The moment I opened my eyes, I saw him.The blond one.He was kneeling on a floor so white it hurt to look at, the cold of it crawling up my bones even from where I lay. His hands were bound behind his back, wrists pulled tight. A blindfold covered his eyes, thick and dark, and his mouth was sealed with tape. A human stood behind him, pressing one of those metal sticks to his head.I growled low in my throat at the sight.
The sound echoed, ugly and wet.Only then did I realize how weak I felt.I hated it.
The room was blinding—walls, floor, ceiling, all white, all burning my eyes. Humans surrounded me in a wide circle, all holding their strange weapons, all shaking just a little. Chains dug into my body, wrapped around my limbs, my chest, my neck. Something hard and cruel was clamped around my mouth, forcing my jaws shut, stealing my teeth from me.I tried to rise.Fear spilled instantly.
It flooded the room like smoke—thick, sweet, delicious. My chest filled with it, my hunger stirring, sharp and aching. Yes… I thought. That's it.But then a boot slammed into my leg.Pain snapped through me, white-hot. Another kick followed, and I staggered, forced back down. I snarled and thrashed against the chains, muscles screaming—"MOVE AGAIN AND HE DIES."
The weapon pressed closer to the blond one's head.I froze.My body locked in place before my mind could catch up.Why?The question burned through me, sudden and furious. Why did that stop me? Why did he matter?My eyes snapped back to him.What is he doing here?What are they trying to do—with him… and with me?I stayed still, though every instinct screamed to tear the room apart. My gaze slid to the man holding the weapon, slow and deliberate, pouring every promise of violence I could into that look.He smirked.
That smirk—thin, confident, stupid.If I weren't chained.If my jaws weren't forced shut.If that blond thing weren't kneeling there, breathing, existing—I would have peeled the skin from that man while he screamed.I would have made him watch.
But I didn't.I waited.And for the first time since I was born into hunger and blood, I waited not because I was trapped—
…but because I wanted answers.
"TELL me!" he shouted. "You can understand what I'm saying, don't you?"
I grinned, forcing my teeth through the gaps of the cruel thing clamped over my mouth. The metal dug into my jaws, but it didn't matter. I tilted my head slowly… and copied him.
"Understand… me…"His voice.His tone.Perfect.
The room broke.Fear detonated everywhere—sharp, sour, choking. Humans staggered back, some shouting, some frozen in place. The blond one stiffened so violently it looked like his heart might tear itself apart right there on the white floor.
Weakling, I thought.The man behind him spoke—his voice no longer steady, no longer pretending to be in control.
"Don't—" he said hoarsely, the gun pressing harder into the blond man's skull. "Don't do that again."His breath shook.
"That thing isn't supposed to talk," he snapped at no one and everyone. "It's not supposed to understand."His eyes never left me."You hear me?" he shouted, voice cracking despite himself. "You're an animal. You don't think. You don't speak. You don't—"His words faltered."…What the hell are you?"
My teeth tore into the metal clamped around my mouth.It groaned beneath the pressure, bending—not breaking. Not yet.I mimicked him again."What… am… I…~"
The sound that came out of me wasn't just his voice anymore. It crawled, layered, warped—wrong in ways even I could feel. The room recoiled. Fear spiked so sharply it made my head swim.I lifted my gaze to him slowly, deliberately, locking eyes with the man holding the gun. I stared like a promise. Like something he would never wake up from.Like the nightmare I already was.Then I spoke again.
This time, every word came out in a different sound—different throats, different echoes, stitched together into one sentence."Your. Nightmare.~"
The silence afterward was absolute.The man with the gun swallowed hard.I could hear it.His fingers tightened around the trigger, knuckles whitening, sweat sliding down his temple. He tried to pull himself together, tried to sound like he was still in control."No—no games," he snapped. "You're going to tell me what you are."
I tilted my head.The chains rattled softly as I shifted my weight, metal scraping metal. The room leaned away from me as if the walls themselves wanted distance.
"What… I… am…?" I repeated, slow, tasting the words.
His breath hitched."Yes," he barked, forcing the word out. "That's an order. What are you? Where did you come from?"
I laughed.
It came out wrong—too many sounds layered together, a wet, broken mockery of human laughter that made several of them flinch. One man gagged. Another backed into the wall.I leaned forward as far as the chains allowed, lowering my head until my shadow stretched long across the white floor and crept over the blond one's knees."I am…" I began, then stopped.The man leaned in despite himself."…hungry."T>T
His face twisted in disgust and fear. "That's not an answer."
I mimicked him instantly, perfect.
"That's not an answer."Then my voice dropped, splitting into a whisper that crawled through the room like insects under skin."Ask better."He slammed the gun harder into the blond man's head. "DON'T—don't mess with me. You don't get to control this. You're restrained. You're contained."Contained.
I showed him my teeth again, metal still holding—barely.
"Contained," I echoed. Then softly, sweetly:"For now."Someone screamed behind him."Shut up!" he yelled at them, never taking his eyes off me. "Everyone shut up!"
He was shaking now. I could smell it—fear turning sharp, turning desperate.
"You're not some demon," he said, more to himself than to me. "You're not a god. You're not—"I cut him off.
"I have been called," I said, voices overlapping, "many things."
He flinched. "Like what?"
I leaned closer:
"Monster," I hissed.His breath stuttered.
A step back.
"Punishment."Another step.
"And once…" I tilted my head toward the blond one, chains clinking softly, "…mercy."
The gunman snapped. "ENOUGH. WHAT. ARE. YOU?"I stared at him for a long moment.Then I smiled wider than the thing on my mouth should have allowed.
And answered with his own voice.
"You already know."
The room broke into chaos—shouting, arguing, orders flying over each other—but the man didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me like he'd finally realized the worst truth of all:He wasn't interrogating me.He was surviving me.
And I was letting him.
At last, I stood.The chains screamed as I rose, metal biting deep into my flesh before snapping one by one with sharp, echoing cracks. Some still clung uselessly to me, hanging like dead weight. The thing clamped around my mouth groaned as I tore it apart, prying it open until it split and fell to the floor at my hooves.I spat.
Then I licked my teeth slowly.The man with the gun stood behind the blond one, the barrel pressed far too close to his head—so close I could smell the metal. His hands were shaking now. Not with anger. With fear.I leaned forward.
My body shifted, bones grinding, muscles stretching. Just an inch at first. Then more. My shoulders rose, my spine lengthened, my frame thickened until I stood as large as a moose, towering over them all.Better.
Not perfect.But enough."Take. It. Off."
The sound came out wrong—too deep, too layered, vibrating through the room like a wound opening. The man staggered, knees buckling, blood trickling from his ears as the noise tore through him.Others screamed.Weapons dropped.Some ran.
But the gun stayed where it was.Still at the blond one's head.That's what stopped me.I froze again—fur bristling, hunger roaring—because my eyes were locked on him. The one kneeling. The one breathing too fast. The one I still hadn't killed.
The gunman gasped, desperate now. "You move—" he choked, forcing the weapon closer, "—and I pull the trigger!"I stepped closer anyway.The floor cracked beneath my hooves."You won't," I said softly.
He screamed and fired—Not at me.At him.The sound tore through the room.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent.And then—I lost control.
The blond one collapsed to the floor.Blood spilled from his head, dark against the white tiles.
Something inside me snapped.I screamed.Not a sound—a force.
A roar so violent it felt like it tore straight out of my chest, packed with nothing but rage and fury. Humans clutched their heads as it hit them. Some dropped instantly. I heard wet cracks—skulls failing, bodies folding—like pressure bursting fragile things from the inside.
All of it born from my anger.I charged.In one motion, I lowered my head and took the man with the gun. One of my horns punched straight through his face—bone, teeth, skull—killing him instantly. I flung his body aside like trash, the corpse skidding across the floor and hitting the wall in a wet, final thud.Then I turned on the rest.
They were already firing.Gunshots filled the room, deafening, constant. Bullets tore into me—my shoulders, my chest, my sides—but it didn't hurt. Not really. The impacts were dull, meaningless, like rain striking stone.I was about to move again—Then I froze.
Breathing hitched in my chest.
My eyes dropped.
The blond one.
Still alive.
The shot had missed.
Barely. A strip of his hair was gone, skin torn open where the bullet had grazed him, blood trailing down his temple—but his chest was still rising. Still falling.Alive.I stared.Why…?
I stepped forward without thinking and placed myself between him and the gunfire. Bullets slammed into my back, my sides, my neck. Sparks flew where metal struck bone and horn.I stood there.Taking all of it.Why was I doing this?
I didn't understand it. I didn't want to understand it. My instincts screamed at me to kill everything in the room—to finish him, too—but my body refused to move the way it should have.
I snarled, low and furious, eyes lifting to the humans still firing.Their fear spiked when they realized.I wasn't advancing.I was shielding.Their shots faltered.
Some stopped.Some ran.Good.
I turned my head slightly, glancing down at the blond one, unconscious and bleeding at my feet."…Stay," I growled, not sure who the word was meant for.
Then I lifted my head, blood dripping from my horns, and roared again—this time not in rage, but in command.And the room finally broke apart completely.
Some of them stopped firing.They stared at each other, wide-eyed, breathless—finally understanding what they were trapped with.Others panicked.Idiots.
They turned and ran, slamming through the exit and sealing the heavy door behind them. Metal locks snapped into place with a sharp final clack.The room fell quiet.
Just me.The blond one on the floor.And the ones who hadn't been fast enough.
I licked my teeth.
Slowly, I rose to my full height, rolling my shoulders as bullets and broken metal slid from my body and clattered uselessly to the floor. The wounds barely existed anymore—already closing, already forgotten.I shook once, hard.The last shots fell free.Then I moved.
I dashed through them like a storm unleashed in a cage. Bones shattered under my hooves. Bodies lifted from the ground and smashed into walls. I dragged one screaming human into another, crushed skulls together, ripped throats open with teeth and horn and sheer force.Screams didn't last long.
One by one, they ended.When it was finally over, the room was quiet again—white walls painted dark, the floor slick beneath my hooves.
I stood alone among the dead.My chest rose and fell fast, anger still boiling under my skin. I hated this place. The light. The smell. The walls closing in around me.
I turned in a slow circle, scanning for exits, vents, cracks—anything.I needed out.
And fast.Because cages make me angry.
And when I stay angry too long…
Things start breaking whether I want them to or not.