"Eliza?"
A voice in the black, hauntingly and maddeningly familiar. I can't tell which direction it's coming from, but I try to struggle towards it anyway, despite the fact that I can't seem to move my limbs.
"What do you think that thing did to her?" Another voice, not quite so enticing but almost as familiar.
The first sensation comes then, a sharp pain just below my ribs. That too is familiar, and I feel myself begin to panic. I struggle and heave in one huge breath, the pain increasing as I do.
"She's breathing - I need to check her pulse."
"Put her down - no, just on the ground. Put her down now."
Other sounds coming through, a grunting and a strange and off-putting smell, and then the feel of something solid at my back.
"Eliza." Something warm around my wrist, then pressure, a hard jab in the hollow under my thumb. I hear a low moan.
"I think you're hurting her," the second voice says.
"Shut up," the first voice says, but the jabbing stops. "Eliza." Pressure in the hollow of my neck, then a patting sensation on either cheek.
"Well she isn't dead." The second voice sounds as though it's hovering above me in the sky somewhere.
"I said shut up." Something soft brushing my face, then gone again.
"You might want to put a 'your majesty' on that."
A slit of blindingly bright light pierces my vision, and the moan sounds again. I cringe, hearing it, until I realize I'm the one making it.
"She waking up?" the second voice says, suddenly closer. The light dims, and I'm able to open my eyes a fraction more.
"Eliza, are you all right?"
I blink a few times, trying to register what I'm seeing. Two faces bent over mine, one white and one blue - Hieronymous and Damien crouched on the ground, one on either side of me. "Hi," I say. It comes out in a croak.
Hieronymous closes his eyes, covers his mouth with one hand and leans away from me, propping himself up on the ground with his other hand as though he's about to be sick. The light is once again blinding, and I wince - then open my eyes wider, blinking and awestruck at what I see.
"Oh-" Damien says, backing away. "Oh shit. Uh - Grabby - Professor Grabiner - I think you wanta see this."
"See what?" Hieronyous says, leaning back and brushing one hand over his hair.
"I see it," I say.
"See what, Eliza?" asks Hieronymous.
"All of it!" I say, opening my eyes wide to take it in. In the sky above me is a ribbon of light - a shimmering, shifting aurora that undulates like the back of some enormous snake. It's all colors and none, white, green, red and blue, shot with flashes of velvety black. 'It's beautiful," I breathe.
Hieronymous cranes his neck up to look at the sky. "I don't-"
"No," Damien says, "no, look at her."
"Don't you see it?" I ask. "Look - look-"
I reach my hand toward the ribbon in the sky, concentrating on it until one band of color starts to bend, peeling away from the main band in a line of rich red light. It speeds downward, then coils itself loosely around my hand, wrist and forearm, pulsing and warm. I'm delighted, as though an exotic bird has just landed in my outstretched hand, and I already know what to do with it. I twist my wrist around, wrapping the beam into a loop, then hooking my fingers, pulling it through. The pattern is familiar - I learned it on my first day of school. And when the knot is exactly right, I open my hand, releasing it into the air, and a light breeze blows across my palm.
The breeze, however, doesn't die down. It gradually increases in strength to a wind, then to a gust. When I turn my palm into it, the wind is so strong that it knocks my arm to the ground.
"Shit!" Damien says, staggering as the gust becomes a gale. "What the hell is that?"
I snap my palm shut, breaking the red ribbon in two. Both it and the wind vanish as quickly as they had appeared.
Damien is looking frantically around him, trying to put his hair back into place. "What was that?" he repeats. "Was it that thing, whatever's in there? Is it angry or-"
I turn my head slightly and see Hieronymous flick his eyes from Damien to my hand, then to my face. His expression is unreadable. He bends over me, takes my hand, and lays it carefully over my stomach.
He knows it was me, I realize, so I wait for him to decide what to do about it.
The first thing he does is speak to me in a low, calm voice. "How do you feel?"
"Okay," I say, which is true. I don't seem to be feeling much of anything just now. The sharp pain that had pierced my chest is now a throb so low, it can't accurately be called pain anymore. Tentatively I move my hand up, feeling for the wound the creature made, and feel nothing. The flesh beneath my sweater is solid and unmarked, and even my sweater is untouched.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Hieronymous asks.
"I had a dream, and you were in it," I say. The strange five-year illusion that the creature of the cave had placed into my head is now mercifully fading, but I can still remember bits of it, and those bits are piercing. They flutter around my head like uncertain birds, now and then giving me a flash of illusion disguised as memory. The night I flew to London, all the belongings I was taking to University in two suitcases, him picking me up at the airport, both of us so nervous we could barely hold a conversation. The way we'd laughed about it the morning after, relief encircling me like his arms around my waist. Him driving me to Oxbridge just before school began, promising me that I could visit every weekend, if I wanted, trying to hide how much he'd miss me. Running out of his house in London late one winter night to walk through a sudden snowstorm, me forgetting my gloves, sharing a paper cup of hot tea he'd bought me to keep my hands warm. His mouth tasting of tannic acid and the sharp breath of snow.
Not real, I remind myself, not real, not real.
"Was it that bad?" he asks, his mouth turning up the slightest bit, trying to insert the tiniest amount of levity into the question. I'm grateful for it, and I smile back.
"No," I say, "not that bad."
"And then what happened?" he asks.
"I… won," I say, though the very word sounds bleak in my ears.
"I see you did," Hieronymous says. "But-"
He doesn't get to finish his thought before Damien, whose curiosity has apparently overcome his initial shock, steps back into view, peering at me with narrowed eyes.
"Well," he says, "I thought you were pretty freaky before, ice princess, but this is taking things up a level."
I squint at Damien; beneath the bright ribbon of color in the sky he's a black monolith, his facial features hidden in shadow. "What-" I start.
"Your eyes, Eliza," Hieronymous says. "Look."
He casts, quickly, and I marvel at how I can feel it now - the tremble in the air, the rush of magic coalescing between his palms. He turns his hands towards me, and they contain a pool of something reflective, which he angles so that I can see my face in them.
"Ah-" I start, then stop, unsure of what to say. My eyes have changed from the brackish brown I used to be vain enough to call "hazel" to an inky, monochromatic black. My irises are gone - only the pupil remains. The effect makes my eyes look strangely hollow, empty of some essential humanity.
"I guess I shouldn't be too surprised," I say, when my voice comes back. "It's the same as Emmy."
"Who?" Damien's voice is sharp.
"Musette King," Hieronymous replies. "At least now we know that it was not my memory spell that affected her eyes." He doesn't seem relieved by this discovery - on the contrary, he's peering into my face with a look of deepening concern.
"Musette too?" Damien says. "Gross."
"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Mr. Ramsey," Hieronymous says, though he doesn't sound annoyed - only cautious. He turns back to me. "That breeze spell you just cast-"
"That was her?" Damien says, with a note of alarm in his voice. Hieronymous ignores him.
"Where did you learn to do that?" Hieronymous asks me.
"You taught me," I say, a little confused. "Red magic, first day of school." I remember that class - being petrified when I'd seen him sweep to the front of the room, snapping his cape around him with a practiced crack of the wrist, his menacing speech threatening the dire consequences of the misuse of red magic. Me feeling sure that I'd never master the elementary spell in my book on the desk - the hand positions seeming so alien, so impossible to achieve, the incantation sticking to my tongue. I'd thought he'd haul me in front of the class, castigate me for my failure, tell everyone that he'd been right about me this whole time - that I was just an idiot wildseed with no magical ability, who would throw her birthright away.
He'd been pacing the aisles of the classroom, and when his eye had landed on me, he'd swept in front of me, bending over the desk to peer at my hands. "Wrists parallel, Miss Moon," he'd said, holding his own hands up to show me. "Stiff index fingers, flexible thumbs. Watch." He'd executed the spell with practiced ease as I'd stared at his hands, not daring to blink lest I miss some crucial detail. "Try it," he'd said, then watched as I'd lifted my hands. Compared to his deft casting I was slow and clumsy, but when I'd released my hands, a slight breeze appeared, lifting his hair before dying down again. I'd looked up, surprised, but Hieronymous had only given me a curt nod, and swept down the aisle and away.
That had been the first spell I'd ever cast - but not just that, it had been my first tiny inkling that perhaps the teacher who had frightened me so much the day before wasn't so bad after all.
"You cast one-handed," Hieronymous says, bringing me back to the present. "That tends to be beyond the ability of most sophomores."
I hadn't even considered that. "I just could see where it needed to go," I say, unsure if this is the right way to describe the sensation I'd felt, casting with that red ribbon tangled in my fingers. "It was obvious."
"It was also quite powerful, as I'm sure you noticed."
"I didn't mean it to be," I say, feeling a little confused. "It was just a breeze spell."
Hieronymous's expression doesn't change, and somehow his careful non-reaction alarms me. "What's going on?" I ask. "Is there anything wrong-"
"I don't know, but it may be advisable for you to refrain from casting anything further for the moment," Hieronymous answers quickly, then stands and strides to Damien. He starts speaking quickly, in a voice too low for me to hear.
I struggle to a sitting position, feeling mildly dizzy, and look around. We're still at the entrance to the cave, although I seem to have been carried as far away from it as the space will allow.
Hieronymous and Damien are in front of me, Hieronymous still talking at Damien, who doesn't seem to like what he's hearing. He shakes his head once, briskly, letting his violet hair fall forward, then steps toward me, Hieronymous glaring at his retreating back. Damien crouches in front of me, squinting into my face.
"Didn't think you'd get out of there alive, ice princess," he says, and it's impossible to tell whether he's pleased or disappointed.
"How did I get out?" I ask. "Did Hieronymous-"
Damien snorts, and grins in an unpleasant way. "Hardly. He tried to go in when we heard you scream the first time, but Jubal caught him. He was spitting mad," Damien continues, with a chuckle. "But then you started screaming again and - well, it got to be a little too much for Bruno over there."
Damien looks over my shoulder and I turn to see Bruno sitting on a nearby rock, head in es hands and snuffling, with es guard partner - Jubal, I assume - standing over em in a disapproving way. "Looks like someone has a crush on you."
"Oh - no, e just thinks I'm a kitten," I say dully.
"Some kitten," Damien says, smirking. "You look downright creepy with those eyes."
"Gee, thanks," I say, "you're not exactly a fairy tale prince yourself, you know."
"There are quite a few who'd beg to differ on that point," says Damien, but whatever else he might have said is cut off by Hieronymous stepping toward him.
"Mr. Ramsey," he says, "I asked you-"
"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Damien snaps. "I need to think about it."
"And what is there to think about?" Hieronymous asks, voice sour.
"I need to think about what to tell all them - the guards - down there," Damien replies. "I was kind of counting on you dying in there, ice princess," he says to me, over his shoulder. "Now she's alive, I need to think of a reason to take her back."
"Sorry to disappoint," I say, and am pleased to hear that some of the snap is back in my voice. Damien snorts and doesn't answer; he starts to pace around the clearing instead.
"Think you can stand?" Hieronymous asks me. When I nod, he holds out one hand and helps me to my feet.
We watch Damien pace for a moment before I say "what did you ask him?"
"To allow us to return to his - ah - 'palace,' as it were, so that I might attempt to determine what has happened to you."
"Can't we just leave?" I ask, "just teleport out of here while he's distracted?"
Hieronymous shakes his head. "Not before I tell him how to cure Mr. Al-Sharif," he says, "if you recall, I gave my word on that count. Further, I have some hesitation about taking you anywhere else at the moment. Travel to the Otherworld was only meant to be a stopgap measure, as I'm sure you recall. But I don't believe there is anywhere else safer for the pair of us at the moment than in a fortress surrounded by a demon army."
"Even if you think Damien might be pals with Professor Terrec?" I say. "What if he has, like, an open invitation to the castle?"
"On that point," Hieronymous says, "I hope to set our minds at ease very shortly." He fixes his eyes on Damien and smiles in a way that makes me think that if I were Damien, I would be pretty worried right about now.
Damien, in the meantime, seems to come to a decision. He snaps his head up, then strides toward us with purpose. "Up," he snaps to the pair of demons, who follow him without question. I duck my head, not quite able to look Bruno in the eye. From the way Jubal has one clawed hand clutching Bruno's arm, I get the feeling that Bruno is in disgrace for saving me.
Just another person used, I think. Well, demon, but it's the same thing.
"I couldn't just leave it in there," Bruno moans to the stone-faced Jubal. "It's cruel!"
"Come on, ice princess," Damien says, passing in front of me and Hieronymous. "Time to go down the hill."
"And what are you going to tell your… army?" Hieronymous asks, just the slightest hint of sarcasm to his tone.
"Guards," Damien says, irritably. "And wouldn't you like to know. If it doesn't work, I'm going to let them have her."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"Pray you don't find out," Damien purrs, then starts off down the path again.
We proceed in the same order - Damien at the head, me and Hieronymous, then the two demons. Bruno snuffles all the way down. None of us says much, though I catch Hieronymous sneaking sidelong glances at me from time to time.
I hear the demon horde before I see them, a muttering, murmuring mass, biding time until their king makes his reappearance. And when Damien steps into view, there's a rippling hush as the demons quiet themselves. Damien holds up one hand until there's silence, then turns back to me.
That's my cue, I suppose. I decide not to think about it too much, and step out beside Damien.
The reaction from the demons is not very encouraging. They start muttering among themselves again, and their tone is decidedly sinister. I catch several of them looking my way, then looking back again, their eyes narrowing, mouths turning down.
I try to feel scared of these huge figures who could rip me limb from limb if they had the mind, but somehow all I feel is numb. Just get it over with, I find myself thinking, as I follow Damien toward the ranks.
When we reach the guard captain, he bends his head to speak to Damien - then draws back abruptly, his yellow eyes going wide. He raises one hand, lifting his outer fingers, but folding his middle two fingers under his thumb.
The captain hisses to Damien in a voice too low for me to hear at my distance. Damien stares at me, looking skeptical, but when he shakes his head, the captain redoubles his effort, getting slightly louder. I feel too nervous to move, and glance around me instead. The other demons, seemingly curious, have come closer, but as I glance at them, they all shrink back, some of them making that same curious gesture the captain did, some of them ducking back into the crowd, others staring shamelessly at me and muttering to each other. I look back to Damien, alarmed.
Damien is still listening to his captain, but he's stopped shaking his head. He too is staring at me, eyes narrowed, and when the captain finishes speaking, he turns. "A golem?" he says, and the captain nods. Damien looks back at me.
"What does that mean?" I ask. "What do you mean, golem?"
Damien doesn't answer, but his mouth curls into a smile.
I glance around and find Hieronymous a few feet away. He's staring at me, that same look of concern on his face - which only scares me more.
"Well, ice princess," Damien says. "You've been upgraded."
"What are you saying?" Hieronymous asks, his voice sharp.
"She's not a sacrifice," Damien says. "She's a weapon."
A/N: Hi everyone, just wanted to say thanks again for all the kind words of support I received. The story will now be going on hiatus for a brief period of time. One of the anon reviewers requested an estimate of the time it will take for the story to come back, so I'll do my best to estimate. Based on my current schedule, I can promise to have a new chapter out by, at the latest, April 1, 2015 - but I am going to try to come back sooner than that. Please take a look at my profile for updates. Thanks again, and I look forward to getting back!