Pain brought Sil back.
His eyes fluttered open as the agony in his limbs rooted him in the present, and he gasped sharply, body jolting with instinct. The cold restraints, bit into his skin as he tugged hard against them, metal creaking under the strain—but it was no use. The moment he moved, a surge of pressure rippled through the cuffs, anchoring him further in place like a beast caught in a web of invisible chains.
A mocking voice slithered through the silence. "Don't waste your strength, godslayer. There's no use."
Another chimed in, cruel and indulgent. "You're not going anywhere. Not this time."
He looks up and as his vision slowly clears the world around him slowly comes into view. He blinks a few times, trying to blink away to haze of unconsciousness, without the use of his hands and unable to indulge in the overwhelming urge to rub his eyes.
The first thing that Sil saw, directly in front of him was the delicate figure of Bliss, similarly restrained in a contraption that mirrored his own bonds. His expression was laced with worry as he scanned her with panic, quickly inspecting her body for wounds. He couldn't help but grow increasingly frustrated as his eyes washed over the weakened Bliss, covered in sweat and grime, her hair matted and damp, sticking to her face.
He noticed bruises that had formed on her arms, probably from being grabbed and shoved around by rough hands. A low growl escaped his throat as he noticed the bit of of blood at the corner on her mouth and freshly glaring hand prints welted on her cheeks. She slowly looked up at him with a black eye and trembling, swollen, busted lip.
She was a wreck. As enraged as her beared physical appearance made him, the worst part was the broken look behind her dull gaze. Her once defiant, and blazing eyes were hollow and she looked back at him with a defeated expression.
Seeing the life and fire that typically roared from within her, so severely extinguished, was like a punch to the gut for Sil.
He could only imagine the unspeakable torment they must have been inflicting upon her to so severely break her in such a short period of time. He gritted his teeth imagining what she might have been subjected to in his absence and a painful wave of guilt washed over Sil.
He couldn't help it, even though he knew it was no use, instinct and outrage caused him to violently strain against his shackles, thrashing wildly while he let out a agonizing cry of pain and frustration. His pants and grunts echoed across the room as their captors looked on in seemingly bored aloofness.
The feeble attempt at breaking free, served more as a reactionary exertion than an actual attempt at escape. He knew he wasn't going to be getting out of there that was, but he simply couldn't stop himself, being so overcome with grief and guilt at the precarious situation in which he had unfortunately found himself.
A cold panic flooded his veins as he remembered his brothers and he tried to not look in the direction of the upper viewing room where he had left them hiding to wait for his return. Swallowing hard he tried desperately to shove the regret and fear down deep and not allow it to show in his face.
He took in a shaky breath, deep and slow while he sent a silent prayer into the universe that Vorden and Raten had somehow managed to figure out a way to get themselves as far away from here as possible. Even more he hoped beyond reason that they had the good sense to actually go, instead of trying something stupid and dangerous like a foolish rescue attempt.
Knowing his brothers, if they were still around their feeble attempt at his recovery would have already been set in motion and with Raten that would have involved zero forethought and maximum explosive force. So basically, the fact that nobody has come bulldozing through here, and no explosions or collisions have occurred was a good thing.
The lack of chaos and conflict was a comfort for Sil because it was an indicator that his brothers had managed to narrowly escape, retreating before they could be discovered. If nothing else, Sil would gladly sacrifice himself if it meant his brothers got to go free. Now he just hoped and prayed that he wasn't relieved too soon and that no unexpected intrusions loomed in the near future. Sil was confident that Vorden had the presence of mind to recognize a lost cause when he saw it.
Suddenly Sil was shoved, as the device that Sil was entrapped in lurched violently. An unseen individual retched the contraption to the side, jerking it over into their desired position. He tried to catch a glimpse of the unknown culprit to no avail. The way in which his restraints were positioned in his neck made it impossible for him to extend or rotate his neck and greatly limited his range of motion for obvious reasons, which also put a serious limit on his field if view.
He nevertheless writhed around a bit trying to get a look at the future punching bag in question. Oh course he already had a pretty good idea who it might be, despite having been unable to actually see them since he came to.
Sil growled low in his throat, the sting of helplessness compounded the fire raging in his muscles. But then words that followed sliced deeper than any physical pain.
"Well, well, well, look who's back from the dead! What a miracle! Wouldn't you say Bliss?" The otherworldly voice taunted from someplace behind Sil.
A second, deeper voice, eminated from much closer, just out of Sil's sight. "Much too quick of a return to be the result of a reincarnation cycle though, very curious."
"Oh come now my dear, surely you remember that our earthborn friend here is not celestial, he is not capable of entering a reincarnation cycle. No, no not at all. This blight on the cosmos is no more than a filthy, despicable, lowly, godslayer." Venom dripped from every word as the sinister voice painstakingly spat out each syllable with unmasked disdain. The unsettling sound of the voice itself was enough to send a ripple of unease down Sil's spine.
"Shall we tell him?" one of the celestials whispered, almost gleeful.
"Tell him? No," the other replied, tone like frost. "We shouldn't tell him. She should tell him. She owes him, the truth." Sil could detect the obvious mock sincerely underpinning their seething rage throughout the entire statement as it seeped out from between their thinly drawn lips.
He blinked slowly, trying to place the voices. Every breath felt heavy in his chest, like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. He glanced around the room, still trying to orient himself—but it was Bliss's trembling form across from him that held his eye. Her head was bowed, and her body hung limp in her restraints.
"It was her, you know," one celestial murmured, though Sil couldn't see their face, their eyes glowed faintly with sadistic delight. "Bliss. The one who gave you up."
Sil's blood turned to ice. He looked across at Bliss confused, confusion etched across his rugged features as he scanned her face for clues as to what they were talking about.
"She's the one who told my kin where to find you," the other continued, circling like a vulture. "You killed Calyx in his previous cycle, Sil. Do you not remember? She gave you to him, served you up like a lamb for slaughterer. He simply attempted to return the favor… with interest."
Sil's jaw clenched. "No. You're lying. She'd never do that. She—she values human life. You're trying to mess with my head, drive a wedge between us."
"Oh but it's true I'm afraid, didn't you ever wonder how he was able to locate you after all those centuries, across such a vast distance in space?" the celestial said, voice dripping with malice.
"Did you not find it curious how he even knew your identity? You were, after all, just a nameless bloodthirsty drifter, a vicious vagrant on a cosmic tour of unprovoked murder. Not yet even a godslayer, not by any means." Sil's jaw clenched as he tried to recall those distant memories from the depths of his psyche, trying desperately to pull forth events that took place, what felt like, many lifetimes ago.