Rage surged through him, hot and unfamiliar in its intensity. Without his father's brass regulators functioning properly, anger wasn't the calculated response it once had been. It was raw, primal, and overwhelming. His fists clenched involuntarily as his emotions flared without mechanical constraint.
He tried to move, only to discover that thick metal restraints bound his wrists and ankles to a polished table. House de la Sang's precision restraints, designed to respond to even the smallest attempt at resistance. When he pulled against them, they tightened automatically, brass edges digging into his flesh.
The pain from his wounds cut through his anger. Various cuts and bruises from the fight with his brothers throbbed across his body. A particularly deep gash across his chest had been cleaned but not treated, the edges still raw.
"Finally awake," a familiar voice observed from somewhere behind him.
Sebastian turned his head, wincing as pain shot through his neck. Dominic stood just inside the doorway, his copper-threaded skin gleaming in the pale light. His brass eyes adjusted with soft clicks as he approached, lenses focusing with mechanical precision.
"Brother," Sebastian said, his voice rough with pain and fury. "Come to gloat?"
Dominic's head tilted slightly, an almost human gesture that looked wrong on his heavily modified form. "Gloating would serve no purpose. I've come to assess your condition before Father sees you."
"My condition?" Sebastian gave a harsh laugh that tore at his damaged throat. "I was ambushed by my own brothers, poisoned with specialized weapons, and dragged back to the place I escaped. How would you assess my condition, Dominic?"
Dominic moved closer, clinical gaze scanning Sebastian's exposed chest where brass flowed like liquid mercury beneath his skin. "Fascinating," he murmured. "The primitive magic has altered your components at a molecular level. They've become something new."
"Not new." Sebastian met his brother's mechanical gaze. "Something old. Something our people tried to forget."
Fear threaded through his anger, not for himself, but for the settlement. For Sarah. For the people who had shown him what life could be without regulation. Had his brothers attacked after taking him? Were the orcs preparing for an assault? The settlement had become something he never expected; something to protect rather than conquer.
"What happens now?" Sebastian asked, unable to keep the nervous edge from his voice. "Another of Father's improvement sessions?"
Dominic's expression remained perfectly neutral. "Father will decide your course of treatment. Though I believe Zarek hasrequested permission to examine your altered components first. He's developed several new testing protocols he's eager to try."
The casual cruelty in his brother's voice sent fresh rage coursing through Sebastian. Before the Heart Tree's magic, he would have spoken the same way about "specimens" and "testing protocols." Would have viewed others as nothing more than subjects for research, their suffering justified by scientific advancement.
A wave of nausea rose up in his stomach.
"If Zarek harms anyone from the settlement." Sebastian dropped his voice to a dangerous whisper, "I will tear his brass heart from his chest."
Dominic stepped back slightly, lenses adjusting as they registered the unfamiliar intensity in Sebastian's threat. Not the calculated intimidation of a vampire noble, but something more primal. More dangerous.
"Your emotional responses have degraded significantly," Dominic observed. "Father was right to prioritize your reconditioning."
Two attendants entered before Sebastian could respond, their faces partially covered by brass masks that regulated their responses to noble presence. Once human, they had been changed to somewhere between servant and component. It was the first stage of "improvement" that Sebastian had once taken for granted.
"Prepare him," Dominic instructed. "Lord Cornelius expects presentation immediately."
The attendants approached with efficiency, releasing Sebastian's restraints only to secure his wrists behind his back with specialized cuffs that responded to Dominic's commands. As they hauled him upright, pain exploded through his injured side, forcing a hiss between clenched teeth.
His legs nearly buckled as they forced him to stand. How long had he been unconscious? Hours? Days? The wounds from his fight with his brothers throbbed with each heartbeat, reminding him of his failure in the forest.
The attendants approached with a pressurized canister. Without warning, they sprayed him with icy liquid, the harsh chemical scent burning his nostrils as it sluiced over his body.
"Removing primitive contamination," one noted clinically, directing the spray with methodical precision over every inch of his skin, as if the very air of the orc settlement had tainted him.
The humiliation was calculated, Sebastian knew. Not just cleaning, but erasing… removing all traces of the connections he had formed. The cold water stung his wounds, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
Only when they were satisfied that the "stench of orc" had been removed did they dry him with mechanical efficiency and dress him in the formal attire of a vampire noble—black silk pants, a high-collared shirt, a fitted jacket with House de la Sang's emblem embroidered on the chest. Clothing he had once worn without question, felt like a prison against his skin.
"Look at you." Dominic circled Sebastian with detached curiosity. "Heir to House de la Sang, reduced to this compromised state by primitive magic. Father is most displeased."
As he spoke, Dominic pulled something from his pocket, a simple blade with a worn wooden handle. Sebastian recognized it immediately; his knife. The one Boarstaff had finally returned to him after weeks in the orc settlement. The one Dominic had carved for him a century ago, before his brother's most extensive modifications.
Dominic twirled the knife between brass-tipped fingers with mechanical precision. "I'm surprised you still have this oldthing," he said, examining the blade with clinical interest. "It's not even sharp anymore. Hardly efficient."
Sebastian watched the knife turn in his brother's hands, the only possession he'd truly mourned losing. Not for its utility, but for what it represented. "I kept it because a little boy I cared about very much gave it to me," he whispered.
