Prolgue
Today is the day I become a murderer. I have felt my powers growing steadily over the last several days and today I feel stronger than usual. Another trip around the sun, and another year for my powers to grow. It’s been a full year since ‘King’ Kheliq, a sioga ruling one of the territories, took me. I don’t think I can take another as it is, let alone if they actually figured out who I am. I overheard the head of the Kheliq’s guard will be gone this week, which only adds to my resolve. I will kill as few or as many as I have to to make my escape, and if the odds are in my favour I will burn the whole city to the ground. Happy birthday to me.
Before, I could only siphon energy from around me with direct touch, but with another year under my belt I can do it from a few feet away. All the guards that enter my room have been careful to not let our skin ever come into contact, but, with my back to the bars, when they have brought or taken my meal tray I have been able to take small amounts of their energy. This is the strongest I’ve been since the day they kidnapped me; this is the best chance I’ve ever had to get away. Even still, I know my chances. I don’t even remember being brought underground to my current cell, so I have no idea what to expect when I leave this room let alone how the land is laid out. With what I will likely have to do to get out, if I fail, I will likely never have another chance.
If I don’t get away this time, I hope they see me as too much hassle to keep alive. I hope if I don’t kill them first, they put a bolt through my fucking head.
-
I watch the last guard leave the room after he snuffed out most of the mage lights, leaving the room in near complete darkness. One light remains in the middle of the open space outside the cells, just enough for me to squint out into the darkness and confirm no one has lagged behind. The door to this area blocks any sounds from entering or leaving, but in times when it has been left open I have counted the steps up to, which I can only assume, is the ground floor. Fifty-two steps. I count as high four times, and then still I wait. I haven’t done anything like this in years, and I don’t know how long it will take to do it now.
I pull my next breath into my lungs with purpose, and roll off my cot without taking my eyes off the door. When I reach the bars I wrap my hands around the edges of the locking panel and start to pull it’s life energy away. The energy I pull from the metal is what I think of as dead energy, and makes the task exhausting, compared to taking energy from something living. This material will only degrade from it’s current condition, it cannot replenish its energy through time, rest, or food, so I get nothing from the energy I take.
I start to sweat as I take away the years this material had left to live, rusting it from a thousands of years of disuse in minutes. The rust starts to form where I can see it, but I only needed the latch to rust through in order to open the door. I give the door a sharp jerk, feeling the ache in my elbows a second before the door gives. The loud *screech-clang* sound in the room, and I take a minute to sit and slow down my breathing.
“I should have taken more from the last guard, he looked exhausted anyway.” I mutter and wipe my sweat face inside the collar of my shirt.
My legs wobble beneath me, but my will to escape is stronger than my body. When I get to the door for the stairwell… it’s unlocked. I almost find myself laughing at the absurdity of it. One lock. One lock, was all they thought I was worth. I wasn’t even going to check, but I tugged on the door out of some old habit where doors in my way opened. Now I have the twisted knob in my hand, ready to pull.
“I’m really going to leave this room,” I can’t help but say aloud as I feel the grin spread over my face.
The staircase spirals upward with no windows so, on top of every step echoing up and down, it’s dark as hell. I count the steps as I go, taking them in my bare feet more quietly than the guards in their heavy boots. Five.. six.. seven.. the stairs, like the floor, is made of stone, and I scrape my toes against an uneven placement. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven. I’m more than halfway there and start to slow down. I need my energy for what might lie beyond the doors at the top. There could be any number of guards in this prison block, and I need to kill everyone I can to for the energy and evening the odds.
By the time I reach the top, I’m panting. I try to slow my breathing as I press my ear to the door so that I can listen, going as far as to hold my breath for a minute. Nothing… I can’t hear anything. But that doesn’t mean much. It could be sound proof like the one at the bottom. It’s not like I’ve ever seen a prison before, anything could be beyond this door, so once my breathing stabilizes I test the latch. It makes a gentle clicking sounds, like it is only meant to be locked from the outside. I put that thought aside and start imagining a room full of men with weapons aimed at me. Maybe if I imagine the worst thing what is actually there won’t be so scary.
I pull the door inward slowly, looking through the crack carefully, but my mind would never have been prepared for what I see. Beyond the door is a lavishly decorated study. The door I’ve pulled in is a bookshelf, making the area I was kept in a secret space. The entire wall I walk through is covered in books, there is a thick rug on the floor with fancy carved wood chairs and plush cushions. The room looks like it's set up to receive company, and the idea that people sat here enjoying tea while I suffered beneath their feat only adds to my growing feelings, but they’re not the only reason I start to flush. There is the dying remnants of a fire in a corner and a large desk in the center with papers organized carefully. The whole scene makes my face burn with anger. I wasn’t even in the actual prison. All this time I’ve been kept like a kicking dog in the basement.
Out of some petty need to wreck something I gather up a bunch of the papers from the desk and burry them in the ashes from the fire, moving some of the remaining coals to sit on top. I don't stay to watch them catch, instead moving to the next door to listen. Again it’s quite and I look around the room for some sort of weapon, noticing for the first time that it has no windows. An unfortunate thought hits me with that… what if they’re more cruel and clever than I gave them credit for? It could be any time of day. Just because they tell me it’s dinner time and night doesn’t mean that it is. My hands start to tremble with the ideal of emerging in the middle of the day, blinded by a sun I haven’t seen in a year and easily spotted in my red prisoner clothes.
Please Goddess don’t let me be caught, and if I am just let me die.
Death would be preferred over returning to the basement.
I want something, something like a weapon, and my mind returns to the fire poker. My bare feet tread on the soft carpet, providing a relief I didn't know I was missing. This time when I approach fireplace I look up, my eyes connecting with the panicked expression of too thin girl with soot on her face. The only reason I don’t shriek is that I see her movements matching my own. A mirror. This is what I now look like.
I'm not showing the pointed ears of the sioga, those are the easiest thing to hide, but I can feel my fangs itching under my gums to come out with every perceived threat. My blue black hair has now passed my ears and is showing the beginning of the gradient. After about 15 centimetres of growth the dark colour begins to lighten into lighter shades in the blue colour line; just like my mom’s did. I run my fingers through it, seeing what a mess I’ve let it become, and try to twist it into a knot at the back of my neck. It won’t last, but the length tickles my ears and neck.
My eyes roam my body and I’ve thinned. I liked my athletic build, gained through climbing trees and mountains, helping my neighbours in their gardens, and playing with the kids in the village. Adjusting the chest binding they gave me to wear, I notice I’ve lost my curves as well. It took me a long time to appreciate them, and before I got them I looked more like a boy with my short hair. When I started to look more like a girl the boys my age started to treat me different. I beat them all bloody for it, and they knocked that shit off, but it made me hate the hips and tits for a while. Now I’m so underfed that I haven’t had a period in months.
“Ignore it,” I command myself. “We need to go.”
I need to ignore the pain I feel in seeing myself so far gone. The hollowness in my face and the way the clothes hang off my body, covered in injuries in various states of healing, are things that I can fix after I find my way out of here.
I moved back to the door out and listen again, just in case I was wrong. I notice this time that the door feels cold. It could lead outside. In some special world where all my luck turns around in an instant it would not only lead outside but be part of a detached work space no one used at whatever time of day it is. I wipe away sweat on my palms before moving to grip the knob. Slowly I unlocked it and pull the door open, checking in all directions for signs of life.
There’s nothing. In all directions all I see is some sort of garden. There is a covered hall stretching in both directions but there isn't a real wall keeping the outside out. Instead the wall opposite me is made of stone with large cut outs that see into the garden dost, and down the way is a more open gap without the bottom ledge that you could walk through. I step cautiously forward, continuing to look around myself as I shut the door behind me. I don't go a far as the obvious doorway, instead hopping through an opening in the wall and crouching behind a bush for another break to listen.
The garden is wide, with what looks like large stone paths the lead through high curving beds of flowers and other plants. There’s no straight path or directional signs, but I see an exterior wall that guards could walk around, or possibly on, for patrols. Using the front gate, or any gate, would be crazy, and going inside is just as nuts. Over the wall is my best option, and I scan the perimeter for anything that could help me scale it’s height. It won’t be easy, and I’ll be fully exposed the entire time I climb. A small part of me just wants to stay here, wait in this corner and enjoy how fresh the air it, how it tastes like life and makes my skin feel awake. Sadly, I know that I cannot.
I pick my path carefully, crouching down to walk among the tallest plants as I make me way to the wall. I’m not worried about leaving footprints as I walk close to the plants and start to steal their energy. This is what I’ve needed, this is what my body has been craving, basically eating itself to try and feel. I want to take it all, to drain the plants dry and leave a desert behind me… but I’m still scared of my affinity. I need to keep my head, and with how long the animal inside me has been starved, I’m worried if I take too much now that I will lose reason and purpose.
Once I’m at the exterior wall, I look over its construction quickly. Along the way I had to dodge guards by hiding under bushes or flattening myself to the ground. Now that I’m here, I note the almost smooth construction of the stone and drain a little more from the nearby plants for my next idea. I start to strip the life out of the mortar in the wall that holds the bricks together. Once I’ve taken enough energy from the material I’m able to pick away at it to make hand and foot holes to climb up with. I stab the fire poker through the fabric of my pants and pray it stays as I start my climb.
I push the mortar in the wall away to create gaps with my thumbs. Even still, the rough texture tears at my fragile, dry skin and my fingers and toes are bleeding by the time I get to the top. The entire climb was nerve racking , and I kept checking over my shoulder with every scrape of my nails on the stone and cold air down my throat, but I doubt anyone outside of my own body could hear either. I check again at the top and then look in both directions, but no one seems to be on patrol up here tonight. I can only sigh with relief and sink down onto my ass for a break. My fingers are raw and I’m missing one of my toe nails, but I made it.
I crawl to look over the other side when I catch sight of something flying towards me and try to dive out of the way. A duffle bag, of all things, flies up and strikes me, hard, in the middle of my chest. I stumble backward, the bag falling to the floor at my feet and catching the poker to tear it free and throw my balance. The momentum has sent me stumbling on my tired legs off the side I just climbed up. I throw my weight forward, but the raised areas to hide behind in case of attack are only on the opposite side, you could just walk off the inside, which is basically what I’m doing. I catch my stomach on the edge, making the air go *woosh* out of my mouth, and I slide down, just catching the edge with my scrambling fingers. I start to kick and fumble as my toes search for something to dig into so I can get back up before I have to climb back up or meet whoever threw the bag.
Behind me I can hear bells begin to toll and I can see mage lights appearing with the guards over the ground. My fingers are too worn to get purchase as I try to climb back up and my bare feet aren’t helping matters. My breath is loud in my ears as panic starts to set in but a sudden hand grabs mine and fear merges with hope to consume me fully.
I look up hopefully to see a man with hair of a deep purple that’s fades to a lilac half pulled into a small bun. Strands of his hair fall free and his dark, nearly black, eyes meet mine. He looks oddly familiar, and I want to ask him his name, but I’m brought about by a bell sounding closer to me. I can hear shouting behind me, and if they haven’t already seen me they will soon. I’m dangling out in the open, completely vulnerable to an attack from behind. My eyes look hopefully up to the stranger, who is clearly also breaking some rules, and plead with my eyes. All he has to do is give me his hand and help me get a leg up. It’s his fault I’m not in his position right now and if would take but a second to get me out of sight. His eyes dart behind me, probably noticing the guards I can hear shouting, then he turns to me like he’s sizing me up in a way that fills me with horror.
“Please, no,” I beg.
I feel him releasing me and reach up quickly with my other hand to grab his wrist. Grabbing as much of his energy as I can in that second, as he pries my hand free, I stared deeply into those bottomless eyes.
“You’ve made my list stranger,” I rasp before he ends up breaking my last finger and I fall to the ground below.
I’m immediately winded and roll over to try and fill my lungs with air as the footsteps get closer. They’re closing in, but there aren’t many here yet, maybe a half dozen, and I think I’m deluding myself into believing I have a chance if I don’t hold back. I don’t have any weapons now, so all I have to defend myself is my magic and they’ll put up mote of a fight than a few small plants or flowers. I can swing a mean punch, but I am not a skilled fighter.. this is all I’ve got, which means they’re gong to die. That's the only way I get away is if they don't.
The first two to arrive try to talk me down, try to tell me to come quietly, but there’s a fat chance of that happen. I pretend that I’m giving up, putting my hands in front of my with my palms facing out, while I wait for them to get closer. I watch one of the guards fumble for a pair of cuffs tucked into his belt while the other questions how I even got this far from the prison on the opposite side of this area of the kingdom. The first one has gone around behind me to cuff my hands, others are entering the space, but that’s when the first notices my ears. More guards are joining the spectacle, one that I recognize, who tries to warn them, but it’s too late. Once the first one touches my skin I reach forward to touch the other, and take as much energy as I can before the others react. Their energy enters me like a drug, making my skin hum like it’s full of static. When the first one hits the ground, I’m grinning with the insanity of it.
I’ve just killed someone.
I don’t even feel bad by the time the second one is dead. The next one who approached me tackles me to the ground, but soon he’s gasping for air as the life leaves his eyes. He pushes away from me and takes off at a run in the opposite direction, grey hair a stark contrast to the brown he had approached me with. I’m hauled to my feet before I realize someone else had entered my space, and they wrap an arm around my neck.
“That was a big mistake,” I hiss, wrapping my hands over his face to pull everything from him and he hits the ground behind me.
By now I’m laughing with the dark energy of taking their lives. I’m about to go back to the wall and continue my escape when something strikes me. An arrow is protruding through my arm and I feel another one land in my back. The blood of blood is immediate with the racing of my heart, but the colour blends in with the colour of my uniform. I can’t even feel the pain with the hum of all the life energy coursing through my body, but I’m forced me to accept my defeat.
I ripped the arrow free from my arm, but another arrow lodges in my thigh and I have to endure the pain of tearing that one free too. I can’t reach the one in my back, and I can’t climb with these wounds. My hands keep slipping with the blood as I try to remove the next weapon to enter my skin. There are too many guards now, and even if I had the ability to climb there is no time. Aside from someone magically showing up to help me, or that black eyed stranger returning to help me, I’m out of option.
I sigh fully, and turn back towards the taciturn group surrounding me. “Fuck it, never without a fight.”
