The sound of metal banging rushed into the open room. Bouncing off every surface like a crazed eldritch horror, its foul hands and tendrils reaching every corner. Reaching every ear.
"Gather the bodies. If any are alive take them to the cages."
A deep, coarse voice bellowed like an elder beast growling at the presence of livestock living happily and carefree.
"The rest, bring them to the analysts."
Again, the metal banging rang through the ears of the living.
"We're here to learn what these freaks are made of—And why these demons are cursing gods blessed lands!"
The tone of the bestial voice, spiking—almost breaking beneath the heavy weight brought with his patriotism-inspiring sermon.
With that, the sounds of shifting feet and rustling cloth made way into the air. Growing louder as more figures entered the room.
Every one of them had taken the effort to dress identically: decorated with deep-black uniforms, draped with beautifully raven cloaks wrapping around them. Religious precision was screaming out from the similarities.
Shadows of men and women snuck through the cracks of pavement as they began collecting the bodies that had littered the eerily crafted space.
One by one the area was vacated, the shadows unchanging in the presence of the cult-like figures. Were they yielding to power? Or simply playing the role of watchful spectators?
Leon wasn't worried enough to care.
It was his turn next.
Being greeted by the familiar sight of a large figure towering over him had not left him any more comfortable than he already was.
But the thought of escaping the biting rot of the wooden pole?
That definitely brought a slight shred of ease.
Before his hands had been unbound, the tied-up runt noticed something about the figure about him.
Two bubbles of air were dancing beneath the cloth of the cultist. They looked like they were luring him in, begging him to reach out to them.
'Are those... Breasts?'
It may have been brain damage settling in. But like a pebble interrupting a body of listless water. Everything rippled away for a few moments.
Leaving him with the image of two gentle shapes swaying beneath the robe. The scent of perfume twisting into the scene before him, making the two shapes even more alluring.
"Woah."
Had he said that out loud?
Did it matter?
Leon blinked. Once. Twice.
He finally came to his senses when he realised the woman loosening his restraints wasn't moving. She was looking at him. Staring at him.
And then, a leathered glove kissed his face, but there was no love or affection with it.
At the same time, his arms dropped, going slack with the lack of blood flow. Their colour changing with the rush of blood flooding in. Leaving blue and red gradient tints to stain their surface just for a moment.
"Hope you got a good look."
Leon's face flushed with red warm embarrassment.
Her voice was soft and seductive, each word licking his neck with her breath.
"It'll probably be the last."
And then, his hands were being bound again. The knot this time was not nearly as deathly as the last. It was gentle but pinching, like the person tying it had no intentions of hurting him.
Contrary to what had just occurred.
"Now... if you're awake," she muttered closely to his ear, "carry yourself so I don't have to."
She shoved him forward in the direction they needed to go.
They moved together along the bloodied trails of the floor, the two approached the exit.
Leon was leaving this sad, god-forgotten place. And taking his steps to either meet with something more sinister or go someplace just as cold and unforgiving.
'I wonder if Reynold got a temptress like this as well.'
Stupid thoughts grew in moments of crisis. It made sense. Leon was still a teen with plenty first times to experience. More notably, he had missed out on a lot of things that an education would have taught him. Like learning when and how to keep your mouth shut.
He had other ways to learn though. For example, leather glove cracking across his face.
Reaching past the exit, he and his ruthless company were met with a splitting path immediately.
'Left? Or right?'
Turning his head toward the alluring lady, her breath warming the back of his neck again. They weren't close enough that you would usually feel it. But the frosty air melted with the heat to create a steady rope of vapor.
"Left."
As if reading his mind, once again her smooth voice rung in his ears.
He wouldn't forget it. Though he really should have.
And so, they went left.
The path felt endless. Its walls were better treated than the poorly thrown together shack he had been held in before. They were of the same cheap material though.
And they stretched onward forever.
Passing room after room, Leon felt like he was going insane. It was like watching the same circus show over and over again.
Except without the tricks. Without the colors. Without the laughter and hollering.
Just the sound of expensive boots echoing over the much softer, almost silenced sound of footwraps patting the floor.
And the sickening repetition that felt far more eerie than a room that was plenty ready to cave in on him and cut the story short.
But no hungry serpent would allow that to happen in a tale told by Time. So, he lived on. Moving deeper into the maw of something larger than he could comprehend.
Eventually, their pace slowed to a stop. The lady had been keeping her attention on the walls, reading the labels as they had been moving.
Confirming his previous suspicions, they had reached a door in the infinite hallway with his name etched into it.
Whatever was happening here was far from a random raffle he was unwillingly drawn from.
Taking a moment breath whilst the strangely beautiful lady fumbled through a collection of keys to unlock the door. Leaving Leon completely free to run at any moment.
He didn't run though.
Even if he did... How far would he make it? Was there an end to the hallway in the direction he was going?
It was at this moment that he realised that rather than the hallway being a straight path, it was actually curving. They were in a large structured that had a long hallway stretching around its radius.
It was also at this moment that he stole a glance at the voice that had touched him so gently on his neck.
What he saw left him disgusted, horrified and confused.
What little he could see of her face was covered in translucent scales, hiding in plain sight, looking like a layer of skin.
Her own neck, dressed in fish gills.
A second realisation came, and gripping dread settled in; he remembered the mythical tale of sirens.
Voices like seductive lures for sailors, accompanied by an appearance similar to that of a blonde beauty wearing inviting garments that left plenty of room for imagination to run wild, feeding the lure with desire to unveil what was underneath.
When met in their lairs however, in the dark waters of the ocean, their true appearance would be revealed.
Harrowing nightmares whose bodies broke in ways no human ever could, their scales revealing their true colors under moonlit water.
He remembered tales of sailors falling victim to such lures.
And he remembered tales of sailors persevering through it with pure might, and some sort of anchor to the real world. Such as family, or the remnants memories of them that stay behind.
Right now, he stuck with one of these mythological horrors. And moments away from being locked away by it.
The world was starting to spin as panic set in Leons heavy heart and dense head.
"Ah yes. I remember this myth well. Such ripeness in flavor!"
'What?'Just now a voice spoke through the fog of panic. Bringing with it more confusion, and more importantly; a calm head to think with.
The voice wasn't his own though. It wasn't even the sirens.
It was there, but also it wasn't.
It sounded ancient. It sounded bold. It sounded powerful.
And in its presence, the shadows danced once more.
Celebrating its arrival.
"Come on," the horrifying beauty stared at him, her voice not breaking through the trance that Leon had been locked in, "It'll be more comfortable here for a bit."
Her eyes swayed in some form of emotional debt. Trying to avoid looking at their prisoners own.
Leon, however, wasn't aware of it. He was still locked in on the voice that had spoken to him, his head flooded with questions.
Was he losing his mind?
Is it the head trauma?
Or was it God himself?
Had the lord shared a moment of nostalgia with this homeless rat?
Finally, however, her next words broke through.
"But it won't last too long."
The daze came to an abrupt stop. Adding more and more questions to the world around him.
If she was really a siren. That meant the rumours of human-animal hybrids held some truth to it.
"Thanks," he turned his head around to meet hers as he stepped through the door frame, "I guess."
Then, door closed.
The latch shut.
And a key clicked, signaling the door had locked.
Leon was alone again.
Alone in a desolate room. This time, it was smaller, but cleaner.
His hands still bound.