Imogen awakens with a start, clutching his chest. His pulse pounding in his ears erratically. He urgently searches his soul for the contract to summon Unai. Nothing happens.
Is the contract still blocked?
His eyes are open but everything is a blur. He can't see where he is or if he's alone. He shakes his head and blinks to clear his vision.
Why don't I feel any pain from my wound?
He lifts a hand from his chest where the stab wound should be, there isn't any blood.
I've been healed? Why are my hands so scratched, bruised and..small? This hand is..small, delicate but grubby? Is it even my hand?
He wills the hand to move, forced to accept it must be his as it moves at his command.
What has happened?
He looks down at himself seeing a ragged dirty appearance and small stature.
My body is small? How can this be? Am I even still me?
Just then, a familiar smell catches his attention reminding him of the slums. It's the smell of decomposition, rot, smoke, sweat, and the sharp ammonia smell of urine. The stench, combined with the influx of memories it brings, causes him to turn on his side gagging.
Where am I?
He now sees he is laying in a pile of rags. Inspecting the nearby wall he sees the pattern of contract formation on a board that's leaning against the wall.
The rune pattern that changed his life.
He sits up slowly, eyes going wide as he looks around the cramped run-down shack. The smell, the shack, the practice pattern, it's all clear to him now.
I know this room, this place. I'm back in the slums? Back in time?
He tries again to summon Unai. It fails. It's clear there is no contract yet. Imogen takes a slow deep breath to calm himself so he can figure out when he is. Now that he knows where he is.
As he is still uncertain, someone kicks aside the crate that acted as a door at the entrance of his shack. Rough hands grab him and toss him outside.
"Here's the little shrimp. Not bad right?" A hoarse voice says to another man that was waiting outside.
The other man looks him over carefully from head to toe. Holding Imogen's face up by the chin, leering at him. "He's pretty for sure. Nice eyes but he's so small. Is he about twelve?"
"Sixteen is what he claims." The man that is holding him by the arm states.
"Dirtier than most. Is there something wrong with his mind?"
"Could be. If so it'll just be easier to control him."
No one seems to be speaking to him just about him. So Imogen ignores them for the moment.
So sixteen, that should be shortly before I summoned Unai. Good, I can re-summon him soon.
Sudden chills run down his spine and his stomach drops. This is not good at all. He begins to struggle with all he's got against his captors. He remembers these men.
He doesn't want to go back to that place. Being held captive in that place is the reason he was desperate enough in his first life to risk the summoning. He had preferred the high chance of death with the slim hope of freedom the contract summoning gave him over staying in that place.
His struggles are useless.
The men are much stronger than him. Imogen is malnourished and scrawny. It's no exaggeration that he looks twelve. Living alone in the slums all these years has not been kind to him. Even so, he's still clearly pretty with his pale green eyes and nicely formed face.
He was well aware of the danger of being a weak and pretty boy alone in the slums. Always keeping himself as dirty and unappealing as possible. Going out to scrounge for food in the early predawn when there are few people out or going at night so no one could see him clearly. Sometimes even hitting himself in the face causing swelling to alter his features.
In this way, he had made it to sixteen before the scouts spotted him. That's what these guys are called, scouts. Always hanging around the slums watching for suitable prey. They are the worst kind of human traffickers and Imogen's luck had run out.
The men easily drag him through the narrow crooked paths of the slums. Due to his increasing panic, Imogen's tunnel vision keeps him from recognizing any landmarks but he doesn't need to. He knows where they are taking him.
The nicest building in the area. It looks good on the outside but inside it's the ugliest of places. No one from the slums wants to end up there.
That place is where people with money come to do anything they want without repercussions. Most just come for sex, but that isn't all that is available here.
The building is just ahead now. A large sign by the door catches and holds his attention.
~~~Want to murder. Sure. Interested in torturing. Can do. Want to buy a slave to keep at home. No problem. Need to ditch a previous slave that's been broken. This is the place. Anything goes. Prices negotiable.~~~
He remembers the slogan well. It was read to him often enough. It was the only written thing around. It was posted in every room as a reminder to the customers.... and to the property. If he doesn't escape that is what he will be. Property, just waiting to be sold.
After being stripped of his ragged clothes, Imogen is shoved into a small cage. A few buckets of cold water are dumped over him to clean away some of the dirt he's covered in. He's left dripping and naked. Looking around he sees a few more cages with other young people in them. Everyone is terrified, whimpering and begging to be released.
He'd tried hard all his former life to repress this memory. Now it's happening to him all over again. Right now he needs to remember it all, every detail so he can find a way to escape sooner this time. Before the worst happens to him.
As fractured memories of this place leak into his consciousness. Imogen is overwhelmed by a sense of dread. His mouth has gone dry, his stomach is churning. He struggles to focus on the memories he needs right now. The ones that will help him escape as soon as possible.
Just look for an opening. He thinks as he wraps his thin arms around his knees rocking to comfort himself. All I have to do is get out. I'll form a contact with Unai again. Once I have him these people can't touch me.
He attempts to convince himself that his trembling is due to being wet and naked not the crippling fear clouding his mind. He's sure he has the same hopeless appearance as everyone else in this room though.
There isn't much needed to attempt a summoning contract.
Just draw the runes then drip your blood in the center. The power needed is then drawn from your life force, if it's enough, you succeed.
However, if it's lacking.....you die.
There are many talismans available that make it safer by providing some or all of the needed power. The better the talisman, the higher the cost. Normally only people with enough money to afford the talismans attempt to form a contract. Or those willing to gamble with their lives.
Imogen only needs something to draw or scratch with. A clear space to draw the rune and enough time to do it without interruption. The first time he contracted with Unai was out of desperation. He didn't know if he would succeed or die trying then. This life, he already knows he will succeed. He just needs a chance to do it.
As long as he has enough time he could form the contract with Unai right here and now. Imogen tried to recall how long he was held in the cage in his first life. He remembers it had grown dark before the scouts brought the boss to view the new products in his first life. Just now, the sun was high in the sky as he was brought to this place. He definitely has enough time.
His arms are thin enough to reach through the bars and scratch the rune needed into the dirt floor. If only he could hold them steady. Ghosting the pattern over the floor to practice a few times he makes sure there is enough space for it. Finally satisfied with his tests he begins scratching out the pattern. His first attempt is a shaky mess.
Imogen stops trying for a moment. He forces himself to take slow, deep, complete breaths thinking only of Unai. The long soft fur, white dotted with red, ending in pale, purple tips. His delicate black paws. The razor-sharp teeth ready to rip apart everyone in my way.
Just summon him then I'll be safe.
He smooths the ground and starts over. This time his hand is steady and the rune is perfect.
After a careful inspection, Imogen bites a finger, letting his blood drip into the center. The rune lights up immediately as he feels the pull of the contract begin.
The feeling of his soul stretching and mingling with Unai's is both horrific and wonderful. The rush of power. The feelings of being pulled apart then put back together. He's screaming and laughing all at once like a madman. Then as sudden as it began, it's over.
Unai, his contracted beast, is standing before him.
A soft muzzle reaches through the bars nudging Imogen back. He moves as far back as he can to give Unai space as the beast rips open the cage.
[I've returned. I brought help.] Unai informs Imogen via the telepathic link of the contract. Imogen is about to ask what that means when he feels a power fill the room as everything seems to freeze then twist in front of him.
[He's here.]
A powerful presence shocks Imogen's senses and he almost loses consciousness. He fights to keep his eyes open, stubbornly staring straight ahead. He's on his knees, one arm around Unai for support. Eyes fixed on a growing speck of darkness. As the darkness spreads, stars appear within the void.
The swirl of stars and darkness expands to form a human outline. Imogen is looking at the night sky that stands before him like a man. It seems to be reaching toward him. The eyes flash. Imogen releases a breath he didn't notice he had been holding. The universe in front of him snaps and a tall, dark haired man is walking towards him. A hand stretches out pinching Imogen's chin. Lifting Imogen's face. Eyes deep and dark look down at him. Sparking like the night sky. Drawing him in.
For the first time, Imogen feels uncomfortably aware of how pitiful he looks. He usually goes out of his way to make sure anyone that sees him will be disgusted. For some reason, he wants to make a good impression on this man though.
The man before him gives off an aura of strength like a natural leader but darker. He should be submitted to, not just followed.
Imogen can't hold on to consciousness any longer. Strong arms catch him before he hits the ground. His vision has gone dark but he feels himself pressed against a firm chest as a clean elemental scent that's like a thunderstorm washes over him.
A/N above image is how Imogen sees the mysterious help Unai has brought. By alice-insain deviant art.