At some point, the numbness subsided, and searing pain spread throughout his body. At times it felt as if someone was pricking him with white-hot needles piercing down between the layers of his muscle to scrape against the bone. His insides roiled and curled in nausea that he was powerless to prevent. Heaving the acrid liquid up his raw throat from his stomach for it to spill over down his jaw. During those times he was unable to get a breath in, though breathing in itself felt rough, like breathing in the sand, only for it to grind against the sensitive tissue of his lungs.

His world had been narrowed down to this, darkness and a seemingly never-ending stream of torturous pain. Someone's cruel joke in the last moments of his life. In the feverish throws of nightmares, he dreamt of her. Between the silent screams of agony, he thought of her.

The last person he had seen before his world had shrunk to this tormented being's whims. This spec of existence had his mind pleading for them to just kill him and let the Guide show him the path. To let him … die.

He didn't even know how long he was under the ministrations of his molester. The passing of time relevant to him in only that the pain was lessening. Not because they were stopping, but because he was becoming immune to the inflictions.

"I was wondering when you was going to wake," said a feminine voice. The language was foreign but he understood her just fine.

His dry tongue darted to lick his lips before opening his mouth to speak. However, before he was able to get a sound out a finger pressed against his cracked lips.

"Hush now, you won't be able to speak right away, the magic hasn't fixed your throat fully," the feminine voice whispered. He realized she had been speaking softly before too, but it sounded almost as if she had a raised voice. He tried to move his arms to take the blindfold off. "Gentle now, it's best if you just relax for a bit longer." He could feel her warm touch on his forearms.

This wasn't the woman of his nightmares or his racing thoughts. Her hands were too gentile, too soft. He felt a shift in whatever he was laying on, a table most likely. He could feel the pressure of the woman leaning over him before something brushed against his mouth.

"You must be thirsty after such a long time... but take it slow," the voice cooed.

They wanted to humiliate him more, the torture wasn't enough, and now they wanted to take his pride by making him drink from a nipple cup.

He worked his mouth for a moment, his throat was very sore and swollen the air being pushed through it felt like he had swallowed a hand full of metal shavings from a blacksmith's forge.

"Burn in cauldron fire," he got out, but that little bit had cost him much of his energy, his limbs shaking from the effort.

A few breaths before his face exploded in pain and a resounding crack echoed in the chamber. Whatever had hit him it wasn't her delicate hand.

"I wasn't giving you a choice," the woman scorned. The object that struck him glided over his chin to turn his head back towards the woman, even though he couldn't see her. "I will not tolerate disobedience, if I must I will weave more spells into your flesh."

He felt her shift and the nipple cup was back to his lips. "Soon enough you will be thanking me for stitching you back together," she almost purred closer to his face. "I couldn't leave such a specimen like you in the snow to rot. Now drink slowly."

The desire to rebel against her again was overwhelming. There were several factors why he didn't and just opened his mouth to allow the bottle entry. At this acceptance, the female ran her nails gently over the side of his face, as if praising him. She shushed and cooed at him like she would a fussing child. Admittedly the water felt good and his mouth seemed to soak it up much like dry earth.

"Much better," the voice sounded pleased as the water was taken away. He felt her move off the table. "I am impressed, you managed to talk on your first days awake. The others in your group were not so lucky. Even while I worked on them they decayed."

He remained motionless, blinking at the darkness the blindfold provided. Why stop her when she was giving him information?

She was a short distance away and there was clinking and clacking of glass and metal.

"It is a shame," she lamented, "even looking at you now, you are not lacking, perhaps, if you are a good boy, I will use you for more than just my personal assassin and warrior..." there was the sound of something plopping into a liquid. "But make no mistake my little construct, you will do want I order you to do, if not willingly than by spell, and I know you still feel the after-effects of my other spells."

She was the cause of the agony? He tilted his head slightly an indication that he was still listening.

"Hmm?" she hummed confirming that she was paying attention to where he was located. "Oh, don't blame me for your current condition, that can be all pinned on the princess commander," the lustful grin was clear in her voice. There was a soft moan from the woman, "ah just thinking about her on my table where you now lay."

He had no care for her perverse fantasies and almost wished he could stop listening.

He had a sharp intake of breath when he suddenly felt her nails against his chest and scrape downward. His arms and legs strained against the cuffs. "No, you have her to blame for your condition, but me to thank for bringing you back, and giving you a second chance. A chance to bring her to my table, and a chance to watch and see what kind of monstrosity she will become."

Her breath was hot against his cheek as she spoke with passion.

"Yes," she whispered. "That is your purpose for now... but before you go to her... you will need to learn, and train your new self."

Her weight vanished from his chest and he took in several gulps of air.

"You are sadly not in peek condition. But you have taken to the change well, and I think it will suit you just fine," she explained. "I will take your praise and thanks when you are more easily able to speak."

Then the blindfold was removed. A snow blue-colored woman with black hair pinned up in a messy bun, and soulless black eyes stared back at him. Her lips were pained a dark purple and she wore a black purple hanfu-styled dress with a silk shawl. Her nails and fingers were black tipped and when she smiled she had teeth like a shark.

Even if he could speak he would be stunned into silence.

The woman licked her lips with an inky black tongue. "Beautiful aren't I?" she said and placed a hand against her cheek. She glared down at him, and all he could do was give one single nod of a head. "Oh you flatter me," she leaned over. "But don't worry I will make sure you have plenty of time to rest."

With a gentle chaste kiss on his still-cracked lips, she backed away. "Do make sure you rest my construct, I expect a quick recovery."