Pact of the Broken Sun
Chapter 5 - Echoes of Defiance (2)
Location: Earth - The Undercity Enclosure
Year: Y.P. 100
Designation: The Collapsed Realm
Kaelen Vance awoke abruptly, the sensation of sun-kissed skin alien and startling. He instinctively glanced towards the grimy window. The sky, which had been perpetually overcast for a century, remained a bruised expanse of black, yet he could discern the faint, ethereal movement of thick cloud layers slowly drifting apart, revealing slivers of mutated, pale moonlight. The torrential downpour had ceased perhaps fifteen minutes prior, but outside, he could still make out the shadowy figures of voluntary guards moving through the courtyard, some with makeshift coverings over their heads. A strange, muted commotion seemed to be stirring in the yard.
Kaelen tried to get a clearer view outside, pressing his face closer to the cold glass. But as soon as his eyes caught even the faintest glimmer of that mutated moon-glow, a fierce, pounding headache erupted behind his eyes. It was a searing wave of pain, a familiar agony from the previous night, but strangely, it wasn't as unbearable as before. Like a sudden phantom, it swelled and then receded, disappearing entirely within moments. The fleeting headache seemed to be a grim reminder of the terrifying events that had transpired just hours ago.
However, when he deliberately tried to recall the specifics of what had happened last night – the bear trap, the Thrall, the mysterious intervention – a sharp, incapacitating pain lanced through his skull. This time, the agony was too immense for him to bear; it felt as if an unseen force was trying to forcibly rip his head into two, tearing apart the very fabric of his memories. As soon as he involuntarily recoiled, instinctively jerking his mind away from the recollection, the pain stopped as abruptly as it began. It was as if some unseen, powerful entity within his own mind was actively trying to block him from remembering the true horrors of the preceding night, protecting him from a truth too profound.
Despite whatever force was attempting to seal off his memories, one chilling detail stubbornly clung to Kaelen's consciousness: a vague, unsettling notion that he had only a cycle or so left to live as a mere human being, and then he would undergo a final, irreversible transformation into something... else. He flung himself out of bed, his eyes immediately darting to the floor underneath. Sure enough, his battered sack, containing all the meager items he had painstakingly collected for his escape, was there. Intact. This meant he hadn't actually left the enclosure, after all... yet, the sensation of having been outside, of having faced unimaginable terror, felt undeniably real.
'Maybe it was a nightmare after all...' he thought, a desperate, fragile hope flickering in his heart as he sank back onto his cot, still reeling.
He was still in the middle of trying to sort out his fractured reality when a thunderous pounding erupted from his cell door, shaking the very framework of the dilapidated structure. Yes, he lived in a solitary cell, a 'privilege' afforded to him, while the vast majority of other human captives were forced to share a sprawling, overcrowded barn for their rest. Not only that, they had to share countless common commodities: a single communal washroom, lukewarm showers, and rusty utensils. But not Kaelen.
His isolated room, small and perpetually damp, contained everything a man needed to live in relative comfort. A private washroom and shower, a continuous, albeit weak, supply of clean water, and even a primitive, jury-rigged heater. Again, it was all thanks to him being 'marked' by the Alpha Matriarch; a grotesque symbol of his supposed 'honor.'
None of these amenities were present when he was initially marked, of course. They had been constructed later, upon the Matriarch's personal decree. She apparently didn't want her 'pretty little mutt'—her chosen future Lunar Striker—to endure any discomfort, especially after the trauma of losing his parents. That being said, Kaelen's burning hatred for the Lunar Strikers and everything they stood for ran far deeper than any fleeting need for comfort. He had spent twelve years in that miserable barn, living like a caged animal, and he wasn't about to change his defiant ways for the last four years of his life, especially not now that freedom was so agonizingly close.
Kaelen's simmering thoughts were once again interrupted by the relentless, loud banging on his door. Judging by the impatient, almost arrogant rhythm of the knocking, he knew it was the Lunar Strikers' voluntary guards—the human sycophants—there to either force him to eat some unappetizing gruel or to administer some petty punishment. He rose, his jaw clenched, and moved to open the door, completely prepared to take a physical blow for making them wait, as was often the case.
However, something entirely unexpected happened. Although he was correct that the guards were knocking, once he pulled open the heavy, creaking door, he didn't receive the expected punch. Instead, he felt a warm, strangely gentle pressure on his head, a deliberate pat.
Kaelen's eyes, narrowed in anticipation of pain, snapped open in shock. He immediately reeled back, his body recoiling in raw surprise as he saw who was standing directly in front of him. It was none other than The Alpha Matriarch herself, flanked by her hulking, silent Lunar Striker bodyguards. Seeing her here was a profound shock. Despite owning them all, she rarely, if ever, deigned to visit the grimy, human enclosure. Her presence was unsettling, an ominous sign.
'What are they doing here? There should still be four cycles until I turn sixteen…' Kaelen's thoughts were etched clearly across his face, a raw vulnerability that the Matriarch seemed to read in an instant.
Her ruby-like eyes, cold and intelligent, gleamed with an unsettling excitement as they raked over Kaelen's rapidly changing, now more muscular body. Her long, blonde hair, braided with bone fragments and metallic rings, fluttered behind her, catching the strange lunar glow. Meanwhile, her imposing group of bodyguards, all hulking Lunar Strikers, rushed past her into his small room, moving with surprising efficiency as they began to pack his meager belongings into a rough canvas bag.
Kaelen tried to turn his head, to understand the bewildering chaos unfolding around him, but for some inexplicable reason, his eyes were locked onto the Matriarch. She had not stopped smiling, a subtle, predatory curve of her lips, ever since she first saw him. He forced his gaze upwards, studying her angular, almost triangular face, and realized with a jolt that she looked even younger, more vibrant, than he remembered from his childhood. Her brown skin, which he recalled as dull and scarred, now seemed to glow with an inner luminescence, even beneath the eternally clouded sky of the Collapsed Realm. Next, Kaelen's attention was drawn to her small nose and full, almost puffy lips. He tried to stop his gaze there, to regain control of his senses, but it was as if his eyes weren't his own anymore. The next second, he found himself involuntarily taking in her entire form, his gaze trailing over her powerful physique. Her arms were far more muscular than his, rippling with coiled power, coupled with a thick, powerful torso.
Her well-stacked breasts strained against the confines of her black leather corset, which seemed to be doing its best to contain them, her well-defined waist narrowing dramatically before flaring out to impossibly long, powerful legs that promised terrifying speed and strength. It was a physique of deadly, predatory grace.
"You are quite lively for someone who has been sleeping for about four cycles, Kaelen Vance." The Matriarch's voice, a low, resonant purr, seemed to snap him out of his strange, involuntary trance. Her ruby eyes gleamed with a calculating light. "Not to mention your body looks… surprisingly developed, unlike what I was told by Thorne. I wasn't aware that human puberty could do such things… interesting."
Kaelen hadn't noticed it himself, so consumed was he by the dizzying events and the strange sensations in his head. But now that the Matriarch had pointed it out, he glanced down at his own form. His physique had indeed changed, drastically, for the better. He caught his reflection in a small, cracked shard of mirror hanging on the wall – and was utterly shocked by what he saw. He had grown several inches, his previous scrawny frame now replaced by a taut, lean musculature that made him look remarkably similar to one of the younger Lunar Striker guards. His body had transformed into something entirely different from who he was just days ago. He was utterly confused as to what was happening, and then, the Matriarch's words clicked. The memory of the system messages from the previous night, the words "Transformation successful" and "7 cycles" flashed in his mind.
"I was asleep for four cycles?" he softly mumbled, the realization a cold dread in his stomach. The missing time, the sudden growth, the lack of wounds… it all made a horrifying, impossible sense.
However, before anyone could reply, before Kaelen could even process the full implication of his transformation, the Lunar Striker bodyguards moved. One of them, a massive figure, wrapped a rough piece of thick, dark cloth around Kaelen's head, blinding him instantly. He was then roughly but efficiently dragged outside, pulled from the only 'home' he had ever known. The cold, final realization settled in: it was time for Kaelen Vance to join them.