Chapter 62 The Winter Wind Chills (2/2)

Two weeks later, Aegin arrived at Jerrica once more, and couldn't help but shiver at the chill that came over him. Winter was only a few weeks away, he'd seen everyone preparing for it on his journey here. But Jerrica? They seemed to be treating it as if it was just another day. Aegin gained entrance with the crest he'd been given, and was taken to Zaroth's laboratory promptly.

The Doctor himself was not impressed at being disturbed.

”To what do I owe the interruption of my work?”

Aegin was unphased by the Doctor's harsh tone, ”I've been ordered to report on your progress by your benefactor so surely you can spare a few minutes”.

The Doctor frowned, then turned to look at the clock on the wall. A clock was an item for the rich, but in mines like those at Jerrica, where sunlight was rarely seen, it was an essential item. Zaroth sighed, ”Very well, we shall go down to check on his progress”.

Aegin raised an eyebrow, ”You set him a task?”

”Of course not,” Zaroth snapped.

Aegin couldn't think why the word 'progress' would be applied in any other way.

It took them some time to descend to the place where Rassa was kept. It was so cold and dark that Aegin wondered if the boy had gone mad down here, all alone.

Though the torch light was minimal in aiding him to see, Aegin knew immediately upon looking at Rassa that something was terribly wrong.

”What did you do?” asked Aegin, his voice cold and distant.

”He was told the consequences should he not cooperate. He was not smart enough to listen,” Zaroth replied, ”Though admittedly, this is as fascinating as the other tests I would have performed”.

Aegin waited as the cage was unlocked, then he snatched a torch from one of the guards, entering the cell only to pause a few metres from the wooden cot that occupied the otherwise empty space.

The figure on the cot was horrifying. And if Aegin hadn't known what he was looking at before he'd entered, he would have figured it was a rotting, naked corpse.

Because that was exactly what Rassa had become.

Gone were his pale skin and lean muscles. His fair features just beginning to undergo the change from boy the man. His dark hair too was long faded to grey and falling out in clumps. His flesh gone in places, grey and rotting in others. His face was sunken and skeletal. His eyes white. And all while he was chained to the cot by all four of his limbs, the mask had been removed to reveal his open, gaping mouth and protruding fangs. Even in his state he seemed to be begging for relief from his hunger.

”What could have possibly been bad enough for you to kill him? He was already your prisoner!” snapped Aegin.

”He'd not dead,” Zaroth stated.

Aegin spun around, then pointed to the cot, ”That, is a corpse”.

Just as Zaroth was about to reply, the Corpse to a long, distinct and wheezy breath. Aegin looked on, wide eyed.

”This is what happens when he is starved beyond his turning point. I admit it scared me too to see the corpse-like state he was in. Especially after he was so active the day before. I immediately insisted on him being fed, concerned I would lose my only subject. Imagine my surprise when, after he drained three of the feeding slaves I'd procured, he was restored completely. Of course, that just piqued my curiosity,” Zaroth admitted, ”He has been like this for two weeks now, and he still breathes, though from the begging I heard before he entered into this state I assume he is being forced to stay alive”.

Aegin looked to Zaroth, who appeared unshaken by his confession. If anything, the Doctor looked excited.

Despite how Aegin tried, he could not keep the utter disgust off of his face at the Doctor's behaviour. And all the while, the question circled around in Aegin's mind, a question he found he had no problems asking.

What the hell had Rassa done to deserve this?