Page 52 of The Starlight Savior

“We come for the ancient-wielder. Etrane’s lil prize,” purred the golden warlock.

“I don’t know what you speak of.” Saige trembled. Cool water laced around her wrists, binding her with the witch’s power. Exhaling, she tried to reach for her own magic. It hadn’t been a full day since her outburst. She couldn’t imagine having enough power to protect herself.

“Your body betrays you, little witch,” sang a soft voice in her ear. The witch’s hands moved up to her shoulders, tugging her against her chest.

Looking down, Saige spotted light glimmering in her veins.

“Ah.” The golden warlock smiled, the tip of his sword pointing towards her. “There she is!”

Her eyes tracked across the room. The main exit was blocked by a cluster of warriors dressed in the scaly armor, weapons glistening and palms filled with water. Behind her were rows of tables, all set out with freshly prepared food. A large wood burning oven crackled. Burnt meat smoked from an iron pan. Could she escape past them bound by water? If she could, she didn’t know what would happen to the handmaids, servants, and cooks kneeling around her. To Esme. Saige could not free them alone.

“Bold of you to think you’ll leave here unscathed,” Saige uttered. “I’ve heard plenty of times how Etrane has defeated you.”

The golden warlock laughed. “You waste time with silly words. You think the storm king will come to the rescue? They don’t know we’re here. They think we ran off after their pathetic excuse of a battle. All the royals sit back in their quarters, waiting for their help, a sleep tonic infused with last evening’s supper and booze. You’re the only one who was restless enough to come looking. Only one who clearly wasn’t impacted by my brew.” Another sharp cackle sent shivers down Saige’s spine. “Which one of these weak peasants is yours?”

Saige’s eyes widened at the warlock’s revelation. She’d been so exhausted from her outburst that she spent most of her evening in the courtyard. If she was to be reprimanded for not attending King Vospella’s supper, no one retrieved her. But maybe they’d been too intoxicated with whatever magic Tiranos had laced into the food.

“Get on with it, Myles,” said a warlock beside him. His sandy beard was braided down his neck, hair twisted back.

“I come with a proposition,” the golden warlock, presumably Myles, said. “Etrane retrieved you from the mortal lands, no?” At the sight of Saige’s paling face, he grinned. “There are many whispers in the shifting war. Opela knows much about you.”

“There is no war,” she said, “just the mist.”

“The mist is the war. And we will win. My queen sets out to expand her kingdom. Build on our power. That is why we came, for you to join us. Help us heal the land, little witch.” He took a step forward, a tanned hand reaching out to grip Saige’s throat. She recoiled against his touch, but her body was rigid against the witch grasping her shoulders. “Whatever Etrane has offered you, Queen Anya of Tiranos can deal double. Triple. You would be the most powerful wielder in Opela.”

“Etrane has offered me nothing but sanctuary and knowledge.” Her heartbeat thundered against Myles’s fingertips. “I cannot think of anything else I may need.” She spoke honestly.

“Your imagination must be weak then. If what Etrane speaks is true, if ancient magic flows through your veins, then what you can accomplish is endless. Do you not want power? Land? A castle of your own? What of an army to infiltrate the mortal lands, the very beings who slayed your family?” Myles leaned in close. “We know much about you, Saige. We know what makes you glow. Now come with us.”

“And if I don’t?” Saige uttered through clenched teeth. She hoped the water-wielders couldn’t see the surprise shadowing her face. No one had spoken of ancient magic to her before.

He shrugged. “Then they’ll all die.”

Myles stepped away from Saige, pointing his sword forward. He walked slowly across the line of bound wielders. The tip of his blade grazed trembling cheeks, leaving thin lines of blood. Finally, he stopped in front of a handmaid. She was barely of working age, long blonde hair shaken out of her twin braids.

Lifting his sword, he swung the blade through the air. Water glimmered around the metal. A wet sound echoed around them as it cut through bone and muscle, Myles grunting as he drove it into the girl’s flesh. The girl fell to the ground, mouth still open in a scream, her head barely connected to her body.

Saige’s body went rigid as she peered from the deceased girl to the cruel smirking warlock. The other servants erupted in cries and screams, some tugging against the slick cuffs wrapped around their limbs.

A servant with black hair rose, running towards the entrance. He was the same man who had cried out to her, revealing Saige’s identity to Tiranos’s legion. Before he could take more than two steps, a water-wielder stepped forward, dragging a dagger against his neck. Blood burst from his wounds as he choked and gargled. Saige’s breaths were ragged as she watched him fall. They kicked his body aside, streaking the floor red.

“Wait!” she shouted, “are we all not fighting the same war? We wish to push back the mist. To heal the land! Can we not work together?”

“It is much more than just mist. Queen Anya wishes to rule past the borders of Tiranos. She will gain control of the mountains in Etrane. She will take from the plains of Brevil. She will rule the sands of Nasala. Queen Anya will be the first queen of Opela, as Mara intended.”

“Your water Goddess was wrong,” Saige declared.

“What do you know of the deities and their wishes? You were raised in the mortal kingdom, weren’t you?”

“Then enlighten me.”

Myles’s teeth were as white as pearls. “You stall. I told you, no storm-wielder is coming to your rescue.”

“You cannot talk and kill,” Saige said. “These are innocent people. Let them be.”

“They may be innocent, but you do care for them.” Myles raised a finger to his chin. “But I tire of this game too.”

As he turned back to the servants, Saige knew she was out of time. Bound by water, she could do nothing but watch as Myles picked his next victim.