“How do we get out of here?”
We ask question after question, but the wraith ignores ouremotionaloutburst—in his mind we must be primitive beings for being so influenced by our emotions. He waits until we’re both out of breath before continuing.
“Mortalscansurvive in this realm.”
“You just said they can’t!” I say, annoyed.
He gives it no mind. “Requirement for survival: Register under an authorized species.”
“What’s that?”
“Youare an authorized species. You may register the mortal under you or let her to die. However, before death, any other authorized species can claim her.”
“What?” Moe stares at him.
“This is insane,” I mutter under my breath. “Where in the Seven are we?”
“Aimaxion. Only authorized species may exist in this realm. Unauthorized species will die. In three hours and forty?—”
“All right, all right. How do I register her under me?”
“If you agree to register the mortal officially under you, she will be considered your property. The following benefits will apply: she will survive, she will be protected as long as she is in this realm and no other being may touch her without your permission. The following disadvantages will apply: her life is bound to yours. Should you die, she will die too.”
Moe and I turn to stare at each other.
“Where th-e h-ell are w-e, Nykander?” she whispers, her words slurred.
“I don’t know but I’m not too optimistic. Whatever this is… It’s dangerous. And he might be weird.” I point to the wraith. “But I think he is right. You’re breathing is becoming much worse. This world… I think there’s something wrong with the gravity. It’s not fit for mortals.”
“But…” She gasps for breath. “F-fine. D-do it.”
“I’m sorry, Moe. I promise I will get us out of here and I won’t take advantage of this ‘property’ situation.”
“I…trust.” She squeezes her eyes shut.
“I wish to register her under me.”
“Very well. Put your right wrists forward.”
Both Moe and I do as he says. A dark tattoo appears on our wrists: it’s a circular symbol with a straight line cutting through it. On each side of the line is a pattern made out of dots.
“This mark is unique to the two of you. Congratulations. The mortal is now your property. You may lend her to others or you may keep her to yourself.”
“Yeah, that won’t happen,” I mutter drily.
“I am only stating the rules. Should anyone touch her without permission, the penalty is ten points and you will have the chance to challenge them to an exclusive duel.”
Moe lets out a long breath. Her face regains its usual color. The whites of her eyes are no longer stained with red.
She presses her hand to her chest, taking a moment to recover.
“Wow,” she whispers.
“You’re good now?”
She nods. “Whatever he did, I can breathe normally now. But that still doesn’t mean I like the situation we’re in,” she grumbles.
“I gave you my promise,” I mumble, equally as annoyed at our current quandary. “We’ll get out of here somehow. And I will not let anything happen to you.”
