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Calliope squeezed her eyes shut. She had to put a stop to this before the line between the real world and the imaginary one grew too blurry.
“You’re not really here.” Calliope turned away from the voice. “I’m not going to listen to you anymore.”
You always were a liar.
“You are the liar!” She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “We aren’t immortal. We die. You died. You aren’t—”
Silence, Calliope. If you can’t say something sensible, don’t say anything at all.
“I am being sensible.”
You’re a fool. A curse upon my life. You and your affliction.
“Mother, I—”
Fool!
Calliope staggered back, the force of the shout inside her head seeming to knock the world sideways.
She shouldn’t have engaged the voices. She always ended up frightening herself, even when she wasn’t locked in an awful place with the sounds of claws on stone waking her in the middle of the night.
Her mother was dead, but the animals on the farm loved and needed her. She had to hold it together for a few more days. Then surely the king would hear of her plight. The King of Outer Kartolia was merciful and kind. Calliope had never met him, but she’d seen the pictures of his coronation pasted to the billboards in the village close to her farm. She and the other village girls had giggled together about how handsome he was.
Surely such a handsome, compassionate-looking king would understand she hadn’t meant to—
Idiot. You were born an idiot.
My fault for cursing you with a human father.
“I am finished with this conversation. You aren’t real.” Calliope pulled back a foot and kicked the stone beside her—hard.
“Ouch! Ouchouchouch.” She cursed, but the pain had the desired effect. Her mind cleared and the spark of hope within her grow stronger.
The king was kind and he would set her free, even if his younger brother had fallen victim to Rosamund’s enchanted castle. Prince Johann should never have gone to the castle. Everyone knew that it let princes in, but never let them out again. Johann wasn’t the warrior his older brother was. He should have known better than to—
Know better than to enter a place cursed by a freak.
Calliope pressed her hands to her ears, sinking down to the floor with a moan. She couldn’t fight it anymore. The voice in her head was too strong and she had been too long without her herbs. She had begged the king’s guards to let her take her medicine with her, but they’d refused.
And now she was alone, trapped in the dark, with the voice that had always been the cruelest of those that spoke in her mind—the harsh imitation of the mother Calliope knew she had disappointed beyond all reason.
You aren’t just a disappointment; you are an abomination. Always have been; always will be.
“Please. Please…” Calliope ran a trembling arm across her face, smearing the tears running down her cheeks.
How dare you beg for mercy when you’ve given up of your own free will? What kind of fairy are you? You have magic, use it!
“I can’t. Please. It’s too dangerous, and I—”
Then I suppose you will die, Affliction.
“I am not an affliction!” Her voice echoed out of her cell into the vast underground dungeon. She was shaking now, her hands clawing at the air in front of her face as if she could shred the voice with her mangled nails.
Then prove it. Free yourself. Cast, Calliope. Cast or die
Calliope squeezed her eyes closed. “No.”
Cast, daughter, cast and live.
