His eyes opened, pained and blinded, his hands felt heavy as did his feet, his fingers tried to move but they only found resistance. He searched around the empty cave, looking for what horror was in store now, and found his extremities molded into the ancient stonework, pinning him splayed out across the once cool minerals. He tried to call out, but weeks, years, decades alone in this cave without water had parched him to the point of cracking throat. Birds came, seeing an easy meal and their taloned feet clacked against the black rock, for a moment he believed them to be ravens, a closer look however proved this to be false, they had no eyes and their beaks were covered in a translucent rug of glass spines.
They sought out the fleshy parts of his naked body, pecking at his skin, the spines of glass seared like magnesium fire and he screamed, noise breaking free of his desert dry throat, causing the birds to flutter away, blind heads searching for safety, before they fluttered away in true terror in a cloud of feathers. He closed his eyes. When he opened them she stood above him. Her beautiful face was blank of emotion or thought, pouty dark lips lay only in a line of apathetic disconcern, and full black on black almond eyes gazed implacably down at his. Her lips clung to each other for a moment as her mouth opened to speak and all around him came the gentle raking sob of a woman, her voice choked by tears. "Vargas. . . Va-a-argas. . ." There was a heaving sob of utter anguish as the stone-faced woman closed her mouth, cutting the cry off into silence. Her lithe copper skinned form lowered down onto him to press herself almost lovingly against him and as her lips gently touched against his and pulled away the soft voice escaped for the stone for the last time, "please. . . help me. . ." from the stones.
He awoke in a cold sweat, but this was not new, simply how his mornings began now, his bed however was empty, his body was racked with nightterrors and it was no long a wise idea to have anyone near by. He ate a short breakfast of oats and milk, the grey skies above seemingly infecting the world below them with their brand of desaturated blandness. A crunch came from his jaw as he chewed on the oats and he opened his maw to let one of his teeth to roll free from his jaw into his bowl with a plop, staining the milk and oats red.
He spent his day mining, digging the ore out of the earth with his pick, gruelling work but it was his work, something he had find that he was good at, and as day turned to night he returned the loads of unprocessed copper back to the smithy where he spent hours smelting down the raw ore into ingots, it was satisfying work, the gleaming bars of metal stacked gently beside the smelter. Yet this was no where near as the satisfaction brought by creating an instrument of death from the metal, he spent the twilight hours of the night slaving over the anvil, however as the last blade twisted into a jagged pointed shape, he felt a snap in his wrist and the hammer he used fell from slack fingers, clanking to the stone floor as his shoulders began to pull tight, crushing against their own bones. He cried out in pain and fell to one knee, drawing looks from other craftsmen near by, he pushed himself up, eyes searching the stunned faces as he dashed outside into the cool night air and the speckling rain. He crashed into a pile of refuse, bile pushing itself up past his throat into the garbage as he fell into a stunned sleep.
He was so weak now, and he had become deeply afraid, afraid of himself, the other him, the giant, roaring beast that lived in this cave, she loved him, and him, but she would let him hunt him until he was dead by his hand, there was only one result, he had to die, and leave behind his life, whatever life that was. He stood upon shaking filthy legs, his bare feet padded to the darkest depths of the cave, his hands reaching blindly for whatever was in the shadows, he found something soft, and small, shivering and cold, his hand seized its neck, it flailed and tugged but he crushed down with a powerful grasp. The cave came into stark vision as he swung himself against the stone wall in front of him, he awoke, the sound of crunching bone still ringing in his head
He awoke however, to feel the destruction of his body, his form twisted and broken, his teeth bleeding and his burns splitting. . .