and I nearly bled him dry using him to make my mind work. I learned there were more of you, and all I could think of was being alive. So I came to Alphasiron and I felt so, so many minds, and I started to become me. And that meant I started to become hungry.”
He clasped a claw around the little feline, hugging him into the forest of silky heat on his chest. Milo struggled fitfully, trying to get his head out to breath, but it was as if he was barely there.
“I want to experience you. Every part of every one of you to ever exist anywhere. I want to make you mine so much, in every way I can. So I decided right then that I was going to wipe the world out. Every one of you, taken, crushed, eaten, whatever it took to feel your souls properly, in an orgy of greed and spiritual gluttony. Made mine.”
Milo had stopped squirming. He felt the Emperor breathing, huge and slow, against him.
“So to start with that, of course, I devoured the city’s pitiful ruling class and parliament and declared myself emperor. That’s a story for another time, time which you little Milo do not have, but anyway I never intended to let a single sapient being on this planet live out more than a year after I took it for my own. But then… you called me Emperor, god-gryphon, Lord and Master. And I developed a new personality trait, a delightful little thing called ego. And oh, it was so much fun. To just see you fall over yourselves to beg and kiss my toes, just to be allowed to serve me so that you wouldn’t squirm for me instead. But it was more than that. I knew most of you didn’t believe it, but oh, when it comes down to it, you’d do anything to survive, huh? You’d give me your life so that I wouldn’t take it away. And that, I realised, is power. True power. I know you think I’m a monster, Milo. Not an Emperor, not a God-king. Just an vile beast who happens to be the most powerful abomination in this universe and most others. And I agree. So I make you tell me I’m your deity, your perfect ruler, because I know you’re lying, and you’re lying because I own you not out of some intangible “divine right” or “true royal nature” or some other mortal stupidity. I own you because I have power over you, power I can use without even trying. Power is the truth of the universe, Milo. Not gods, not emperors, not right and justice and truth. Just power. And I have it. And I have you.”
He finally realised his unwilling listener, and Milo staggered back, almost falling over the edge of the wall. Goldeneye’s long tail was there to catch him, nudging him back to balance. The Emperor giggled, standing up again. “So the point is, little cat… no, this isn’t right. You weren’t wrong. This goes against all laws of decency and fairness. And I’m not claiming otherwise. I’m just claiming you.” He caressed a long, cruel talon along the curve of the feline’s blue belly. “You can stop acting like you want to serve me out of awe or respect. You want to serve me because if you don’t give me everything in the world to sate my hunger to dominate you, I’ll swallow you alive and take my pleasure. You want to serve me, Milo, because I am power, and either I take you or you give you to me. You see?”
“I… I… I see.” And he did. He leant against the wall, and finally the fear coiled and cooled into something else. “You are… y-you are a monster.”
The gryphon’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes.”
“I… I hate you.”
Goldeneye took a step forward, his head leaning down, his body shifting into a slinking, leonine stance. “Oh... you do, don’t you?”
“And I-I won’t… I won’t beg for you. You’re wrong. There’s… there’s more than power. I served something… something else, called fairness. Justice. And… and you think you can destroy all these lives and… and just ignore it?”
The gryphon listened with a smile. “Yes. Because I can.”
“No. There’s…” he found himself backing away despite his anger, “there’s more. There’s more to life than the mercy of stronger creatures.”
“That’s true. I haven’t got any.”
“You… you think you have power, so that makes everything else meaningless, but… that’s just because it works out for you.”
Goldeneye shrugged, his shoulders rippling. He had backed the feline up against the balcony wall again. “No, silly. You just think otherwise because that works out for you. And you know what else?”
Milo gave a weak, kittenish snarl of defiance, leaning out over the balcony as the gryphon’s beak drew nearer. Goldeneye’s tongue slipped around the edges of his beak, wet and pink and soft.
“You were wrong about something else. You are going to beg. Because I want it. And I am all that matters.”
He looked at Milo, and blinked once.
And the anger vanished, replaced a hundred, thousand, million times over, with terror so vast that it clouded Milo’s vision, it filled his ears, it took hold of his very muscles. He gave a yell of primal, blinded fear which crashed and burned straight into a wracking, weeping sob, and tried to scramble away from the monster at any and all costs. Oh gods. Oh gods. No. No. No. No.
He was right up against the balcony wall, and he wasn’t even aware of the shift in gravity as his flailings toppled him over it, the warm smooth stone suddenly replaced with air and weightlessness. Milo gasped and choked in horror as he felt himself beginning to fall.
And as his vision cleared in the shock and he looked downwards, he saw Goldeneye, fast as an arrow, sat on the wall twenty feet below, his eyes laughing, his beak wide, wide open. The cat squealed with horror, twisting in the air as he fell, snatching desperately for the lip of the balcony above him, a grip which he never found. He landed, on his feet, cat-like, in just the sweet spot of Goldeneye’s open beak.
The gryphon’s maw split before the weight like a parting sea of pink, hungry flesh. In an instant, so fast he couldn’t even register the slippery transition, Milo was buried up to his knees in hot, clenching gullet. If he hadn’t been bending his legs as he entered, he might have slid in all the way, giving the monstrous “Emperor” a meal without having to even swallow.
Milo gave a whimper of overwhelmed dread, wobbling a little. The way the gryphon’s beak was pointed at the sky, he was effectively standing with his feet very, very tightly squeezed together, and balance was painfully difficult. He windmilled his arms desperately, toes squirming in the hot, tight embrace in a frantic attempt to stay upright, and Goldeneye’s throat rippled in laughter. It came out as a wet, bubbling gurgle. He flexed his neck, just a few inches, and was rewarded with renewed waving and twitching as the feline whined with terror. A long, thick tongue entwined with Milo’s legs, somehow squeezing its mass between his clamped-together thighs to properly embrace the flavour. The cat felt it lapping over his fur, drenching it completely in saliva. Tasting him.
He looked down and saw Goldeneye’s eyes, golden and purple alike, narrowed in pleasure and almost rolled up into his skull as he focused on the flavours slurped from his prey’s blue fur. In the haze of horror and misery, a spark of his anger rekindled at that. The gryphon wasn’t just murdering him, he was enjoying it enormously.
“Go… to… the h-hells…” he stuttered, trying to pull a leg free of the squeezing, pulsing, greedy flesh. Goldeneye’s eyes refocused, and he raised an eyebrow at his prey.
Didn’t you know, little kitten? I’m the First and Eternal. The gryphon’s voice coiled inside his skull, soft and teasing. It hadn’t even touched his ears. Goldeneye had his mouth full, so he simply spoke telepathically. Milo whined, shaking all over at the terrible alien consciousness hovering loathsomely close to his own. He could sense the enormity and the shattered wrongness of it. Goldeneye was worse than a monster. He was an abomination against the very idea of a living thing, and it hurt to sense him.
Death isn’t coming for me, and hell will wait. I’m going nowhere, save maybe to find a new slave to massage the softening bulge in my belly once this is done. And with that, he swallowed. The flesh around Milo’s legs was suddenly solid and muscular, swelling open and rippling up his body in an explosive spasm of pure predatory greed. It was a strange massage, over in a moment but still loud and wet and crushing any twitching resistance by Milo’s own weak mortal muscles to absolute nothingness. His legs were claimed, held in hot, heavy, all-encompassing flesh. His tail lashed against the roof of the gryphon’s maw, and Goldeneye began to purr through his nares, an odd sound coming from an avian creature.
The anger struggled feebly, but as little ripples and slurps inched the encompassing flesh up over Milo’s hips, it was fear and anguish which flooded over it. Milo’s snarls of rage and struggle faded to whimpers, to moans, to slow, rising sobs. He clutched at the edges of the gryphon’s open beak, trying to push himself out, but his limbs were shaking too much and besides that throat was stronger than his entire body. Goldeneye smirked, and lowered his head so that the feline would be nearly falling out of his beak without the devastating grip of his muscles. He stood perfectly balanced on the wall, paws - big and heavy enough to spread over both sides - lined up neatly while the gryphon worked his meal slowly down his gullet. All this appeared to Milo, upside down, as he twisted and squirmed helplessly in the sinking flesh, staring for a moment under the Emperor’s soft-feathered chest. He whimpered, catching sight of a soft, slightly heavy underbelly hanging silently between Goldeneye’s hind legs. That was where he was going. It almost seemed to call out to him with its ravenous, rapacious hunger.
Milo squealed with horror, pulling himself back up and bucking desperately against Goldeneye’s slurping tongue. His tail flicked wildly, bending painfully at the base as the wet flesh slowly claimed his hips and read. And in a small part of his head not consumed with terror, he realised that the gryphon was right.
“Please…”
Facing towards the ground, Milo couldn’t see the Emperor’s eyes from his increasingly confined position. And yet he felt certain that they were laughing at him. Every part of the cool, collected machine of logic and reason he had trained his mind into told him that there was nothing to do. There was not a set of words or actions in all the cosmos which could hope to save him from the gluttonous suckling of that fleshy throat. And yet he begged.
“Please, I… I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I swear I’ll… I’ll do anything for you, just… oh, g-g-gods, no, please, just stop, stop you c-can’t… you can’t do this…”
Nothing if not consistent, aren’t you? Goldeneye purred, his physical voice coming as simply a obscene, growling moan of pleasure at his prey’s wriggles and squirms. But I’m watching your mind, Milo. It’s delicious. And it knows that it’s wrong. I can do this. Nothing will stop me, because I have that power. But still you cling to it, because you want to be something else in life, other than a sinking bulge in my throat and nothing more ever again. Wanting things only makes them happen when you’re stronger than reality, little kitten. And now all I want is to taste you and slurp you down. Every last inch.
He swallowed again. The heat rose, claiming Milo’s stomach. His arms were starting to fold up towards his head, pushed by the edges of the gryphon’s beak. Most of him was by now inside the clenching, pulsing throat, and most of the rest of him was in the mouth, the air hot and humid and every squirm he gave knocking against soft, hot flesh. Goldeneye’s tongue snacked up his chest and neck and slathered itself against his face, smothering him in a greedy attempt to lap up every one of his tears. The gryphon gave another purring moan of delight, tasting every inch he could. Saliva was running into Milo’s eyes now. He was completely drenched, exhaustedly hot, and almost hyperventilating from terror.
“Nnnn!” he whimpered, gasping for breath as another gulp squeezed his diaphragm and drove the air from his flimsy lungs. “Nn-no, please, please, I… I d-didn’t, I didn’t mean… please, I swear I’ll d-do anything. Just give me... a… second… chance... Nnno, no, no… no… oh, gods, oh gods no…”
My point is proved. Goldeneye swallowed again, and Milo’s arms squeezed against his head, pressed together by the tight confines of the gryphon’s maw - but they were nothing to the unbearable pressure and heat which was pummeling the rest of his body into twitching, dripping submission. And now I claim what is mine and has always been. His tongue renewed its hungry affections on the cat’s face, pausing occasionally to entwine with his arms and slurp over them as well. Milo’s vision was now framed by a pair of fleshy jaws and the edges of the Emperor’s beak. Saliva began to drip into his eyes, but he couldn’t move his arms enough to wipe it off. Every movement he made seemed to let him slide a bit closer to the point of no return. His pleas died in his throat, his body seeming to lock up as the terror peaked once again. He was paralysed, a tiny mewing in the back of his throat the closest he could come to crying. “No… no… no…”
Goldeneye gave his neck a slow, rolling shake, letting the muscles of his throat grind and squeeze over every inch of quivering feline filling them. “Mmm…” he said physically, the sound coming out rather muffled from the blockage. You feel so good. The fact is, Milo, there’s nothing you could do, nothing on this planet or off it, which comes close to giving me as much pleasure as this. You were made to be swallowed. It’s the fulfilment of your whole life. The gryphon gave a half-swallow, not to take his meal down but simply to ripple his throat over it, crushing every muscle in Milo’s body simultaneously. Hold on a second. He delicately pivoted his gigantic bulk on top of the wall, balancing with graceful, measured ease, and turned around, facing now towards the city. Never let it be said I’m not a thoughtful owner, after all. I’ll give you a nice view.
Milo cringed at every word, unable to tell if he was crying or if it was just the rivulets of saliva pouring down his face. “No…” he whimpered, pouring every piece of misery into that one tiny word. “Please… just… I’m sorry… Just… give me...”
A second chance? That is the way of the law, isn’t it? People change, and can be redeemed. Their sins can be absolved. But my hunger, however… my belly, Milo, will never stop craving you. And I see no reason to deny it.
“Plea-”
And Goldeneye swallowed.
His body was sealed totally, the beak snapping shut in front of his face and plunging him into total darkness a half-second before the muscular gullet rose up and submerged his head in sweltering darkness. Milo’s word was choked off, his final scream not even audible as his lungs were squeezed until the pitch black was full of stars. Goldeneye’s body dominated him completely, absorbing even his twitches and quivers as it crammed him down into it. He felt his paws squeezing deeper, his body propelled with rippling spasms down, down, down into the depths of the gryphon’s body. He couldn’t move more than his eyelids and fingers, everything else utterly enslaved to the Emperor’s digestive tract.
“Nn…” he managed to splutter, but amidst the distant gurgles and the slow thunder of his heart, Goldeneye might not have even heard it.
Milo’s body was slowly bent as he slid deeper into the gryphon, curving to the line of Goldeneye’s throat as it twisted to horizontal and neared his belly. The feline’s flexible spine protested a little, and his ragged breaths gave way to a moan of pain and despair. The dark flesh squeezed in on him from all sides, and the open air a few feet away through flesh and fat and feathers might as well have been another universe. He had never felt so alone, so doomed.
Still want a second chance, little kitten? Goldeneye said, his voice completely casual. Milo’s paws broke into open air, wriggling with relief. The heat was almost painful, and he knew instantly what he was sliding into. The gryphon’s immense, engulfing body quivered with laughter. Oh, it is. Can you feel how much it wants to meet you? You know, from the way you squirm I could see you being useful now. But it’s too late. Nothing leaves my body alive.
Slowly and tortuously, Milo was slurped out into space as he had entered: painfully and miserably. He collapsed in the pit of Goldeneye’s stomach with a slosh, gasping at the hot, viscous liquid almost filling it completely. The stinging began instantly. Evidently the gryphon’s belly truly was waiting for him.
Milo surfaced from the pool gasping, spitting out globs of acrid fluid, and tried to push against the walls around him, mad, claustrophobic terror lending him fresh strength. But his body was exhausted with terror already, and the crushing heat had sapped it even more. And besides, there was no way out. The valve which had spewed him into this chemical furnace was sealed tight again.
The cat collapsed, barely managing to keep his head above the surging acids. Now he was starting to hurt. His skin felt raw, his midnight blue fur chafing against his very flesh. Milo leant against the squeezing, churning curve of the gryphon’s belly and wept. He tried to speak, to beg for just a moment of respite to prove his worth, but nothing came.
Defeated already? That’s fine, little thing. Once again, I predict you’ll still beg before the end. And squirm, too. Wriggle for your life. Goldeneye’s stomach sloshed back and forth, a rhythmic motion which Milo realised came from him walking. He knelt, groaning, and screamed a bubbling moan as his skin began to blister and melt. The agony pitched and rolled in time with the gryphon’s bloated belly, and once Goldeneye’s stomach began to squeeze in on him and crush the fluids into his bloodied skin, it felt even worse. Milo, sure enough, began to squirm, at first to try and get parts of his form out of the searing lake of horror, then simply to somehow escape the pain itself, and magically purge the fiery flames running through every cell in his body by sheer effort of frantic squirming. Now he tasted copper as well as stinging acid. The broken kitten screamed and sobbed, unable to comprehend this level of sheer pain, every cell pricked by a billion tiny red-hot swords.
Time passed. How long? All he knew was misery. He realised after a few screaming seconds that he hadn’t even noticed his sinking below the acid. His lungs were burning simply from the acidic fumes, not from asphyxiation. Goldeneye wasn’t letting him die before he squirmed all he could. Before he proved the gryphon right and begged.
Milo slumped in the pit of the gryphon’s belly, feeling his bones creak as the flesh squeezed him and crushed. Please… he thought, with no breath for words. You’re right. You’re right. Just let me die now. Let it end. Please. You’ve taken everything, now just… oh, it hurts, it hurts… please let me die.
Goldeneye caressed his mind, a tendril of thought propping it back to sanity just to appreciate its own agony. Awww, he purred. Didn’t take long, did it? See, Milo, I’m just not interested in “letting” you do anything. Your will doesn’t exist to me. Just “making” you do what I desire is what I’m into. And I’m going to make you mine.
He twisted something deep within Milo, and burned away his soul with the new heights of torment. The cat screamed until he didn’t know he was making sound or simply hearing the roar inside his skull. Slowly, searingly, he died.
The end came hot and burning, not cold, and it did not cease the pain. He wept with his last acid-filled breath, twitching. Milo tried to say something final, something worthy of his life. But all he could hear was his own pain.
He slumped, and the darkness beyond darkness claimed him. Another meal, another life. Another slave to the Emperor’s justice. And hunger.
But Goldeneye ‘s greatest pleasure was in the beautiful spirals of anguish he could create. He was a true sadist, and sadism demands not death, but domination. Death puts an end to that, and why should it?
Milo opened his eyes not in any afterlife, but in the sunlit air of the Emperor’s private quarters. He retched, choking out the memory of acid and agony, and fell to his knees, shaking all over. His body still should be burning, but his hands were clean and smooth-furred, his limbs unblemished. He was alive. He was alive? “W… what… what? What?”
A voice answered him, a terrible, dark purring voice which he would have preferred the tones of a demon to. “Oh, little kitten. Didn’t you say you wanted a second chance?”
The cat raised his head, still panting, and saw the gryphon’s eyes once again. Goldeneye smiled mercilessly, and raised one of his immense hind legs. His stomach spilled out over it, heavy and plump, distended with the still, churning mass of some poor soul sacrificed to it. No, he realised, still reeling at his own life. Not some poor soul. The poor soul of this body was knelt there, staring at the softening bulge.
The gryphon nodded, slowly, a sadistic smile spreading slowly over his beak. “Yes. This is your second chance, little kitten. I was feeling generous, and you gave me a wonderful massage. So welcome to your new duties. No more judgework, I’m afraid.”
Milo stared at him. He felt, suddenly, the tight, gripping leather of a collar around his neck. The Emperor smiled wider.
“First order of duty, slave, give my belly some love. It’s digesting a wonderful little feline possession of mine, and it would adore a good massage. Get to it. Your only purpose is to serve me, after all.”
Goldeneye smiled as the trembling feline hesitated, started to cry, and took a step towards his sloshing gut. It was a good day.
Goldeneye 2016.