Chapter Text
Normal POV
/////////////////////////
This is what the great LORD says: Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.
Excerpt from — Exodus 8:1–4
////////////////////////
Day 15, July 16th, 2417
Buildings fell and crumbled. Fires burned and people fled.
They fall to their knees in fear and grovel for forgiveness and mercy.
And as they plead and beg to their false God, it goes unheard.
For their Gods have all but turned a blind eye, ignoring their cries.
Soon they all but give up hope, and accept their inevitable fates.
But then a streak of light burns through the darkness and pushed it out of sight.
Rain cleanses the sick land and calms their fears and the deeply seated hate.
The fires quell and the rubble is swept away.
A figure, tall, graceful, sweeps across the land with mighty feathered limbs.
This savior speaks to the people not of damnation, but of a hopeful future.
And finally the Gods show their children they they weren't gone, only waiting.
For only the one savior chosen by fate could make them see a world worth saving.
/////////////////////////
It's suffocating and unbearably hot.
There's stabbing of needles all over his body. Hands, rough, scorching and gross feeling, are grabbing all over him, holding him down. Cold steel is biting hard into his back, making his spine ache in protest. He felt so awful, so wrong, so violated. So impure.
But worst of all, in his opinion, was the blackness meeting his eyes, meaning he was totally blind. He doesn't realize he was screaming until his throat is hoarse and is reduced to wheezes.
Who was doing this? What had he done to deserve this?
There's voices. Hushed and toned, but eerie and malicious. He can hear them whispering around him and making him feel smaller.
'Keep holding him down.'
'We need to know more.'
'Don't let them know where he is.'
'He's making too much noise.'
'Cover his mouth.'
He panicked as cold and sticky tape covers his mouth to muffle his already weak sounds. More grabbing, more stabbing. It's almost enough to drive him insane from how much pain he's feeling.
But suddenly the voices turn panicked, and the hands leave him alone briefly for some desperate amounts of free time to himself. But for some reason he just can't move... Why can't he move? He's too terrified...
'What's happening?'
"They found us!'
'Quick! Hide him!'
'Before it's too late!'
Then the voices turn to screams and he feels cold air whipping into the room and it chills his body all over. He squirmed weakly and whimpered as an indicator that he was still here, he needed to be saved. He needed to be free.
Soon the screams quelled and it fell silent. And all he heard was the sound of his own heartbeat. Then soft, padded finger tips are soothing his needle-inflicted wounds. Silence, and then a soft whispering voice, light like a feather, is caressing against his ear drums.
"You're okay now... You're safe."
And then, as if by some miracle...
He wakes up.
TBC