The Art of Submission

•One•

"You cannot save everyone. Some people are going to destroy themselves."
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"Priestess! Priestess!"

An inferno.

The intense heat made her skin slick with perspiration. The weight of her own physique and the layers of holy robes she wore forced her body to almost crumple over, lacking the strength to carry her own self.

Arana compelled her body forward, the screams of familiar voices urging her weakening body onward. The soles of her feet were cracked, bleeding. The bottoms of her feet resembled the dry, bleeding with lava earth under her feet.

"Girls! Girls where are you?!" she screamed into the dark void. The only light she saw was coming from the haphazard swirls of fire that passed her body disappearing into the blackness at random.

"Girls!" She bellowed, her voice constricting by the absence of saliva her mouth was producing. It felt like sandpaper and cotton had filled her mouth. Nothing could quench her thirst. This place was void of light and moisture.

It was dry, hot, dark.

Tartaros.

"Princess? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Her weary eyes wildly scanned the darkness before her. A gasp left her lips as a figure appeared before her.

"W-wolf of bane pack."

It was him. He had a torch in one hand, something hanging from his mouth. A cigarette? His shortened hair was no more. Instead, it was inky and overgrown. Dripping with sweat. Her eyes followed a particular sweat droplet, her gaze following it down his neck and naked chest. His sculpted muscles. Some of his skin was burned through. It looked painful, scabbing over.

"You're hurt, " she whispered, her voice cracking even more. She was so thirsty. 

His dark eyes danced with the fire from the torch in his hand. He brought the cigarette that was in his mouth close to the torch. "Don't do that!"

He didn't flinch as the fire engulfed his face, also lighting his cigarette. The flames dissipated as he patted them down with his bare hand. Her stomach churned in disgust and worry as she gaped at his scorched face.

"Come on. You're looking for your girls, right? Those assholes brought them down here." He grabbed her hand, his skin rough and scaled. Lacking moisture...

"Why are you down here? Help me find my girls and we can escape." She jerked away from him as a small fire twister passed them. It passed directly through Trent, burning up his body even more.

He chuckled. "I live down here, princess."

She yanked away from him, anger bubbling up inside of her. "You do not live down here. We are getting my girls and we're leaving."

Trent's eyes brightened. "You're not going anywhere, Arana. I want you. I'll protect you down here. Don't worry."

She shrieked, stumbling backwards, shaking her head in denial. "You know who I belong to. You do not want me and I am not staying here!" she shook, the anger within her now festering.

He pulled out a gun. A big one. And pointed it towards her. "You're mine, Arana. Come here."

She froze. He was going to shoot her? "N-no. I am not yours, I'm tied to the goddess." She heard the unmistakable click of the gun ready to fire. "Trent. Don't do this. Don't."