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Cold.
Dark.
Void.
Zethia faded in and out of consciousness. She blinked her eyes open, lids heavy like lead. The vast sea of shadow around her stood still. No sign of Morsayati’s striking cobalt and violet aura anywhere. He was busy.
A normal captive would be grateful for a break from their captor-- but Zethia was a prisoner of body and mind. Every moment she did not see the otherworldly force residing in her being, it was out there wreaking havoc unto the people she so dearly loved. During the nights, when her body needed sleep, Morsayati would creep back into the recesses of her mind and show her all the atrocities committed in her name. Villages ransacked. Dragons slaughtered. Innocent people tortured like criminals of war.
Had she the capability, Zethia would weep.
Instead, she returned to her dreamless sleep.