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Looking back, he should've been more prepared.
Since taking over the case the Queen had given him, a dark feeling had been building in his gut, too heavy to be dread, yet not nearly as daunting. He'd ignored it, as he did with most things that he didn't want to deal with. Sebastian was off dealing with a separate case for him and despite the feeling warning him away, nothing in the notes seemed too out of the ordinary.
He should've been able to handle it.
The case had been a string of disappearances of boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, all last seen near his newest Funtom factory. He had known of the disappearances and had been planning to put off looking into them until Sebastian's return and yet by the time the Queen had come to him, there had already been four boys missing. Stranger still, not a single body had been found, leaving him to suspect that something more sinister was happening than a simple murder investigation.
Still, he should have been able to handle it.
So, how had he ended up here?
Tall, healthy trees surrounded him on all sides, the foliage lush yet so dense it seemed to block out the sun. Worse still, with his every movement, he could feel eyes monitoring his every move, yet there was no one there.
There hadn't been since he'd awakened here three days previous.
Still, something in him shuddered as he searched for a way out, the hair on the back of his neck raising as he felt those invisible eyes track him.
Taunt him.
He snarled, hating the feeling more than he dared to admit, yet all he could do was keep searching.
And searching.
And searching…
Where was the damn exit?!
Why was he no closer to civilization?!
For three days he'd been searching, yet it felt as if he were no closer to returning to civilization than he had been when he began. If anything, it felt like no matter what, he always ended up back in this place.
This clearing that he had awakened in.
That he had marked by tying his ribbon to one of the tree branches in case he got lost.
That same navy blue ribbon seemed to be dogging his steps like invisible eyes. No matter how far he thought he'd traveled, how close he thought he was to finding a way out…he always ended up back in this clearing.
It was driving him mad.
Worse, even his contract wasn't helping. The connection between him and the demon lay dormant, the seal's normally excessive glow dimmed until it seemed to fade.
He wasn't sure what that meant for him and whoever had kidnapped him.
"Lord Phantomhive." Whispered a voice, soft, almost whimsical, and he turned quickly only to find that he was still alone.
"Little Earl, Little Earl." Came another voice, deeper, yet no less mystical and he swallowed thickly, goosebumps prickling across his arms.
"Enough of your games!" He snarled and the first voice let out a tinkling laugh, while the other hummed.
"Oh? But isn't the Earl Funtom fond of games?" It asked almost mocking in its tone and his lips twisted into a vicious sneer without his knowledge.
"It's Earl Phantomhive. Funtom is my company. Now, enough! Who are you?!"
A third voice joined them, darker, rougher, its tone dangerous. "You have no power here, Little Earl. No power, none."
"Indeed, Her Majesty was most angry with you. Most angry." The first added and he stiffened as he felt something creeping up his legs.
"Touched what you shouldn't have." The second remarked idly and Ciel growled, trying to force himself to move, yet the feeling grew stronger drawing his arms against his body and keeping them in place before centering around his throat.
He chanced a glance down.
Thick tree roots wrapped around his body tighter than any rope he'd ever felt and he gasped as he felt his breathing becoming restricted.
"I don't k-know what…you're talking about…" He tried yet even as the darkness began to overtake his vision he realized that he was lying. Suddenly, all the details were coming together and he cursed himself for not bringing at least Pluto with him.
All the disappeared boys were similar to him in appearance and in age and it was a wonder he hadn't caught on sooner.
This wasn't a case, it was a trap…and he'd walked into it head-on.
Fucking hell.
*/*
She honestly hadn't expected him to be so…small.
Watching as her guards placed the boy in the middle of the clearing, her vines wrapping around his wrist to keep him in place, she found herself just the slightest bit stunned.
After all, for weeks they had been searching for the human that had dared to destroy their sacred land, had dared to disrupt their sacred resting grounds and replace it with a tall foul-smelling building, and she-
Well, despite capturing human children, she hadn't exactly expected that the culprit would be one.
Yet, here he was, marked by their ancestors' magic as the perpetrator and while she wasn't exactly opposed to dealing out justice, she hadn't expected the person she was punishing to be so small.
Was this really how far humans had come in the past few centuries? That even their young would dare to stand against them?
Had they forgotten?
Cobalt eyes narrowed at the thought, lips curling into something too callous to be called a smile.
It seemed they had.
Perhaps the disappearance of one of their beloved noblemen would serve as a reminder. Especially if this little one was important as he had seemed to be.
"Wake him." She ordered, and one of the guards nodded delivering a harsh blow across the boy's face.
He jolted awake, scowling, seeming to freeze as he noticed the cool air brushing against his skin, his body bare beyond the black leather loin cloth her men had dressed him in for this event.
"You dare-!"
"Silence, little mortal." The man that had hit him snarled and her lips quirked at the boy's affronted look.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
"Good Evening, Earl Phantomhive." She greeted hating the taste of the human title on her tongue. "I am honored you have deigned to join us on this wonderful occasion."
A single cold blue eye met her own, so similar in color that it nearly made her pause.
"Who are you?"
"You destroy our lands, our burial grounds, little human, then you dare not know who we are? Did your demon teach you nothing?" She snarled at his audacity, but he remained unphased, staring back at her too calmly for her temper to be cooled.
"If I knew who you were I wouldn't have asked. I have destroyed no burial ground…in recent years."
The woman barked a laugh at his words, pushing a strand of emerald hair away from her face.
"As you say." She agreed placidly, smirking. "Perhaps it would do to introduce myself, Little Earl. I am Queen Mirabel of the Demon Forest Fae."
A tendril of fear worked its way through his gaze, so slight that she wouldn't have noticed it had she not been looking for it and she smirked, feeling him try to pull on his connection to the Demon.
It would be pointless. She controlled everything in this forest, including those that were within it. She had severed the connection between him and the Demon the moment he'd entered.
How long would it take him to notice she wondered, however, she didn't get a chance to ponder for long as more of her people entered the clearing, each just as eager for the ceremony to come.
And why wouldn't they be when this was the being that had angered their gods and desecrated the graves of their loved ones?
They were angry and bloodthirsty and she could feel every bit of it.
The little Earl stiffened, the fear in his gaze more prominent for all that he tried to hide it.
She gave him a mocking smile, then moved her gaze to her people.
"Children," She rumbled, "We have caught the perpetrator that destroyed our burial grounds! Our Sacred Lands!" A single mocha-colored hand pointed at the boy in question who glowered heavily at her in response.
"Our gods have spoken! Our deceased have spoken! Let tonight's sacrifice appease their fury!"
"Sacrifice?" He breathed, something horrified and afraid in his eyes and her guards dragged him forward, their grips bruising on his pale skin.
Good.
She gestured to the guard from before to draw his blade, lips curling as the boy went still when it came to rest against his neck. Yet somehow, despite the life-threatening position he didn't seem afraid. Instead, the fear that had been there seemed to have faded.
Oh, this poor soul probably thought he was going to be granted the sweet release of death.
How very wrong he was.
His lips parted, perhaps to speak but she paid him no heed giving a final gesture to her guard.
He smiled, then blood splattered onto the cool grass and the young Earl fell lifeless in their grip, his head neatly severed.
Her people cheered their bloodlust slaked if only for the moment.
"Toss him into the heart of the forest."
They went still then vicious grins lit each face present.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
*/*
He was dead.
Something in his burned with anger at the knowledge, furious thoughts of revenge gone unfulfilled, and a contract unfinished circling in his head.
And yet-
Yet beneath it, all was a gentling feeling.
Peace.
For the first time since that awful night, the pain he'd constantly felt in his heart., the phantom feeling of hands and knives on his skin, was gone.
The constant spite and hatred that had fueled him for over three years…
Was gone.
Had he been anyone else, this would've set his heart at ease, would have made him feel content and yet-
All he felt without those feelings was untethered.
If he didn't have his hatred, his spite, his fury, then who was he?
In fact, why had he even bothered to survive?
What was his purpose without his revenge?
Something writhing and hungry kindled in his heart at the thought and he gritted his teeth.
That's right.
He couldn't die yet.
Not Yet!
Pain, white-hot and searing lanced through his body concentrated around his throat and the darkness around him grew brighter.
And brighter-
Until-
He gasped, bright heterochromial eyes flying open to meet the dark dense canopy above them.
He…was not dead.
Trembling hands reached up to brush the place where he was sure his head had been separated from his body and he gasped out a breathless laugh when all he felt was the soft skin of his throat.
There wasn't even a scar!
Just what the hell-
How was this even possible?
Sitting up, he took quick stock of his surroundings, noticing with a sinking feeling that he seemed deeper in the forest than he had originally started. The foliage above him was denser, so dense it seemed to block most of the light of the sun, and the air was colder, sending gooseflesh pimpling across his bare skin. Around him, the forest seemed almost unnaturally quiet, the sounds of life he'd heard in the part he'd been in originally gone.
His lips curled into a snarl.
"What kind of games are you playing?!" He snapped, listening keenly for a response.
However, unlike before, there was nothing.
No mystic whispers.
No contemptuous cobalt eyes glaring down into his own.
"Well?!" He yelled, but no response came.
Sneering into the darkness he stood and decided to continue his search for a way out.
Surely there had to be one.
Right?
*/*
"I hate forests!"
His scream of frustration echoed around him as he ran as fast as he could, low snarls dogging his steps as some kind of demonic-looking panter dogged his steps, crimson eyes glowing in the darkness around him.
What seemed like an eternity had passed since he'd awakened in this part of the forest, the dense foliage above making it nearly impossible to tell when one day ended and another began.
Since then, he had made several startling discoveries about himself.
First, he didn't need to eat or drink.
In the first few days, he had been concerned because he had yet to come across any water, and his throat burned with thirst, and yet…
Despite not having eaten or drank anything since entering this accursed land, he was still physically healthy. There was no weakness from the fatigue of starvation. No, trembling or weakness from the dehydration.
It was fascinating.
The second was, that he didn't sleep.
No matter how often he closed his eyes and tried to fall into the warm embrace of sleep…he couldn't.
Worse, he couldn't even pass out from exhaustion because he seemed to possess a startling amount of energy.
It was frustrating.
But the worse thing he had discovered was that he couldn't die.
Not permanently.
The first time had been an accident.
He had been searching for a way out of the forest when he'd fallen into an old trap. The pit had been covered by the dense undergrowth beneath his feet and he fell nearly 6 feet underground, his neck snapping as he hit the ground.
He'd awakened back in the forest.
The next, he'd been attacked by a feral beast similar to the one chasing him, sharp fangs tearing out his jugular.
He'd awakened, clean and healed in a dried pool of his own blood.
Since then, he'd concluded that he couldn't stay dead.
Still, dying hurt, so he tried to avoid it.
Just a little longer.
Sebastian was coming…right?
*/*
How long had he been here?
Keen bichromial eyes gazed at their reflection in the clear water of the river blankly, taking in the changes that could have only come from time.
His hair grew much longer than he'd ever allowed it to, brushing the middle of his upper back despite him cutting it weeks ago. He was muscular and lean, the result of years in this hellish place fighting for his survival, skin unblemished as any injury just healed itself. He wasn't any taller, nor had he seemed to have aged but he knew it had been years since he'd been trapped here with nothing but this stupid loincloth and his wits.
He wanted to believe it had only been months since he'd been trapped here, naively hoping he would find a way out or that Sebastian would find him, and yet-
He couldn't.
Not when the years were clearly visible in the water in front of him in the desolate gleam in his eyes and the length of his hair. Not when that same loincloth was still the only thing truly his in this forest, his wits sharp but edged with something more instinctual. More primal. The loincloth was as unchanged as his face, unmarred by the years, and while a part of him had loathed it and the lack of decorum and modesty it represented…he couldn't help but find it somewhat comforting, if meaningless. It was just a part of his life now.
Cutting through the locks with a jagged rock he looked back at himself, jarred by the youthful face staring back at him.
He looked the same as he had all those years ago, only his eyes giving him away the lack of fire in them something that made him want to vomit. His contract seal glowed as it always had, useless but there nonetheless, and he idly wondered if it would ever serve its purpose again.
Probably not.
He sighed, walking away from the water and back into his deceptively open prison to fight another day. At the back of his mind echoed a wish, mournful and desolate, empty in the way broken dreams were.
I just want to go home…