They had brought someone new to the warehouse. Dianna lay curled in a ball in the shadows, watching as they electrocuted the newcomer. By the smell of him and the foul taste on her tongue, she guessed he was a lycanthrope.
“Werewolf,” She murmured.
When they finally left him alone, the humans wandering off to perform other tortures to other beings, Dianna pulled herself into the light, the tattered remains of her tail dragging behind her.
Dianna was a Mer.
Once, her tail had been bright and beautiful, teal colored scaled glistening. But now, it was almost bare of scales, flesh red and irritated from the whips that had cut into it.
“You there,” She called out hoarsely, the air dry on her throat. Her body was meant for the sea, not the damp mildew of the warehouse.
Zade looked up groggily, his eyes glassy from pain.
“Welcome to Hell,” Dianna chuckled, pulling herself further towards him. She was not kept chained – she had convinced them that she was immobile from the damage to her tail. This left her free to drag herself around the warehouse when the humans were gone.
“Who…what…” He stared at her bloody tail warily.
“Oh, this?” She fanned out the remains at the end of her tail, the webbing between each spike long since rotted away.
Zade’s eyes grew wide in recognition, “You’re a Mer,”
Dianna nodded, “Correct. And you are a lycanthrope,”
He nodded, “What war?”
It was a simple question, but Dianna shook her head, “That is the witches’ priority, not ours. The Mer have nothing to do with it,”
“Then why are these people doing this to us?” He asked, wincing as the silver chains bit into his skin.
“Because human beings are naïve,”