The carriage cut through the oppressive darkness of the night. Within minutes, it arrived at a sprawling police station. The driver swung the door open with a creak.
"Enjoy your stay," the man said, his voice flat.
Elijah responded with a dry chuckle and a nod. Two uniformed officers approached.
"I'm Officer Eugene," said the first—a man in his mid-forties with sharp blue eyes and a medium build, his short hair peppered with gray.
"Officer Alexander," introduced the other, a younger man in his early twenties with tousled brown hair and watchful brown eyes.
"Follow us."
Elijah hesitated but complied. Inside the station, a woman sat at the front desk, her pen scratching across paperwork. She had sleek black hair with blunt bangs, glasses perched on her nose, and piercing blue eyes. Her lips, painted cherry red, curled into a smirk as she glanced up.
"What brings you boys here at this hour?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
Elijah shot Eugene a questioning look. The officer cleared his throat, retrieving a badge from his pocket—a raven-shaped emblem dangling from a chain.
The woman stood abruptly, leading them to a janitor's closet. She pressed the badge against the wall. A pulse of blue light flared, and the bricks groaned as they slid apart, revealing a hidden passage.
Elijah's breath caught. "Where does this lead?"
The officers exchanged glances, but the woman cut in. "That's not your concern yet."
They stepped through. The air twisted around them—colors warping, reds deepening to blood, blues sharpening to ice, greens fading to sickly gray. Then, blinding light erupted.
Elijah staggered, his eyes searing as if molten lead had been poured into them. Sweat drenched his body; his knees hit the ground. "W-What the hell—?!" His voice strangled in his throat. The heat vanished as suddenly as it came, leaving him gasping.
Elijah's eyes fluttered open. He lay slumped in a chair inside a sterile interrogation room. His body locked up before he could speak. (The hell?!)
The door opened. A tall woman strode in—brunette hair, amber eyes, a fitted navy suit. Her beige skin glowed faintly under the harsh lights. She took a seat across from him.
"Can I ask something?" Elijah croaked.
She nodded.
"Why am I here?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. A faint purple glint flickered in her gaze. "What's your relationship with Doctor Marcus?"
Elijah's skull split with pain. Memories surged—Marcus, his childhood friend. Their shared apartment in Aurelia. His disappearance.
"H-He was a friend. We went to university together. I haven't seen him in months." The words spilled out against his will.
"Did he contact you after vanishing?"
Agony lanced through his head. Blood trickled from his nose. "What do you want from me?!" His mouth filled with the metallic tang of blood.
She leaned closer. "The truth. Or this gets worse."
(This woman… she's the devil.)
"Do you know of the Demon Sect?"
Fire erupted in his veins. His body convulsed as if crushed in an iron maiden. "I don't know anything about the Demon Sect or the Ravens! Let me go!"
The door slammed open. A broad-shouldered man with black hair and ember eyes stormed in. "Victoria, what the hell are you doing? I never authorized this!"
Victoria didn't flinch. "Bruce, this man reeks of them. He might be one of their hounds."
Bruce ignored her, gripping Elijah's shoulder. "If he's with them, he'll survive. But stop breaking him."
Victoria's fingers ignited. She drove them into the back of Elijah's neck.
He screamed.
The pain dissolved into darkness. A figure materialized before him—a man in a black windbreaker and suit, seated on a high-backed chair. A gold-inlaid cane rested in his grip, etched with cryptic symbols.
"Who… are you?" Elijah rasped.
The man smiled. "They think you're with them… amusing." His eyes gleamed. "You might be a better candidate than the others."
He raised the cane. The symbols flared gray.
A swing—
Nothing.
"Good luck. You'll need it."
Laughter echoed as the vision shattered.
Back to Torture
Elijah's body arched against the chair. His screams tore his throat raw. His bound hands clawed at themselves until only shredded flesh and bone remained.
Bruce stood. "His mind's gone. He's brain-dead."
Victoria placed a hand on Elijah's forehead. Her palm glowed crimson. His skin blackened, peeling away until only a skull remained.
"Dispose of the body."
The guards dragged him out. Yet—somehow—Elijah still lived.
(Make it stop…)
Dumped in an alley, he lay motionless as carriages and motor vehicles blurred past. Days passed in unending torment.
"Kill me…"
"Make it stop!"
Darkness.
Elijah jolted awake. The same ceiling. The same room.
(A dream?)
He stumbled to the bookshelf. The Ten Gods of Solara stared back. He recoiled, backing into the desk. Outside, the blood-red moon glared down.
"Ahahaha… Why the hell am I here?!"
A knock at the door.
(That creature—)
His eyes darted to the window. Second floor. (Last time, the stairs felt endless… Was it an illusion?) No time. He kicked the chair aside, wrenched the window open, and jumped.