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Reyna grew bored with her games while Emilie writhed in my arms. Her eyes were unseeing and glazed over. They flitted from side to side, seeming to search for something. I couldn’t help but blame myself for what had happened. It was my duty, above all else, to protect, and I had failed.
“Get up. Pick her up,” Reyna said.
A mystical power coursed through my veins; a power that wasn’t my own. It seemed to stem from those tattooed vines wrapped around my wrists, and now I realized my ankles as well.
Despite how badly I wanted to disregard her demands, my body began to move. Whatever magic stemmed from those vines had taken root, had dug its way into my nervous system and maneuvered me like a puppet.
I rose to my feet with Emilie’s limp body lying across my arms.
“Follow me.” As soon as Reyna spoke, the platform shifted and a steep staircase formed down the center, leading up to her. It was a sign of her confidence in her magic tricks that she allowed me to approach. She knew as well as I did that these mystical binds had anchored.
I carried Emilie up the steps while Reyna moved inside an enormous oak door. I studied it as I entered. Symbols decorated the edges in an old language I couldn’t understand. They glowed a blue light once I passed, and I had the sinking feeling of being trapped.
Reyna led us through passages, up and down flights of stairs. The hallways were dark and disorienting. No distinguishing features to help me make sense of the route we’d taken.
We finally stopped outside a bedroom on a lower level. It reeked of grime and mold. Puddles of water lay stagnant on the hard floor in front of the bedroom door. When Reyna opened it, she gave me a sinister smile.
“I hope you like it. I’ve been waiting for over a decade to let someone use this guest room.” She chuckled cruelly.
The guest room was a cell, ten feet across and ten feet wide. The walls and floor were made of a black stone that seemed to suck the light from the room. There was one small opening on the ceiling covered by a grate with small slats, the only source of light the room had to offer. Unfortunately, it also provided dripping water, which landed in a metal bucket.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
It was enough to drive me mad.
A single mattress sat in the corner of the room. It was thin, barely five inches off the ground, and a worn, dirty white sheet was the only blanket atop it.
“How generous of you,” I said quietly.
“What was that?” Reyna slid a finger down the back of my arm and I shivered, fighting the urge to break her hand.
“Nothing.”
I lowered Emilie to the mattress and covered her with the sheet. She was still twitching and making little whimpering noises. It was probably for the best that she remained unconscious. It was clear from Reyna’s warning that it was going to be a painful experience getting rid of the venom in her body.
The door creaked, and I turned to find Reyna slowly closing it. The corner of her mouth rose when our eyes met. “I’ll be back when I have use for you. Have a good night.”
The latch clicked shut, and I heard the clatter of locks turning on the other side of the door. If I had my magic, I could’ve blasted through it easily, but I’d have to get creative instead.
I looked down at the vines weaving between my fingers and crawling up my forearms. Was I imagining it, or had they spread?
It was a magic I’d never seen before. I examined them, the way the inky black melted into my skin. There was no way to remove them aside from cutting my limbs off. Could I use my siphon abilities on them? They were a source of magic, after all.
It was worth a shot.
I focused on the familiar pulling feeling, on absorbing the magic into my veins and bending it to my will. Inhaling it in like oxygen to empty lungs.
Needles pricked at my temple, and I doubled over coughing. The same pounding headache from when I’d first tried my magic returned to me now.
I rubbed my temples and prayed for it to cease. “Fuuuck.”
“Ladon…”
Emilie stirred in the bed, looking around in confusion. There were tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t grimacing in pain. At least not for now.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not great…I think I might throw up.”
