Drip.
Isendil's arms were suspended over his head as he hung from shackles chained to the stone wall. His head hung low, and his untied fronds blocked most of his already blurred vision. His head lolled from side to side in exhausted defiance, still fighting to get free, albeit weakly.
Drip.
Apoleia hadn't beat him, tortured him, or mangled him like most would. Isendil was actually fairly clean and well-kept...save for four surgically precise cuts along his chest. They were perfectly symmetrical; one running from just under his armpit to his collarbone, and a twin to match on the left side. Two more were lower, just between his ribs. Apoleia came every day to ensure that these wounds remained open.
Drip.
Sap had been oozing from him for days. Apoleia had not only kept the wounds open, but he had been collecting the sap. Isendil's chains rattled as his weight shifted lazily. His mind had been blank for the most part, save for constantly thinking about everyone back home, and the specifics of his Hunt. A rush of lucidity came over him, as he began to relive the dream of when he was first called...
Drip.
He was alone in a clearing standing against a massive being of shadow. It loomed over him ominously, beginning to spawn smaller shadow beasts around the clearing. One at a time, Isendil fought them...and for each one he defeated, a being of light arose and joined him in the fight until only the behemoth was left. As he faced it, it began to grow and expand, and Isendil positioned himself between it and his new allies...and as it reached him--
Normally he woke up by now. The dream had played in his head while he slept over and over, why was it only now finishing?
The beings of light swarmed around the behemoth, pushing Isendil back just before the shadows could swallow him. With a roaring groan of defiance and disbelief, the shadow was gone. Isendil fell to his knees and hung his head...before his vision revealed him back in the dungeon.
Drip.
He managed a smile. Even in these cold, dark, underground halls, he suddenly felt warm. Relieved.
"So Apoleia wasn't the point. Relying on everyone was...leanin' on 'em."
He lifted his head and closed his eyes with that smile as if absorbing warm sunlight for the first time in months. There was no sun. Merely blackness, and the sound of--
Drip.
Figures came into his sight. Santii, Trisbaine, Llachlan, Seicemar, Vilathara, Aoibheann.
Phantoms that weren't actually there. Oaken, Keiranon, Skoryy, Searil, Astairre, Ruiel.
They all turned to face him. Mnostovo, Phi, Julyan, Ruinali, Vailynt, Aindheal.
And they smiled lovingly.
Isendil lidded his eyes, tears welling up.
"Thank you all. For lovin' me."
His body went limp, and he let go of his chains; dangling there lifelessly. The last thing he saw was their smiles before his world went black. His Hunt was over.
Isendil stopped fighting.
Drip.
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