My Second Life Is A Heroic Power Fantasy 162 Realization

Eleanor awoke to find herself chained back to the all too familiar post in the cavern. Everything hurt even more than she remembered, with her left leg throbbing in such pain that she could barely think. She couldn't open her left eye either for how swollen it was. She tasted metal and salt in her mouth, and when she tried to spit, rivulets of red, stringy saliva slipped their way out of her mouth and onto the shredded remains of her clothes. Her dress was more of an idea than a piece of clothing at this point, with front of it torn almost completely open from neckline to bottom seam. She gingerly pulled the tattered remains of the fabric around herself to try and cover what she could, before closing her eyes and leaning back against the wooden post.

Before she knew it, she was sobbing, the tears congealing and burning the inside of her swollen left eye as they stream down her face in a torrent.

She had been out. She had been free. She had seen Rose and Jack again. She had finally managed to escape.

But it was all a lie. All of it. There was no Marg'faz. She probably never even existed. There was no uprising within the gnoll camp. No one was going to save her. She was truly and completely alone. Every thing she had done... all of the planning, all of the practice, all of the subterfuge and the growing of hope... none of it had actually been real.

He'd been in her head this whole time, using her own memories against her. Including enough truth to keep her believing that she had a chance to escape.
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Lacking any other option but defeat and suffering, she wept bitterly until sleep finally came upon her again a short time later.

She awoke next to a new kind of pain. A fresher, sharper kind of pain as something roughly and unceremoniously man-handled her broken leg. She opened her eyes to find herself nearly face to face with a small, nearly skeletal looking gnoll with a leather bag on the ground beside it. Her leg had been pulled straight and framed with rough cut chunks of wood, and the creature was now binding the makes.h.i.+ft splint into place with strips of unwashed linen. When she started and moved to sit up, the little gnoll gently but forcefully pushed her back down.

"No. If you move, it will ruin the splint. Be still and let me finish." It said, its voice high and raspy. She was relatively certain the voice was male. The gnoll cinched the strip he was tying into place with a jerk, send a spasm of fresh pain up her thigh and making her yelp.

The gnoll clapped his hand over her mouth

"Be silent!" He hissed.

He snapped his attention to the entrance of the small cave room, both of his large ears trained for any sound of approaching movement. After a moment, seeming satisfied that nothing was coming, he lifted his hand and resumed work. Ellie watched him, gritting her teeth with each motion he made to keep from letting out another cry. With a couple more cinches the makes.h.i.+ft splint was completed, and the gnoll packed the supplies beside him back into the leather case.

"Why are you doing this?" Ellie asked as the gnoll closed the case back up.

"If your leg is not set, it will be permanently twisted. Given the days between the break and now that it has gone untreated, it is possible the damage may already be done. But it seems best to try regardless." The creature said.

"But why are you helping me?" She asked. As she said the words, the whole situation in some ways felt eerily familiar, and she suddenly found herself doubting what was happening. Was this just another illusion meant to make her believe it was real, or something real that she couldn't trust wasn't an illusion?

"I am helping you because despite my brother's barbarism, it is not fit for you to spend the rest of your days a bent-legged cripple. He apparently enjoys you far too much for that."

There was a bitter, cynical edge to the gnoll's voice, as if it were tinged with resentment.

Eleanor's eyes brightened in recognition.

""So you're another one of Marg'faz's childen."

The gnoll froze and looked at her, his expression taken aback, before something seemed to click in his head. He frowned grimly and nodded.

"Yes, I was."

Eleanor's expression dropped slightly.

"You mean she's..."

The gnoll nodded.

"Yes. Dear Rawg'faz saw to it her death was prolonged and painful when he uncovered her plan to overthrow him years ago, with the help of a Gifted prisoner much like yourself, no less. I see that he has taken to using her spirit as a means of warping your reality. There really is nothing he won't do for his twisted enjoyment." He said.

Faced with the realization that her friend and savior had failed in her goal, and that she was now being exploited as a tool to warp another's reality made Eleanor sick. Unable to help herself, tears started rolling down her face.

The gnoll appraised her emotionlessly.

"Be grateful none of the rest of them see you crying. It tends to raise their l.u.s.t even higher." He said offhandedly. "They can be even worse to you if you aren't careful. I've seen them do things no creature should ever have to witness or experience once their victims start weeping."

Ellie looked up at him. There was no malice in his words, or in his eyes. In face, he looked a little sad. Before she could stop herself, the words came spilling out of her mouth.

"Please, I need your help. Please. Please help me escape. I can't take this a moment longer." She pleaded, grasping out towards him.

The gnoll took a step backwards out of her reach.

"That's not going to happen." He said.