Escape!

The manacles dropped to the floor; click, clatter, clang. The loss of them hurt, physically ached in his bones, like he had been growing around them this whole time. The skin around his wrists was red and raw, scar upon scar upon newly worn flesh. It was a wonder, a beautiful moment in time, unbelievable.

Though his blood pounded in his pointed ears, and though the riotous noise in the other room ebbed and surged like waves on a cliffside, and though he knew he had to go, he stared. He stared at the lack of those manacles for longer then he should have. It's almost like I can breathe again, He thought, knowing he had to run, but being unable to look away.

There was a crash, a loud one, from the other room. It rocked him out of his revelation. He pocketed the key in his pants and cast his eyes about the room. He had nothing but the clothes he wore as possessions, a necklace bound to him from his father, and the key in his pocket.

His scant quarters were barren, save for the now discarded manacles and his pallet. His door was half shrouded by a thick curtain and nothing else. His masters did not expect him to leave. He wouldn't have been able to before, the spellwork on the shackles making it impossible to go anywhere but where he was told to go.

He could taste his heartbeat as he approached the curtain. Each footfall felt heavier now, weighed down by terror and doubt. Is this some trick? Was the key a trap? Was this whole thing some elaborate charade? Would they be standing there, past that doorway?

Then, in a fleeting moment, he was past the curtain, as if it had never mattered before. No one waited, lurking with cruel smiles. With that border having fallen around him, the rest crumbled and he was running. He knew the way out - he knew all the ways out, every passage, every door every window. A Minor torment, to know how to escape but being unable to. He'd endured worse, could endure far worse if he was caught. As the noise receded behind him, he ran faster. He ducked around corners, hid behind statuary and shadows to avoid being spotted.

And then he was free. Out the door with the two lion heads, down the hall, and over the threshold. Not only free of the keep and it's ruthless overlord, but free of the Hellscape, free of the whole realm! The shimmering tingle of the portal washed over his skin as he emerged, whole and unscathed, in a whole new world.

Giddy, ludicrous laughter hissed past chapped lips. His vision clouded, hands on knees, panting for breath in the twilight. Twilight! His knees gave out entirely, and he let himself fall into the tall grass. The moon was overhead, and it was full of light. He pushed hair out of his face, roping it over his horns. Bruises on his face still stung, and his wrists burned, but the air was so clean and clear!

He held his hands up to look at them. He had six pewter rings to his name, each useless and empty enchantments he could now fill, the bindings upon him gone at last.

Tools do only what they are told. Slaves do only as they are commanded. You are both, and as such my property. Your father has no use for a half-breed whelp. There is no place for you among your mother's whimpering kinsmen. Therefore, you are from nothing, and to nothing you will return.

His master's - former master's - voice echoed down the vast chambers of his mind. He ran his hands over his face, deep breaths in and out to soothe the panicked hysteria that his laughter had become.

Who am I? He thought. I had a name. I know I did.... He blinked, gazing once again up at the moon, a single long ago memory floating to the surface of his tumultuous mind. A woman's face, a human woman with brown hair and green eyes and a smile, a smile for him. She said something with love in her voice before the memory quietly drifted off.

"I am Zephyrius."