The Sharpest Blade (My Vampire System Fan-Fic)

Raten's body was little more than a map of agony, nerves burned raw from the relentless surge of electricity Calyx had poured into him. Every jolt had threatened to rip him apart, to force screams past his clenched teeth, to push him to the edge of a precipice he refused to fall from. But he hadn't screamed. Raten could feel the air shift. The hum of energy in the wires that had laced across his body moments ago had faded, but their phantom bite still coiled in his muscles, twitching along his nerves, making his skin crawl. The pungent stench of burnt flesh clung to his body, but his mind was clear. Cold. He had learned, a long time ago, how to hold onto consciousness when his body wanted to shut down. And he had learned, when the time was right, to let people think he hadn't. 

Calyx was methodical. Detached. Not the kind of torturer who enjoyed his work, but the kind who saw it as a necessary means to an end. That made him predictable, and that made him stupid. 

And now, hanging limply in the chair, eyes half-lidded, breath shallow, he played the part of a corpse. Not that it took much in the way of acting, he very nearly was one.

Vorden was screaming, thrashing against his restraints like a beast in a trap, spitting curses with all the venom in his lungs. Raten could hear the frayed edges in his voice, the way his breathing hitched between syllables. He actually believed it. He thought Raten was dead. 

Raten would laugh if his lungs didn't feel like shredded paper. Instead, he waited. 

Vorden's breathing was ragged, his body tense with fury, his fists clenching so hard that his nails had sliced his palms open. He had screamed—cursed the celestial in every language he knew, spat every threat he could think of, promised death in a thousand different ways. But the god had ignored him, only interested in the answers that he wanted. He was uninsaltable, guiltless, shameless, fearless, and devoid of anything that could resemble human emotions. A monster.

Now, as Calyx stepped forward, examining the electrodes still attached to Raten's temples, his alien features were unreadable, still hidden beneath his mask. Vorden's heart pounded so loudly it felt like it would shake his ribs apart. Raten wasn't moving. Wasn't reacting.

For the first time, genuine fear gripped Vorden's chest. Not for himself. But for his brother.Calyx leaned in, tilting his head ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over the marks left on Raten's skin. His lips parted slightly, an exhale of curiosity. The god leaned in, inspecting his work. Searching for signs of life, pressing long, slender fingers near the electrodes seared into Raten's skull. Close. Closer.

Then—

CRACK!

Then, in one explosive motion, Raten surged forward. His head snapped like a coiled spring unleashed, slamming into Calyx's face with a sickening crunch. His forehead cracked against Calyx's mask with a force that sent a brutal shock through his own skull, but it was nothing compared to the crack that echoed off of the walls. The celestial flew back like he'd been shot, his body slamming against the far wall. A sound like cracking glass reverberated through the chamber. Fragments of his mask rained to the floor, gleaming shards skittering across the smooth metal. 

The mask.

Calyx's mask was shattered.

Vorden barely had time to register what happened before he saw the fragments of something green and smooth scatter across the floor.

Raten was already on his feet, panting, eyes alight with a manic fire. He didn't waste a second. His hands were already free. His bonds, snapped. His entire body trembled—not with weakness, but with an adrenaline-fueled rage. He lunged toward Vorden, reaching for the restraints. Vorden had no time to react before Raten was at his side. His fingers fumbled, raw and trembling, but he didn't stop.

Vorden was still staring at him like he was seeing a ghost. 

"Move," Raten gritted out, yanking the last strap free. Vorden didn't move. Not right away. Vorden was still staring at him, wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat. He had believed—just for a moment—that he had lost him.

And now Raten was here. Alive.

Instead, he grabbed Raten and pulled him into a hug so tight it forced the air from his lungs. For half a second, Raten thought about shoving him off, when Vorden pulled back fast, swiping a hand over his face and looking away like that would erase it. Raten's expression softened a bit and he shot a smirk at his brother.

"Shut up," Vorden muttered before Raten could say anything. 

Raten smirked a bit more smug. "Didn't say a thing." with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

Vorden swallowed hard, pressing his lips together to keep them from trembling, from betraying the emotion swelling in his chest. He swiped at his face one more time, pretending to scratch his nose but really wiping away the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Don't just stand there looking like an idiot," Raten muttered, avoiding eye contact, but his usual cocky grin wasn't there. "We're not free yet."

"Yeah, yeah," Vorden replied, voice hoarse. "Let's get the hell out of here." Then, with a shared nod, they ran. Even without their powers, they were fast. Which was good because right now, they really had to be. 

Their bodies ached, hunger gnawed at them, and their strength was rapidly dwindling, but they ran anyway. The corridors of the ship stretched long and lifeless, dim overhead lights pulsing in warning. Somewhere deep in its belly, the ship groaned—low and distant, like a predator stirring in its sleep. 

The loading bay was close. They could feel it, sense the vast open space beyond the maze of sterile hallways. When they finally burst through the last set of doors, relief was fleeting. 

The vast open area was icy cold, and both Blades could see their breath swirling in white puffs of fog that escaped from their mouths as they panted heavily. There were just a few ships there, and while maybe one looked to be suitable to their needs, the other ones all had the same problem. The crafts housed within the Celestial's massive docking bay were simply too big for a meager two person crew to man alone. Crew vessels, transport ships, but nothing fit for two people who had no time to figure out controls meant for an entire team. The one that was small enough, Vorden couldn't even figure out how to get the door open. It was either missing a key of some kind, stripped of its power source, or just ran on a technology that was completely unknown and foreign to him.

"Shit," Raten hissed, running a shaking hand through his sweat-soaked hair. 

Vorden was already scanning the bay, thinking, calculating. "We can go back. Tie him up, find out how this thing works." It was a risk. They both knew it. But they were out of options. 

And then they weren't. 

Because the moment they turned back, they stopped dead in their tracks. 

Standing in the entrance, the same doorway they had just come through, was Calyx. 

A few shards of the shattered remains of his mask lay scattered at his feet, gleaming under the harsh industrial lights. His face—his real face—was now visible. 

His strange leather like flesh was closer to turtle skin than anything resembling human skin. It was pulled tightly over his high cheakbones, and his mouth seemed to naturally curve downward into a frown. His hood blocked the view of his head to see if he had hair. He had thin almost invisible lips that almost made it look like he had no mouth at all. Terrifying. His nearly all black eyes looked like windows out of a space ship. Bright glinting flecks of what looked like stars floated around the inky darkness of his eyeball. They were deeply mysterious, nebulous and strange. They too were terrifying.

And he was livid. 

His eyes burned with something raw, something almost human in its fury, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Raten had the distinct, gut-twisting feeling that they had just made things so much worse. 

Calyx rolled his neck, cracked his shoulders, and exhaled sharply through his nose. His gaze locked onto them with the weight of something ancient, something vengeful. 

"I was going to be merciful," he said, voice tight with restraint. "I was going to be patient." 

His fists clenched at his sides, his whole body vibrating with barely-contained rage. 

"But now?" 

A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. 

"Now, I'm going to enjoy this."