Empty Chains ✔️ | #ONC2019

| Chapt. Four | No Alliances |

Several corridors later and a lengthy hallway opens into an evil dining hall of dreams. Eight free bodies coast into the room, shadowed figures following at their heels. Some are hooded, others more carelessly showing their face.

Demetri is the only Reaper with the audacity to show himself completely, the grandiose cloak fluttering after him dispersing into no more than a memory. Still adorning the assassin's garb, what little is revealed of him shines bright under lamplight. Midnight hair flops about lazily, his golden eyes scanning over the surface of every object and being before resting more delicately on my face.

"You're a bit more flamboyant than the rest, aren't yah?" I smirk, regarding the rest of the room with an empty glance and meeting his more cheerful expression once more. "Did it ever occur to you that a more somber approach might aide in trust?"

Of all the responses in the world, Demetri merely shrugs my words off. The facade. An intricate mask for those he must answer to.

The other contestants seem just as clueless, milling about the room without direction until food rather suddenly drops onto the table. My nerves act up though and I palm my stomach in wonder.

"Well," Demetri laughs. "Go on."

My natural instincts scream to get away. Taking a step back, I look at him almost pleadingly. "This isn't another test, is it? The food isn't poisoned?"

The Reaper thinks for a minute and shakes his head. "Nothing to worry about, Doll," he says. The confidence fades quickly though. Demetri grabs my upper arm with gentle remorse and sighs. "If His Unholiness did anything, we wouldn't know but I might advise staying away from anything with seeds."

"Seeds?"

"My Lord has a fondness for fairytales."

My brows furrow but Demetri backs up, holding his hands up in surrender. A covert gesture, masked in gloves that blend in at his hips and behind his back.

I step up to the table, secure enough in the fact that Demetri thought it was not only safe but advisable. Perhaps I trust him too much, then again no matter the stakes he'd never tried to hurt me before.

Quite the opposite.

Especially given the people I'd be sharing a table with.

No one else trusted the food before them quickly, some hovering above the benches and others a good arm's length away altogether.

Specifically, Noah glances at the table through dead, empty eyes. With no sense of light inside, a strange pit forms in my stomach. He doesn't care.

Each person has their own reason for doing this competition, but Noah is practically unreadable. Besides the reaction towards losing a life with his wife, there is no single emotion I can separate or understand. As if remaining neutral somehow benefitted his mission.

If I didn't know better, I'd assume Noah didn't intend to eat at all.

The only thing I gather is a small sentence Atticus passes on, whispering in his ear. "You might wish only to compete, but do not forget that you're not immune to human necessities here. Without eating or sleeping you will suffer for your abstinence."

Within ten minutes everyone sits at the table rather awkwardly, eyes searching for a random knife to the heart and hands protectively cradling forks and spoons as if it made all the difference. David eats like a pig in the farthest corner, a wide berth of space around him. The only other person to help themselves is little Lyric.

Given frame and build, my best guess is she's no more than fifteen. Hardly an asset and worse, probably too weak to stand a chance.

I eat my heart out eventually, minding what Demetri has said and avoiding anything with seeds. Between amazing lasagna and different cuts of steak and ham, I'm at a loss trying to shove everything I love in my mouth just to sate the raging hunger I've been harboring for what feels like hours now. Even after two full meals worth, I barely feel content. As if death hit the reset button, my body had screamed at me like I'd never eaten before. Now, I am only just beginning to feel human again.