Chapter Text
The moon was high in the sky when the door creaked open slowly. A man took a few steps in the hallway and stopped in front of a window where he could watch inside a very small room. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was probably in his late thirties.
He came to see if his personals werewolves’ assistants did their job correctly. Obviously, it what just a title. It’s not really a great idea to call them slaves when you worked as a daily basis with other members of their species, even if because of his powers the slaves and the public would never be able to know the existence of each other. He asked the werewolves to take care of the preparation of the brand-new object of his collection.
From what he was currently seeing, they did a wonderful job. After all, with the spell he was using on them to make them obey his wishes it was the only thing they could do.
The new specimen was really beautiful. He could see that they take care of giving him a bath, wash his hair and dispose of that beginning of beard that he collector despises.
For now, he had decided to let him in his own clothes because he noticed that it was something that had calm a lot of the other individuals of his collection when they opened their eyes for the first time in their cells.
The young man, future star of is next exhibit, was still unconscious on a mattress at the opposite of the room. He was facing the door. The spell the collector used on him will make sure he stayed that way for at least a couple more hours. His right hand and his left foot were enchained to the wall behind him, and he was also wearing a collar and cuffs on his other limbs.
The collector drew a heavy and full set of keys from the inside of his costume jacket and opened a heavy door to step on the cell and fully observe the beauty of his prize. He knelt in front of the lying man. He was so young, maybe between 20 and 24, perhaps the word boy would still be more accurate in comparison of his own old age.
The man carefully placed a hand on the forehead of the boy and began a powerful spell that will make sure that all the people he knew will not be looking for him. They wouldn’t forget him. The poor boy didn’t deserve anything this awful, but they would just automatically forget what they had in mind if the desire to check on him would strike them. The collector didn’t need to create an excuse of why he wasn’t home because he found him on a road trip all alone.
Now that the spell was on, he took a few moments to observe the beauty of the young man face. His skin was tan, and his cheeks and nose were cover by an infinity of freckles. The collector moved his hand from the forehead of the boy to stroke his sandy blond hair. The boy’s eyes were still closed, but he heard from his staff who tranquilized him, that they were a lovely shade of green. He was impatient to see them.
The collector slowly stood and made his exit from the room still watching the young man. It was time to tell his assistant to bring him in his new quarter.
He closed the door with his key and left the ward with a happy loving smile. After all this time, he finally had the Michael sword in his collection!