Cold. Air. Shiver. Darkness.

These were the first few things Iren registered. 

All around him, there was a voided presence that seemed to wrap him up like a thick blanket. If he were to guess, he'd say that this emptiness was the cause of the frigid temperatures, but even he wasn't so sure what the darkness was. 

There were no sensations that could be felt as unnatural to him either. No sounds that seemed to be out of place. No taste that didn't seem unfamiliar. 

Strangely enough, everything was as it should be, yet not quite. 

Where was he? 

He willed his eyes to open. To move, to flex... anything. Nothing shifted from the dark canvas though. No matter how much pressure he put on simply blinking, his confusing reality remained the same. 

His mind raced to make sense of the situation and worked overtime to get the rest of his body moving. He thought of his limbs, his chest, his head- any feature that might be able to move whether voluntarily or not, and still couldn't feel anything. 

No sight... No sensations... 

What had happened to him? 

An almost imperceptible bang to the side of his head made him pause. Not knowing who had done it or why, he stood still and waited. 

Another bang, this time, a bit more pronounced than the first one. And with more force to it too. Gradually, these thumps grew in intensity and became more present, pain following suit. With a start, Iren realized these weren't ordinary knocks. They were waves of headaches. 

A muffled groan rang from deep within his throat. He couldn't register it by hearing, but he felt the rumble shake his body. His senses were slowly coming back to him, and with what he'd experienced so far, he wasn't so thrilled at the idea of waking up now.

The headaches hammered at his brain constantly, blocking all sorts of thoughts from entering his mind. Instead, he relied on his sluggish perception of the world around him. After waiting for a long time, he felt the twinge of his fingers flexing the ground beneath him. Cool to the touch and with a rough texture, Iren's body began to react to the unfamiliar scene. 

Like a machine powering up little by little, he felt as his fingers fully regained mobility, hands and feet following suit, until finally, he could lift arms and legs though with not as much grace as he'd normally do. 

His chest vibrated with the powerful force of his two hearts, rushing to pump out life across his entire body. And their pace quickened when Iren's hands positioned themselves under his stiff back. 

His hearing was muffled by something, but even with the limited sounds he could catch on to the sharp cracks popping underneath his skin. Pulling himself up in the state he was in wasn't doing his injured body any favors, and he could tell by the way his bones struggled to adjust to the newfound weight after laying down for so long. 

Although he had more strength than the average Ahnerovan, Iren wasn't invulnerable. In fact, he's had difficulty recovering from past wounds, some of which had done enough damage that still stung him now and then. 

Rolling his upper shoulder blades, he felt bones begin to fall back into place and ease some of the pain. Now having control of his arms, he willed his limbs to slowly unravel from their tight formation, letting a mass of tendrils replace his hands and fingers. 

Unlike other aliens they'd encountered before, the Ahnerovan had a specific characteristic that separated them from the rest. Their limbs were flexible and could become unattached, originally long tendrils that when pressed firmly together, could form humanoid appendages. These tendrils weren't the only ones present in Ahnerovan's body but can also be found in their backside, meaning that in reality, they had four arms instead of two. 

They could manipulate the tendrils to form four equally strong arms or two powered arms, depending on their ability to use said limbs in battle. 

Iren had mastered four-limb combat, which was unusual amongst his kind. Especially with the difficulty behind coordination and flexibility during fights. 

But now, he could barely feel his back arms. The tendrils remained completely unresponsive, which worried him. And even though he wanted to look behind him to know what was going on, his upper body didn't allow him to push his limits. 

A cough left his dry throat, pain erupting in his lower abdomen. 

The alien knew his eyes were fully open now, but the darkness remained. Nonetheless, he had a better understanding of where he was. 

A small room, he decided. The limited resonance of his heavy breathing was enough proof of the area's size, which wasn't much. The roughness of the ground suggested that this room wasn't a conventional one, but rather an abandoned one. Tiny flecks of dust made him wonder how long this place had been left to rot. 

Then, the smell. Musky, and earthy. Dirty. With hints of humidity floating around.  

Was he underground? 

Another cough left him, still not used to the muck he was breathing in. Now that he could feel his legs, he slowly wrapped his shoulder tendrils until they formed humanoid arms. The Ahnerovan's textured skin met with the rough flooring as he pressed onto the ground. Wincing and heaving from his efforts, he angled his body so most of his weight fell on his arms. Still not fully able to stand, he opted for a kneeling position, head bent in to regain his breathing.

The headaches were pounding with full force against his long elf-like ears, pain coursing through his brain. 

"Daean," he let the curse slip out of him. 

The absence of light was beginning to frustrate him, not liking being in never-ending darkness. To make matters worse, the room's small size was causing shivers to run up and down his spine. 

An unknown fact about him that his peers never knew, was the hatred Iren had for small spaces. The sensation of being caged up brought unconformity to him, and even though his job as a Paladin forced him to stay on space-tight pods for recovery, he didn't like it one bit. 

In fact, the warrior was sure that's where he got his dislike for small spaces. 

He waited a few seconds to let the painful waves on his head cease, forcing as much air as he could into his body. Even though his arms were beginning to tire out from his weight, he tried to push past it. 

'I just want to stand up,' he thought to himself. 'Is that too much for me now?'

His hearts stopped beating as a sound unlike his breathing echoed through the tiny space. 

Not long after, blinding light filtered through the darkened room. Iren's arms, now numb from holding his heavy weight, collapsed under his body and he fell to the floor almost lifelessly.

His full attention was set on the source of luminescence, though. As his eyes were struggling to blink away the spots that'd formed from the light, he was trying his best to see through the veil of shine. At first, nothing but white could be seen, until a shadow blocked most of the light. 

He tried, but Iren couldn't find the strength to lift his head off the ground. So, he willed his eyes to trail up to the strange figure slowly making its way toward his slumped body. It seemed as if it was taking its sweet time, prowling over the Ahnerovan like a predator does to its prey. With limited eyesight, all Iren could see was how long and thin it was. As if a black hole had stretched the creature. 

The shadow finally stopped its slow advances and stopped a few ways away from Iren. The Paladin grunted as he tried to move his body, hoping that he'd be able to at least sit and see the stranger. His actions were stopped as soon as a boot came into contact with his skin, pressing hard against it.

A groan left him at the force of the stomp. 

"So, the mighty soldier wakes up," the newcomer snarled out. 

Iren's face scrunched up in heated anger when he heard the male above speak in his native tongue. Even though he couldn't see the stranger's features, the way his tone carried malice left little to no doubts as to what he was. 

Ahnerovans had an almost melodic language that allowed its native speakers to speak it freely and without problem. Those who grew up speaking Ahnara were masters, and the accent was the same for all the planet. 

Except for those who didn't grow up with the language. 

A growl rumbled in his throat. "Onfae," Iren all but spat out.

The boot crushed his body with more force. The Paladin felt his bruised bones strained underneath the unfamiliar weight, not doing any favors to his current situation. If his captor decided to fight him, Iren was sure he wouldn't be able to defend himself like he usually did. 

The alien above growled. "You and your Ahnerovan kind, calling us scum. Being so high and mighty because of your inflated pride. But when faced with battle, what do soldiers like you do? You betray. You prove Ahnerovans aren't as perfect as the galaxy deems them to be."

"I did not betray my kind," Iren snapped back. "I would never betray Ahnerova."

The Onfae chuckled at this. "Oh, but you did. You got exiled for it. Remember, Paladin?"

Iren struggled underneath the alien's pressing weight, causing the latter to stomp as hard as he could. A wince left the soldier, though he tried his best not to show his pain to his kind's natural enemy.

"I would never betray my species," Iren said again with more confidence. "Unlike you Onfae, who love to screw each other up just because you're bored."

He could feel the alien's menacing smile as he leaned over his body and said, "But you're no longer an Ahnerovan, are you?"

Iren's breath caught in his ribcage. 

The Onfae let out a cackle. "Those who betray are no longer deemed a citizen amongst your kind, is it not? No matter if you were a Paladin, or if you defended your planet from enemy races... Once an Ahnerovan betrays his kind, his kind no longer sees them as one of their own."

A crack rang out as the alien smashed his foot on Iren's backside. The soldier had to bite down on his cheek to stop the scream that threatened to rip out of his throat. 

"So they exile them," his captor continued, relishing the Ahnerovan's pain. "They banish their brethren into space, to a world where no one has come out alive. Denolias- is that not the planet where you were sent off to die?"

Although with little energy to boost his strength, the Paladin squirmed underneath the Onfae's foot to get him off. They both knew though, that his efforts were meaningless.

Suddenly, Iren's ears warmed up to the breathing of the alien torturing him. He had to block out his nose from reeling in the foul stench of his enemy. If he could, Iren would've punched the living daylights out of the Onfae for standing so close to him. It was both repulsive and offensive. 

The alien captor laughed yet again, though it was clear his humor wasn't lighthearted. "Oh, but it was so easy to get ahold of your ship. Without your fellow soldiers, capturing a man sailing for his inevitable death is child's play. Not to mention, now that you're on your own, we can rest assured no one from your planet has plans to rescue you. For all your kind knows, you're already dead."

Anger flowed through his system in a storm, blocking all sense of rationale from taking over. If Iren had his weaponry, he'd be set on cutting, slashing, pummeling, and destroying the scum talking over his back. And to think he had probably waited until the Paladin was disarmed and injured to confront him...

He was a coward. All Onfae were cowards. They were scum and every day he fought against them they proved to be nothing more but scum.

Letting another growl rip out of him, he felt a burst of energy surge him. The back of his head collided against the Onfae's with more force than either of them had anticipated. A satisfying grunt left the alien as he stumbled back, clutching his head in between his hands. 

"Curse you," Iren spat out, rage evident in his face. "Curse you, and your Onfae brethren. Cowards. Deceivers. Traitors. All of you, intergalactic waste."

The captor snarled at his words. "You just sealed your fate, then."

Suddenly, what little light illuminated the room was snuffed out of existence as the sound of multiple footsteps rang in Iren's ears. Voices overlapped each other, hands gripping onto his skin as if threatening to tear it open. The Paladin was surrounded on all sides and soon felt as his body was dragged through the rough floor. 

"Take him to the camp!" the Onfae from before yelled above the commotion. "Torture him if you want to!"

Immediately, a blow to his lower abdomen caused all air inside his lungs to fly out. Claws began to dig into his body, liquid slowly trickling out of the new wounds. One of the aliens delivered a punch to the side of his jawline, sending Iren's body to the side before being pulled by his captors. 

The overhead lights were blinding the Paladin. He couldn't see clearly, and as much as he wanted to asses his surroundings should he ever escape, his body was failing him. 

"Ahnerovan trash," an alien snarled to his right.

"Pathetic warrior!" another one yelled out to his left. 

Iren couldn't get a word out when another punch caused his vision to blur out completely. With a final heave, he fell unconscious.