Prompt# 233- Stonewalled - It’s All Gone - Tekia - Original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: It’s All Gone
Fandom: Original
Prompt: stonewalled
Warnings: Implied violence and murder
Rating: M
Summary: Nolyn had done what needed to be done, and now must pay the price.
A woman had found him, covered in blood, holding the lifeless body of an infant in his arms. For a long moment, she just stared at him with eyes that had gone wide with horror and fright. Nolyn didn’t try to stop her when she ran screaming from the room.
He didn’t move from his position on the floor, the baby held loosely in his grasp as his little bit of magic did what it could for the damaged soul. Men filled the room after the woman screamed and they pointed their odd weapons at him.
After much shouting, and after Nolyn had regained his breath, he finally relented and laid the now cold body aside and let the men take him away. They shackled his hands before him, very careful not to get the blood on themselves. People were silent as the guards escorted him out of the building, their faces flushed with anger, pale with fright, and twisted with curiosity. Nolyn paid them no mind, ignoring them all and focused on the loss of his magic.
The battle with the demon had left him very weak, magic wise. Had he been home, the magic would already be flowing back into him as soon as he used it, but here, there was nothing. Only hungry steel and machines. The healing of the soul had taxed him, sapped what little magic he had had left inside him. His chest felt hollow and empty.
Which reminded him.
The guards paused beside the loud carriage that they had been leading him toward and he took the time to unthread the spell he had cast upon himself. Instantly, his body convulsed and he choked on his own blood. He fell to his knees and coughed up the blood, feeling his insides reform inside him, realigning his heart. He had to press his heart and compassion into his gut and hide it behind his conviction. Now he could release his compassion.
Tears sprang to his eyes and he spat out the last of the thick blood coating his mouth. The guards hauled him to his feet and shoved him into the carriage.
Nolyn sighed and swallowed the saliva and blood in his mouth. He focused his eyes forward and stared at the cage that held him. It was alright with it.
They would imprison him and keep him hidden from the world while he healed, while he regained his magic. His fingers twitched as he once again realized that no magic was returning to him.
Nothing.
He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of the carriage and leaned back against the hard seat as the guards sat in the front, on the other side of the cage, and brought the machine hidden in the carriage to life and they moved away from the now loud and angry crowd.

They gave him no privacy to bath, but instead stood guard over him as lukewarm water poured out of an overhead spout. They didn’t give him time to relax before they ripped him away, gave him nondescript clothes to wear, and locked him into another cage.
The room was empty save for a large table and a small machine sitting on the table. Nolyn sat dully at the table, his shackled hands folded calmly on the hard surface.
There was a mirror encompassing the wall opposite him, and he stared at his own reflection, noting how tired and … old he looked.
He had bags under his eyes and his hair was drying in thick clumps, not having had the chance to comb the black strands to order. He had bruises and cuts on his face still, from the battle, from the war. He had no magic to help him heal and he couldn’t remember a time that his magic wasn’t there to help him. Once again, his fingers twitched, reminding him of a time before he had discovered his magic.
He rubbed his old wound on his right ring finger, the bone giving him a twinge of phantom pain. His missed his father, he thought abruptly.
The door opened and two men entered, different men from before. Nolyn settled his hands in his lap and kept his eyes on the men as one circled him and the other sat at the table opposite him.
They spoke in their language to him and Nolyn just stared at them. He didn’t even have enough magic to understand their language. He watched their lips move and memorized the way they formed their words and tried to understand, but it was far harder without his magic. It was going to take time to understand this language, and he had time.
His inability to understand and speak to them stonewalled any progress and they had him moved into a cell with two cots and one sink and bowl. He sat on the lower cot and stared at the wall opposite him.
The facts of this world kept running through his mind. There was no magic to help him. There were no others like him, save for the soul he had tried to heal. This world didn’t rely on magic at all, but on technology. His skills and talents and knowledge was useless here.
He closed his eyes and flopped back on the hard cot and let his mind escape him, knowing it was the coward’s way out, but not being able to stop himself. Maybe this time, he would sleep his life away.
He didn’t, as the people in charge had a strict routine and forced him to conform. He did so willingly, letting their control take the weight off his shoulders. He didn’t sleep his life away, but it still felt as if he were in a fog, his body living his life, but his mind elsewhere.
He was held in that jail for nearly a year before they brought him before a court to finally give him a sentence. He could understand the language now, but it was too much effort for his broken mind to speak it, so he understood that, while they weren’t going to try to kill him for his crimes, he was going to be imprisoned for many years.
He was quite alright with this as well.
His magic still hadn’t returned and what better place to be than where he was under constant guard. They were helping him, unwittingly so.
They moved him to another prison. The man in charge took one look at him and ordered his hair cut.
Nolyn gaped at the man a moment before he remembered that the men of this world held no pride in the length of their hair and he suffered his hair being cut close to his head. His mouth was dry as he watched the waist length locks fall to the ground around his chair.
This prison was nosier than the last and organized much differently. He couldn’t afford to let his body function without his mind here, as he learned on the first night when the other prisoners confronted him for his actions.
He didn’t try to explain his actions, and merely stared at the men as they tried to tower over him, tried to make him fear them. He looked up at the men, stared them down and calmly walked away from any fight they tried to initiate.
He remained calm through all the chaos around him and awaited for the path before him to become unclouded.