Page 43 of A Trial of Fate

“Leave,” the mage commanded.

Tiny and Thorn hesitated momentarily before a burst of magical light jetted across the room, carving a gash in the rock. That was warning enough, and they both gladly took their leave.

Outstanding. I sighed internally. This mage not only had healing abilities, but he could throw some weight around if needed. He had to be highly gifted and revered by King Taran, paired with a high ranking among the mage group called Constellations, who were also in service of the human king, following their leader, Istar.

“Doesn’t this type of treatment against shifters violate the treaty between our two peoples?” I asked into the empty space. I could barely see out of my right eye, so I turned my head to try and see the mage with my left.

“Youare not a shifter.” His back was turned to me, and all I could see was a midnight mop of hair atop a slender-built man with dark blue robes. “You, my dear, are an abomination. It’s not your fault… but the blood must be cleansed.”

“What does thiscleansingentail exactly?” I asked, my curiosity being my downfall.

The mage sighed heavily, bending over an array of knives and other devices laid out on a nearby table. “This should’ve been taken care of before you were even born into this world,” he mumbled as he continued to study his tools.

I rattled the shackles to test the strength of my holds, but to my dismay, they didn’t budge. Dammit. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Igniting a candle from a torch, the mage turned around and looked at me for the first time. He peered at me with what seemed to be permanently narrowed, ominous shadowed eyes. His medium-colored skin had a tint of olive coloring that contrasted against his midnight-black hair. Royal blue robes hung from his thin frame that held speckles of stars dancing across the buttoned top that circled tightly around his neck. His pants were an even darker blue color that disappeared against the blackness surrounding the cave.

“What do they call you? Besides a half-breed? We won’t be spending much time together, but for the purpose of my study, I do like to have a name for the records.”

I pushed my lips together, remaining silent and stubbornly refusing to answer him.

“Maybe this will help encourage you to answer my question,” he said, moving around his desk toward me, keenly examining my broken nose. “I will be addressing this with the leads. It was ordered that you not be brought to me in such condition.”

The mage bent over me, opening his palm and placing it flat against my forehead. The warm, luxurious feel of his magic caressing my flesh felt like a dream. Instantly, my wounds began to heal. His magic spanned the length of my body from my bloodied nose all the way to my bruised shoulder and broken ribs. The only place his magic did not reach was the shackled areas of my ankles and wrists, bound with iron.

“I’m sorry that I cannot heal your bruised wrists and ankles, but I believe this will suffice for now.” Was that a hint of kindness in his voice? Or simply a sigh of disappointment at the lack of his ordersbeing followed?

The trickling sounds of water underneath the stone caught my attention. I braced myself and allowed the sound to create a barrier or box that I could lock myself safely inside. The babbling of the steady stream beneath the rock held a unique rhythmic tune, almost like a harmonious melody singing inside my head. I used this natural music to help ground my determination and soothe my fears. My animal answered this song with her own, protecting my mind and strengthening me for whatever was to come.

“Now what?” I spat, unwilling to fall victim to a false sense of comfort from his healing magic.

“Ah… Ah…” he said with a ticking sound as he wagged a pointed finger at me. “Answer my question first. What do they call you? I must document this for my records.”

Only one name came to mind, and I smiled internally as I bit back a cunning grin. I had only recently earned this nickname, but for this situation, I felt it deserved to be used.

“Spitfire.”

“What a truly unique description for your,kind.” His condescending tone made me want to roll my eyes and punch him square in the face. Glancing over, I saw him write a note in his journal before returning his attention back to me, the pen replaced by somethingnew.Something that sent my heart racing like a jackrabbit across a field.

“Now, this will hurt. You will scream. But it is all for a good cause.” My eyes were glued to a long, slender knife that gleamed in his left hand.

“For the good of what?” I tried to move, but he reached down to tighten my chains, making it impossible for me to even flinch.

He effortlessly twirled the blade in his hand, like he had done this a hundred times before, and I had no doubt that he had.

“Let’s begin.” In a flash, the tip of the silver blade dug into the flesh of my inner thigh. Slowly—oh, so fucking slowly—he cut through layers of muscle and flesh all the way to the bone, beginning at my hip and trailing down to my knee.

I screamed so loudly that my face turned red, and my vision blurred to nothing. The world around me vanished as my voice slashed through reality and realms that were make-believe.

He raised the knife to make a second incision on the same leg,and I roared even louder in agonizing pain. Without hesitation, or even a hint of empathy, he transitioned to my other leg, mimicking the same cuts from the other side. The indescribable agony of being carved alive would be a memory I would never be able to forget. It would scar my soul and forever linger in the depths of my bones that were touched with the blade of his knife. Once finished with the wounds on my legs, he returned to his journal and rolled his raised desk close to my torture table.

I knew there was a vital artery bleeding from where he had made his cuts. Blood… my blood soaked the table and trickled out along the sides. I tried to focus onanythingbut the pain. My animal was trying to help, but the reality of this agony was overwhelming us both. The only solace I could latch onto was the music of babbling waters trickling below the table. I clung to that melody with everything I had, desperate to focus on something besides the pain.

The mage kept scribbling in his journal as I bled out, slowly fading away. “Oh no… Not yet.” He tsked. Gliding over to me, he used his magic to mend my bleeding flesh. Instantly, the wounds closed, but the radiating sting of pain beneath the surface still lingered.

“Interesting… you didn’t bleed out in the time a human would. So you did inherit some healing aspects from yourotherhalf.”

I didn’t answer him. Silent tears filled my eyes as I stared upward at the ceiling.

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