Eric jolted awake, the cold slap of reality sharper than any nightmare. Ice-cold water streamed down his face, a cruel baptism that dragged him from the fragmented haze of unconsciousness. He gasped, but his breath caught in his throat as a burning agony bloomed across his body. His vision sharpened, drawn to the source of his torment.
The silver chains gleamed in the dim light, their tight coils tightly attached to his chest, and legs. Each link seemed alive, its surface bubbling and smoking where it touched his flesh. The scent of charred skin mixed with the acrid tang of blood filled the air, a nauseating perfume of pain. Flesh hissed and sizzled, peeling back to expose raw muscle beneath the relentless embrace of the metal.
Eric's breathing turned to ragged gasps as the agony tore through him like molten iron. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain screaming through his nerves. His muscles twitched involuntarily, pressing harder into the chains and deepening the wounds they carved into him. Blood seeped from the cuts, running along the silver's surface, leaving streaks of crimson as it dripped onto the stone floor below.
He writhed, his body instinctively trying to recoil from the searing metal, but the chains tightened in response, digging deeper into his flesh as if mocking his futile resistance. Just then a familiar voice, cold and detached, echoed from the shadows, sending a chill deeper than the chains ever could.
"Silver doesn't just bind you," Grayson said, his voice low and deliberate as he stepped into the dim light. "It consumes you. It seeps into your flesh, burns your essence, and reminds you what it feels like to be mortal again. I suppose that's justice for a leech like you."
Eric gritted his teeth, his head snapping back as another wave of agony coursed through him. The silver chains hissed against his blistered skin, the metallic bite burrowing deeper as if alive. His breath hitched, but he refused to scream. He wouldn't give this man the satisfaction.
"Justice?" Eric rasped, his voice cracked but dripping with venom. "The only thing here is how your arrogance will taste when I rip your throat out."
Grayson smirked, unfazed, and crouched to meet Eric's bloodshot gaze. His dark coat rustled like a predator shifting its weight. "Bold words for someone who smells like burning flesh. Tell me, Eric, does the immortality you now clutch so desperately feel worth it now? Or are you starting to remember what fear feels like?"
Eric lunged forward, the chains snapping taut with a cruel hiss, tearing into his already raw wrists. A strangled cry escaped his throat before he could swallow it down, his body trembling with the effort to defy the restraints. The room filled with the acrid stench of charred skin, mingled with his own blood.
Grayson chuckled, cold and unfeeling. "Look at you—still fighting when you're already beaten. That fire in your eyes? It's going to die out, just like the others. Slowly. Painfully." He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against Eric's ear. "I've broken stronger monsters than you."
Eric's head lolled forward, his vision blurring with pain. But somewhere, deep within the agony, something darker stirred. A flicker of rage. Hatred. It clawed its way to the surface, fueling him even as his body threatened to collapse.
Eric growled, his lips twisting into a defiant, bloodstained smile."You haven't broken me yet and you never will."
Grayson's smirk faltered for a brief second, just enough for Eric to notice. That flicker of hesitation ignited the ember within him, fanning it into a roaring blaze of defiance. Grayson straightened, his composure quickly restored, but the weight of Eric's hatred hung heavy in the air.
"Careful, parasite," Grayson growled, his voice low and sharp, each word a blade against Eric's resolve. "You don't get to look at me like that when you're the one chained like a rabid dog. Know your place."
Eric let out a dry, rasping laugh, his lips curling into a blood-stained grin. "Fuck you, Grayson...all of this—" he hissed through clenched teeth, the pain sharpening his defiance, "all of this be damned."
The answer came swiftly—a brutal fist across his face. The crack of the impact echoed through the cold, stone walls. Eric's head snapped to the side, blood spilling from his split lip as he spat it out onto the floor. A bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth, but he didn't let the scream rising in his throat escape. Instead, he slowly turned back to meet Grayson's gaze head on. Even now, even as his body burned and broke, he dared to hold onto his hatred.
Grayson's lips twisted into a sneer, though there was a flicker of irritation behind his cold eyes. "What did I tell you?" His voice was dangerously calm, but it carried the weight of a storm. "A parasite should know its place in a world like this."
The boot came next. Grayson drove it into Eric's ribs with precision and cruelty, the force of it enough to make the chains groan as Eric's body jolted violently. The sickening crack of bone filled the air, and for a moment, Eric's vision blurred. He gasped sharply, his body writhing against the relentless embrace of the silver, which hissed and bit into him as if feeding on his torment. The pain radiated in waves, and for a fleeting moment, panic crept in—a deep fear of helplessness. But he buried it, shoved it down where Grayson couldn't see.
Through labored breaths, Eric forced his lips into a smirk, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Still so scared of me... even now?" The words were a gamble, a desperate taunt meant to cut deeper than any blade. But even as they left his mouth, he couldn't bring himself to believe them. The smirk felt hollow, forced—a mask for something he didn't quite understand. Fear, maybe. That's what this was supposed to feel like, wasn't it? The tightening in his chest, the prickling of unease crawling up his spine.
He didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't do anything but speak, spit venom like it might save him. His body was broken, the silver chains sapping his strength with every second they held him, burning away the illusion of invincibility he clung to. And beneath his defiance, deep in the pit of his stomach, was something he refused to name.
Fear? No. It had to be something else—an emotion he couldn't define, one he couldn't afford to understand. Instead, he pressed into the role, pretending his words carried weight, pretending he wasn't bound and helpless. Even if he felt the cracks spreading through his resolve.
Grayson crouched, his face mere inches from Eric's. The hunter's breath was steady, his expression cold and calculating. "Scared? No, Eric," he said softly, the mockery in his voice cutting like a blade. "If anything, I'm fascinated. You see, my orders are clear: I don't get to kill you. No matter how much I'd enjoy that… no, you're too valuable for that. A vampire like you, tied to Alaric, is a prize my captain is determined to claim."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "But don't think for a second that means you get to walk away from this. Since I can't kill you, I'll settle for making your life a living hell. Day by day, I'll strip away every ounce of defiance, every shred of who you think you are. When I'm done, all that will be left of you is a hollow shell ready to serve the cause."
Grayson's eyes gleamed with cruel purpose as he studied Eric's bloodied, bound form. "You're going to break, Eric. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But you will. And when you do, you won't just obey—you'll want to. You'll beg for it. You'll see this is all you're worth. And I'll enjoy every second of watching you fall apart."
The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, Eric felt the weight of inevitability. He swallowed hard, his throat burning against the dryness.He swallowed hard, his throat raw, but the dryness didn't go away. He tried to summon his usual defiance, to mold his expression into something mocking, unbothered. But his body betrayed him—the slight tremor in his jaw, the way his gaze darted, just for a second, toward the shadows of the room, as if seeking an escape he knew didn't exist.
For a brief second, Grayson's eyes lingered on Eric. "Welcome to your new home, parasite," he said over his shoulder. "Let's see how long it takes before you stop pretending you're not afraid."
Eric slumped against the chains ,his entire body screamed in pain, the scent of burning flesh and blood suffocating the air around him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, swallowing the fear that had begun to creep into his mind. Grayson might think he had won, but Eric knew better. Beneath the pain, beneath the despair, the ember of his rage still burned.
Eric's bloodshot eyes flickered with hatred, his lips parting to form a retort, but Grayson cut him off, chuckling darkly. "Oh, I get it. You've got fight left in you. Good. It's always more fun that way." He straightened, his boots grinding against the concrete as he circled Eric like a predator. "See, I know your type.But let me let you in on a little secret."
He stopped suddenly, crouching down again and locking eyes with Eric, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "Even gods bleed. And when they do? They realize how human they really are."
Grayson pulled back, his face twisted with fury and satisfaction, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But as he stood there, staring down at Eric's battered and broken form a sudden need emerged—a need not just to punish but to destroy. He stepped back to a table laden with tools of torment and picked up a coiled silver whip.
The whip coiled in Grayson's hand like a serpent, its barbed strands glinting with malice in the dim light. He flexed it, testing its weight, letting the tension stretch between them. "You think you know pain?" he murmured, his voice low and venomous. "You haven't even touched the surface."
Eric hung limply in the chains, his body trembling under the strain. His head lifted with an agonizing slowness, and though his face was pale and his breath labored, his eyes burned with a stubborn fire. It wasn't defiance—no, not anymore. It was survival, a flicker of instinct clinging to the edges of reason.
The first crack of the whip shattered the silence, slicing through the air like a blade. It struck Eric across the chest, the barbs sinking into his flesh before tearing free, leaving a gash that smoked faintly from the silver's poison. His body jerked violently, a guttural sound tearing from his throat, somewhere between a cry and a snarl. The pain wasn't just physical—it was invasive, crawling beneath his skin, into his very being.
Grayson didn't hesitate. The second lash came quicker, carving a cruel path down Eric's side. "Do you feel it yet?" Grayson barked, his voice rising with each strike. "This is what happens when you defy us. When you cling to the scraps of your pride instead of kneeling."
Eric gasped, his head snapping back against the chains as another lash kissed his ribs. Blood spilled freely now, pooling at his feet, the sickly scent mingling with the sharp tang of burnt flesh. His hands clenched into fists, the chains biting into his wrists as he fought to keep his voice steady, to bite back the screams clawing at his throat.
"Is this what fear tastes like?" Grayson's voice was a taunt, dripping with malice as he circled Eric like a predator savoring its prey. "You're breaking. I can see it in your eyes. You think you can hold on, but we'll strip you of everything. Your pride, your strength, your identity."
Another lash, this time across Eric's back, sent him reeling. His head sagged forward, blood dripping from his mouth as he coughed violently. His vision blurred, the edges darkening, but the words still came, hoarse and barely audible.
The chamber reverberated with the sound of the whip slicing through the air, its cruel barbs finding purchase in Eric's flesh once again. He screamed, raw and guttural, the sound tearing from his throat like a wounded animal. His body writhed against the chains, blood pooling at his feet in a crimson testament to his torment.
"This," Grayson spat, his voice laced with venom, lashing the whip across Eric's back, "is for every innocent you've stolen." The strike ripped through skin and muscle, sending a fresh wave of agony coursing through Eric's body. His scream fractured into gasping sobs, his head snapping back as his body jerked involuntarily.
Another crack of the whip split the air. The barbs tore across Eric's side, carving deep furrows that wept blood. "This is for every family you've torn apart," Grayson snarled, his words punctuated by the wet sound of flesh splitting open. Eric's cries grew louder, more desperate, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls.
Grayson paced around him like a predator circling wounded prey. His lip curled in a snarl as he raised the whip high again. "And this…" His chest heaved with exertion, his voice sharp with envy and hatred. "This is for daring to think you could ever be above me—with Alaric by your side."
The whip lashed out, its barbs embedding themselves in Eric's abdomen this time. The tug to free it was brutal, tearing flesh in its wake. Eric's scream pierced the air, shaking the very walls. His head slumped forward, blood dripping from his mouth as his body convulsed, barely held together by the chains.
But through the agony, through the haze of searing pain, something stirred deep within him. A flicker of heat, like an ember catching fire. Eric's bloodied fingers twitched against the chains as the faint memory of the dream surfaced—a man cloaked in darkness, his power radiating like a storm, commanding the world to bend to his will. For a brief, maddening moment, Eric thought he could reach it—that power, that fire.
He clenched his teeth, his vision blurring, and tried to summon it, his body straining against the chains. His screams turned to a low, guttural growl, his muscles trembling as something ancient and dangerous clawed its way to the surface.
Grayson saw it. The slight shift in Eric's expression, the flicker of something defiant sparking to life behind his eyes. He snarled, raising the whip with both hands. "No, you don't," he hissed. "You don't get to feel hope."
The whip cracked again, harder than ever, tearing into Eric's already ravaged back. Eric's eyes widened, the power slipping from his grasp as another scream was ripped from his lungs. It was a scream born of more than pain—it was despair, the crushing weight of knowing he couldn't grasp what he'd glimpsed, that it was just beyond his reach. The ember within him dimmed, smothered by the relentless onslaught of pain.
Grayson crouched low, his face close to Eric's, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "You're nothing," he whispered. "Not without him. And I'll make sure you feel that—every lash, every moment. You'll never forget it." He stood again, the whip coiling in his hand like a living thing, ready to strike once more.