"One, two, three, four, I count the rocks upon the floor..."
I don't want to play this anymore.
"There isn't really much else to do, I'm sorry. Can I tell you another story?"
All right.
"Once upon a time there was a princess."
Bored already.
"Hush! You promised I could tell. Once upon a time there was a princess. She was very lovely."
As they all are.
"Of course! All princesses are lovely. One day, an evil ogre spirited her away from her castle to keep her in his tower, where he planned on one day devouring all of her."
How wonderful.
"Well, it happened that one day a beautiful knight in shining armour came to rescue her! It was wonderful that he did, for the ogre was at that day preparing to have her for his meal. He was a beautiful knight, tall and handsome, and he spoke with such admiration for the princess that she fell haplessly in love. The knight, though, had only one arm, and a witch had replaced it with a strong, beautiful one made of jewels and glass."
This is not a very interesting story. Does the knight decapitate the ogre? Does he chop him to bits and feed him to the dogs? Can you see the knight's bones inside his chest where his arm once was?
"You're awful, Dilandau. Sometimes I hate you."
Jajuka looked into the room at the usual time, trying his best to hide the concern for his favourite charge. Concern meant that he felt, and that he was weak, and to the guards it meant recognizing that the beast with the face of a dog was just as human as they were. As it was, the soldier stationed at the end of the hall watched him closely. Bored and displeased as they were to be "babysitting" the Skirts' experimental animals, most of them took their pleasures in any way they could. Beating up the resident watchdog would hardly merit anything more than a slap on the wrist from their superiors.
As usual, the young girl sat in the farthest corner from him, hands hugging her knees, always farthest from the door. That wood and metal portal birthed only one good thing, and when it did, she lit up like the little girl she should be and tossed away the truth that she was a bludgeoned, victimised prisoner. Alternatively he'd been rewarded with hugs or tears, for just the sight of him bred comfort.
But when the portal spewed men in Black...
The door creaked as he opened it, a familiar, startling sound. She flinched, then looked up at him. He almost sighed with relief at the beaming pleasure in her eyes. She unfolded her long limbs, no longer short and pudgy as they were when she first arrived, but growing with length and purpose along with the curves that had begun to show through the simple green dress that all his wards wore. Under normal circumstances he knew this should be a time of celebration and exploration, to begin learning what it was to be wooed and to be loved. Here there were only the leering, wolfish soldiers to lend themselves to such education.
"It's time for your supper and your medicine, Celena."
"All right, Jajuka."
"Dilandau needs to go now, just as we promised."
"Very well." She looked pleadingly at her friend, as did Jajuka.
The empty, cooling stones before their eyes glimmered briefly with the passing of the sun as if their mutual companion who had no body and who had no voice was attempting to be difficult. Then the shadows passed over, night fell, and the young girl looked toward the steaming bowl of food.
"How long?" she asked, calmly eating spoonfuls of meticulously prepared meat and vegetable stew.
"Tomorrow," he replied, popping open the tiny vial that was designated for Celena and Celena alone. He crumbled together five drops and the sugary cookies that he'd brought with him. Experience taught him that the sweets hid the bitter taste well.
"So soon."
"I know."
There was cold metal on her forehead, cold metal on her wrists, and cold metal on her ankles. Around her waist there was a strap of fine, buckled leather. The slightest movement took an effort. She used to cry and scream when they started this, but after a while she realized how much of an awful waste that was. It would earn her a prick in the arm, which though it made her muscles relax and her mind numb, it did not alleviate the pain. No use bursting her vocal cords now when she'd need them later.
Even if she could move, she wouldn't be able to see; the light shining from up above encased her like a cocoon, unpleasantly filling her sight though it illuminated her for everyone else. She could hear, however, and she always wished she couldn't. Without the ability to hear she'd be swimming in silence and not left to speculate about those low droning voices always made incomprehensible by the bubbling of boiling liquid and the occasional snake-like steamy hiss.
"Begin."
A needle pricked her arm. From there a boiling heat raced through her veins. She gritted her teeth.
"Fate particles to eighty. Chaos line approaching."
The bubbling intensified. A second needle pierced her other arm. More heat moved through her, though significantly slower.
"Chaos density at regular levels."
"Critical point reached. Stabilizing."
It hit her head, heart, and groin all at once. She howled at the agony and writhed in her bonds, gouging the skin. Blood dripped down her fingers, her heels, and her face.
"Fate particles to one hundred." Escaping steam shrieked, adding a harmony to her tuneless chorus.
"Density at maximum. Chaos level peaked."
Things twisted in her. Her skin felt as if it was tearing apart. The screams went on.
"Fate and Chaos conjunction complete."
Her breath caught. Every single muscle she'd ever grown tightened at once. Her veins burned, and her heart stopped. Starved of oxygen, her lungs burst.
Death stole her away from the torture.
A white haired boy lay on the table, his breathing shallow, his too red eyes staring blankly upwards. At some invisible signal, the clamps unlocked and slid into their compartments onto the table.
"Infirmary."
A uniformed Madoushi slid the handle to the table into its slots
near the boy's head. A second one lifted the bars around the sides and
at his feet and they wheeled him from the light into the surrounding darkness.
...And she awoke upon the bed in her cell, with the desolate knowledge
that it would all happen again.
Naria and Eriya jerked awake at the sound of their beloved Master's choked cry. They turned together from their shared bed at the other end of the room. "Folken…?" Eriya whispered worriedly.
The young man was sitting upright, gasping from fright. Quickly he composed himself, running both his hands through his hair, the human one quivering slightly. "I'm fine. Please, go back to sleep."
"Very well," responded Naria, though the twins exchanged anxious looks. This was the third time in as many days that he'd woken up so ever since he'd returned late from studying in the Library. They lay down and turned their backs to their Master, giving him as much privacy as was possible in the compact room.
Folken hid his face in his hands. Gods, he couldn't forget what he'd read. Though the language of the document had been cold, hard technical terms (Drug A administered, reaction threshold 9.8/10, success rate: 95.99%, Particle Hold: 10 Days before reversion), he knew the truth between the lines. In his rats he'd seen both the results of successful Fate Particle inoculation and the convulsing agony that they'd experienced, and then the gory aftermath in those that failed. After his exploration of the Library's inner sanctum, he knew now what the human by-product looked like.
What could he do? Angry as he was with Dineer, he'd lost his tenuous link to any other student in the facility. Without the popular boy as a constant companion, none of the others felt obligated to acknowledge him courteously. The soldiers still welcomed him, but none of them would have access to the rooms of the Sorcerer's Academy.
He could not leave her. She was not the only one there, of that he had no doubt, but he could not leave her. Dineer had been right in one sense: he could be killed trying to take her from the grounds, and even if he succeeded, it was possible that both Dineer and Jajuka would be executed for the mere possibility that they'd helped him.
To see her just once…
He lay down, if only to calm the nerves of his twin feline admirers
(whose tails, swishing around as they were, belied their still bodies).
There was nothing he could think to do at the moment, but there was always
tomorrow to try.