The Lord of Veins | Shadow Slave

How much time was truly spent in those lands? How could he ever know? He had arrived as swiftly as he had departed, and now, looking back, it felt all too distant, even though it seemed like just yesterday.

Everything seemed to rest in the hands of forces beyond his control. Every action, predetermined, dictated by someone else's will. Even when he donned the guise of authority, the truth that it was merely a facade lingered in the air.

He recounted every detail, sparing no nuance. And, when he reached the end of his tale, he found himself staring blankly at an imaginary tome that was his time in that realm. Universally it could be seen as a story tainted with sickness—crafted by a creator who must have been a profoundly lonely individual, intent on spreading the plague of their own existence.

By the weight of his own life, he loathed fate.

Jerika lifted her eyes from her clipboard, where her pen had been rapidly taking notes from their discussion. She paused, allowing herself to gather her thoughts.

"You're saying that she was the vessel for this goddess? Who exactly was this goddess?"

She asked, her voice was steady, but her tone hinted at a deep-seated interest.

As he processed the question, his foot tapped rapidly against the cold tiles beneath him. He picked his fingers, eyes fixed on the surface of the metal table.

"Her name was never spoken."

His words came out in a rush, leaving an odd silence behind. Jerika uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, propping herself on the table with her elbow. She tilted her head slightly, her fingers tapping against the side of her temple, as if she were dissecting each and every word.

"Was there anything in particular about this goddess that stood out to you?"

"The moon and blood..."

"The moon and blood," she echoed, quickly jotting it down on her clipboard.

"And you said this goddess is dead?"

"Yes."

Jerika continued to scribble for a few moments. When she finally finished, she looked up to find his head bowed, he was fixed on the surface of the table, avoiding her eyes entirely.

"I'm sorry for drilling you with questions," her voice softened.

She lifted her clipboard, flipping through the pages.

"Let's just make sure I've covered everything."

"We went over your Aspect and your flaw—both of which will require further evaluation. You also passed the cognitive test I provided…"

She inhaled, lifting her eyes off the paper.

"I believe that's everything for now."

"I am here to help you with anything. You just need to ask." She added.

He remained silent. He didn't know how to ask for her help, or what to even ask for.

"Do you need anything in particular?" She spoke again, pressing more.

Zerin shook his head. He was fine. Or so he convinced himself.

Jerika stretched her arms above her head and yawned, breaking the overbearing silence.

"How about this: tomorrow, I'll take you out to breakfast. You'll be staying here for a while, anyway, up until you finally get sent into the dream world, at least.

She drummed her fingers on the glinting surface of the metal table with a playful tempo. "Okay?"

Zerin nodded, his eyes following her reluctantly as she stood.

"Well, I'm going to go fetch the idiot who's supposed to be here already to escort you to your room," She stated with a playful annoyance in her tone.

She grabbed the cuffs resting on the table, twirling them around her index finger as she jutted her hip to the side, clipboard and pen were held in her other hand.

Zerin nodded in response. The cuffs continued to spin around her finger while the click of her heels echoed against the sterile floor, fading into the distance as the door clicked shut behind her.

Left alone in the room, Zerin slumped over the cold metal table, resting his head against its surface. He gazed up at the blinking red light of the surveillance camera watching him.

A few mind-numbing moments passed by before the door swung open once again.

Standing in the doorway was a face Zerin recognized—the man with white hair.

Master Cael wore civilian clothes—a simple grey t-shirt with jeans that fit well. Though the shirt was plain, it clung to his frame in a way that displayed his toned physique. The jeans are stylish yet practical, but what truly set Cael apart was a quality that transcended his wardrobe. His posture and the energy he gave off was that of a quiet confidence, commanding attention without the need for a single word.

"How did the little chat go, Jerika?" He asked, his tone held casual.

It went well. He didn't lie once." She replied with a steady voice.

"You used your aspect ability on him?! What if he lied?" Cael's eyes widened.

"Relax!" Jerika scoffed, playfully slapping his shoulder. "I lowered its potency so he wouldn't get too hurt."

Jerika pinched Cael on the neck, causing him to jump reflexively.

"Ow, what the hell?"

Cael turned and stepped back from her, only to let his shoulders drop as he noticed her holding a badge in her hand.

"Yeah, that's right. You know the rules—You need to wear it, or your precious paychecks will be heavily deducted as a fee," she said, wagging a finger at him. Then, with a rising playful smile, she added, "Plus, you look good with it on."

Never has there been a more desperate man. Immediately, Master Cael clipped the badge onto his shirt, to only have the door slam shut in his face a moment later.

"What a charmer…" Cael muttered.

He spun around, kicking his leg out in frustration as he turned to Zerin.

Master Cael sighed and faced Zerin. "Can you believe that chick?"

Zerin simply looked at Cael, saying nothing in response.