The slave girl huddled in a corner of the small cage that she had been thrown into. She was not sure what her purpose was going to be this time. Other masters had used her for their own pleasure, made her do household chores, or more commonly, just beaten her.

She was very ordinary looking, with plain dark brown hair cut short, and dark brown eyes. The only thing unusual was how young she looked, especially for a slave. She had some magical power, being a descendant of a race lost in the passage of time. Mostly it was just the ability to heal. With the thin collar with the bluish purple stone set in the middle, healing herself was all she could do, and many masters took advantage of that fact.

She shifted onto her side and tried to sleep, but she had already spent so many boring hours asleep that she knew sleep would not come easily.

She heard a door open nearby and was instantly alert. She quickly scooted over to the center of the cage and sat on her knees, head bowed and eyes downcast. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man walk over to stand in front of the cage. After a few tense moments, she heard him speak.

"Not much to look at, are you? Look at me."

The voice of the man shot fear through her body. She knew who he was. The former Ae'Magi, thought to be dead, killed by the Uriah.

Careful to keep her face blank, she looked up to see that, indeed, it was him. He did not look very well off, with a tired, sick look about him and dirty traveling clothes, but he had the same charming features and handsome face. He did not have the same air of charisma about him, however. She thought it was an improvement. Her time in the service of other masters that had known the former Ae'Magi had shown her the true side to the man that stood before her, and she knew that he could be cruel. Very cruel.

She allowed none of what she thought to show across her face as he carefully looked her over.

"Come forward. "

She carefully scooted to the edge of the cage, not taking her eyes off of his face. Years of slavery had her wondering how exact she was going to have to follow orders, but her previous experience watching him torture other slaves left her wondering if she would survive for it to matter. It was all a game to her. It was a game to him too. A twisting game with many rules, when to fight back, when to back down, all without crossing invisible lines that made her a slave.

When her face was plastered up against the bars, he brought out a sharp knife. Slowly he cut a line across her right cheek, from her chin to the top of her ear. The cut was deep, instantly dripping blood down her face and onto the floor. She didn't flinch.

"Heal that," he said, stepping back.

Taking a deep breath, she drew on magic that she collected and healed the cut. It slowly drew closed, using magic that wasn't quite green, but wasn't quite human magic either. All the while her gaze never left his face.

He took a cloth and wiped away the excess blood and examined the skin, a smile lighting his face but not quite reaching his eyes. "Excellent."