She awoke to find herself in a stone room, confused and disorientated at the change in location and the fact that he had not killed her; realising that was always a pleasant surprise for someone like her.
The lich was smiling at her, though it was not the nicest smile she had ever seen; he was gleeful at his capture and she… well, she was not.
He had bound her with more gold chain, her arms outstretched as wide as was possible, her legs secured, but at least she was able to stand on her own.
"What are you?" he asked her almost curiously, like a child finding a strange bug on the ground and contemplating whether it was worthwhile to keep, or if stomping on it might be more entertaining.
At least she had the forethought to stick to a continent that she knew the language of; it got difficult when she was captured and could not understand the language of the one trying to question her.
The memory brought the hint of a smile to her lips; his violet skin, his golden eyes, and his screaming. She had not understood a single word he had said, something he did not seem to consider before he stuck a knife in her chest. She had killed six of the people from his village though—fair was fair, after all.
The lich seemed confused by her smile and she jerked back to herself when his hand tapped her face. He was trying to get her attention, and when she looked up at him again, he repeated the question.
She chose not to answer him, playing dumb—or foreigner—whichever worked best for her current situation.
Maybe he would fall for her not understanding his language? It had worked before.
His jaw clenched as he stared into her face, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his brain, trying to come up with something that would explain her.
Instead, he bent down close, and she jerked back.
He was sniffing her, her hair, her skin, her breath, and the expression on his face showed his confusion. Lich were entirely too creepy for her liking.
"I know you can understand me," he said, his smile meeting her frown as she squinted up at him, irritated at his cleverness. "You responded to what I said in the alley. You stopped struggling when I told you to."
Considering her response carefully, she licked her lips and opted to deny the whole damned thing.
"Go jump in a volcano," she said, using her native tongue instead.
Let him make what he wanted from that.
He frowned at her, sudden doubt flicking across his face, and she felt a vicious stab of glee at the sight of it. She knew only two languages, the common tongue spoken by those on the southern part of that continent, though the language was spreading, and her own native language. She could not read the common language, but she was fluent in speaking it, a fact she was not going to be telling him any time soon.
He seemed to be torn, trying to figure out either what she had said, or if she had understood a single word he had said, and so she decided to punctuate her point by lifting her index and middle fingers to him, showing him the back of them in a rather rude gesture.
He looked up at her hand, and then back to her, his lips parted in fascination.
"Interesting little beast you are," he hissed.
She had to admit she was having a little bit of fun with the monster; she couldn't help herself. She had been on her own for so long that it was not often she got to mess with anyone. And now that she had eaten, she was feeling considerably better.
He made a thoughtful sound and moved away from her, allowing her to study the room more carefully.
It was entirely made of stone, with a large number of metal rings on the walls, ceiling, and floor. A large, heavy-looking wooden door was directly across from her and to her left was the lich, bending over the table that was heavily laden with supplies and a book that he was writing in.
Tilting her head slightly, she saw what he was writing, but the scribblings had no meaning to her, as she could not read.
Pursing her lips in consideration, she watched the man for a moment before she turned her attention to the gold chains, twisting her wrists to try to get herself free. There was something odd about those chains. They were not normal metal but something else, indestructible.
Frowning, she gave the chains a little tug but, while they flexed a little, they were not going anywhere and after her first attempt to pull her hand free resulted in the chain tightening on her, she opted to not try that again or risk her recently regrown arm.
***
It was that arm in which he took an interest when he returned to her, though she suspected he had already looked her over before she had come to, given she was now naked and had been cleaned. The blood was gone, the dirt was gone, and her pale peach skin was a rather surprising sight to her. It had been so long since she had been genuinely clean.
"Why is it you smell so strange?" he asked her, but she made no indication that she heard him, too busy studying her nails. Pink, perfect ovals with little white crescents at the top set into long, slender fingers and small hands. He had even washed her hair, and she tilted her head enough that one long curl fell down over her shoulder. It was not simply crimson, but streaked liberally with gold to give it a look of fire when it moved. The colour was another thing she had not seen in quite some time, nor the perfect ringlet. Her hair had been tangled for so long, matted with leaves and twigs and mud.
She looked from her hair to him as he stood before her. He touched her arm, pushing down on her bicep and then watching as the pale skin turned white, then back to peach.
He studied her face for a moment and then frowned, trying to figure her out, it seemed. He was not going to have any luck; she looked at least mostly human. She had made sure of it.
"Very well, if you won't talk, we will see how else you can understand…" he said with a scowl. Turning away from her, she tracked his movements back to the table where he picked up a very long, very sharp-looking knife, returning to her side where he pressed it against her forearm, just below her elbow, and looked to her face.
"Shove it, lich," she hissed at him in her native language, refusing to let him know she could understand him. He only smiled slightly, and the blade hissed against her skin.
Biting hard on her tongue to keep from making a sound, she tried to pull away, but the restraints kept her in place, trapping her there.
He held his hand under the dripping blood, catching it in his cupped palm and lifted his hand to his nose, inhaling the scent of her blood before he licked the drops from his palm, his expression thoughtful.
"Odd taste…" he murmured to himself, catching more and licking it again before he returned to the book and added more notes.
Glancing at her arm, she watched as the bleeding slowed and then stopped, the skin pulling back together and the angry red of the swelling eased down to leave nothing but a pink scar that would fade to white in a matter of hours and, if she put a little effort into it, would fade to nothing in a month or so, although she never bothered. His interest piqued as he saw the scar and he squeezed the skin, pulled it lightly and then shook his head.
"What are you…? You're not human," he said thoughtfully, his grey eyes sweeping down over her form where he took in all the other scars on her body. She was utterly covered in them, each one different and each telling the story of another fight, another run-in with a strange creature she tried to eat.
Pressing his index finger against the point of the knife, he spun it slowly as he watched her.
She, however, was more interested in plotting her escape, regardless of how impossible that seemed right then. Sacrificing her hand was not that big of a deal, but opening doors without hands was difficult and the more she studied the door, the more she thought that the handle was made of iron. She and iron did not go well together at all.
The thought of trying to open an iron door with no hands had about as much appeal as kicking a dragon on the nose, but she had spent too long in that city already; the lich was not her biggest concern. The other one was, and he would not be far behind her.
The lich was growing impatient and when she did not seem to be afraid of the knife, he went for a different tool. She had no idea what it was or what it was for, but it looked unpleasant.
A short wooden bat with stubby spikes, the bat itself being quite thin. She was not keen to find out what part of her person that thing was to be used on.
***
The lich turned to her.
She arched her brows in defiance but still flinched as he lifted the bat above her and brought it crashing down on her regrown arm, her scream echoing around the room as the bones splintered. He was still as he looked at her arm, his lips parting as he studied the skin. Something had his attention, and she looked around.
A small crack had appeared in her skin, not like a cut, but more like someone had dropped a porcelain doll. Inside the crack was pitch black, though it did not ooze or bleed at all and she cursed internally.
That was not good; she was dehydrated and while he had only hoped to break her body, he was also breaking her shell. How long had she been unconscious that she had become dehydrated?
It was not that much of a surprise really. She had been lax in looking after her body for a while.
He grabbed her arm, squeezing the flesh painfully to watch as the split spread, but when he pressed the edges back together again, they stuck, and the crack was gone as though it had never been.
His head turned slowly towards her and his gleeful smile made her stomach twist in fear.
No, she did not want him to figure out her secret.
He was far too happy for her liking; a happy lich was not a good lich. The only good lich was a dead lich, and he certainly was not dead.
Looking back to her arm, then down at the bat, he contemplated where to hit her next, lifted the bat and pain exploded at her side with the sound of breaking bone and something else, a sharp cracking sound.
He bent over and studied the cracks in her flesh, pulling the cracks further apart until she whined in pain. He was pulling her skin apart, and it was terribly, horribly painful.
Letting go of the skin, he watched as it snapped back into place and sealed, sticking back together like glue.
"Fascinating…" he intoned, his attention creeping up over her body to her face and then up to her head, where his grin grew wider, feral.
He gripped the bat between both hands and lifted it slowly above his head, his intent clear, and she hoped desperately that he would miscalculate the pressure and kill her.
Clenching her eyes tight, she prepared for the blow.
The sound was revolting, her screech of pain joined with the crunch of her skull breaking, the crack of breaking porcelain and she could feel the splinters growing, tiny lightning-shaped lines spreading down over her face.
"What are you?" he demanded as her eyes opened and she blinked hard, her right eye seeming to have stopped working, though she thought it was open.
She could not have spoken even had she wanted to. Her head was agony, and she was so very certain the pain would make her vomit but that did not happen.
He dropped the bat to the floor and reached for her, hesitating before his fingers touched her. She could not breathe, she felt herself suffocating inside the shell. The cracks were spreading, and each new split sent a shockwave of pain through her mind and being.
He stared at the crack, though she did not know what it was he saw in it; her, perhaps? Movement? She did not know, and she did not care. She had to keep the cracks together, she had to protect herself.
"What are you, creature?" the lich screamed so suddenly that she jumped. He was looming over her with long fingers clenching and unclenching, not yet touching and yet so wanting to.
Pain ripped through her body as she felt her face splitting, cracking open as her ability to grasp onto the seams of her shell slipped. Her magic was slipping, her very being was giving way to reality.
Unable to speak, she screamed a terrible cry of pain and writhed, the metal chain biting into her flesh as she attempted to rip it free.
"Reveal yourself!" His voice boomed, and he reached for her face. Grasping her cheeks between his thumb and fingers, he forced her head towards him.
"You are no human woman, no simple mythical creature, are you...?" he crooned, sadistic grin widening as he studied the cracks that spread across her forehead and down under her right eye.
It throbbed in pain, throbbed in time to her racing heart and to her utter horror. She saw his hands lifting, his fingers digging into the cracks and his arms flexed as he pried apart the two fragments.