Page 129 of Somno Slave

The power in the room has changed.

It’s no longer him as a victim.

And then I notice—the men are gone. No footsteps. No prayers. Gone, like they were never here to begin with.

Deogal stands now. The version I know, leering in the centre of the cell like it’s his throne.

For a moment neither of us speak.

He studies me in a way that feels surgical. He watches every breath I take.

“They didn’t break me,” he whispers. “They never could.”

His gaze dips briefly to my throat, then rises again. “Not really, anyway.”

My pulse stutters.

He reaches out like he’s going to touch me. The space between us hums, but he stops.

“You said enough.” He says softly. “So, I stopped.”

The cold settles in.

“I know.” I rush. “I know, I’m sorry. It was too much, I just, I needed—"

The distance widens, subtle at first, but I feel it immediately—the shift of him pulling somewhere I cannot follow, the space between us stretching into something colder, sharper, until it feels less like standing apart and more like being abandoned.

Panic claws up my throat.

“Please,” I whisper, and the word sounds smaller than I mean it to. “I want to know more.”

For a moment, he says nothing.

His stare pins me where I stand, and I feel it like a blade pressed carefully to skin.

“Next time,” he breathes, voice dragging down the back of my skull, “don’t say enough.”

The warning settles inside me before I can fight it, like something being placed exactly where it belongs. And then, he’s gone.

The air empties first, the pressure of him leaving behind a terrible absence. Then the torchlight begins to die, each flame shrinking inward until the room is swallowed piece by piece. Shadow climbs the walls. Stone softens. The floor beneath me gives way into nothing. The bars dissolve. The chamber folds in on itself like a body finally exhaling.

Everything slips.

Everything disappears.

My body jerks upright, fingers twisted so tightly in the sheets they ache, nails half-caught in the fabric like I’ve been trying to hold myself in place. My heart is pounding so hard it feels violent.

I stare at the dark room waiting for the stone walls to return. They don’t but my body doesn’t believe they’re gone either.

My lungs still drag for air like water’s being poured over my face. My skin still expects chains. I can smell wet stone. I can still hear him choking.

“No,” I whisper immediately. The word comes apart halfway through. “No no no—”

I shove myself backward too quickly and nearly fall from the bed.

My chest rises too fast, breath catching sharp and uneven, and sweat clings cold at the back of my neck. For a moment, I can’t separate one world from the other. I still feel stone beneath my knees.

Next time.