Author: (All stories)   09/04/11
  Willow

My mom was addicted to alcohol since she was 17, and she was 31 when she gave birth to me, more addicted and toxic than ever. My dad had once tried mermaid tears and breath as a dare, and gotten addicted to that. By some miracle they’d met, and married (they were both so doped they didn’t even realize what was going on until it was over and their highs ended). Then, when both were even more doped, they’d done child-making business and Mom got pregnant. She drank so much during her pregnancy that when I was born, it was a miracle that I wasn’t deformed, idiotic, also addicted or with a disability. I grew up solitary, and my parents spent every penny they had on the drugs they were addicted to. I begged on the streets and visited the church to get food and clothing. The Minister of Education of the Country of Lumania visited and forced me to start school. So I guess you could say that I had a pretty darn horrible childhood.
By this time, I’d grown up to seven years old, and my heart was nonexistent. If it was, then it was hard as diamond and cold as ice. (I am being metaphoric. To clear up any confusion.) More so than diamond and ice, in fact. If a diamond had knocked against my heart, it’d have shattered to pieces, and if ice had touched it, it would’ve cracked from the cold, and melted once it got away. I went to school, but barely. I’d go for attendance and, half the time, I’d skip the rest. Gradually I skipped more and more, until I didn’t attend at all, only to appear as if I truly was going. When I was nine, I joined a gang called the White Water Rattlers. We painted a single white line down out foreheads, and each had a necklace with a small maraca. White water with the streak, rattler with the sound. Luckily, I didn’t have to do anything to join. They just pulled me in, needing a young person.
I continued to grow up hard and cold, and if anyone looked in my eyes, even when I was happy – if you could call it happy - they’d’ve immediately backed away and muttered about being late about something. Even my gang members were slightly scared of me. Even though my eyes were so-called ‘spring green’, they didn’t look at all like spring. They were winter – utter, complete, total icy winter. Like spring was going to arrive in a thousand years or so. No other gang dared to attack us as long as I was with the group. My father died of overdosage when I was sixteen, with my mother following close behind. When they did, my gang swarmed my house and ordered me to take everything and sell it to the nearest black market dealer for as high a price as possible. Of course, I obeyed. What else was I there for? On my way, my gang followed me. I kept my eyes down, holding the back with the stuff tightly against my chest. I walked slowly. I don’t remember why I walked at that speed. Probably to annoy everyone. It worked. My gang grew impatient and began shouting, “Hey, Willow, hurry up! Aren’t you McKiller? Killers are fast! You’re a sloth! Hurry up!” I was already used to these jokes. McIller does sound a lot like McKiller, but I ignored them, keeping to my snail’s pace and looking down. But I bumped into someone, not five minutes later. I looked up and couldn’t help a tiny gasp of fright, or maybe surprise. It was Kyre Crilyc! I’d heard of him so many times it was starting to get boring. But suddenly, all the rumors no longer sounded boring when I found myself staring up into his face.
Kyre Crilyc was rumored to be an evil, tall man. He was twenty years old by now, four years older than me. He raped girls – always beautiful, of course – and then killed them with an axe pendant he carried. He was a sorcerer, so as soon as he took the axe charm off his necklace, it grew into a full-sized weapon. Then he’d chop off the girl’s head. He’d take the soul – I don’t know how you can take a soul, but that’s what they said – and put it into a soul-bottle, which is about the size of a person’s thumbnail. He’d then sell the soul to demons for an enormous profit, and go on this way. Why beautiful girls, you ask? Well, think of it this way: What kind of demon would buy an ugly girl?
I reviewed all this knowledge as I stared up into the face of this evil, evil man. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t look evil. Even though the rumors also told that his black hair was shaggy and wild, curling all over the place, with the strangest blue eyes to accompany the hair – almost blue, but slightly more black. An angular face, but what the most distinguishing feature he had was the scar. It was a zigzag across his cheek, up the bridge of his nose and curving above his eyebrow to end at his left temple, several centimeters above the other end. No one knew how he’d gotten it, and no one wanted to, because he’d killed the last - and first – person to ask.
He was now staring at me and reaching towards the axe pendant. Behind me, I could hear my so-called gang fleeing and leaving me alone. I squeezed the bag that immediately exploded and soaked my shirt and skin with alcohol and drug. I didn’t care. It didn’t take effect if it entered through the skin, but it would smell bad. Wait. What am I thinking? I’m about to get raped and killed by this crazy maniac, and all I can think about is what I’m gonna smell like?! Wait. He’s only supposed to go after beautiful girls! I’m not even remotely pretty. I wasn’t being modest. I had black hair cropped like a boy’s. I was skinny, and short. Who’d call me pretty, or beautiful? I was, like, black from my tan! World to Willow: no one cares – or will care – if you’re beautiful or even slightly damn pretty. Hell-lo, you’re about to be raped and killed! Get real, girl! I dropped the bag and shut my eyes. I didn’t even bother to scream. I wasn’t gonna be rescued, so what was the point? I waited for the pain. And the darkness. But neither came. When I cracked open an eyelid, I found him waving a pale-skinned hand in front of my face. God. Was he, like, showing off his skin or something? Then I realized he was talking.
“Hello? Anyone there? Helloooooo!” I stared at him, vaguely annoyed.
“Just get on with it, will ya?”
He was surprised. “But… Aren’t you going to scream for help? Or resist? Or even fight back?” I was surprised, too.
“Uh… excuse me, but is there any point to resisting or trying to get help if it won’t even work?” I squeezed my eyes shut and my voice quivered slightly as I told him, “Just get on with it already.” I continued to wait for the pain. Instead, I felt something touch my forehead. “You’re a brave girl. Pretty, too. Just for that, I’ll do my best not to kill you, now or ever.” Then he left. I heard him leaving, as if there was something pulling him back. But when I opened my eyes and found him gone, it was clear that he’d won the struggle.

My gang avoided me from then on. I didn’t blame me. Only a wizard, or sorcerer, or witch or sorceress, or a magical creature would get away from the Sorcerer Kyre. Since I’d gotten away from him, theoretically, I would be one of those and everyone knows it’s best not to trifle with magic or magical creatures. No one payed attention to me from then on, in fact, since the White Water Rattlers had spread the rumor. The one thing I could do was run away into the Magical Forest and hope to die a quick death. So that was what I did.

I went in through the obvious entrance: the never-used road. As I brushed aside ferns and branches and stepped on flowers, I thought about snapping a branch off a tree to anger a tree nymph. Nah, I decided. They give painful deaths. So I instead went to the water nymph lake, hoping some would drown me. Instead, I was found by a mermaid. She came out of the water, which surprised me. Mermaids don’t last long out of water. But clearly, she was half-human.
“Human, what are you doing here? Leave this forest, before – hmm.” She sniffed the air. Sniffed some more. She finally turned on me with red eyes and hissed, “You evil human! Mermaid breath and tears! You use them, don’t you?” She plunged on top of me with bared teeth, ripping at me with long, sharp nails. I changed my mind. She was clearly half-mermaid, half-beast.
“Evil human! I shall teach you never to use those again, and kill merpeople in the process!”
I managed to evade her long enough to gasp, “I don’t! I don’t! That was my dad’s! I broke it all over myself! Don’t – “ I stopped. What an idiot! I wanted to die. What a perfect opportunity! So I stood still, hoping she’d kill me. Unfortunately, I’d stopped too late. She was no longer attacking, instead sitting on her tail and staring at me.

“Well. Your parent was a user? This changes things a lot.”
I begged her, “Please kill me! Please! I beg of you!”
She stared. “You want to die?”
“Yes!”
She thought for a minute. “I know. I’ll make you a deal. You go live with Kyre Crilyc – is that his name? Go live with him for – how old are you? Ah. Sixteen. Live with him for five years, all right? By then you won’t want to die. While you’re at it, collect his souls and give them to me while you’re there. Excellent! I’ll give you my locket, and you can live with him to collect souls so I can turn them into merpeople. That’s quite useful! Why are you staring at me like that?”
The last sentence was directed at me, not for herself like the others were. I said, “Can you please repeat that? I’m not sure what you said.” She sighed and leaned over a bit to tap me on the forehead. Suddenly I didn’t want to die.
“There. Now, I won’t kill you if you go and manage to survive living with Kyre for five years. I’ll give you a locket. While you’re there, collect soul-bottles and open the locket and put them in. I’ll turn those souls into merpeople as reincarnations. If you manage to give me five hundred souls in those five years, when you visit me against to return my locket, I’ll give you anything you want. Deal? Good. Wait, I’ll give you a special locket that’ll show you where he is…Okay, here it is. Now, go! Shoo! And don’t forget to send me those souls!” Thus I was dismissed.

I wandered around in the forest for a while, pondering how I was supposed to survive with him for five years.
“I could pretend to be his sister… No, he’s too evil to not want to kill his sister. His mother? I’m too young. Maybe his illegitimate daughter…but that’s impossible. He kills everyone he rapes. Wait.” I punched my forehead several times. “Gosh, I’m dumb! Just dress up as a boy, Willow!” So I did. My hair was already chopped off. All I needed to do was conceal my…um…let’s just call them peaches. I took off my skirt (yes, I was wearing one) to rip it into one long strip of fabric. I was wearing pants underneath, so that was all right. I…er…um…let’s not get into the details.
After five long hours of puzzlement and slight pain, I was dressed up like a boy and ready to go.

I followed the small light beam emitted by a clear gem on the front of the locket. Not really a gem, more like a solidified drop of water, or ice. It led me through the forest, through the other side (where a man was startled at seeing me exit the forest), through a town where I stopped at a tavern to eat (I’d brought some money with me), through the country, over a field, and finally stopped at a small shed in the middle of another forest. I steeled myself and went in, expecting to see a mess with the little bottles stored all over the place, and spellbooks, and spells, and sorcerer-stuff, and rags covered with blood…
It was the exact opposite.
There was a small chest which I assumed held the spirit bottles, and a bookshelf full of neatly stacked books. There was another shelf with some food, and a work table with paper, a quill, and an inkwell, as well as a chair. There was a clean bathroom through a door, and a closet filled with clothes. A mirror stood on another door, and when I went through, I finally found the sorcerer.

Surprisingly enough, he was asleep. The bedroom was the only messy place in the house – er, shed. The carpet was wrinkled and all over the place, there were hideous stains on the wall – blue, not red – and the sheets were dusty and grimy, thrown onto the floor, on the dresser, over the bed… There was more, but I forget the rest. One thing I do remember: Bugs. Bugs all over the place. There were spiders on the mirror, cockroaches on the pillow in the corner, centipedes on the wall, moths on the ceiling… What a wreck! Just as I opened the door to get out of that insect-infested room, I felt a hand firmly grasp my wrist. I froze. Kyre’s low voice asked me, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

I turned my head slowly. His level eyes were staring into mine full-force. Funnily enough, he didn’t seem to be affected by my eyes iciness. Now that I think of it, he wasn’t affected last time, either.
“Sir, I’m here to take revenge on my sister, whom you’ve killed.” He kept staring.
“What was her name?” Before I could help myself, I retorted, “Does it matter? You probably don’t remember her, anyways.” He gave a short bark of laughter and let go, sitting against the disgusting wall. I tried not to stare. Evidently he slept naked. It didn’t help much to look at his face, either, because then my eyes were just drawn to either his creepy eyes or his scar. Where had he gotten it? To avoid looking at it, my eyes slowly traveled downwards… I squeezed my eyes shut before I quite saw anything I shouldn’t have seen. “Sir, please put on some clothes. This is a very uncomfortable situation for me.” He laughed again. “Fine. Go fetch me some clothes from my wardrobe. I don’t care what I wear. Just go.” I fled, glad to leave him, his evil and his nakedness – yuck! – behind me.

I grabbed a random set of clothes, opened the bedroom door very, very slightly, thrust the clothes through the crack and slammed the door so hard the building shook. Literally. Five minutes later, Evil Sorcerer Kyre came through the door fully dressed, yawning and brushing dust off of his clothes. I inspected the clothes I’d grabbed for him. Leather tunic, leather pants… Actually not that bad. I kept my head down as he reached past me to grab some bread from the shelf. He picked up a knife from a drawer in the work table, and slicing the bread, he asked, “Boy, I think you have good potential to be my assistant, or apprentice at the least. In sorcery, that is, not in raping and killing and selling souls. What’s your name and age?” I immediately responded, “I’m sixteen, sir, and my name is Willo-lllllll…. McIller.” He blinked.
“Your name is Willoll McKiller?”
I shook my head. “No, sir. Will McIller.”
He smiled. “Well, I’m twenty, Will, and my name is Kyre Crilyc. If you want, you can change your name. What would you like?”
I shook my head. “Will McIller is fine to me, sir.”
He laughed. “Fine by me.”

I stared. He’d been reading the same sentence for fifteen minutes straight.
“What’s the big deal about this sentence?” I ventured to ask.
“I’m not reading” was his reply. I waited another fifteen minutes.
“Uh…”
“Be quiet!”

A LOOK INTO KYRE’S HEAD
This isn’t exactly something he told me, but he told me later – much later – on. I’ll tell it in the third person.

Kyre was frustrated. If he had an apprentice, he needed to do something to make sure his apprentice wouldn’t be hurt during while he was possessed! So, pretending to read something, he began talking to the devil’s son.
“Can I make a deal with you?”
The demon snored.
Not now. I’m sleeping.
“I know you’re sleeping. Just listen to me!”
Right then, Will asked, “What’s the big deal about this sentence?”
“I’m not reading.”
He continued talking to the devil’s son for fifteen minutes when he heard, “Uh…”
“Be quiet!”
Look, tell your apprentice to stay away from you at certain times and that’s when I’ll possess you. I possess you once a week, right?
“Yeah.”
Then tell the apprentice to stay away from you every, let’s say… Sunday. On that day I’ll possess you. All right? So it’s a fixed day instead of random now. By the way, that apprentice… Are you sure he’s a boy?
“Yes, quite sure.”
I wouldn’t be.
But before Kyre could ask him what he meant, he went back to sleep.

Kyre finally looked up from the sentence which he’d been reading for the past one-and-a-half hours.
“As you are, as of today, my apprentice, I will give you one rule which you are always to follow: have nothing to do with me on Sundays. You understand?”
I was slightly startled. “All right, boss, if you say so.

We had plenty of time to get acquainted and know each other. That day, Kyre taught me the beginnings of sorcery. “How to do the spell depends entirely on your natural ability and the type of spell. I, myself, specialize in material spells where you need to use ingredients to get the desired effect. If I do any other type of spell, it rarely works, and half the time backfires on me. The first thing you’ll do as my apprentice will be to take a short test to see what your specialty is.”
Ha! Short test my – well, a lady shouldn’t speak such foul language, so… Ha! Short test, as if! The test lasted until midnight, when he ordered me to bed (a small mat he’d found in the cupboard) and said we’d continue the next morning.
We’d started a few hours before sunrise.
Now you see what I mean? He’s an annoying guy, I can give you more proof if you want!

The next day, I woke up and immediately looked for food. The first things I saw when I looked on the table and then the stove were pots and pans and a few plates filled with strange powders, potions, gooey things and objects. Plus a few papers with ‘spells’ written on them. And a few cans and bottles of more liquids and spices, and other things that could be used as spell ingredients. I sighed. Oh, well! Sorcery testing, here I come!

I was exhausted after another three long hours of testing – without eating. While I’d watched him devour breakfast and lunch, I’d ask why I couldn’t eat, salivating at the glorious, delicious food. He’d replied with his mouth full that the test required I not eat. I vowed that as soon as I discovered a suitable curse, I’d use it on him. Once the tests were over, it was discovered I was best with incantations and manipulation. He’d patted me on the back as he told me this. “That means,” he’d said, “that you’re good at making people what you want with spells and have to memorize long, long poems and verses to do a spell. Good for you!” As a response, I’d kicked him in the gut.
“Oh, yeah?” I snarled. “How about I try using that manipulation on you, to die?”

“So I just read it off and it does whatever, right?” Kyre gave a little mocking smile. “If it were that easy, everyone would have magic. Nope. You have to read it, do special motions, visualization, and you need the power.” I stared. “I lost you are ‘motions’.” “Okay,” he admitted, “you don’t have to do motions. Most people just find it easier.” I was beginning to lose my patience. “Look, you were the one who wanted me to become your ‘apprentice’ or whatever, and even I’m smart enough to know that means you want to teach me magic. So just get on with it and teach me magic already!” He flinched a bit. I know he did. But he still boldly continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “So what you’ll be doing is speaking the words however you want to. But at the end, depending on the type of spell, you’ll make a different hand sign, which I’ll show you later, and summon power from inside of you or your surroundings to finish the spell.” Then he proceeded to demonstrate the hand signs of wizardry. The attack sign – each hand in a fist, touching by the knuckles, index fingers pointing at the target and thumbs in between them. The healing sign – hands open and palm-down, forefingers and thumbs touching to form a triangle. Place on area to heal. Defense sign – hand flat and fingers together with thumbs out, overlapping each other. Fingers also overlapping. There should be a little triangle in between. And so on and so forth. By the end of the ‘class,’ I’d learnt every single type of sign, memorized a basic attack spell (just shoots a bit of air at the victim. Whoopee)and tried making my own attack spell. (Resulting in an explosion, soot all over me and Kyre, and a lot of being yelled at.) All in all, a pretty darn awesome day. (I was being sarcastic. Just so you know.)

“All right, get up!” he shouted. I blinked and mumbled, “Leggo of me. Whaddya want?” He leaned down and yelled into my ear, “We’re moving! Get up!” I sprang up. “Moving? What do you mean?” Luckily, I was still wearing my clothes, because the blanket fell off of me. He was rummaging through the cupboard for a loaf of bread and jam, which he threw to me with a wickedly sharp knife. I caught it – barely in time – and was about to ask him whether he was plotting to murder me – or maybe give me a scar like his – when he turned around and shot a bolt of ice at me. Instinctively, I summoned power and hit it with the bolt of air, stopping it in its tracks. He nodded. “Good. You remembered.” I stared at him, incomprehensibly at first, when what he’d said hit me. “’You remembered’? What do you mean, you remembered? Don’t tell me you were seriously planning on killing me if I hadn’t countered that.” My voice was low and quiet, like it always was whenever I was angry. “Yes, I said ‘you remembered.’ And it wouldn’t’ve killed you, just – “ I cut in. “So you’re saying that if I’d forgotten, you’d have killed me. Is that it?” I glared at him. “Or maybe you would’ve missed. Is that so? Or even give me a scar like the one you have. Hey, look, buddy! There’s the sorcerer and his apprentice – a matching set!” He finally realized the error of his action. “Er… No. I didn’t mean it like that – “ “Is that so? Then what were you planning on doing? Attacking me and then healing me? Actually killing me? Maybe you were going to take my soul to sell, too, as long as I wasn’t scarred. Hmm? Is that so? To sell to perverted female demons maybe, since they don’t buy the souls of beautiful girls. After all, what can a girl to do a girl?” My voice easily covered his. I continued, my voice gradually rising, arms folded, still glaring. “That is, unless you’re a lesbian, right? So what, the male demons buy these beautiful girls and have fun with them. Maybe you do, too, whenever you feel like it or are bored. Is that it? Maybe you eat them, for power. Is that also a possibility?” “Now, look, I didn’t mean to – “ I glared but let him continue, discreetly assuming the attack position. He continued talking, trying to pacify me, but I didn’t even listen. Instead, I carefully pointed my folded hands at his body and whispered,
Hit
Burn
Freeze
Cut
Give him a taste
Of his own blood.

Then I added some power, and a flaming bolt of razor-sharp ice flew from my fingertips and hit him in the chest. The impact caused the breath to whoosh out of his mouth, and his mouth formed an O of shock. He fell down. The front of his shirt was charred, and his skin was a bit red from the flames. There was a little crevice with blood leaking out of it, and when I looked closely, I could see a bit of frost. Well. Turns out my spells do work, after all. He suddenly sat up. “What was that?” I glared at him and icily said, “That was a spell. Guess you shouldn’t’ve taught me magic, after all, eh?” I stood stock-still, preparing for an attack, but he simply chuckled. “Well. Turns out you’re not just all bark and no bite, after all.” He stood up, brushed off his clothes, and grabbed a silk pouch. Murmuring a few words, he sprinkled some of its powder onto his wound and burn. Slowly, they faded away until a circle-shaped scar was all that was left. I gaped. He smiled. “You’re not the only one with magical powers, you know.” I turned my face upwards until I was gaping at his face, not his chest. He put his pouch down. “Now, could you show me that spell again?”

Well. That’s pretty much how three days went. I did spells, watched him do his, got angry and hit him with my own spells, and he asked me to show them to him once he’d healed. Oh, and we ate. And slept. Of course.
But three days after my first created spell was Sunday. The evening before, he told me, “You’d better be gone before sunrise” before flopping down, asleep. I did a spell (of course) to wake me up before. I got up about an hour early and quickly dressed before quietly leaving the house. Where should I go? I wondered. I wandered aimlessly before coming upon a big, well-traveled road. Hmm. Probably leads to a town… Ah, well. I didn’t have nothing else to do, so I just went.
After all, what was the worst that could happen?

I gaped. This was my first time in a big city, so you should understand that the hustle and bustle was all pretty new to me. As I walked through the streets of this gigantic place, I heard a young girl peddling necklaces on my right. I saw an old lady trading thread on my left. I smelled, ahead of me, someone selling hot honeyed buns. People were selling things everywhere. And wherever I looked, I could see pickpockets, thieves, beggars, orphans, gypsies… A drunk man stumbled out of a building. Another building had the scent of fresh-braked bread about it, and a man gave a girl a necklace while coming out of another. I stared at the bakery with longing. Walking here had taken a lot of time, and it was well past my lunch time. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. No one. On my other side, I heard someone say, “Gets ‘em every time!” I turned back to see a man in an apron with powdered white stuff all over his hands and clothes. He smiled at me. “Well, little chap, you look hungry there. Want some of my bread?” I realized that the ‘powdered white stuff’ was flour and blushed. “No, no, no! It’s all right! I’ll manage.” Naturally, right as I said that, my stomach growled – loudly. He smiled kindly. “Come on, don’t be shy. It’s on the house.” I gave a little shy smile. “All right, I guess.” He turned around and walked away from the bakery. “Wait.” I dashed up to him. “Isn’t the bakery that way?” I gestured to the building I’d noticed earlier. He laughed a little and told me, “That’s the poor bakery. I operate the rich one. Every day, at one o’clock, I look for travelers and invite them to my bakery, where I give them bits of confectionary that didn’t turn out quite right or are too old.” “Ah, I see,” I said. So when he kept walking, I followed, close behind.

We finally reached a small abandoned shack. I stared at it in disbelief. “This is your bakery?” It was rather disappointing. Just a dark, gloomy, rank warehouse. He shook his head. “I’m just here to collect some supplies. Why don’t you come in with me?” “Sure,” I said, somewhat skeptical, but went in through the open doorway. I peered around. “Hey, there’s nothing here – “ Suddenly a hand clamped over my mouth. “Now, do be quiet, little boy,” the baker said into my ear teasingly. “Country children do always fall for that trick, don’t they? Pull on an apron, toss chalk dust over it and your hands, and they’ll always believe you work in a bakery.” Something sharp began prodding my neck. I gave a little eep of fear. “Oh, my. I do believe I caught a squealer here.” It poked again, and this time a felt a little trickle going down my throat. “Don’t worry, son. You’ll be a slave, but a well-treated one, I’ll make sure of that.” His grip on my head loosened temporarily. I immediately took advantage of the situation to wrench out of his grip and dash away as far as I needed. Once I’d gone a satisfactory distance, I put out my hands in the attack pose and whispered,
Freeze to a block
Freeze in ice
For a long time
Freeze like that

A little blue shimmer came out, but all it did was flop to the ground lifelessly and freeze the dirt. I cursed. Either I hadn’t provided enough power or the words – or my hands – were wrong. By then, he’d already caught up to me, staring with wide eyes at the little patch of already thawing ice. “Well, well, well, would you look at that! I’ve caught myself a mage.” He patted me gently on the head after once again covering up my mouth with his hand. “Unfortunately, you can’t be sold as a slave. Much too valuable.” He shook his head and an eerie smile crept over his face. “Your organs would be so valuable to those dark sorcerers who need to eat the organs of other magical creatures to maintain their powers. I’ll fetch much better prices from them, I think.” My eyes widened in terror, and my last thought before his hand came rushing down upon my head to knock me asleep was, Is this man crazy?

When I finally woke up, I couldn’t tell if my eyes were opened or closed. No matter what I did, it remained pitch-black. I groped around and discovered I was in a room about three by five paces. Whenever I reached out, my fingers encountered muddy dirt. At one point, I nearly tripped over some steps, which I discovered led to a wooden door. I shivered as I prepared to cast an unlocking spell.
Open, close, lock, unlock,
Turn to the opposite
Which you are now.

Need I mention it didn’t work? I tried again and again, with multiple spells, only to come to the conclusion the door was blocked from magic. I tried on the walls with even less success. When I even tried to make a flame, all I managed was a soft hissing sound and a sour odor in my nose. I shuddered. This entire room was magic-proof. I tried to look around, forgetting I could see virtually nothing. I waved my hand in front of my nose. I threatened to poke my own eyes out. I walked and bumped into the wall. Nothing worked. And all the while, I was getting more and more cold. I eventually realized I was in a cellar, but what difference did it make? Underground was underground, trapped was trapped, magic-less was magic-less and dark was dark. I wasn’t a wimpy girl who was afraid of the night, but when you trap a slightly claustrophobic person into a frigid, damp, lightless and disgusting room for a few hours, obviously a fear would arise. No, not a fear – a phobia. A terror. With every minute that passed, every breath that I took, I could feel the room pressing in on me – and I began to imagine I was blind. “Hello?” I shouted at the doorway. I pounded my fists bloody on it. “Hello? Someone help! Help me!” I shouted and yelled and pounded and kicked, but nothing worked. I tried another tactic. “Please, give me some food! I’m starving in here!” It wasn’t even a lie – I really was very hungry. I could almost feel my stomach grumbling, not just hear it. “Food! Please, food!” Nothing. After an hour or so, my voice grew hoarse and my fists, legs, arms, shoulders, knees – everywhere – began to throb with a dull ache that could easily cover all your other senses with pain if you weren’t careful. “Can somebody help me?” I whispered as I slid down the door. I welcomed the pain from my abused body. At least the red and stars that came from it made me feel like I could still see.

I’d dozed off. I woke with a cheek pressed into the dirt and a no-longer-grumbling stomach, but that was the least of my worries, because when I brushed my fingers against my cheek to see if any dirt was left, I encountered a problem – first, I couldn’t see if the dirt was there, which sent me into a panic, and second, I couldn’t even feel any texture with my fingers. I fumbled around and pinched one hand with the other. Nothing. I slapped myself. The only pain I felt was from my face. I ran up to a wall and punched it as hard as I could. I could hear something splitting, and then later, dripping to the floor, but no pain came from my hand. I grew wild right then and there, screaming and punching and kicking the walls and door, trying to shove them enough that they’d fall down, but what good did it do? At the end of a long session of pain, panic and helplessness, I huddled into a ball. All I could do was pray that, come morning – or maybe evening, or afternoon, or night – I would still be able to hear and feel pain in at least some parts of my body.

I woke up shivering uncontrollably. Where was I? I groped around with one hand. When I reached out I encountered a resistance, but my hand didn’t feel anything. The only way I could tell was because it simply refused to keep moving at a certain point. I reached down and pinched what I thought was my leg. A tiny pinprick of pain, nothing more. I kept pinching. The pain disappeared, not even replaced by an ache. I began to slap at my legs, with no results. I pushed my fingers into my stomach, briefly wondering, I wonder why I’m not hungry or thirsty, but that was pushed aside by the fact that I couldn’t feel my fingers touching my stomach, either. I was desperate for some proof showing that I hadn’t gone completely numb and senseless, but I got none. When I began shouting, I heard that my voice was near gone, but I couldn’t feel any pain in my throat. I laid out on the floor and tears began trickling down my cheeks – or at least, I thought they did. All I could feel was a warmth in my blind eyes. I eventually managed to fall asleep, but I slept restlessly.

I woke up, not even shivering anymore. Where was I? I blinked – or at least did what I thought was blinking. No way to be sure, since everything was dark no matter what I did with my eyes. I took a deep breath to reassure myself I wouldn’t die anytime soon, but when I breathed in the frigid, stale air, I started to panic. Where am I? I looked around but didn’t see anything. I shakily got up on my feet and walked around the perimeter of the room, tunnel, whatever. I tripped over some unseen object, and then began to visualize a bunch of worst-scene scenarios. Buried underground… Trapped in mom and dad’s coffin… Stuck in the belly of a giant that had eaten me… Trapped in a murderer’s house… I began to sob and curled into a ball. Where was I? Would someone come to save me – now or ever? Mom was dead, Dad had died even before her, I’d last talked to my gang what seemed like ten years ago, the mermaid was miles and miles away… I sat upright a moment. Kyre! But then I crumped right back down. I was a girl, and he wouldn’t put himself into so much trouble over a girl. I mean, what would he do if he saved me? Rape me? Kill me? Take my soul? A small corner of my mind whispered, But you’re his apprentice, and he thinks you’re a boy! Surely he wouldn’t… But I quickly squashed that bit of my thoughts. Nonsense – he had to know I was a girl. I was a terrible actor, and besides, I was sixteen – long enough for my ladylike form to have filled out already. I noticed that my sweater was soaked from my tears. That was okay – I’d just take it off to dry it. I struggled to pull my sweater over my head. Some small part of me knew this was wrong, but I didn’t care. Remember, I reminded myself. It’ll dry soon, and then you can put it back on. It’s too uncomfortable to wear wet – plus, it’s kind of cold. So I pulled it off and spread it in a corner of the room to dry. I rubbed my arms to keep them warm – an instinctive reaction, since they didn’t really get any more cold now than they were before – but it reassured me and made me stop crying. Within a minute, I was out cold and sleeping like a baby.

I woke up to a loud clang. I spotted my sweater and pulled it on. I frowned. It was so hard to pull on – was it just me, or had my fingers become sausages? I flexed them experimentally. Nope, still fingers, but the joints were kind of stiff. I’d just pulled my sweater over my head when a loud – really loud, and really close – noise made me jump. I squinted. Was that a bit of light I saw over there? It had been so long since I’d seen it that it took me a while to find the right word, but once I did, I shakily got up and limped over with joy. Maybe I’d be able to get out. Maybe the person would have food, water, warm clothes, a bathtub ready for me, or maybe…
All hope in me died when I saw the man’s face, and even more so when I saw the glint of a blade in his hand.

I screamed. Or at least, tried to. All that came out of my mouth was a dull croak. I fumbled my hands in front of me into a defense sign, and, just as I was about to say the words, the man came up to me and shoved a cloth into my mouth. I coughed and gagged, bending over double. He wouldn’t have any of that, though. He grabbed the bit of hair I still had and yanked. There I was, dangling limply from his hand, practically choking on a ball of wool. He smiled wildly as he held up the knife to my throat. I saw him push a bit and knew that he’d cut me, though I couldn’t feel the sharp bite of pain or warm flow of blood. He looked at me and sighed. “Shame I’ll have to cut your pretty face. Would’ve caught a good price on the market…” A gleam came into his eye as he raised the knife to my face. I shuddered – not from cold – as he slowly ran the edge across my cheek. I flicked out my tongue and tasted blood. “Ah, well. The mage has offered me a high enough price to compensate for my loss. And guess who you’re being sold to – Kyre Crilyc!” I froze and stared at him in disbelief as he came through the doorway. Had it all been an act? Was it a plan – bring in a person, teach them magic, and buy their organs from a baker? Did this happen all the time? I stared, wide-eyed, unblinking, as he slowly lumbered forward. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the false baker’s face lit up with joy. He patted Kyre’s shoulder as if they were buddies. “You know how much he’s offered for all your organs? Three thousand gold coins. That’s a lot, let me tell you that!” I was still staring into his eyes as he stared into mine. He seemed to be telling me something – sorry? I squeezed my eyes shut to avoid his intense look, then immediately opened them again. I’d rather face him than the dark. “So.” The man eagerly turned to Kyre. “Which part would you have me cut out first, sir? Something from the face? Or would you like to start from the internals, right off the bat?” Kyre slowly turned his gaze to the slaver, who flinched. “How about…” Kyre said slowly. “How about I start with you?” Then he pounced.

The baker screamed and raked at Kyre’s face with the knife – not a knife, I now realized as I collapsed on the ground, but a dagger. Kyre responded with a scarlet pouch above the man’s heart. There was a piercing scream, and then all was silent. The man flopped to the ground, empty of any life he’d once had. The moment the noise ended, Kyre rushed to my side and tried to get me to stand up. “Will? Are you okay?” I stared at him, then began to laugh. “Okay? Fersht I’m trapped in thish-thish shellar fer, wha, weeksh” – “Two days,” Kyre softly reprimanded. “Two days.” “Two dayz,” I continued, “and I pract’ly freeze t’death and go crazed ah’a bat in th’dark. Then, when light comesh back and I c’n shee ‘gain, I get knife t’the throat and dishcover yer bought mah organs fer – wha, shree ‘undred, shree thousand coins?” I half-laugh, half-snort. “Yeah, I’m sure all righ!” He took one of my hands and held it in his, then shook his head. “Ice-cold.” It was barely a whisper. “Just as I thought.” I glared at him, yanking my hand back. “What, yer wanna cut me‘part yershelf?” He flinched. “No – I came to get you out.” I did my best to stand up, which was a failure, because my legs kept collapsing. Eventually I gave up. “So ya left me in here fer tuh days while ye tried t’save me. Nice shtory – t’bad I’m not buyin’.” He looked nervous now. Very nervous. “No,” he stammered. “I mean, well… There’re magic-blocking spells here, so it took me a while to locate you, and a bit longer to strike up the deal to get to you. There were lots of strong lock-spells – “ “Lock shpell,” I snapped. My head hurt from focusing on his face. I felt like I was drunk – not that I’d been drunk before, but I knew what it was like pretty darn well on account of my mom being alcoholic. “Lock shpell. That’s th’best ye coulda come up wih’.” My head was swimming now, but I tried to make it stop. “Lock shpell. Couldn’t yu’ve said shometing like, ten guard? A’ least then I woulda even shlightly believed yuh.” I wanted to say stop moving like that, because it was kinda hard to focus on him like that, but couldn’t force it out. He hesitated. “Well, I thought that…” “Well, whatever y’thought wash wrong,” I said as forcefully as I could, “’cush obviushly – “ That was about as far as I got before my vision turned black.

When I woke, it was to the sensation of rocking back and forth. Huh…? I opened my eyes fully and turned my head a bit to the side. Black. Hurriedly, I looked the other way. There I could see Kyre’s face. The moment I set eyes upon him, he looked down at me and smiled. “Finally awake now, are you?” I bit my lip to keep from speaking and realized that I still couldn’t really feel any pain. Huh. Weird… Maybe it’s just ‘cuz this is a dream. I mean, it’s possible, right? I craned my neck and looked back the way I’d seen black before. I saw a dirt road slowly passing by. “Wha…?” I thrust out my arms and legs that had previously been curled up against my body. Kyre let out an oomf, and he released me, dropping me onto the ground. “Hey!” I complained as I struggled to upright myself. I take that back. This was not a dream. When I got onto my feet, I almost fell back down, unsure of how to walk. But… That didn’t make sense. I mean, I was, what, fifteen? Sixteen? Sixteen and a half? Whatever. I tried to walk and stumbled, almost fell. That was not right. I’d been walking for, like, a decade now, and there was no way I could just suddenly forget how to. I tried again: Push off ground, stand, lift one foot, put forward, lift other, put… A brief feeling of falling, then being picked up. Once again I found myself in Kyre’s arms. “Careful, Will,” he whispered. “You got a bad case of hypothermia. Wait until I get you back so I can treat you. In fact, I should give you some food right now.” I nodded and accepted the bread, but confusion showed on my face. What was hypothermia? Was it…? I looked at the bread, unsure of what to do. Finally, I lifted it to my mouth and shoved it in whole. Not that I was hungry or anything – I just didn’t think I had enough energy to break it into little bits and chew, then swallow. I mean, I managed to chew a bit, but eventually I just worked on biting it into smaller pieces and then swallowing them. When I got the food in me I understood. “Oh. Right.” Kyre nodded. “Now, can we please get home so I can warm you up again?”

I was half-asleep when we got to Kyre’s shack, about three minutes later. He dumped me on the bed, piled me with blankets, and then went outside to the pump. I just clenched the blankets around me and waited. While waiting, I looked down at my fingernails. Blue. I felt my forehead. I couldn’t really tell if it was hot or cold, but that just meant something was wrong because usually, I can tell that my forehead’s hotter than my hand, or my hand colder than my forehead. I went cross-eyed trying to look at my lips. Finally I just pulled the bottom one out. It was blue-purple, not at all a healthy color. It was starting to hurt, so I let go and began staring, transfixed, at my fingernails again, so when Kyre came in, lugging a tub of nearly boiling-hot water, he was greeted with the sight of me carefully inspected my fingers. “Well! I heat and bring in a bath for you, and you thank me by checking your fingers?” he joked. He pulled off my blankets, and my eyelids grew heavy as began drifting off to sleep – which was kinda funny, since it should’ve happened while I had the blankets around me. I was halfway dozing off when Kyre leaned down and began pulling off my shirt. “Huh…?” I was still awake enough to know that bad things – very bad things – would happen if he took off my shirt, so I summoned energy to slap his hands away. “No thank ye,” I slurred as I struggled to keep my eyes open. “I c’n duhit m’self.” He was startled. “No, it’s all right – you take a nap and I’ll get you in the tub.” I tugged down on the hem of my shirt just as he pulled up. “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Just a bit shy, thassall.” He seemed somewhat skeptical, but when I managed to walk a few paces without falling over, he nodded. “I’ll wait outside,” he called over his shoulder as he exited. “Tell me when you’re done. The clothes are on the chair.” I nodded, waited until he slammed the door behind him, and then began to the long and dreary process of undressing myself. I’d just managed to pull off my pants when he peeked in again. I barely got the hem of my shirt down in time. “Whassyer problem?” I asked indignantly. He shrugged and closed the door again. This time, when I took off my shirt and, erm, you-know-what, I faced away from the doorway so that he wouldn’t see anything even if he did peek in again. (He didn’t, by the way.) Fully unclothed, I slowly went over to the tub and dipped in one foot, then the other. Before I could chicken out, and before the pain fully crept in, I submerged my entire body – even my head – into the practically boiling hot water.

Fire. Hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot… I screamed that mentally for a few minutes as my freezing body adjusted to the water temperature. Normally, I’d have considered it a bit too hot to be comfortable. Now, it felt like it was boiling the flesh off my bones. I was practically in tears as I bent over, grinding my teeth to keep any sounds from coming out and alerting Kyre. If he came in and saw me naked – well, let’s just say I’d rather be burned alive than killed and raped. I breathed in and out, air hissing between my teeth, waiting for the pain to end. But it didn’t – it got worse. I felt like my very flesh was being , like someone was running a red-hot poker through my toes. It spread, and soon, not only my toes were being mutilated by an invisible object, but my entire body was. I forced myself still and waited it out. Several times I felt tempted to scream it all out, but only the threat of losing my life kept me from doing so. Eventually, the pain subsided. Even though I hadn’t noticed before, I could tell that my previously chalk-white skin had turned to a more blotchy white, and then, when the pain level decreased even more, it turned sort of dark blue, and then finally, the red appeared, taking the last of the pain with it. There was still a strange feeling, but it was small enough that I could move around normally. I sighed with relief and shook out my arms, which had been tense since the beginning of the ordeal. Finally, I felt warm again. A slow creak sounded to my left. “Will?” I automatically dunked my head into the water. “Will?!” “Go ‘way!” The words were muffled due to the fact my mouth was underwater, so he didn’t hear. “What?” I lifted out my head but kept the rest of my body underwater. “Go. Away! There’s a reason I wanted to be alone while bathing! I’m very self-conscious!” I saw him shrug and then he backed out of the room. “Okay then. If you want.” I waited until I heard the door, click, then lifted my dripping hands out of the water, pointed them at the door, and whispered,
Lock, unlock, close, open,
Be the opposite of which you are now
Until I cease this spell.

The doorknob began glowing a pale red-blue. (I know, it’s impossible for something to glow red-blue since then it would be purple, but it was.) Satisfied, I leaned by head back, closed my eyes and relaxed for as long as I could. But the water finally got cold. When it did, I grumbled and stood up, then reached over and grabbed my shirt to dry myself off. I stepped onto my pants, and when I was done, I grabbed the other pants Kyre had laid out for me. Those on, I took the long strip of cloth and began tying it around me. By then, I could hear the knocking on the door loud and clear, but I ignored it and took my own sweet time getting dressed. A few minutes later I was fully clothed. The knocking had escalated to full-out banging. He hadn’t gotten to yells yet, so I sat down and waited. Eventually, the bangs subsided. Puzzled, I squinted at the door. What was he doing? Then I noticed that the shimmer had turned more red than blue. I stared at it for a few moments. What was…? I realized and managed to stand up and get into attack/defense position just as the doorknob blew off the door. Kyre stood in the open doorway, a slightly bemused and irritated expression on his face. I started to relax, but his next words stiffened me up again. “Was that really necessary?” It wasn’t the words that alarmed me, it was the tone of his voice. He sounded mild, but underneath that, like he was trying to hide it, I could hear that his voice was tense, irritated, and angry – very angry. Oh, no, this is not good… I forced myself to relax and sat casually on the bed. “Well, yes, it was. You see, I don’t like people peeking in on me while I bathe. I’m very shy and self-conscious, to tell the truth, and I dislike being naked – even partially so – in front of other people.” He glanced at my lips, then my face, my eyes, and my fingers. He slowly walked forward and picked up my hand. A tiny shiver ran over my skin. He’s touching you, a tiny voice in my head whispered. He’s touching you. He’s touching you. He’s- “Oh, shut up!” I said aloud. He looked up in surprise. “What?” I quickly shook my head and muttered, “Nothing.” God darn it! I told myself. Not only do you start freaking or whatever about this, but then you have to say ‘oh shut up’ aloud! Seriously, Willow? But my thoughts were interrupted by his next words. “Good, you’re warm again. But would you mind explaining to me why you locked the door?” One look at his eyes told me he wouldn’t be buying the ‘I’m so shy and lo and behold, I need to wash alone’ excuse. So I made up a story on the spot.

“Well… My parents… When I grew up, they…” I glanced down and played with my thumbs to give the impression of being nervous. Once I’d waited what I thought was the appropriate amount of time, I looked up. “They were pretty, well… My pa was addicted to some mermaid drugs, while my ma was alcoholic. And whenever they were high, they’d…” I shifted uncomfortably. “They’d hit me sometimes, or burn me, or cut me with bottles or jars or whatever their drug came in.” None of this was a lie – just a bit more exaggerated than it actually was. My pa had once hallucinated that he was surrounded by doctors wanting to take out his organs and give them to rich (I mean, no offense, but who’d want his mermaid-soaked organs?) and so, when I came up to give him some water, he flailed around with a broken bottle of beer he’d found under the bed and started rambling about people in white coats. I got away in time, but got a small cut on my forehead and an enormous bruise on my shoulder. Meanwhile, my ma had once been smoking cigarettes – “Something new to get high on,” she’d claimed – and she’d waved my way to get me to try some when it accidentally brushed my forearm. It wasn’t bad, but it was still pretty painful. So I was just building my lies on the truth. “Well… They’d sometimes accidentally burn, cut, or hit me, especially when I was really little. And, well… The scars haven’t really faded yet.” That wasn’t a lie, either. There was still a faint – really faint – line from my forehead cut, and a circle of flesh on my arm that was slightly darker than the rest of my skin. But I wasn’t about to tell him how much they’d faded. “And I don’t really like people seeing the…them.” I looked up, almost shyly, as though I was feeling nervous and shy and couldn’t help my eyes darting about every now and then, but really did it to see his reaction. He looked angry. Very angry. In fact…too angry.

LATER IN THE STORY
I was itching all over from the poison ivy last night. Apparently that’s what last night’s so-called ‘ferns’ were. When the rashes had started to appear, Kyre had dismissed them as ‘mosquito bites.’ Eventually, though, it had gotten to the point that even he couldn’t deny they were poison ivy rashes. “Next time, I’m choosing the camp site,” I grumbled, trying to scratch my back under the breast band. Amazing how stubborn a man can be even though you scream into his ears five hundred times about not camping out there, since there’s poison ivy everywhere. Also amazing how, no matter how many layers of clothing one puts on to protect oneself from poison ivy rashes, you still get one. Even more amazing how the same stubborn man who refused to believe that those plants were poison ivy, or that the rashes came from the poison ivy, would be the same man to be the first to put on poison ivy rash salve. He noticed my squirming while he was generously slathering cream onto his chest, legs and arms. (Obviously it was an endless capacity container, since no matter how much he took out, there was still plenty left.)
“I’ll put some on your back if you put some on mine.”
I jumped at this offer. No! Don’t put it on me! At all! “I’ll put it on your back, but I just want some for the worst ones on my arms, stomach and legs. Nothing else.”
He doubtfully eyed my squirming back, which I forced still.
“You sure?”
I nodded, struggling to resist the temptation to reach up under my shirt and give it a good, hard scratch. “Sure.”
He shrugged and turned around, pulling off his shirt. I swallowed. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this…
“Here. Put some on my entire back.” His hand was offering the container. I took it, my own hand shaking, and slathered his back with the strange concoction. When I’d finally turned his back creamy and white, I slathered some on my stomach (careful not to lift my shirt high enough to expose the cloth wrapped around my chest), my arms and legs. I handed the small can back to him when I was done.

I wriggled my shoulders a little and tried to reach between my shoulder blades. Ugh, how frustrating! Noticing my struggles, Kyre offered me the salve again.
“Want me to rub it on for you?”
I backed away hastily. No! Lord, no! “I-It’s all right. It’s kinda like strength training. You know, build up endurance and strength and resistance and all that stuff… Besides, it’s not bad! I’m sure it’s the best of all my rashes.” I forced myself to smile. Luckily, he smiled back.
“Well, fine then. Sir Know-It-All, you may choose our next poison-ivy-free campsite. Up to the challenge?”
I smiled. In spite of all the circumstances (I’d stolen three hundred fourteen bottles so far in the past two years), I felt my heart melting and softening. “Sure, yeah.”
Five minutes later, I was wriggling my shoulders a little and trying to reach between my shoulder blades. Ugh, how frustrating!

FROM KYRE’S POINT OF VIEW
When Will had finally gone to sleep, Kyre got up, grabbed the salve from his backpack, and pulled off Will’s blanket. The kid – Kyre had to remind himself that Will was not a kid. He was 18 already! The boy had admirable force, strength, endurance and whatever else the heck he’d said he wanted to build up, but no one had to endure a rash for so long. In spite of all the kid said, he’d put some salve on right now, while Will would never notice. So he flipped Will onto his back and pulled off Will’s shirt.

“What the…?” Will’s entire torso was an entire swab of white. Kyre instantly felt a moment of panic. Was Will hurt? Where? How? Was it the scars, maybe? But… He’d given Will some potions for that, hadn’t he? Struggling to remain calm, he picked Will up and slowly began unwrapping the long strip of fabric. One round… Two… Three… He’d counted up to seven when the fabric ended. He inspected Will’s back for damage. Nothing. So it must be on the torso… He turned Will around to check his chest.

Breasts. Will had…? Kyre dropped him – or was he a her? – and hastily backed away. Why would Will pretend to be a boy when he was a girl?
Hey, boss, lemme out so I can rape and kill this so-called boy. It oughtta be fun!
Kyre had to fight from the strong urge to give in to the devil’s son. “NO! We had an agreement. I won’t tell anyone if you possess me only one day a week. And the new agreement was I’d let you eat one soul a month if you came out only on a specific day. Go back!”
The devil’s son, grumbling, obeyed.
Kyre sighed with relief and stared at the figure lying on the bedroll, breathing shallowly. A girl…? Oh. The one he’d met in the alleyway. He stared more. Why hadn’t he known? They both had the same look – endless ice and darkness and pain when you looked into each of their eyes. But Will’s eyes were growing warmer by the day. That was a comfort, at least.He slowly crawled forward and rolled Will over, careful not to touch his chest, and smeared salve onto the rash-covered back. Then he put Will’s bandages back on, and then the shirt, and then the blanket. And, finally, Kyre went to bed, and to sleep.

I woke up to the smell of bacon. Bacon! As I threw some clothes on and raced to the campfire, I tried to recall the last time I’d had breakfast. Real breakfast, not just stale bread. That time when we helped the merchant…? Probably. Three months ago. I sat down, grabbed a plate, loaded it up and immediately started stuffing my face.

LATER IN THE STORY
It was Sunday, so I woke up early to leave, as usual. But I stopped just on the verge of exiting the forest. Last night, Kyre had mentioned ‘you’d better not come, or you’ll be hurt.’ How so? So I decided to stay and watch. I climbed up a pine tree and tried to sit as comfortably as I could. Before long, Kyre woke up. For a while, he just sat there on his bedroll, as if he were mustering the strength for something. Finally, though, he just closed his eyes. From where I was, I could see the entire transformation occur. His scar began to glow with a dark energy, and the darkness spread until he seemed to be wrapped in a dark cloth. The darkness then sank into his skin, and when he looked up, I shuddered with fear. The look on his face was truly evil and demonic – and what’s more, he seemed to be looking directly at me.
“I sense a girl in that tree over there. Girlie, you’d best run for your life, else you’ll be raped and killed!”
I was startled. That wasn’t Kyre, was it? It sounded too different! But I took the Kyre-person to his word and began to dash away, casting a few simple barrier spells behind me to slow him down. Then I ran into the nearest town for my life.

The next day, I came back to our campsite where Kyre was opening the chest that contained all the souls. He noticed me.
“Hey, Will! I’ll be trading with the demons again. You wanna help?”
So we did the usual thing – summoned the demons, bargained, and sold, sending the demon back to where it’d come from. I seized three more soul bottles and thrust them through the locket. I’d just finished shutting it when Kyre turned around.
“Will…may I ask you something?”
I looked up and growled, “What?”
“You’re…a girl, aren’t you?”

The moment I heard that, my thawing heart once again froze. My eyes turned into pits of darkness, ice and anger.
“Yeah. You found out. Congratulations. Now you’re gonna rape me, aren’t you? With that weird demon-dude who possesses you. I wonder, why didn’t you rape me last time we met? Or yesterday?”
I snorted., but then it hit me.
“Hey, wait. How’d you know I’m a girl?” He blushed. Then he looked down and fidgeted with a blade of grass. My eyes were practically drilling holes through his head. I guess it grew too uncomfortable after a while – and good riddance for that – because he finally looked up and said, “Er… Um… I… Found out…” “Oh, just get to the point already,” I snapped. He cringed. “Well… Remember a while ago? The poison ivy?” “What about it?” “Well… I admired your ‘endurance’ and all, but I thought it was a bit much to leave such an obviously large rash untreated, so…” At that, I exploded. “You took off my shirt and breast band? After I specifically told you NOT TO?!” At that point I was yelling. My eyes were burning with rage. That is, they would’ve been burning if not for the coldness. He murmured, “Well, it wasn’t that big a deal…” That pushed me over the edge. “Not that big a deal?! Well, how about I set you on fire, see how big a deal that is!” Now he was looking up in alarm. “Okay, Will… I mean, I don’t know what to call you, but just calm – “ “I am NOT calming down!” I yelled. “Just SHUT UP and LET ME KILL YOU!” I’d already assumed the attack pose as I screamed the death verse:
Kill, burn, light on fire,
Send them to their funeral pyre,
Kill burn, rage alight,
Send them to hell with all your might!

An enormous blue-purple bolt of flame shot out of my fingers and towards his chest. Luckily for him, he deflected it in time. Unluckily for his magic pouch, it was immediately reduced to cinders. He looked up in astonishment. “You really tried to kill me just now, didn’t you?” I snarled, “What? Are you that surprised?” Then, through clenched teeth, I recited another attack verse:
A sword in hand
A tightened fist
A mace to strike with
A poisonous mist
Strike him
Kill him
Cut him down
Hit him
Hurt him
His blood to drown.

An enormous blade sprang from my fingertips and struck his chest. Spikes sprang out from it, and they all began to emit poisonous gas. I would’ve been proud of myself if I hadn’t been so angry. After all, it was the best I’d ever done. Instead, I just waited for him to die. I knew he would eventually. There was no way anyone could survive that. But to my great astonishment (and misery), when the mist dissipated, he was still standing there, unharmed, very much alive. “How… How are you…” He coughed. “Well, I’m not, really, to tell the truth.” He held up a second pouch, this one dark red rather than grass-green. Immediately I could smell the blood. “You… I can’t believe you actually stole peoples’ lives!” He coughed again. “Well, now…” I was too angry to listen. I held up my hands and began, once again, to recite an incantation:
All lives
But mine
Be taken –
He strode up to me and pulled my arms apart. I fought in vain. He’s strong, a small part of my mind whispered. I ignored it as he leaned in closer, and let go of my left hand. “Now,” he said softly. “You don’t really want to kill me, do you?” I hissed back at him, “Yes. Yes, I do. Now let go of me.” He shook his head. “Let go of you so you can kill me? I don’t think I’ll do that. No, I won’t.” With his right hand, he plucked an ink-black pouch from his pocket. I could feel my eyes involuntarily widening. “Is that -” He nodded. “Sweet dreams.” He pulled a handful of colorless powder from the bag and blew it into my face. Everything immediately turned black. And by that I don’t mean that I lost consciousness. I mean my vision turned black.

The moment I turned blind was the moment I broke down. I grew limp and slack, and the wall I was leaning on my only support. “Stop it,” I whispered. “Stop.” Even though I couldn’t see, my hearing was still perfectly fine. “Don’t worry, Will,” he murmured into my ear. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.” I whimpered. Dimly, I was aware of him tying my hands together, open, finger against finger, palm against palm. I could just barely feel him wrapping them together with rope, and then doing the same to my wrists, my arms, my legs, my ankles, my feet… Everywhere. And all the time, he kept saying, “Don’t worry… Everything’s all right… I’m right here.” Then, finally, after what seemed to be an eternity of darkness, light trickled back in.

I squinted from the sudden brightness. As my eyes adjusted, I was aware of Kyre standing in front of me. He was squatting down. “You okay, Will?” I nodded, throat dry. He gave a short, barking laugh. “By the way. What’s your real name? You’ve never really told me.” I whispered, barely audibly, “Willow. Willow McIller.” He laughed again. “Well, what do you know. Willow. Like an elegant, graceful tree, leaning down so people may come under its comfort and protection, but” – he peered at me – “that’s the complete opposite of you, isn’t it?” I managed a tiny nod, then shook my hands. “Could you please untie me? It hurts.” My voice was slightly timid and shy, full of innocence, but he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will. After all” – he beamed at me – “that would just result in my death, no?” I dropped the act and glared at him. “Oh, yeah?” I snarled. “What’re you going to do, then, keep me shackled up for life?” “Nope,” he cheerily replied. “Only until you forgive me and stop trying to have me killed.” I snorted. “Then it might as well be for life.”

I glowered at him. He ignored me. I began to growl. He poured a cup of water. I shut up. He sipped it. I attempted to get into a magic position – attack, defense, healing, anything! He shot me a pointed look. I glared at him. He went back to ignoring me. Then I began to resort to my last method – blackmail. “If you don’t let me out of here, right now, I’ll scream, ‘Help, Kyre is raping me’ at my loudest, girliest voice, and then you’ll get sent to jail and possibly killed. So I think you’d better let me out now.” He gave a little smile and held up his pouch. “I can make myself invisible.” I tried something else. “I promise I won’t kill you if you let me out. I’ll swear an oath.” His eyebrows rose in an arch and I knew he could tell I was lying. Fine then. My last last resort. “I’ll kill myself if you don’t let me out. I swear, I will kill myself.” He shook his head. “No way you’d do that. Besides, how would you?” I smirked. Time for my trump card. Slowly, I pulled my one freed hand from behind my back and held it, being sure to tilt it enough that he could see the long, wickedly sharp glass shard in it. He froze when he saw it. After a moment’s hesitation, he lunged for it, but he was already too late; in that moment, I’d whipped it up to my neck. “So.” The word was a hiss as I frantically worked my right hand out of the rope holding it in a fist. It was a lot harder than my left, and I would’ve just cut it with the glass if Kyre hadn’t stuck it in a very small and tight mouse hole. To top it all of, my arm was twisted rather painfully to keep it there. “So. Ready to free me?” His eyes were glued on that glass shard as if it were the devil itself. I didn’t get why it was that big of a deal to him – I mean, kill me, let me live, whatever, right? Besides, he could even take my soul if I killed myself. No biggie. Just a shame that the mermaid wouldn’t be able to make more – mermaids, that is. “On second thought, why don’t I just kill myself?” I was speaking to myself at this point, murmuring actually, so softly I didn’t know whether or not he could hear me. There wasn’t much to live for, after all, except for the mermaid. So why bother? I smirked. Maybe I should kill myself. After all, not much would change, right? I’d stop thinking, stop moving, stop even knowing whether I was dead, alive, or even in existence. It would be just like going to sleep. In fact, easier than going to sleep. I stopped twisting my hand, and winced as the rope dug into my skin. Well… maybe slightly painful. I shrugged mentally. Oh, well – pain was pain, and it’d be a whole lot less pain than I’d feel in the rest of my life. So I pressed the glass against my neck. I felt the little trickle of warmth – blood, I told myself. See? You’re already halfway there. So I got ready to shove the bit into my neck. All it took was a moment’s hesitation. Just a moment. But that moment was all Kyre needed to jump forward and knock it out of my hand.


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