Orb opened his eyes slowly the next day, but it was too dark to see anything. He held his breath and kept still for a moment, but nothing changed. His heartbeat accelerated in terrible anxiety afterward as he closed his eyes again and opened them without being able to see the blurry image of the glass lamp he used to see above him.

What’s going on?

A sudden chaos struck Orb’s mind. At first, he thought he was experiencing a nightmare because of overthinking the possibility of losing vision in his left eye for the past few days. Then, he believed this darkness was temporary because of his suppressed anger, which he did not express enough lately.

He slowly sat up and closed his eyes for the third time. He began breathing quietly and deeply in a desperate attempt to regulate his heartbeats, stop his trembling hands, and understand what was happening.

Moments passed, and nothing changed. Orb blinked several times and pressed his hand against the left eye twice and thrice. I can’t see. Why? A feeling of dread overcame him as he leaned his head against the side of the wall to his right and folded his legs over each other.

Did I go blind?

He was tired of his obviously useless attempts. Even though he considered the possibility of losing his vision in the past, Orb resisted it for the past two days until this morning, for he could not come to terms with the idea of his going completely blind.

I had lived with one blurry eye for almost four years. So why now? He did not ignore the signs, but he could do nothing about them.

A stream of tears rolled down Orb’s cheeks. He knew he could no longer see the light in his room and anywhere else. He could no longer discern the shadows that indicated the presence of people and things around him.

No. No. Please. This can’t be happening. Please, God, no.

Refusing to believe his losing his sight altogether while being a slave to someone very abusive and cruel, Orb felt a severe headache sweeping half his head ruthlessly. He grabbed his head with shaking hands as he winced and sweated.

I don’t want to be blind. I don’t want this. Orb then began to hit his head against the wall repeatedly.

"No. Please. Please, God, no,” Orb wept bitter tears of despair and sorrow as going completely blind meant great losses to him.

He was in pain because he lost the ability to read books. He wanted to read himself and sought to know their content at any time he chose. The thought of who would be willing to read for him whatever he wanted for whatever hours he wished has burdened him.

He was in pain because he lost the ability to be dazzled by the finer details of the world around him, the world that might be undetectable and ordinary, to which many people did not pay attention. Alas, he would not be able to experience that feeling again.

He was in pain because he lost the ability to contemplate the beauty and peace in all that nature could offer from animals, insects, plants, and microscopic beings. He believed he would never find pleasure and peace in his life.

His love of freedom and travel hurt him the most, and with his blindness and enslavement, how can he see the diversity in the world? How can he know the history of the places and their people? Who will take him to travel the world and discover new lands, secret hideouts, distant forests, and desolate deserts he dreamed so much about?

Orb was aware of all the negative feelings he experienced in one moment; he was deeply sad, tremendously scared, and frighteningly despairing. He did not know how to handle his emotions and control his thoughts; he did not know what to do and what would happen to him from now on.

I no longer have the confidence and hope to find ways to liberate myself from slavery.

Shifting his thoughts to Vermon, Orb feared endless torture and humiliation instead of granting him instant death, as he no longer was useful to Vermon, who repeatedly and explicitly complained and mocked his partial blindness.

What will happen to me? What will he do to me? What should I do? 

Orb wished to have someone who restored his faith in himself. He wished to have someone who cheered him up, comforted him, and told him not to worry. He wanted to hear that he would be fine and still worthy and needed. He wanted to be reassured that he deserved to be alive, to live in peace, and be loved.

Can someone tell me what to do?

However, amid his grief, fear and despair, Orb remembered that he was a stranger in that distant land and a slave who owned no money, freedom, or life of his own.

I want to go home...

He remembered that he had no home, friends, or family to protect, love, and resort to in times of adversity.

“Oh, it is over. My life is over … again,” Orb stopped hitting his head against the wall and sobbed for a while.

Sniffling, Orb crawled from his corner toward the disciplinary pillar in the middle of the room. Grabbing the post for support, he stood up and felt the bare and scarred structure. He was looking for the ropes and whips that were always hung on its pegs, yet he found nothing and could not think about who removed them and when.

Once more, he considered ending his life and all the torment he had tasted since coming to Arkosia. He had tried it in the past, but those sad attempts had failed countless times and for countless reasons.

As he stood facing the wooden structure, he could neither think nor communicate his suffering to anyone. His face was wet with sweat, tears, and mucus. His mind was a jumble of hideous thoughts, distant voices, and nonsensical images.

He has always been alone. He has always been locked up. He has always been tortured. He has always been hated. Who would take pity on him? Who would listen to him? Who would help him? Who would stop him?

“Ugh,” Orb moaned and almost lost his balance as he hit his head against the sharp edge of the pillar with all his strength.

He hugged the wooden structure again, panting, shaking, and blinking before hitting his head against the edge again. Orb did not stop. He went on tormenting himself and forgot that his death was impossible without Vermon’s explicit permission.

Blood smeared the pillar with every blow, and with every blow, his screams subsided to groans of terrible agony. Yet, Orb would not back off.

When Huhu entered the room after hearing Orb’s repeated screams and groans, he stood in shock at the scene for a minute or so. He eventually cursed and ran as fast as he could across the yards, the corridors, the inner courtyard and to the bedchamber of his master.

Vermon, who had just finished his bath, put on his new white shirt and was about to do his hair, did not expect anyone at that early hour of the morning. He heard Huhu’s knocking at the door with panic and his voice coming from behind the door.

“M—master, Orb is trying to kill himself—he is bleeding,” he panted.

Vermon had instructed his servants not to interfere in the affairs of his slave, and to leave anything regarding him to their master to take care of himself. No matter what misconduct or little transgression, verbal or physical, they witnessed, they must report it to him immediately.

Thus, upon hearing Huhu’s brief yet panicky report, Vermon immediately teleported himself to the isolation room and saw Orb on his knees, moaning in extreme exhaustion and semi-delirium.

***

Orb’s forehead was torn and bleeding, but he continued to hit his head against the pillar while grabbing it. His hands were trembling as they kept him from falling unconscious. The stream of tears did not seem to end, even after Vermon hurriedly pulled him away from the pillar.

Vermon forced Orb to sit on the ground, embracing him from behind with his strong arms. Orb did not resist at first. He lowered his head in exhaustion to weep. The wounds on his forehead were dripping blood over the white sleeves of Vermon, who watched the red stains slowly forming and said nothing.

Vermon did not seem to be shocked. He remained calm while silently embracing Orb and letting him cry his heart out.  About five minutes later, the sobbing began to weaken and fade in the face of a new fit of rage that made Orb fight Vermon’s arms with ferocity to free himself from Vermon’s firm hold on him.

“Let go of me. Let go,” Orb was wailing anew and tears were streaming from his extinguished eyes.

“I SAID LET GOOO,” the last phrase sounded like a screech while he kicked his emaciated feet in the air and pushed his body against Vermon’s broad chest.

Vermon was making an extraordinary effort to restrain Orb’s limbs. He could have used his Uthusian energy to control Orb’s body and pin him to the ground if he wanted, but he did not want to be aggressive with him at that point.

“Orb, you won’t die; all you’re doing now is hurting yourself,” Vermon earnestly exclaimed without losing his cool.

Vermon watched Orb thrust his sharp fangs into his forearm with a viciousness that almost tore off his flesh. Unexpectedly, Vermon did not try to stop him but bore the pain stoically with tearful eyes and endured without fail for some time with his tight grip on Orb.

“I want to die,” Orb shouted with a shaky voice as soon as he freed Vermon’s bleeding flesh. “Say it. Say the word. Let me die,” he sobbed.

“I will not!” Vermon was calm but stern.

“Kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me,” Unable to break free, Orb went on wailing in a frenzy of rage until his voice went hoarse and his throat dry. Afterward, Orb went into a severe coughing fit that Vermon predicted would end with Orb’s vomiting.

Thus, still clutching Orb’s waist, he quickly turned Orb’s body to the side, where Orb writhed in pain as he violently vomited whatever little food he had eaten last night. His body trembling subsided when Orb finished, but his shirt was wet with heavy sweat, and his lungs were loudly wheezing.

“Go fetch Luba immediately,” Vermon demanded, looking at the alarmed Huhu, who was standing by the door watching with his mouth tightly shut, so he hurried out of the room. Riecho, on the other hand, returned moments later with a jug of cold water, sat on both knees opposite her master and poured some into a small metal bowl.

Vermon, holding Orb with his left arm and keeping his bleeding head resting on his chest, took the bowl with his other hand and lifted it to Orb’s slightly parted lips. He proceeded to pour water into Orb’s mouth cautiously, expecting a struggle to ensue; however, the blood-stained Orb was still, and his eyes were half-open and fixed on nothing.

When Vermon saw water leaking from Orb’s lips, he returned the bowl to Riecho and ordered her to take it away.

“I just remembered that we shouldn’t give water to a bleeding person,” he said quietly, “let's not make it worse,” he murmured.

Vermon remained still, watching Orb for a few minutes and pressing his wounded forehead with his sleeve. Orb, however, looked like he had been entranced; for his eyes were still half-open, and his body was subdued. Seeing and being troubled by this, Vermon stood up at that moment, carrying Orb in his arms, and got him out of the isolation room forever.

***

Orb was moved to one of the guests’ rooms adjacent to Vermon’s bedchamber. The room was bigger and warmer than the isolation room, containing a large window, and a large bed furnished with a duvet and pillows, softer and warmer than the sponge mattress and pillow he slept on in the isolation room.

The floor was of dark wood boards, in the middle of which was a large red carpet and a small fireplace that kept the room warm. In one corner of the room, a stick of incense was burned by Vermon’s orders to help Orb relax and sleep.

When Luba came, he etherized Orb, stitched the bad wound of his forehead, and gently dressed it. After examining Orb’s whole body, looking for a trace of other new injuries inflicted by the ruthless master or himself, he was reassured when he found nothing serious.

Luba changed the bandages on Orb’s back and treated his neck, which had worsened due to Orb’s constant scratching with his long nails. However, he kept staring at the bruised legs flogged three days ago and inferred that it was a recent abuse.

“Leave that, Luba,” Vermon warned as he glared at the old man.

“I won’t bandage them but it’s better to apply some ointme…”

“NO,” Vermon interrupted. I won’t say a thing about treating all his injuries, but no one will treat the scars I inflicted on him, Vermon thought to himself while gazing at Orb. “Please examine his eyes,” he sounded agitated.

The old physician said nothing but proceeded to examine Orb’s eyes. When he finished, Luba stood by the bedside of drowsy Orb and confirmed that Orb had lost sight in his left eye, as there were traces of trauma from an old injury and a recent abnormal blood pressure.

“What do you mean by abnormal blood pressure?”

“My lord, stress and anxiety can cause dramatic spikes in blood pressure. Poor sleep, too, can be a factor,” Luba glanced at Orb as he said that.

Blood pressure? I know I’m difficult, but I’ve never thought he would collapse. Vermon frowned; he never showed it, but he did seem off in the past few days.

“Anyway, he has gone completely blind,” Luba concluded.

“This is it. Now I understand why he collapsed, despaired, and badly hurt himself,” Vermon murmured.

 “Hmm, so this is his doing. I remember telling you weeks ago that the other eye was liable to suffer from eventual blindness. Did you not warn him?” Luba asked.

“I did not. There was nothing we could do about it,” Vermon looked at Luba with furrowed eyebrows. “What is the use, Luba?”

“My lord, you could have mentally prepared him. Judging from my few interactions with him, I knew he wouldn’t come to accept it. Did you want to see him torture himself out of shock and panic…?”  

“I did not!” Vermon angrily denied it.

Remembering his talk with Akinos about his excitement to see Orb’s pained face once he became blind[1], Vermon felt disgusted with himself, gritted his teeth, and shook his head as if he wanted to shake the unpleasant thoughts off as well.

“Luba,” Vermon spoke earnestly as he tried to control his voice, “you’re unusually chatty today.”

Luba ignored Vermon’s last statement and looked at his long white sleeve, which was stained with blood, and without warning, he caught Vermon’s forearm, pulled back the sleeve to examine the wound, and found the flesh deeply torn by a ferocious bite.

“Did he do this to you?” Luba asked.

“…”

“He surely is wild and has sharp fangs,” said Luba seriously. “Will you let me bandage it, my lord?”

Vermon kept looking at his torn flesh and quietly said, “It’s fine. You know my wound will heal. The bleeding stopped a while ago.”

“I can’t understand you, my lord.”

“You don’t need to,” Vermon sighed, “Just leave my house.”

Before leaving, Luba warned Vermon that Orb might have a high fever that afternoon and suggested placing a cloth dipped in cold water on Orb’s head and abdomen to help control the fever and reduce his headache.

***

Vermon sat facing Orb at the edge of the bed with the antidote bowl in his hand. Thinking of today as the last day in which Orb would drink this bitter drug made Vermon exhale in relief.

“You must drink your medicine, Orb. I promise you won’t suffer its bitterness tomorrow,” Vermon whispered as he tilted Orb’s head up on the pillow.

Vermon held Orb’s jaw with one hand and carefully began to pour the medicine with a spoon on the side wall of Orb’s inner mouth. With half-open eyes, Orb responded involuntarily by swallowing what was coming down his throat.

Bitter, Orb thought, just like how he felt.

Shortly afterward, Vermon put the empty medicine bowl on the side table. With a mind in turmoil, he watched pale Orb finally doze off. Vermon did not like to show his feelings of concern in front of his servants and slaves. Therefore, he maintained a furrowed face that did not betray feelings of empathy toward Orb nor anger at what he did to himself.

The savage depths of Vermon were always vigilant, like a wild beast that could read the slightest move and energy transmitted by things around him.

Three days ago, he could instantly sense a change in Orb’s demeanor and attitude. He was in a bad mood, not foul-mouthed and defiant, but he was too quiet and subdued. Vermon suspected that it was related to Orb’s left eye, which lately had developed a red streak, as he saw Orb rubbing it constantly.

For that reason, Vermon wanted to test the condition of Orb’s left eye on the night of the tree incident. So he waved his hand playfully in front of Orb’s face and touched his hair teasingly, but Orb did not show any reaction.

He went completely blind since that night, but my foolish slave did not want to believe it and did not know what to do. I’m sure of it, Vermon thought to himself.

One piece of evidence was when Orb changed his habit from sitting in his usual corner to leaning against the discipline pillar and facing the window.

Orb also described the sky as illuminated by the moon and the stars. Vermon believed that Orb had imagined it because that night was unusually dark, and seeing the moon or any shining stars in the sky was impossible.

He must have been scared and at a loss.

Vermon also recalled how Orb behaved in the library. He was extremely cautious as he wandered around the bookshelves, and I knew he couldn’t see me when I lifted the desk. Yet, it alarmed me to hear him voice his doubt.

Yesterday should have been clear evidence of Orb’s loss of vision since he asked Vermon about the color of the flower. It was strangely frustrating for Vermon to remember how Orb kept talking about the flower as if nothing had happened and as if he were fine.

However, Vermon forgot that he was in the presence of a difficult man who did not fear death in the least. But why would he attempt killing himself when he knew he couldn’t die without my permission?

Vermon held Orb’s sweaty palms briefly before returning them to his sides. His eyes were fixed on Orb’s flushed cheeks, which indicated fever. Vermon buried his fingers in the back of Orb’s head to adjust it on the pillow and felt the wet strands of Orb’s hair. The fever started sooner than Luba anticipated.

“You were taking your antidote for seven days, and your blood should be cleansed from the poison by now, so why feverish?” Vermon complained almost inaudibly to the sleeping Orb.

Following the suggestion of his physician, Vermon summoned Riecho and asked her to bring cold water in a basin and a cloth to make the fever come down. While waiting for her return, Vermon looked at Orb and saw his eyelids trembling.

 Are you in pain? Vermon silently wondered.

At that moment, Vermon was startled by a sudden attack. In two crazy seconds, Orb darted forward as swiftly as the wind and bared his sharp fangs at Vermon’s neck. Vermon thought Orb’s fangs grew out for a moment as they deeply penetrated and tore his flesh.

Vermon released a cry of intense pain as he fell off the bed, bearing the weight of Orb over him. He’s biting fiercely.

Orb’s clothes, both front and back, were soaked with sweat and stuck to his body. His eyes were shut, still seemingly in a deep sleep, and his wet hair was mad and wild. His soft skin felt hot and damp.

A struggle ensued as Vermon tried to free his neck and keep Orb away with his hands, but Orb was glued to him like a wild beast holding on to his prey. Unbelievable, he seems asleep, yet he acts with full consciousness; even his movement is deliberately aggressive and calculated.

Vermon did not wish to use force against Orb. Therefore, he tried to control Orb’s body with his Uthusian energy but was shocked again when he could not. No matter how much energy he exerted, Vermon failed to control Orb.

The pain grew unbearable.

“DAMN IT, ORB!” Vermon exclaimed.

Vermon eventually managed to slam his angry fist into Orb’s back first to force his jaw open, and free his neck. Then he punched Orb in the stomach, throwing him into the air and out of the window after smashing the glass behind him.

Worrying about Orb’s falling over the glass fragments on the ground outside the room, Vermon instantly vanished and appeared above Orb in the air to catch him. However, as soon as Vermon extended his arm to embrace Orb’s waist, he received a sudden blow to his chest from Orb’s sweaty palm.

That was no ordinary blow, for Orb condensed a small ball of black energy not exceeding the width of his hand before releasing it at Vermon, whose body flew backward, passing the broken window back into the room.

Vermon avoided hitting the bedchamber wall behind him and swiftly flipped his body into the air to rest his feet on the wall before landing on the ground. Yet, the moment he stood up, Orb startled him with another attack as he flew speedily toward him. The lean right arm extended with another black ball of energy, smaller than the previous one.

Vermon instantly stretched his arm out and opened his palm to block the aggressive energy coming his way. However, just before the black ball’s release, it suddenly exploded in Orb’s hand and spread with a devastating effect throughout the room within seconds.

All the existing pieces of furniture were scattered over the floor, the walls and surfaces were scratched, and Vermon’s face and abdomen were cut and scarred. Vermon, who saw Orb suddenly fall on his face without movement, stood astounded before him with a racing heartbeat and thoughts. It was a failed attack but chilling enough to make him tremble with excitement.

When he walked over to where Orb was trembling on the ground, Vermon could hear his own panting of excitement and the sound of Orb’s lungs wheezing.

At that moment, Riecho returned with the bowl of cold water and stood aside in utter bewilderment at the chaos that happened when she was absent only for five minutes.

Seconds later, Akinos, with Jerboa on his shoulder, entered the chamber.

“By Uthus! What’s going on here?”

Upon hearing Jerboa’s anxious voice, Vermon looked over his shoulder and grinned. “He’s the fiercest when he’s sick,” still panting, he added, “I like that.”

***

End of Chapter (27)

NOTES

[1] See Chapter (4)

The illustration of Vermon and Orb is done by

https://www.instagram.com/lanhacy/