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“I mean, you’re not the least bit worried about whoever’s following you?”
I stare at her, expressionless, clutching my satchel defensively.
“You said it was a good thing,” I tell her. “You said it must have been a secret admirer in Lowtown.”
“Yeah, I thought that,” she admits. “But then nobody came forward. And now you’re telling me some fantastical story about a man who shoots ice arrows and destroys monsters. That doesn’t sound like anybody in our village. That sounds like –”
“Don’t say it,” I command her.
She falls silent.
“Thank you for keeping an eye on Skye for me,” I say, tapping the device one more time. The light returns to its metallic confines. “But I’m fine.”
She nods in response. She doesn’t show it, still wearing that vacant stare, but I know she’s concerned. And I don’t feel like she has any right to be.
Standing outside her dormitory, I pick up Skye’s cage before impulsively producing one of the vials.
I stare at its contents, contemplating for a moment.
And I drink it.
It has a bitter, chalky taste, and it doesn’t go down easy.
I can still hear her voice in my head.
What are you doing? That could be poison for all you know!
But as its effects take hold of me, I realize that it’s very much not poison.
I can feel myself burning.
I reach down and lightly caress my pussy through my dress.
Whatever is in these vials, it’s a powerful aphrodisiac. I can feel myself thinking about my suitor, whoever he is, and I can’t stop touching myself. I’m incredibly wet, out of nowhere, and I need to relieve my urges.
I rush back to my dormitory, setting Skye at the entrance, and slam the door.
7
BRIELLE
At the end of one of the conveyor belts, there’s a small gap before the next one picks up again. Every item has to be picked up from the first belt, turned upside down, and then placed on the next one.
That’s my job. That’s the entirety of my job. I’m sure there’s a spell or a machine that could do it just as well, but they’ve decided that it’s cheaper to have me do it.
The items, which will eventually be digging machines, aren’t very heavy to lift at first, but by the fiftieth one you carry across the same gap and turn upside down, they might as well be boulders.
If the work weren’t dreary enough, the atmosphere makes it worse. There’s a blue fire orb hanging from the ceiling to light the factory every ten feet or so. It’s just bright enough that you can see, but everything’s still left in a tiresome blue dimness. The belt constantly crackles with the magical lightning that makes it run. You get used to getting little shocks, and I’ve heard that some people have had worse.
There’s also very little room to move. The whole factory is laid out as one long hall, and if you need to get past someone, you have to squeeze by them.
But the worst is the noise. Every wheel under the belt constantly turning and sparking and clattering together. Every time I enter the factory floor, I have to cover my ears for a few seconds to get used to the din. You have to shout to talk to anyone older than forty who works on this floor, and I know that’ll be me soon enough.
The volume isn’t the part that gets me, though. It’s the regularity. Always the same sounds over and over and over. Chug chug clatter. Chug chug clatter. It’s like a constant reminder that while I’m here, I’m just part of a machine. I don’t matter. I’d be a belt if things didn’t have to get turned upside down. Just keep on working. Chug chug clatter.
But today, I have a secret. There is someone who cares about me. Someone who loves me enough to leave me gifts.
To someone out there, I’m not just another cog in a huge turning machine. I’m a person. A special person.
