Page 12 of Owned By the Hvrok

He stood before her, hulking and silent.

The weapons were gone. That was the first thing she noticed when he returned. The jagged blades, the spined rifle across his back, the unidentifiable holstered tools… gone. Stripped away, as if discarded casually, as if he didn’t need them at all. And maybe… he didn’t.

Because even without the arsenal, he was terrifying.

He still wore the armor: sleek, seamless black that absorbed the light around him like a void in the universe. Not a single marking or glowing sigil broke its surface. Just pure, matte black, contoured to a body that was impossibly large and undeniably powerful. His arms were thick with muscle, corded and flexing beneath the plates of armor that clung to his form like a second skin. His chest was broad and immovable. His legs, braced apart, gave the impression of immense weight, of a being too grounded, too solid, to be moved by anything or anyone.

His wings remained folded behind him: massive, armored, deadly-looking. They arched high even when furled, like the wings of some titanic insect built for war.

And he was watching her.

Still. Unmoving. Utterly silent.

The helmet masked his face completely—smooth, featureless, and jet-black—but somehow, she could feel his gaze. It bore into her, unrelenting. Cold. Curious. Calculating.

Sylvia felt her breath catch in her throat. The air inside the chamber felt thinner suddenly, harder to breathe. Her stomach twisted.

What was he waiting for?

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, standing in the center of the transparent cage, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of bare skin exposed by the humiliating outfit she’d been given. Her heart thudded so loudly it seemed to echo in her ears.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t even seem to breathe.

Her nerves stretched tighter and tighter with every second of silence… until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What do you want from me?” she snapped, her voice hoarse with fear and frustration.

No reply. Just the silence, oppressive and unbreakable.

She slammed her palm against the transparent wall of her cage. “Let me out!”

Still… nothing.

But then, he moved.

It was like watching a shadow come to life. Smooth, fluid, too fast, and too silent for something his size. He didn’t stomp or stride. He glided, like a predator in complete control of his environment. She stumbled back without thinking, fear spiking in her chest.

And then, with a hiss, the cage vanished.

The wall that had enclosed her dissolved into the air, leaving her exposed and breathless. Her instinct screamed to run. To bolt. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Because he was approaching.

Up close, he was even more overwhelming.

He towered over her. His presence filled the room like a stormcloud, heavy and dark and full of pressure. She could feel the heat radiating off him through his armor, a strange warmth that brushed her skin and made her knees weak.

He raised a hand.

She flinched.

The fingers of his gauntlet unfolded: six of them, long and elegant, but clawed at the tips, menacing even in stillness. He beckoned to her.

Then, he spoke.

One word.

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