First Day (1 of 6)
Breaking Free: Two years after his capture, Damion is unexpectedly summoned to the Sanctum Masters’ summit where his very status as a person will be debated
‘Breaking Free’ Content Warning: Erotic Psychological Drama
This story contains scenes of psychological distress, dubiously consensual intimacy, emotional dependency, complex trauma recovery, and themes of power imbalance and identity reconstruction.
This story explores the fragile process of healing after long-term dehumanization, the difficulty of regaining agency, and the intimate entanglements that form in the aftermath of captivity.
Proceed with care.
15th day of the 11th moon
1105 HC
It's been over two years since Damion regretfully surrendered at the end of the civil war instead of fighting to the death. He's been Water Master Mulsae's personal captive this entire time, spending almost every moment with him, both awake and asleep.
He just tries to endure. He takes life moment by moment and tries to endure being a pet and sex toy. He's not allowed to die. He can't find a way to escape. So he simply tries to endure.
Damion's life is generally pretty boring, but ultimately kind of peaceful in a weird sort of way. As Mulsae likes to remind him, he has no worries or concerns. He just does as he is instructed. There is no weight on his shoulders. No need to plan for the future. No need to worry about the past. He's allowed to simply be Right Now perpetually.
Damion spends most of his time reading. Mulsae taught him how to read and write, and now that is his primary activity. He's a slow reader, given how long he went illiterate, but he's given ample time to practice, and has no rush to ever complete a book.
Sometimes Damion reads fiction to escape reality and join another world. Sometimes he reads non-fiction so he can learn more about the world and the past. Mulsae enjoys talking with him about what he's reading and will helpfully point him towards books that might interest him. Mulsae doesn't restrict what he can read, and instead seems to enthusiastically encourage whatever interest Damion expresses.
The fucking has reduced in frequency as it seems to do in any relationship, even a master and pet relationship, apparently. They may even go a couple days without fucking at all. Damion just enjoys the experience. He perceives it as a momentary dip into blissful sensations and relaxing afterglow. Mulsae is an attentive lover, enjoying focusing on Damion's physical pleasure, making it easier to endure.
Mulsae and Damion train together every day. They run through a training routine and then spend the second half of their time sparring. Damion was gloriously able to break Mulsae's nose. Many times. He's broken Mulsae's ribs and fingers, too. Many times. To much delight.
Damion is the better fighter and Mulsae knows it. Sure, when using magic, Mulsae has no equal. But without magic and fighting almost as a mortal? Damion is far superior. Mulsae tries to learn everything he can. At first Damion resisted giving any tips, but his walls eventually fell and now he freely points out Mulsae's mistakes and how to improve. The pet really is teaching the master.
They had gotten into a routine. Damion believed this would be the rest of his life. He stopped looking for avenues of escape. He had stopped worrying about the future and completely stopped thinking of it at all, let alone how to change it.
Then, suddenly, Harmura's Sanctum Masters decided to get involved.
It was incredibly strange when, nine months ago, Mulsae sat on the floor with Damion to give him the news. Mulsae was being summoned to a Masters' summit to discuss Damion's status. Enough Masters believe that Damion is a slave, and therefore Mulsae is in violation of the Harmuran Civil War treaty. They want to assemble to decide if the abolition of slavery applies to more than just humans, and whether or not Damion is a slave or a prisoner.
If Mulsae does not appear at the summit, all trade between the Water Sanctum and the other Sanctums would be cut off. The Water Sanctum would be ostracized. Mulsae explained that he had to put his Sanctum first and that unfortunately he had agreed to put Damion's fate into the hands of the other Masters.
Mulsae apologized profusely and even a few tears escaped. He had promised Damion that he would always be there for him and take care of him, but the Masters might prevent him from continuing to take care of Damion. Mulsae promised that he would always try to take care of him in whatever way was possible based on the Masters' decision.
Damion's mind was blown at the revelation. Someone cared about what was happening to him. Someone cared about the situation of his life. And now the most powerful people in Harmura were gathering to discuss him and his life and would decide what they thought was best for him.
Mulsae believes Damion is a prisoner, and therefore the treaty doesn't apply. He had spoken of his theories at length to Damion.
It had taken nine months for the summit to finally occur. First the Masters wrote correspondences to each other detailing their opinions. Then they had long scheduling disputes, mostly having to do with the Masters of the Flame and Ground Sanctums because they believed the lifestyle of a Windborne to not be worth their time.
But finally, finally, the date had come, it wasn’t cancelled at the last minute again, and Mulsae is right now on the other side of the palace in a meeting with the Masters while Damion waits patiently in Mulsae’s room.
He's standing at the window gazing upon the scenery from this mountain palace. They're on the face of the mountain looking over the Marsh Sanctum. Far across the expanse, beyond low ridges and pale mist, the Marsh Sanctum rises from the wetland gloom.
Beneath him, Harmony Mountain comes alive around the palace's central plaza. Spirit lanterns drift in measured orbits, casting halos over etched murals. The Spirit Portal rests at the center, offering a glimpse into something otherworldly.
Damion is startled with a knock on the door. He looks at the door but doesn't answer it. He's not supposed to. There's another knock and someone asks with a muffled voice through the door, "Damion, are you there?"
He approaches the door and announces back, "I'm here."
"You've been summoned to appear at the summit."
"What?" he blurts out confused.
"They want you to come join them. They sent me to escort you."
Damion blinks, stunned. Someone else is acknowledging him? He didn't realize he was standing in stunned silence until the muffled voice speaks up, "Will you please come out so I can escort you?"
Damion shakes himself out of his stupor. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Mulsae said I am not allowed to leave the room."
"Mulsae was part of the decision to have you join them."
"I don't know that. I only have a disembodied voice telling me Mulsae supposedly gave permission."
There's a long pause, then the muffled voice says, "Would you come if I brought you a note from Master Mulsae?"
He thinks about it for a moment. "Yes."
"I'll be back," and then footsteps can be heard receding.
Damion sits down in front of the hearth and warms his wings. He's still in a stupor. These people, these incredibly powerful people in control of all of Harmura, care about his life and they actually want him present for the proceedings. Proceedings being held all because of him.
He's just a bastard born Emberai who never hoped to leave Scaldmere except for deployments. Yet here he is atop Harmony Mountain in the palace of the Celestials, and being asked to join a meeting with the highest ranking individuals of all Harmura. Damion gasps when the enormity of the situation hits him.
After being lost in thought for some time, there is a knock on the door again. "I have the note you requested," and a piece of parchment slides under the door.
Damion picks up the note and reads it.
-------------------------
Damion,
You are such a good boy.
Please leave the room and allow yourself to be escorted to me.
See you soon,
Mulsae
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Damion tentatively opens the door and is greeted by a Sylvaran man. They both look at each other in stunned silence. Damion is momentarily distracted by his wings. They are beautiful. They are covered in green feathers tipped in azure highlights. They are so green and so beautiful and look so soft to the touch.
The man makes his stunned silence apparent by clearing his throat and asking, "Wouldn't you like to put on clothes?"
Damion blinks down at himself, "I never wear clothes. I haven't worn clothes in years."
The man's jaw drops and openly gawks at him. He regains himself, however, by snapping his jaw shut and schooling his features back to normal. The man shifts uncomfortably as he thinks.
"This is normal for you?"
"Yes."
"Mulsae expects this is how you will appear?"
"Yes."
"In front of all the Masters?"
"He didn't say in the note that I should change my appearance," Damion grabs the note and hands it to the man. The man's eyebrow twitches up and he can be seen mouthing the words 'good boy' and 'what the fuck'.
The man hands the note back to Damion and expels a loud sigh as he places a hand on his brow to think momentarily and process what the fuck is happening.
The man clears his throat, "Well, they are waiting for us. If Mulsae is aware of your appearance, then I'll let the other Masters decide how to deal with this."
The man makes a gesture to follow him, "Let us go, then."
Damion lifts a hand and brushes the threshold. Nothing. No resistance. No chill. He steps forward, then steps again and finds himself in the hallway. Mulsae didn't put up a water seal, otherwise he'd be suffocating right now. His heart is warmed that Mulsae had trusted him and he passed the test.
Damion follows the escort, enjoying the view of those luscious green feathered wings the whole way. He passes through quiet halls of pearl-veined stone, past drifting spirit-lights and reliefs that shimmer faintly with the passing of magic. But his eyes are on those wings.
They approach a set of grand doors that open soundlessly by a pair of Sylvaran servants, and reveal the Central Plaza. It's wide, circular, and open to the sky. Slender white obelisks ring the space, each etched with one of the trigrams that the Sanctums represent.
At the heart lies the central Spirit Portal, a circular entrance to the spirit realm. No one gets too close. No one speaks near it. The air here feels sacred, soft and charged, like the hush before a vow. As they circle it, the portal remains a perfect circle, but the landscape it reveals shifts: ocean cliffs, mountain mists, sunlit orchards, each echoing a different Sanctum's spirit.
The escort turns to a stairwell carved into the mountain’s face, just beyond the obelisks. Damion follows, and the light dims as they spiral downward.
They enter a round, low-lit chamber. Its walls are a blend of burnished bronze and translucent skyglass that glows faintly with spiritlight. Eight curved spokes extend from a shallow basin at the center, its water pulsing softly. Each spoke represents a Sanctum, etched with its trigram in shifting hues.
Half the room is enclosed, the metallic walls warm-toned and echoing gently with each footfall. The other half breaks open into wide windowed doors, all flung back to reveal a stone terrace suspended above the clouds. Pale stone pillars ring the terrace, framing a breathtaking view: mist-draped ridgelines and, far below, the wetlands of the Marsh Sanctum.
The seven remaining Masters are present. The eighth has been missing for a millennium. Each is accompanied by their chosen partners, except Mulsae, who sits alone with an empty chair at his side. They're already seated in a ring encircling the basin, forming a space that feels both sacred and exposed. Mulsae is clearly set apart from the rest.
Damion walks up to Mulsae and kneels to his left.
A Master expels an exasperated sigh, "There is so much wrong with this situation." He has dark skin and his Master's stole is green with the Thunder Trigram embroidered on it.
"Oh for gods sake he's naked!" exclaims a stout Master with dark skin, whose stole around her shoulders is brown with the Ground Trigram.
"His kneeling automatically presumes his status. He should be seated in a chair," coldly declares a Master with black skin wearing a white stole with the Heaven Trigram etched in silver.
"One issue at a time. It appears we should pause the proceedings to address these issues," says a pale Master who seems to exude peacefulness. Her very voice seems to relieve the tension in the room. Her stole is grey with the Marsh Trigram.
Continue reading: First Day (2 of 6)
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