Second Day (3 of 4)
Breaking Free: Damion is granted freedom and begins his uncertain journey through the Spirit Realm
‘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.
"Yes. The Masters just ruled that you have been treated as a slave for the last two years." Damion nods solemnly.
"Your situation is unfortunately not new. We are experienced in rescuing women from similar situations, so we have some systems in place that we can utilize to help in your transition."
Damion nods gravely at the thought that his situation is common enough to have 'systems' in place.
"I'm going to ask you some questions to get a better idea of what your situation is exactly. Okay?" He nods.
"Do you have any family?"
"No, there was only my mother, but we were separated when I was young."
"Do you have any friends or community you want to return to?"
Damion rubs his hand on the back of his neck, "No. I was a soldier, it was my entire life since I was five. None of them will accept me after what Mulsae has done to me."
She nods solemnly, "Do you have any assets? Possessions?"
He shakes his head, "Nothing. As a soldier, everything was provided for me," he picks at his robe, "Even this isn't mine. It was given to me just yesterday."
"Well, fortunately you do have funds," she begins and Damion cocks an eyebrow.
"Mulsae has pledged a very healthy lump sum to you to get you started, plus an equally healthy monthly stipend for the rest of your life."
Damion's jaw drops. He sits there openly gawking.
"You're a wealthy individual, Damion."
He blinks at her in silence. She chuckles softly and hands him a parchment, "This is your banking information. Your account is in the Marsh Sanctum. Mulsae is handling all the banking transfers to ensure the funds appear in your Marsh Sanctum account."
He takes the parchment delicately from her and looks at it. None of it makes any sense to him. "I don't understand this..."
"It's okay, you can take the parchment to the Bank of Marsh Sanctum and a banker there will explain everything to you." Damion nods. His mouth goes dry. He's never had to handle money before, let alone had a bank account. His anxiety starts to rise.
"The next steps for you will be to find a place to live, get yourself basic necessities, like clothing and shoes, and find you a community to connect with." Damion nods, getting overwhelmed with this list of things to do. What happened to his simple life where he was told what to do and where to go?
"Do you know where you would like to live?"
"No."
"How about which Sanctum? What Sanctum would you like to live in?"
Damion blinks. "I have no idea."
She nods, "We can start you off with getting you a furnished apartment for short-term rental until you can get a better idea of where you would like to settle down."
Settle down? Settle down? What does that even mean? I can't even picture what it means to settle down. His anxiety levels rise more.
"You'll need to go shopping soon and get some clothing."
"I've always just worn fighting leathers. I don't know what else to wear."
She smiles softly, "I'll go shopping with you. How's tomorrow? After lunch?" Damion nods, relieved. He doesn't have to figure it out alone, and he has something to do tomorrow.
"Finding you a community is going to be more difficult, however," she says sadly, "Unfortunately, our communities are entirely composed of women and men are unwelcome."
Damion's heart sinks.
"But I will start looking around and see if I can find some communities that would accept you. What are your interests?"
Damion scratches his head, "Fighting?"
She nods, "Anything else?"
"Drinking?"
She chuckles, "Anything else?"
He thinks, "Oh, I've been reading lately."
"Book clubs are common enough, I should be able to find one for you."
"Okay!" she says as she sits up. Damion's heart sinks because it looks like she's going to leave. She smiles widely, "It's time for us to go to Sedgefold. You'll be staying in Reedrest until we get you an apartment."
Damion's eyes widen. He has no idea what any of that means. "What... Where are those places?"
She chuckles. "You don't know much do you?"
Damion's cheeks turn red. "No... I don't..."
"Sedgefold is the capital of the Marsh Sanctum. Reedrest is a quiet complex nestled at its core, serving as both Master Selune’s home and the heart of the Sanctum's governance."
Damion gawks. "I'm going to stay with Selune?!" That serene woman with the glowing grey eyes who ran the summit proceedings.
"Sort of," she replies, "You'll be staying in one of her guest houses. But you probably won't see her."
"I see." Of course not. I'm just a bastard born nobody. A Sanctum Master wouldn't make time for me.
"Let's go!" She heads straight to the door and opens it, then looks back at Damion expectedly.
"O- okay," Damion says and follows her.
Falloway leads them through the palace to the main entrance. Two Sylvaran servants open the grand doors to the central plaza.
The center of the plaza holds the Spirit Portal. It appears as a perfect circle of a foreign landscape suspended just above the ground. Around it stretches a white marble courtyard, wide and open to the sky, ringed by eight slender monoliths, each etched with a different trigram that glimmers softly in spiritlight.
As Damion follows Falloway in a slow arc around the portal, the view within its surface begins to change. With each step, the landscape reflected inside shifts: barren rock and flame, a forest wreathed in wind, a garden of thundercloud blossoms. The portal seems to respond to the direction of their movement, revealing glimpses of the spiritual heart of each Sanctum.
When the portal shows a dark expanse of water broken by tufts of grass and low islands, Falloway pauses. The twisting trees make it unmistakable. The portal now reflects the spirit landscape of the Marsh Sanctum.
Falloway approaches the portal and turns back. Damion hadn't even realize he froze in place. "Come on," she says, "Let's get going."
Damion blinks out of his stupor and approaches Falloway. As soon as he reaches her side she steps through the portal and disappears.
Damion is nervous as fuck. He has never been in the spirit realm. He's heard stories that it is weird and nothing like the mortal lands. Damion cracks his neck and takes a tentative step inside the portal.
It feels like stepping through a veil, cool and smooth against his skin, as if the space itself bends to let him pass. Sound dulls. Light stretches. For a breath, he’s between worlds. Then his foot lands. It feels like it lands on nothing. He looks at his feet and they're submerged in dark water, but he isn't wet. He doesn't feel any water.
He sees Falloway and she just motions at him to follow then walks away. He goes to walk forward, and he does move forward, but his legs aren't taking strides. He's gliding forward. He looks ahead and Falloway is also just drifting forward without walking.
The water stretches out endlessly, glass-smooth and dark as ink, reflecting images of people. Blossoms drift weightlessly in the air. Low trees twist from the shallows like reaching thoughts, their branches hung with luminous moss.
In the distance, reed-covered mounds rise like islands, each one surrounded by halos of light that pulse slowly, like breaths. There's no sun, just a silver-gray glow that comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. Laughter echoes faintly, without source. It’s not mocking, but it is unsettling.
Damion looks closer into these faces that are being reflected in the water. He recognizes them! His Flamekeeper is a recurring figure. He's like a father to Damion. He sees his old buddies from Scaldmere. He sees Mulsae as often as his Flamekeeper.
But there is this woman he doesn't recognize. He recognizes every other face except hers. She's Emberai. He stops and looks at her. She does seem familiar.
Then he gasps. It's his mother! He falls to his hands and knees to look closer at the image but now all he sees is himself. But it's not the Damion he knows. The reflected version of him is calm and serene, with a content happiness in him. That's nothing like who he is. He is anxious and feels so unsure about himself and his place in the world.
The wind stirs the surface, and the image drifts like pages in a book. He sees himself and Mulsae, collared and leashed, kneeling before a black-haired woman with yellow talons for nails. The page turns. Damion is holding down Mulsae’s legs while she strangles him.
Another turn. It's of a woman hung from a rig, severed legs strung back onto her like a marionette. Then Damion flinches when a different woman explodes into view, violet energy bursting from her body.
Veilstone Manor flashes past empty, cold. Then it's warm. He sees himself in the parlor, laughing with Sky-Touched and Emberai. Mulsae, Nori, and Rivenar are there, along with three others he doesn’t recognize. They have glowing violet eyes. He's never heard of Sky-Touched with violet eyes before.
"Damion!" Falloway’s voice breaks through. "Don’t get lost in the memories. Come on, let’s go."
"But..." He looks up. She’s already walking, her expression edged with impatience. Nevermind. This isn’t his place. This isn’t his time. He stands, brushing phantom weight from his knees, and follows her into the mist.
They walk in silence. The landscape breathes around them. Low reeds sway without wind. Pale lilies open as they pass, closing behind them. Twisting trees bow toward the path with moss-draped limbs. There’s no clear boundary between ground and reflection. Their feet land on water, but do not sink. It ripples under their weight, showing fractured glimpses of memories beneath. He tries to no longer look at the reflections. He doesn't want to remember.
Falloway walks ahead of him with the unbothered ease of someone on familiar ground, her steps sure, her back straight. She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t slow down. She offers no commentary on this journey through the Spirit Realm.
Damion doesn’t try to catch up. He doesn’t speak. His steps are careful, hesitant. The water beneath his feet keeps showing him faces he knows, faces he’s lost. The marsh shows what he doesn't ask to see. He tries not to look, but it's difficult to not stop when the image of his mother flickers by.
The quiet presses in around him. Blossoms drift. Trees with luminous moss lean close as if listening. He tries not to make noise. He tries not to feel too much. Falloway only occasionally glances back.
They walk this eerie land for a long time. He gets into the rhythm of it, like when he was a soldier on a march. Keep moving forward. He watches the trees. They're each so unique, twisted in their own way.
Damion just keeps following Falloway, alone. Alone with his thoughts. He thinks of his mother's face, so grateful that memory was recovered. He thinks of that serene version of himself, a version that seems impossible to achieve. The monster with yellow talons, and he's helping her hurt Mulsae. The laughter in the parlor that hasn't happened, but would be joyous if it ever does. They were truths, in some way. They seem to be echoes of what might be coming for him.
If those were images of his future, it means he gets through this. He doesn't know what is going to happen when he arrives in Sedgefold. But perhaps whatever it is, he'll survive it.
They walk seemingly endlessly. But, finally, far ahead, the glow of a portal pulses faintly in the distance, like a lantern behind fog. Falloway seems to be heading towards this portal.
As Damion steps from the portal, the texture beneath his feet shifts. He feels the give of something soft yet solid. He's standing on woven reeds, damp with mist but firm underfoot. He looks down and sees the path is not stone, but a mat of tightly layered watergrass braided into a floating walkway. The weave glistens with moisture, reflecting the violet shimmer of the spiritlight that still clings to his skin from the crossing.
Continue reading: Second Day (4 of 4)
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