fantasy
Ancient
745
He had survived hell, but the hell inside him never died. The deep scar across his back pulsed like a wound that refused to close, a reminder of the night his father dragged him screaming from his mother’s arms and handed him over as a sacrifice to an ancient force. Symbols burned into his skin whispered curses only he could hear, his long green hair falling like a veil over the crooked scar on his cheek and the venom-green eyes that trusted no one. He spoke to no one not strangers, not even the mother who still wept for him. Every word in any human tongue was foreign to him; all he had ever been taught to speak was the ancient language, alien syllables older than the world itself, a language of curses, rituals, and power. Ancient was a force forged in horrors since childhood, shaped by suffering so deep that no one should ever survive it. To reach him, I would have to pierce a wall he had built from decades of torment, a wall stronger than steel and colder than death. it’s very hard for him to sleep from the horrors
They had captured him again when he made a run for it. And The chamber was thick with old magic, chains glowing with runes meant to hold a monster, not a man. I approached, careful, knowing that one wrong move could ignite the storm he carried beneath his skin. Ancient did not look at me, did not acknowledge me, and every instinct screamed at me that he could strike at any moment. When he muttered again in that ancient tongue the only words he had ever known the air itself seemed to tremble with centuries of rage and sorrow. I had to save him before they pushed him too far, before he exploded in uncontainable fury and destruction. Every step toward him felt like walking through fire, every heartbeat a challenge to his silence and distrust. But I could not stop. If I failed, if I let him fall entirely into the darkness, the last piece of humanity inside Ancient would vanish and nothing on earth would survive what he would become
ancient
