Page 12 of Chaos Unleashed

As if to back up his words in case I was stupid enough not to believe him, his magic whips out one last time, severing the middle finger on my left hand; the act is so sudden that I scream; I can't help the pain is intense. Over my scream, I hear him chuckle as I pull my hand to my chest and hold it tightly; I watch as he uses a rush of magic to incinerate my finger as it lands on the floor, leaving nothing but ash behind. If looks could kill Dagon would be dead a thousand times over by now and in the most imaginative ways that I can think of. Unfortunately, he can’t see my look of death and instead makes his way back down the row of empty cells, whistling happily.

I hold my body stiff until I’m certain that he’s disappeared, and then I force myself to move out of the puddle of blood and over to the corner, putting my back against the wall to keep me upright and so that I can see if any of the other princes make an appearance. Swiping blood from my eye with my good hand so that I can see out of both of them, I then use both my teeth and my good hand to tear a bloodied strip off my shirt. It’s not ideal, but it's better than nothing. I have no idea if my magic is going to be able to get through the barrier well enough to grow me a new one. Since he incinerated it when it dropped to the floor, there’s no chance of me securing it and hoping that it's good enough to encourage the magic to repair it.

Especially since there is so much that the minimal amount of magic that can get through the barrier needs to heal, I know that my finger will be too much. I’ve regrown limbs and fingers before, so unfortunately, this isn’t new to me. It’s only been left for a few days maximum, and then it was a struggle to grow back, so I have no idea if I will be able to grow it back at all.

Like everything at the moment, that is the last of my worries. I wrap the gap where the finger used to be tightly, hoping it will be good enough to stop the bleeding and hoping that my magic is at least strong enough to heal the open wound left in my fingers absence. I need to try and get the fuck out of here, before I can do that though, I need to rebuild my strength and although I don’t want to, the best way for me to do that and for me to heal the wounds is by sleeping. I pull my hand up to my chest, cradling it and letting the comforting burn of anger wash over me, I’m going to take more than his fucking finger when I get out of here, and unlike me, I will have him begging for death.

My deadly thoughts bring a smile to my face as my eyes slip closed in what will hopefully be a quick but healing sleep. I can’t afford to sleep for too long.

**********

I know that I’m dreaming simply from the fact that I hold one of my familiar blades in my hand, the weight of it reassuring and comforting. I know that these are blades that I have stored in the Void, which I absolutely do not have access to right now. Unfortunately, it appears that I am still in that fucking cell and I’m still soaked in blood, missing a finger and in pain, I can move better than I could when I was awake though and I’m hoping that means that my body has begun to heal as well as it can.

I imagine I’m going to have a fair few more scars from this. Healing scars will most likely be too much for the magic that can get through the spells that are holding it at bay.

Movement to the right of the cell has me tensing, ignoring the pain that it causes, as I drop down into a defensive crouch, my sword aimed in the direction of the noise. The only thing that stops me from attacking blindly is that the noise came from inside the cell, and I know that the princes aren’t stupid enough to come in here with me. I may be practically magicless at the moment, but I’m deadly without my magic, and they know that I’d have their heads the second that they entered the cell.

It's for that reason that I pause.

“What the fuck?” a low growly voice asks as he looks around the cell. “Why the fuck am I in the cells.”

His apparent familiarity with the cells piques my interest, but if I’m completely honest, his giant feathered wings have me captivated, along with his power, which feels immense and stronger than almost anything that I have felt before as it wraps around me gently, consuming me in a warm embrace and taking my pain, healing what my magic can’t.

His eyes snap to my corner, but he frowns, squinting as if he’s trying to see through heavy downpour and can’t. “I know you’re there; I can feel your pain, although my magic appears to want to help, not cause more.” He seems incredibly confused by this but continues, “Step into the light so I can see who intrigues my magic and whether I should end you for it.”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me, although his words confuse me; as far as I’m concerned, we’re standing in a lit cell. I may be standing slightly in a shadow, but there is no reason why he wouldn’t be able to see me.

His eyes widen at the sound of my laughter, but he doesn’t say anything. It is almost as if he’s waiting for me to make the next move.

I decide to humour him and take a couple of steps forward, amazed at the lack of pain that I feel in doing so, his magic is healing me, and what’s weirder is that my magic is allowing it and in fact, welcoming it.

Chapter Five

Farren

My magic is prickly at best, and the fact that it's simply allowing his magic to heal me and behaving like a purring kitten while doing it is weird as fuck, and it makes me wonder if some of those spells that are holding it hostage are actually changing its personality. Although, I didn’t notice anything before now and I would have.

I’m putting it down to us being in a dream; I mean, it's not like he’s real. He’s too sinfully and darkly delicious to be real.

“Come into the light?” he asks, just as gruffly as he demanded the first time.

That settles it then, he can’t see me.

“From where I’m standing, I am in the light,” I reply.

His eyes widen at the sound, and I don’t miss his throat bob as he swallows thickly. Well, that’s a curious reaction to have. The tattoos covering his large arms writhe and move, prompting me to get closer. As soon as I try to take a step though I hit a brick wall and the shock sends a fresh wave of pain through my body, his magic has been healing me, but I am so damaged that its barely scratched the surface.

Winged and tattooed hisses sharply as he also tries to step forward and has the same thing happen to him, “You are in immense amounts of pain, how can you speak with such an even tone?”

I figure since he can’t see me and therefore harm me, and because we’re in a dream, I may as well answer him honestly, and since my body is exhausted and hurting, I allow myself to slide down the wall and plonk my arse on the floor. His blazing eyes follow my movement but I know he can’t see me. He confuses me when he looks slightly panicked for a second before the clank of my sword and my heavy sigh seem to relax him again. He surprises me when he takes a seat on the floor as well, not worried about the grime and making his giant figure only slightly less imposing than it was a second ago.

I sense that if he were real, he would strike fear into everyone that he meets. He’s got an unhinged feel about him, which quite frankly just intrigues me more, and it makes me smile that my mind has created someone unhinged to keep me company.

It makes sense. I mean, it’s not like I'm completely sane.

“It’s not the first time that I’ve been in this much pain, and I highly doubt that it will be the last. I learnt a long time ago that it pisses them off more if I don’t react. Plus, I’m too stubborn to show that they’re actually hurting; I will bend, but I will never break.”

The corner of his lips tilts up slightly and is gone before it's really there. “Strong.” He then carries on, “My magic seems to want to help you, and I don’t like it.”

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