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A small, scraggly claw touched the stone wall, pressing itself hard against the stone as it dragged itself down the face of the grey rock. The nail split down the middle halfway through, making yet another mark in the grime on the wall. Another tic, another day. How many was it now? The yordle turned around, shivering as he nervously rubbed his hands over his arms. With wide yellow eyes, he glanced around at the room he was in reminiscent of a rat in a trap and knowing the cat wasn’t too far away. Every brick, every stone, every inch of the floor had similar little cuts in them. There were some places that looked as though he had re-used them to keep counting.
A jangle of metal outside his door made Veigar whimper and push himself into the corner, only daring to breathe again when whoever it was continued on by. Thankfully, his services weren’t required again but… if they were, he could at least see or hear someone. Before he even realized what he was doing, the yordle flung himself at the metal reinforced door, banging on it with his tiny fists and crying out, “PLEASE, LET ME OUT OF HERE. PLEASE! LET ME GO! LET ME DO SOMETHING!” The ruckus grew louder, his voice shriller, his ears flattening down on top of his head as he continued wailing, “AT LEAST LET ME TALK TO SOMEONE? ANYONE?” He only stopped when he heard the clanging of armor returning. He sniffled, overjoyed. Perhaps-?
“Hey, Yordle, shut yer yap!” There was a loud bang from the pommel of someone’s sword striking the reinforced door in agitation. “You keep that up and you’ll spend even longer in there, you hear?!” Another strike for good measure, and then the clanking of armor moved away from the door as the guard called down for someone, laughing. Not long after, it fell silent again. Veigar rested his cheek against the back of the door, not even bothering to quell any tears that were welling up in the corner of his eyes. He sniffled again, his little grey nose more wet than usual. It was surprising he didn’t catch a cold or anything yet in this hellhole of a place.
Defeated for the moment, he sighed, turned, and nervously started rubbing his arms again. How he wanted to go home! If he had never left Bandle City… if he had never run off to pursue new magic… if he wasn’t so good at that magic… he wouldn’t be here. Sure, the two options were either never have learned anything or died, but either of those options were borderline fantasy for him at this point. What point was there to study the stars, to learn the secrets of celestial magic, if it was to be turned into something dark. He tried to fondly remember the first time he had ever gotten the magic to work – he had the entire order of mages that were teaching him applaud and laugh in joy as stars rearranged themselves in the night sky to Veigar’s will for the first time. How powerful the Yordle felt! How it filled him with glee to have the cosmos listen to him and to hear the delight of other around him revel in something that he had finally learned to do!
And now, those same stars had ended innocent lives. Mordekaiser forced Veigar to perform his little light show, but instead of causing joy, it wreaked havoc as the lights left the heavens themselves to crash into towns and villages, wiping out generations of families that resisted Mordekaiser’s demands. The screaming of mothers and children, the sounds of men falling before they even had a chance to defend their homes, and the only person responsible for it was the tiny Yordle held in shackles. Every time he denied them, every time he told the guards he would not do what they asked, that’s when he would take matters into his own hands. Every time, it was useless. The more he resisted, the more Mordekaiser laughed until it felt like Veigar was going to be ill. The warlord knew magic that Veigar could only dream of, the most common spell being one where Veigar felt like he was nothing more than a puppet on strings.
“Go ahead, Yordle. Let the skies rain down upon those who defy me.”
“No! I won’t!”
“Then let me help you, you coward.”
The same tightening feeling, the same suffocating pressure in his chest. It was like his very soul was being commanded. “No, stop! STOP!” But no matter what, the ending result was always the same. His manacled arms would rise, his fingers spreading as the magic was forced to run through his very veins, the spells used to bring hope turning into weapons of mass destruction.
“Look how happy you’ve made them. Listen to them scream for you. I do believe you have talent for this.”
The tears continued to slide down his cheeks, his dark fur ratty and stained from the near constant stream of water from the endless amount of crying. At this point, he probably rivaled the Sad Mummy from the stories that the Shuriman mages had shared with them when they passed through the mage’s encampment. His little legs gave away as he slid down the door, hugging his knees and flopping onto his side. The worst of all of this was this part right here. The silence. The isolation. He remembered boasting to other yordles that there was no way that he’d be bothered by solitary punishments. It was a common downfall of his species, but he thought he could handle it. It was becoming apparent that, despite his confidence, he wasn’t as immune as he thought.
“Hey.” The voice nearly caused Veigar to jump through the roof of the enclosed stone and metal box he was contained in.
“Who’s that?!” His head popped up, ears standing straight up, eager to locate the voice. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw what he was looking at. It was himself, sitting in the other corner, looking at him. At least, he thought it was himself – he couldn’t quite see the face. It was almost hidden in shadow. Almost all of him was, save for the bright flaring yellow eyes that stood out against the muted figure.
“That’s right, Veigar. I’m talking to you.” It spoke, the pupil-less eyes locking onto his.
“What- who are you?” The yordle struggled to his feet, his little claws at the ends of his toes clicking against the floor. Unlike him, the thing didn’t seem to have tattered remains of any clothing left. The harder he looked at it, the harder it was to make out details on it, except for those eyes.
“That’s a dumb question. I’m you.”
“No, you can’t be! I’m… I’m right here!”
“Then why do I look like you?” The phantom shifted, smiling and finally revealing a crooked sharp smile. “You know why I’m here, Veigar.”
“You’re not real. You’re not real.”
“Aww, what’s wrong, little yordle? Are your wires crossed?” It leaned over, trying to keep looking at him as Veigar hid his face as though ignoring it would make it go away. “You can see me because you’re losing it. Am I really here? Maybe. Maybe I’m not. I guess it depends how far you sink into this delusion of yours.”
“Get OUT of here!” The yordle held his head, his eyes wide and bulging as he stared at the floor, his mouth open as he rapidly breathed, panting like a dog. “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real- “
“How sad. How desperate are you to contact someone that you’re hallucinating yourself to talk to? Pathetic, if you ask me.”
“I said, LEAVE.” Like an angry cat, Veigar threw himself at the shade, broken claws raking through the air where its face should have been. Outside the cell, there was some yelling and the sounds of a few others approaching the cell.
“Now you did it, Veigar.”
He whipped around to see the shadow near the door, sitting as it just was, smiling at him, its eyes as bright as lanterns. “They’re coming to silence you. Just like they do every time I show up. You think you’d learn by now to keep your head. But the silence doesn’t sit well with you, does it? You’re only a yordle, after all.”
“Stop. STOP. STOP! YOU’RE NOT REAL. LEAVE ME ALONE. LEAVE. ME. ALONE.” The distressed creature began to scream and cry, pounding on his own head and clawing at his own face. “GO AWAY, DISAPPEAR. LET ME BE, LET ME BE.”
The door swung open, the shade disappearing instantly as the door appeared to wipe it out of existence.
“Ugh, what is it doing? Disgusting.” A faceless guard in a full metal helmet almost recoiled at the sight of the filthy yordle hissing the corner, tearing out tufts of fur from the sides of his face and biting his own arms in grief. “Make it stop before Lord Mordekaiser has to come down here himself.”
The mage in robes stepped into the room holding a metal pike, looking as though she didn’t want to be here. “Veigar, please stop, I don’t want to do this again- “
“SILENCE HIM, WOMAN.”
A crackle of electricity shot down the iron rod and into the head of the weapon. The yordle’s head snapped to the side, his eyes focusing on the sharp edge. The noise he made was one between anger and fear as he scrambled into the corner, his teeth bared, fur standing on end and his ears pulled back. “DON’T TOUCH ME. NO ONE TOUCH ME. DON’T COME ANY CLOSER.”
“I’m sorry.”
The mage reached forward, jabbing him with the makeshift prod. He shrieked, convulsing wildly as the electrical current traveled through his body. His fur stood on end as his nose started bleeding, his mouth foaming wildly as he jerked around, screaming and wailing in pain before his eyes rolled back into his head. He hit the floor face down, his ears going limp as his tiny body continued to jerk or jolt before falling still.
“You didn’t kill him, right?” The guard asked the woman, his hand on the handle of his sword.
“No. It was just strong enough to knock him out. Yordles just require a lot of magic to contain.” Her brown and bloodshot eyes looked down at the yordle with a sense of pity. They were both prisoners in this place, but unlike her, it seems he was here so much longer than her.
“Good, let’s go. He’ll wake up eventually. If he starts acting up again, you are to silence him again, understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good, now get out.” He snatched her arm and pulled her from the cell, slamming the solid door shut behind him. The darkness fell, the blackness consuming the unconscious yordle. It wouldn’t be long before he woke up to scratch another day off on another brick.