NOT approved by the FDA

Cierzo’s eyes fluttered, struggling to focus through the haze that clouded her mind. Azrael’s words, laced with a mix of authority and sinister pleasure, seeped into her consciousness like the drug coursing through her veins. She felt the weight of his presence, the gravity of his questions pulling her deeper into submission. She clung to his every word. “My name… is Cierzo…” She murmured, her polite voice above a whisper, sounding detached, as if the answer came from some distant part of her. “I am… five seasons old. I belong to the… Syndicate.” The words felt rehearsed, almost automatic, the remnants of her training surfacing even in this drugged state.

His grip on her paw tightened slightly as he continued to measure her pulse, the cold, clinical touch a contrast to the heat she felt spreading through her body. Her pulse had steadied, the initial frantic beating now a slow, rhythmic throb under his fingers. It was as if her body had surrendered to the inevitability of his control, her will slowly dissolving under the influence of the serum. She had never believed in gods before, not really. If they were real, why did they allow such horrible things to happen to her? But here, there was a God, and it was Him. Bright blues stared at him, seeing, but not really seeing. The question was there in her dull, sedated gaze. What could she do for him?

When Azrael asked about which Sidi she trusted most to keep her safe, Cierzo's mind drifted to memories of her packmates, their faces blurring together in her muddled thoughts. “No one.” She answered, the words slipping out before she could think to censor it. “I trust no one, not even myself.”

Then came the final question, the one that cut deeper than the rest, slicing through her drug-induced haze with cruel precision. ‘What is your greatest fear?’ Her eyes, though foggy, widened at the question, the primal terror resurfacing with a vengeance. Her lips trembled as she tried to form the words, the admission feeling like a betrayal of the very essence of her survival instincts. “My greatest fear…” She began, her voice quivering, “is blood. So much… blood. too much blood. dying.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, her deepest terror laid bare before him. It was not just the physical act of dying she feared, but the sight and sensation of blood, the slow, painful descent into darkness. And in this moment, under Azrael's cold, calculating gaze, that fear felt more real than ever. Cierzo's heart sank, knowing that her compliance, her honesty, had only fed into his power over her. The drug continued its relentless invasion of her senses, making resistance feel like a distant, impossible dream. Cierzo's body swayed slightly, the disconnect between her mind and body growing more pronounced. She was caught in the web of his control, each strand tightening around her, binding her to his will. And all she could do was obey.

””