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Those needles stab at my skin, white hot and burning. The temperature in the room reaches a crescendo and sweat pours from my body.
Just drink and the pain will go away.
My throat is parched. I cough and taste smoke, thick and cloying. My eyes sting from it. But there’s nothing there.
A drink will make it all better.
I fall from the bed, my knees crashing hard against the concrete floor but I’m too distressed by the heat to care about the damage done. On hands and knees I crawl over to the small basin. My fingers slither up the basin, searching for the lip of the bowl so that I can grip onto something. Sweat trickles down my forehead and into my eyes, making it impossible to see. My fingers clench the sink and the heat from it causes blisters to erupt on my skin. I scream and almost crash back down to the floor, but my paralysed digits keep me locked in place. On weak, tired limb, I pull myself up to a hunched position, clinging to the basin like I need it to live.
Turn on the tap and drink. You’ll heal.
I whimper at the pain in my hands as it takes me several attempts to turn on the tap. Cool water begins to flow and I eagerly run my blistered palms under the cascade.
Drink it!a voice in my head commands.
Scooping the water in the cupped palm of my hand, I gather the nectar and carefully bring it to my lips. Something makes me pause. A memory. A figure approaching through the smoke, shaking his head.Don’t drink that either.
I blink and smoke is gone. The professor is gone. My hands are healed. There’s no fire. No needles of pain.
I throw the water back into the basin and watch as it drains away, then I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Swiping my hand over my mouth, a cool bead of water catches on my lip and my tongue darts out to clear it away.
Instant pressure builds and builds inside of my skull until I can no longer bear it, and then I feel something crack inside me.
I scream and succumb to the darkness.
When I open my eyes, everything falls away – the darkness, the cell, the invisible magic – and I am suddenly in a place of light and beauty. I’m standing in a courtyard, surrounded by walls of white marble and a beautiful fountain with a statue in the centre.
Something in me recognises this place as the palace of justice, where those accused of crimes come to face judgement.
But how do I know that?
A figure is standing in the courtyard, and I know instinctively what to do. I take a few steps forward, and I can see that it is a woman, her face shrouded by a long veil. She holds a staff in her hands, and a voice speaks from within her – it is the voice of justice.
She points her staff at me and the invisible magic that had been torturing me comes to life. Flames erupt around us and wrap themselves around me like a snake. I can feel the magic tightening, squeezing the breath out of me as it searches for answers. I struggle to break free, to breathe and to think, but the more I fight the more it tightens around me.
Finally, it releases me, and I collapse to the ground, exhausted. The flames recede. When the woman speaks again, her voice is stern and immovable. She tells me that I must answer her questions, and if I do so honestly then I will be allowed to go free.
I answer her questions, one by one, and with each answer I can feel the invisible magic fade away until it is nothing more than a distant memory. The woman nods and tells me that I am free to go, and I don’t hesitate. I turn and run, back to the freedom I had been denied before.
The air feels cool on my skin, and I take a deep breath. I’m free. I have escaped the cage of fire and my imprisonment by invisible magic. I have been judged and found innocent, and I will never forget the experience.
I blink and come round on the floor of my cell, the rough concrete kissing my cheek. The knowledge that I’m okay isn’t enough to give me the energy to move, so I curl into a ball and will this night to end.
I’m innocent.Justice has said so.
Now I just need to convince the police of that.
It’s utter torture standing out in the street, under Malia’s window listening to her scream. Knowing she’s trapped in there alone, confused, and suffering is enough to weaken any stone heart. But knowing that there’s nothing I can do to help her, that I can’t even tell her I’m here, it’s enough to obliterate that stone into a million shards.
As I stand there, my heart tearing apart with every scream that rips through the night, I can’t help but feel helpless. Malia’s pain echoes through the silence of the night, and I know that I am the only one who can hear it.
But as the hours pass, the screams begin to fade, and morning intrudes. All I’m left with is the sound of my own thoughts. I know that I need to do something more to help her, to break her free from all that’s holding her captive. But I can’t, and that’s what is keepingmecaptive.
In the light of dawn, I pace back and forth, my mind working furiously. Anger and frustration build inside of me as I try to come up with a plan. I know that I need to act fast, before it’s too late. We need to find a way to give Malia her memories back and to unlock the magic in her veins that’s being suppressed. And I think the only way to do that might be to bring her before the elders. But doing so, taking her through the portal to our realm, might kill her in the process.
So I’ll do all I can to avoid it.
As soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, I’m at the doors to the station, hammering to be let in. They ignore me for a good twenty minutes before finally relenting and unlocking the doors to grant me access with a reproachful look. I don’t give a shit about their passive-aggressive bullshit. I just want to check on Malia. And get her out of here. But first things first, I need to see what state she’s in after the night of hell they put her through.
