Empires of Saturn, Part One

Chapter 7, "Jeodes"

Chpt. 7 "Jeodes"

After a while sitting on his cushion beside the pole, Dryan managed to fall asleep, resting his very weary body, but unfortunately for him, his mind did not get such relief.

He was dreaming, memories flowing through the shadow of his consciousness, just fluidly enough for him to dream them without waking. He was 8 years old, and he was sitting in a small room by himself on the metal bench built into the wall. With all the metal composing the bronzy room, a single, yellowish light in the ceiling providing no warmth, combined with his thin clothes that were meant for the outside weather, Dryan was cold.

He had his knees pulled up to his chest, his wings and arms wrapped around them, and his tail wrapped around his feet. He had his head buried in the cocoon of his wings too, breathing quickly and trying to slow it down, along with his heartrate. A noise made him look up, and Jeonon was standing in the open door of the cell, looking at him with a displeased expression.

"Stand up Dryan." He said simply. He did not sound like he was in the mood to be trifled with.

Dryan shifted back a little, wanting to stay right where he was, but he obeyed, opening up his wings and standing, folding them again and holding his arms.

"Follow me." Jeonon commanded him, his annoyance and mild fury evident in his eyes. It made Dryan uneasy. Jeonon usually sounded a lot more expressive than he did at the moment; right now he sounded more monotone, like everyone else. Concerning. Dryan did as he was told though, following the prince, readjusting the dark pink scarf he was wearing, the tail hanging down his back over his light-brown, long-sleeved shirt. His pants were almost the same color, being only a little darker.

Jeonon walked him down a hall just outside the cell, turning into another hall shortly after, Dryan still following in silence, Jeonon only emitting his quiet rage through his stiff muscles and nearly stomping walk.

The tension made Dryan uncomfortable, and he shivered. "I'm cold." He said in his small, high-pitched voice.

"Quiet." Jeonon said darkly, his rage nearly incandescing as his fists briefly flashed in a whitish fire from within.

There was almost nobody else in the hallways, and any who saw them quickly looked away and tried to melt into the wall, shying away from Jeonon's piercing stare, also pointedly not looking at Dryan, mild worry tugging at their eyes.

Jeonon led him into another somewhat small room, though it was at least twice as large as the cell had been. Likely three times. Of brassy metal, bronze mixed in, the room was very intricate for what it was used for, the walls, ceiling, and floor all etched finely. On the wall to the left of the door was a big fireplace, like a furnace almost, but used more simply for heating something in its flame than burning, plus the flame jet was electric in nature. Beside it on racks were several long metal rods with handles on, the ends tipped in varying patterns and designs. In the center of the room was a chair that was built into the floor, standing slightly above it on a rotating disc. It had a number of metal pieces on it that could be closed around anyone sitting inside it to hold them down.

Dryan saw the chair and stopped, his eyes widening. He made a little whimper, stepping back, but Jeonon turned angrily and grabbed his wrist hard, yanking him into the room. Dryan started protesting, fighting his greater strength and trying to leave, making fearful cries the whole time, but Jeonon simply hauled him over to the chair and shoved him into it, putting his face close to Dryan's and calmly, angrily, and with a very carefully controlled voice, said, "Dryan. Obey."