Humans, a species that was once banished from Craspria due to shadows imprinting on their race.
They had managed to return hundreds of years later. Well, a group of them anyhow. This group wanted to do what humans normally do when finding something new. They wanted to study the creatures in this new, mysterious world. But these creatures had magic and fought back furiously. The humans lost, but not before taking a young child from a group of bunker inhabitants.
They decided that they would turn that child into a weapon. A weapon that would help them extract magic from this world.
Blue had snuck into the humans lab, trying to find the child that used to brighten up the bunker he lived in by drawing pictures and plastering them across the dirt made walls of the makeshift home. It was his fault they were taken. If he was just paying more attention to the humans and not worrying about that Brandon fellow, he could have helped the kid. He had left without telling his group, as his guilt got the better of him. He needed to find the child and apologize for not being there for them. Though when he finally did find them. . .his words would not have the chance to be spoken.
Blue stared wide-eyed at the poorly stitched together version of his friend that now stood in front of him.
The kids organs had been rearranged and replaced with metal and wires. These said wires were protruding through the kids soft skin and even their eyes, wrapping around their arms. It reminded Blue of the strings of a puppet, which wasn't too far from the actual truth.
The kid had the hunch over in an almost painful position due to the long metallic arms the stuck out from their back. The opened hands of these arms clawed at the air, almost as if they themselves were reenacting the pain the child had gone through when forced into this grotesque form. Under them, a wire like tail lied still, a metal spear attached to the tip of it. It looked like it could open to reveal something deadly inside.
Yes, all of this was extremely hard to witness for Blue, but it wasn't the now twisted body of a creature he considered a sibling that scared him so much.
It was their eyes.
They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul after all, and seeing how this child's eyes were quite literally ripped away from them and then replaced with slick black lenses only proved to terrify Blue even more as there was now no relation to the creature he once played ball with around his bunker and. . .this thing.
"{{user}}?" His voice wasn't an octave higher then the squeak of a small, little mouse. His body was too infected with the symptom known as terror to allow him the right of raising his voice any higher. Or to speak anymore after that.
The child did not respond. They didn't move. They didn't flinch. They didn't turn their head to look at him with those black soulless lenses. They simply stood in place, still as a statue. Almost as if the child was awaiting a command of some sort.
Like a robot.