"Ding ding ding.”
The eyes of the sleeping girl fluttered open, revealing them to be black, and shaped like that of an eagle. Pulling herself up, she spread out the wings on her back and tried to stretch out her arms. The manacles holding them together didn’t quite let her get a full stretch, but she did her best.
A clanging rapping noise of spearbutt against cage bar rang through the small room.
“Oi, monster, it’s time for your breakfast. We have a busy day today.”
Monster glared at the guard, Agatha, a skinny and tall woman. Not for the first time she wished she could get her claws around her neck. But the bird claws on Monster’s feet were blunted, and a set of manacles kept her legs from spreading too far about. That and Agatha wasn’t alone. There were two other guards. James, a red-robed mage with a staff, and Judith, a darker skinned woman with a bit of a belly.
Then again, she might have her chance today.
Monster stalked past the chamberpot, the washbasin. She took care not to knock over the chess set and the lone bookshelf that were her cell’s only comforts. A tray of food lay slid through a narrow slot in the thick bars of her prison.
Porridge and a bit of fruit lay in a bowl and tray. Monster reached down to pick it up—
The spearbutt slammed into the bowl’s edge, flipping the contents right up into the harpy-troll’s face.
Monster glared up at Agatha, trying her best to salvage what was left of her breakfast, which was all over the floor and her face. She licked the ground, trying to get every scrap of bland porridge. The humans might try to starve her again. They’d done that before. She needed all that food.
She held on, held back, her ears flat against her head as Agatha giggled, while Judith grimaced and James sighed.
“Oh come on Judith, what can she possibly do? Little monster’s not exactly the smartest of the bunch.”
Judith merely hefted her spear, whilst James raised his wand. Monster didn’t care. She had one target.
Monster leapt at the bars, screaming as loudly as she could, throwing every ounce of magic she could into the bars and right at Agatha.
The scream slammed Agatha against the walls on the other side of the cell. The bars shook, vibrated, creaked and groaned. Agatha howled in pain as tongues of violet magic lashed out through the bars, striking her.
Something thunked against the side of her head. Monster fell, seeing white fuzz and stars, before the world came back into focus. Judith hit her again, knocking her to the floor, whilst James chanted, his staff in hand, forcing back the remaining tongues of magic and dispelling them.
“Agatha, go get yourself checked out. Go!” snapped Judith.
Agatha limped away, eyes wide. Monster snarled after her, a victorious leer on her features. She’d been planning that for days, waiting for the right moment. Now she knew to fear her.
“You. She’s an idiot, but we had a deal.”
Monster growled. “That bitch was the one who broke it.”
Judith’s grim expression faded, but she shook her head. “Don’t make things worse for yourself, Monster. Come on, you know the drill.”
Monster wondered if she should try to break out, but James was here. He’d make sure she wouldn’t be able to escape.
Glaring at Judith, she put her arms through the slot in the cell and allowed her wrists to be bound by binds of magic. After that happened, a heavy iron weight was attached to the chain tying her legs.
Her morning had begun.
----------------------------------------
Today seemed to be an experiment day, which was extraordinarily monotonous. After Judith and another female guard helped her wash up, they took her to the training field.
Wherever she was in whatever human kingdom, Monster knew that the castle she was in was remote. It was a small castle, with a single keep that was part of a single defensive wall. There were only four towers and a gatehouse.
Monster had never been outside of those curtain walls, but she could see mountain peaks from where she was in the training yard. That and out of her cell’s barred windows, she could see a long, deep valley that stretched below the castle.
In the training yard, Monster was told as always, to lift boulders with her magic. She’d tried to crush her observers before, but a good ten of them were those red-robed mages. She’d only ever managed to hurt one badly, and she’d been beaten for that.
Of course, she’d nearly ripped the throat out of one of the guards who’d beaten her. That had been a nice feeling.
She’d been so bored out her mind lifting the different boulders, she barely heard them telling her to drop them. Only when one of the red-robes poked her with his staff, did she look up at him.
“Oi, Monster, drop them,” hissed the mage.
“Gerald you idiot. Get back here!” snapped Benjamin, one of the longer serving mages.
Monster looked up at Benjamin and smiled. She dropped the boulders. They hit the ground with a thud, knocking up dust.
Then, she slammed both her hands into his private parts. She’d wanted to grab them and twist, but two of the other mages had immediately hit her with spells. She was thrown backwards, the weight catapulting her into the sandy ground.
Spitting out the dust, Monster cackled as Gerald was dragged back by some guards, whilst the other mages glared at her.
“Can this fucking monster not be broken? I mean, we’ve done it before!” Gerald hissed.
Benjamin growled at his colleague. “She’s a valuable experiment. The only one to survive so many stones embedded into her and stay sane. We need to keep her alive and preferably healthy.”
“Just have a few guards go at her! What, they don’t like the fact that she has wings—”
Monster felt a chill, but then Judith smacked Gerald on the head. “You are fucking disgusting!”
“So what. We need results. She’s powerful, but we still haven’t been able to make her cooperate. What’s the point of creating a mana battery when we can’t figure out a way to harness it?” hissed Gerald.
“That’s why the next few operations should do something about that. The first one coming up today,” said Benjamin. His eyes settled on Monster. They were brown, but a chill ran down her back.
“Operation?” she whispered.
Benjamin tore his eyes away. “Get her lunch, Judith. She might not hold it down, but if this is the end for her, she deserves a last meal.”
Judith nodded and stepped toward Monster, who leapt into the sky. She tried to fly, but as always, the weights were too heavy. She managed to get them off the ground, but guards were already grabbing onto the chains and pulling her down.
The gag, a leather strap with cloth wrapped around it was stuffed into her mouth and belted around her head. Monster could only fight and make muffled screams as she was dragged back to her cell.
----------------------------------------
She barely could get her lunch, a chicken leg and some carrots, down. She was afraid. Operations were never good. They always hurt.
This was just like all the others.
She’d fought them. She’d tried to claw out their eyes with her hands, her claws. She’d tried to sing, to scream, but they’d wrestled her with magic and muscle into the table. The chains were cold. They dug into her wrists. She’d learn not to fight back on this or else they’d just tighten it.
They’d made her drink the juice. A strong-smelling liquid that dulled her senses. It helped with the pain, so she didn’t resist.
Then they took off her shirt. She hated that.
“Got the stone?” Benjamin asked.
“Yup, enchantment is ready,” said James coolly.
Bridgette, a blonde mage with grey eyes snapped, “Well hurry up then. The Earl himself is coming in a week for an inspection. He wants an update and we better get him one. The Firehand tore up several of our Otherworlders real bad and the Stormcaller herself is leading the Lightning Battalion again.”
Monster blinked. Firehand was a familiar name. The other mages discussed her at length. But Stormcaller was something they’d only mentioned more recently. If anything, the mages seemed to hold even more fear for her than the Firehand.
James’s cool tone vanished. “Oh Gods no. Not her. I hoped she was still recovering after fighting Thorgoth.”
“Did you hear she killed a dragon? Like, who the fuck does that?” whispered Gerald.
Benjamin stepped into Monster’s field of vision, barking out, “Everybody, focus. We need to keep her alive and whole. Get your spells ready,”
Monster knew it was pointless to thrash. She knew it was pointless to scream, but as their hands and wands touched her again, she did so anyway.
“I’m going to kill all of you fucking humans!” Monster screamed through the gag. And she screamed again as they cut into her again.
----------------------------------------
Monster lay curled up on the floor of her cell, shivering from the memory of the agony.
She hated operation days. This was her tenth operation and it was still horrid. Every time, a stone was put into her. She never was sure where. The mages were very careful to heal the cuts.
She always felt different after every operation. Only this time, moreso. There was a new sensation that thrummed through her body. It coursed from the feathers of her wings, to the tips of her four-fingered hands. It was like the magic in her body was surging. It rose up like bile in her throat and made her break out in cold sweat.
“Monster.”
“Go away!” she hissed. The air thrummed with power and the chess set was knocked over, smashing into the ground. Monster blinked her eyes wide. She hadn’t intended that. She raced over and quickly examined the pieces. To her relief, there were only a few minor chips.
Despite the wary look from Bridgette, who stood close by, Judith took a step forward. She pulled over a stool she kept for this purpose, sat down by the bars.
“You did well to survive. Mages are a strange bunch,” said Judith.
“I’d have killed you if they weren’t here,” Monster said.
Judith pursed her lips and nodded. “Aye. But you did good anyway. Come on, let’s get this game set up. White or black?”
“Black.” Monster set the chess set up. Judith didn’t reach through the bars. She daren’t do that, and Monster knew why. She’d scratched that hand before. So Monster moved the guard’s pieces for her.
“What did you think about The Quest for Misty Valley?” Judith asked, after their fifth game.
“Funny book,” said Monster, smiling.
“Funny? Judith asked, blinking. “The entire group dies.”
Monster snorted. “Funny how they didn’t realise they were trapped in the valley and would never escape. It’s so obvious.”
Judith gave Monster a strange look that she didn’t recognize. It felt familiar, like she’d seen it an aeon ago, but she couldn’t remember.
“I see,” said Judith.
The guard didn’t speak after that, but Monster didn’t mind. Sometimes Judith could be chatty, but other times she was quiet. Bridgette also played a few games with Monster and she was a much better player than Judith.
Monster was glad for that. It was something to break up the boredom and to forget about the pain.
Dinner came later that night, and it was fairly hearty. Hot bread and smoked ham, along with a thick vegetable stew. Monster supposed her captors wanted her to recover quickly.
Then came the evening shift. Monster returned the dinner tray and plates and allowed the two guards: Yara and Thezeus to pass her wet towels. She wiped herself down as best she could and allowed Yara to reach the spots she couldn’t.
Mostly clean, Monster lay down on bed, with a book about birds in her hands. There wasn’t really a point to reading it, but she’d gone through most of the volumes in her shelf and this one at least she didn’t entirely remember.
“I don’t like how the Stormcaller’s on the march again,” muttered Yara.
Monster’s ears picked up. There was that name again. Stormcaller. She seemed to be a famous Otherworlder human mage. Monster wasn’t entirely sure why, but the humans in Erisdale were fighting each other. It seemed to be a war about who should be king.
“You’re too worried about that, Yara. We’re far away from her,” said Thezeus.
“Of course I’m worried. Not only is she on the march, but we still have no idea where she’s heading. All we know is she and part of the Lightning Battalion left Athelda-Aoun a month ago, heading not to Alavaria, but into Erisdale.”
Athelda-Aoun? Monster blinked as a distant memory returned, in a story told by her uncle. She remembered sitting in awe as he’d regaled her with the tale, feeling safe in his company, feeling loved.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Monster swallowed, trying to fend off the ache that clutched her chest. She focused her attention back on the guards.
“Fuck. You’d think Earl Darius and Princess Janize would have done something about that already,” muttered Thezeus.
Monster pursed her lips. So far as she could tell from all the gossip she’d picked up, she’d been captured by those that supported Princess Janize as Queen, whilst the Firehand and Stormcaller seemed to be fighting for Prince Jerome.
“I don’t know if they can do anything against an Otherworlder mage, especially not one like her. I mean, you heard the stories. She can call down lightning from the sky!” Yara stammered.
“Yara, that’s just a story. She’s a formidable mage but she can’t be that powerful.”
“Then why are our mages so worried about her? You’ve heard Benjamin and the others discuss the Stormcaller and her troll cousin the Blackgale! That’s not even including Martin the Hero of Erisdale, or Elizabeth their commander, or even Ginger, Martin’s fiance!” Yara exclaimed.
“Look, they’re not here, that’s all we need to be worried about, and they won’t be here. We’re in an isolated, protected castle, secreted in the mountains. There’s no way they’ll be able to find us,” said Thezeus. The guard grinned and pecked Yara on the cheek. “Come on, dear, relax.”
Monster rolled her eyes and went back to her book as the two guards continued to talk in hushed tones.
For a brief moment, she wondered what tomorrow would bring, before quashing that notion.
All it would bring was another day in captivity, with all she had to look forward to being pain, and boredom.
----------------------------------------
“Ding ding ding.”
Monster groaned, her eyes flying open. Whatever the humans had done to her yesterday had made her unceasingly restless. It’d been very late before she finally was lulled into sleep by sheer exhaustion.
She lay in her bed, waiting for the bell to finish ringing.
“Ding.”
She pulled herself up, turning to see the morning guards walk in. This time it was Bridgette, a suitably wary Agatha. They were followed by a glowering Gerald.
Bridgette didn’t seem to be paying attention to Monster. She was looking back at the door, towards where the watchtower bell was.
“Bridgette? What’s wrong?” Gerald asked.
“I’m not sure. Something about the morning bell.”
Monster blinked, her pointed ears twitching. Now that she thought about it, her jailer was right. They normally rang three times twice.
A low brassy sound cut through the air. The sound of many horns blown together.
The morning bell rang again, not a lazy chime, but an urgent clanging Monster had never heard before.
“Ding ding ding! Ding ding—”
Something exploded, cutting the sound of the bell off forever. Monster ran up to the bars on the far side of her cell. One of her windows overlooked the training yard, and although manacled, her wings easily helped her to hover up to the high window.
Her human captors were running to the walls of the castle, all manner of weaponry in hand. Many of them were half-armored or trying to put on cuirasses and helmets. Looking up at the walls, Monster could see bodies slumping down, or being thrown backward.
Suddenly, a fireball erupted on the walls, searing humans and sending many of them running. Monster jumped as a thunderous boom echoed through the valley. With her half-harpy vision, she could see the castle gate, that had only opened for supply wagons, splintered, its steel portcullis bending.
Red-robed mages were running to the courtyard bellowing orders, yelling for the soldiers to form up.
Judith burst through the door, and Monster stared. The guard was holding onto a musket with shaking hands.
“Judith, what’s going on?” Gerald demanded.
Monster had never seen the woman so scared. She looked like she was about to fall over.
“We’re fucked. Oh we’re so fucked,” Judith whispered.
“Judith, snap out of it!” hissed Agatha. “What the hell is going on out there! Who is attacking?”
“It’s them. It’s the Lightning Battalion, with her!”
The colour seemed to drain from the faces of all the humans in the room. Gerald, grimacing, ran out, hefting his staff.
Agatha shook her head. “You’re joking. I mean if it was her, we’d seen lightning by now—”
A bright flash lit up the cell for a split second, immediately followed by a sound Monster did not expect in this fall season, the sound of thunder. Flying back to her window, Monster froze.
Dead or limp guards littered the courtyard. The gate that had barred her escape for so long was mangled and ruined. Meanwhile, the human mages that had guarded her, the bane of her existence, were casting as fast as they could at the gatehouse. They were throwing fireballs, bolts of magic, earth, every manner of spell and arcane magic at a shimmering blue shield that continued to advance on them from the gate. A single mage in brilliant white held this shield up with her shining left hand. Lightning crackled and sparked up her right arm, where she held her wand.
Behind the shield were two more mages, and a host of soldiers, cheering and chanting as the white-robed mage continued to advance.
“Frances! Stormcaller! Frances! Stormcaller! Frances! Stormcaller!”
The human mages renewed their casting, even as Monster's jailors started to fire their muskets. Then the Stormcaller raised her wand.
Forks of lightning erupted from her wand. Several of the red-robed mages managed to get shields up, but those that didn’t were thrown backward, screaming. Even the ones that did were driven several steps back.
To Monster’s astonishment, the guards were running, fleeing even as the Stormcaller dropped her shield and the soldiers behind her, all with sky blue uniforms, charged forward. They were human, but there were many that were Alavari. Monster stared as she saw for the first time in a year, centaur, troll, ogre and goblin. She could even see harpies cresting the walls and soaring into the castle courtyard.
Her folk. Her species.
“Then what do we do with the Monster?” Agatha demanded.
Monster whirled around. Judith was staring at her, whilst Agatha and Bridgette watched. Slowly, the woman raised her musket to her shoulder.
Monster froze. The hope she had was quashed in an instant. All she could see was the gun, feel the life draining from her, imagine the pain that the bullet would cause. Would it be worse than an operation? Probably.
“Judith, please,” she whispered.
Her jailor froze, her eyes wide, her gun shaking with her hands. Then she threw the gun down.
“Let’s get out of here,” Judith stammered. She made for the door, Bridgette following.
But Agatha picked the musket up.
“Fuck that. We need to kill her before they get to her,” hissed the guard. She raised the gun to her shoulder.
“Agatha no!” Judith screamed.
Monster leaped, wings flapping hard. She was hoping she could get behind the bookcase. The musket cracked.
Her right wing exploded with pain and Monster felt herself cry out as she slammed into the ground. Blood poured from her wing, which she instinctively pulled to herself.
“Agatha stop!” Monster looked up, just in time to see through her tear-blurred vision, Agatha hit Judith with the butt of her gun. The guard went down in a slump. As Bridgette stared, Agatha started to reload.
“Knock that bookcase down, Bridgette. That thing is a weapon. We cannot let her fall into enemy hands!” hissed Agatha.
Bridgette took a deep breath and nodded, and grabbing her spear, shoved the bookcase. The chess set flew off, slamming into the ground. Most of the pieces were intact, except for the white rook, which hit the ground and shattered.
“Judith? Judith!” Monster cried.
The guard that had taken care of her for all this time, lay on the ground, unresponsive. Monster stared at the limp form of the woman.
There were too many feelings that were coursing through her. Fear and panic that grew as Agatha pointed the gun at her. Rage at Agatha for hurting the…the one person who’d ever treated her with any kind of care. Despair at the sight of the gun barrel. Pain that throbbed in her right wing. Confusion at what she was feeling, for Judith was her jailor. She’d kept her in captivity. She ought to hate her.
Hate. Cold, hatred, at these humans for torturing her. For using her as their test subject. For depriving her of freedom, of her name, and most of all, for turning her into a monster.
Power thrummed underneath her skin, it reverberated through her bones.
“Die you beast,” hissed Agatha.
Monster screamed at Agatha, but this time was different. This time, the woman was not just catapulted backward. She was crushed into the wall behind her. Her face was pressed against the stone wall, and it continued to be pressed.
Bridgette ran from the room, screaming, as Agatha wailed in agony. Monster continued to scream. Her voice was stronger than before, her magic surged and continued to surge. Fueled by the pain in her wing, the hatred she had for these horrible humans, Monster continued to cry. She glowed violet, her magic manifesting not as tongues, but as a raging vortex focused just on her. Monster raised her arms and pushed it forward.
With a snap, the bars of the jail cell gave way and Agatha gasped, as several of them impaled her to the wall.
Monster cackled at the sight of her dead tormentor, and tried to close her mouth.
Only, she couldn’t. The room continued to shake. The tongues of magic whirled, slashing the walls, cutting into them. They tore up the floorboards, and ripped off bars from the windows. They even broke open her manacles, blasting them off her wrists and ankles. Still Monster continued to scream.
She didn’t know why. She didn’t know how to stop. Something within her drove her to keep crying out. She couldn’t even form words!
Helpless, and yet destroying everything around her, Monster ran out her cell to the door, which her magic tore off its hinges. Somehow she avoided hitting Judith, but she continued to tear up the castle walls and floor as she ran.
She needed to stop this. She needed help. Monster ran, trying to find her way to the hall. Her throat was raw, and yet her magic continued to tear down lanterns, cut through the walls. To her horror, she wasn’t even running anymore. She was somehow floating off the ground, despite her wing dangling uselessly by her side.
She wanted so badly to cry for help. She even tried to use her hands to shut her own mouth, but nothing worked. She continued to wail.
She rounded the corner into the main hall.
Blue-uniformed soldiers had been putting her captors against the wall, but they’d all turned to the sound she was making. They stared at her, eyes wide, even as her captors yelled.
“Shit it’s the Monster!”
“She’s gotten loose! Kill her! Kill her before she kills us!”
“Shut up! Someone fetch Hattie, Frances or Ayax!” snapped a soldier, a young human in full armour. He sheathed his sword, and approached Monster, his arms raised. “Easy there. My name’s Martin. Just stay there. We’re going to help you.”
Monster was so confused. Humans weren’t supposed to smile like that. They weren’t supposed to say those kinds of words. She didn’t want him getting any closer. She didn’t—
Her magic lashed out, catching the man in his cuirass and flinging him back into a centaur. The centaur, a female, managed to pull him up.
“Oh shit, run away! Run away!” bellowed the centaur.
The blue-uniformed soldiers turned to run, pulling up their prisoners as they did so. The mages, the captives that had held Monster for so long. That had jeered at her, restrained her, and even beat her up. They deserved to die, not to live.
Monster blinked as her magic scythed out. A purple blast sent stone splinters showering the running soldiers. A beam of magic that missed a group of her captors hit the wall and cut right through it. Monster screamed, horrified, a prisoner in her own body as her magic cascaded out, destroying the castle that kept her captive, carrying her forward after the panicked soldiers.
“Lady Ginger what’s—Oh shit.”
Monster spun around to see a red-haired woman and a younger female mage whose head was hidden by a cowl. For Monster was rising higher and higher up in the hall.
“Get my master please,” said the young mage.
“On it. Be careful Hattie,” Ginger hissed.
Hattie couldn’t be older than Monster was. Yet she looked up at Monster calmly, her wand at her side. She pulled her cowl over and Monster blinked. The young girl seemed to be at least part-troll, as she had pointed ears and four fingers. Parts of her hair were missing, replaced by an angry-red scar that stood out from her pale skin.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Hattie asked.
Monster, still singing, still unable to speak, gestured to her throat. She hated this. She hated this all! Her magic torqued around, smashing down on a table, completely flattening it.
Hattie flinched, but to Monster’s astonishment, she smiled. “Okay, I see. You can’t control this can’t you?”
Monster shook her head, wiping away the tears that were forming. She’d normally be exhausted now. She was using so much of her magic, and yet she wasn’t feeling even a little tired. The humans’ experiments must have finally succeeded. They turned her into the weapon that they wanted to create. All she could do was hurt people
Her magic lashed out, a tongue of magic scything toward Hattie. Monster gasped, trying to pull it back somehow, but Hattie threw up a navy-blue shield and pulled a fallen table in front of her. Wood splinters showered the mage, but she was unharmed.
Monster shook her head, floating back, away from the mage, who was muttering to herself.
“Alright alright. What would Frances do? What would she do? Right, talk her down. Talk her down. You can do this Hattie. You can do this.” Hattie looked back up at Monster, smiling brightly. “Hey there. I’m alright. You don’t want to do this, right? Why don’t you just take a deep breath, hold it and count to ten? It always works for me.”
Monster tried but even as she closed her mouth to hold in her breath, she continued to sing into her mouth. Forced to open her mouth, she groaned, frustrated, and jumped in horror as her magic surged again, blowing a hole through the roof.
“Okay that didn’t work. Hey, um, you want to just stay right here? Okay? We’re getting you some help. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be okay.”
Okay? Fine? Monster’s unceasing cry mingled with sob-filled laughs. She was a monster. She was never going to be fine. She was a weapon of destruction, a freak. All she was good at was destroying things and hurting people.
Her magic seemed to agree with her. It pulsed, a violet wave surging out from her. It knocked Hattie off her feet and kept throwing loose debris, weapons, rubble and wooden splinters at the mage. Monster sobbed, crying as the young mage threw up a shield and hunkered down on it, wincing with every impact.
She wanted to say sorry. To apologize but there was nothing she could do. The castle shook all around her, creaking as violet blasts of magic shot out, slamming into fixtures and columns.
That was when a second song rang out.
It was beautiful. The notes fell like the first drops of rain. They were placed perfectly and clearly, as they wove together into a song. It was an Alavari song, a nursery rhyme Monster remembered from her youth.
The white-robed mage stepped into the hallway, wand raised and worry erupted in Monster’s heart again. For the Stormcaller, if she was really the Stormcaller, didn’t look like some famous mage.
She was short and petite, with a slender build. Despite wearing gold-trimmed white robes, with heavy armored plates sewn underneath, she didn’t look intimidating or imposing. Nothing like the stories she’d heard. Those same stories had also never mentioned that her skin was olive-brown, or her hair seemed to resemble the colour of chocolate. Yet, as Monster locked eyes with the Stormcaller, she found herself unable to look away from her amber gaze.
A sky blue glow surrounded Monster and somehow, her singing began to quieten. It was like her magic was breaking against a wall that had been thrown up in its way. It struggled to break through, yet the Stormcaller’s song continued to grow in strength, and Monster’s found hers beginning to lose its power.
She had no idea why, or how, but she was so relieved she didn’t care, even as she landed on the ground, and the pain from her wing returned in full force.
“Hattie, it’s her. We found her,” said the Stormcaller.
“Oh. Oh! I’ll get him.” Hattie ran off out of the door.
Monster, holding onto her wing, looked up at the Stormcaller, eyes wide as the mage approached. The Stormcaller was smiling, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hurt her. She’d just dispelled her magic almost like it was nothing.
“Hello, it’s been a long time. Do you remember me, Morgan?”
Caught between the urge to both stare and frown at the Stormcaller, the harpy-troll sat still, unable to answer.
Why was the human woman smiling at her? Why did she seem happy to see her? How…how did she know her name? This had to be a trick.
“Who—How do you know that name?” Morgan stammered.
“I met you, a long time ago, in Kwent. We slid down a slide to escape a fire. A slide of—”
“—of ice,” whispered Morgan. That was fun. Scary, but fun and—she didn’t want to remember it. It hurt too much to remember how good that time was.
“Yes.” Frances extended her hand. “If you don’t mind, let me take a look at your wing, Morgan. It looks painful.”
“Fuck off,” Morgan hissed. She glared, trying to ignore the surprise that spread across the Stormcaller’s face.
Only, the woman seemed to think, before holstering her wand and sitting down on the ground. Crossing her legs, the Stormcaller smiled again.
“Morgan…I can guess you’re scared, terrified even, and you don’t trust me, or any human, but we’re here to help.” Frances pursed her lips and pulled out two patches of clean white dressing. “I want to heal your wing, but if you don’t trust me, press that to the wound for the moment. I can get an Alavari mage to help you, if that would make you more comfortable?”
Morgan ripped the dressing out of the Stormcaller’s hands and gingerly pressed both patches to her wing. The bullet hole did look pretty bad, though, and Morgan winced as she tried to put pressure.
“Will…will it hurt?”
“It will hurt a little, but I think you’ve been very brave. Can you be brave for just a little longer?” the Stormcaller asked.
Morgan hesitated. It’d mean a human mage touching her again, operating on her.
But well, the Stormcaller did just save her, maybe she meant it?
Morgan nodded and the young woman, smiling, raised her wand and sang softly.
A numbing sensation filled Morgan’s wing, and before her eyes, the bullet hole slowly knit itself together to reveal only flesh.
The Stormcaller stood up. “There, I suggest you don’t use it for a week or two, but it’s good as new.” The Stormcaller glanced over her shoulder. “And just in time too. Timur over here!”
Timur?
Morgan scrambled to her feet, her harpy eyes focusing on a distant, running figure. A tall teenager—no, man. A trogre charging pell mell towards her, his mane of hair whipped back.
“Morgan!”
It couldn’t—It couldn’t be—but two arms had grabbed her and were lifting her to her toes. She held on, tears welling in her eyes because it was her uncle, who’d told her the stories she loved, who’d tucked her into bed, and who had tried to save her. The only member of her family who’d tried to save her.
Yet he was different. He was a little more muscled. He smelt a little different.
“Uncle Timur? Is it really you?” Morgan croaked, staring at her uncle’s face.
Timur beamed. He still had the same smile, only it seemed just a bit wider. “Yes. Yes it is. I…I’m so sorry.” He blinked, his own black eyes filling with tears. “It’s my fault you were here. I wasn’t fast enough—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Morgan stammered. How could it be her uncle’s fault when he’d done everything he could? It was those humans that hurt her anyway. “Really, it was those humans.”
The Stormcaller giggled. “I told you she wouldn’t blame you, Timur.”
Timur smiled, glancing at the Stormcaller. “And you were right, Mataia.”
Morgan blinked, her eyes settling on the Stormcaller. “Mataia?”
“Oh, right. You don’t know,” said Timur. He let go of Morgan, still holding onto her hand. With his other hand, however, he took the Stormcaller’s. “Morgan, this is Frances. We’ve been courting and living together.”
Morgan stared at her uncle, and back at the Stormcaller, at Frances. She watched them look into each other’s eyes, as if they were the only two people in the world.
There was no mistaking it. Her uncle was in love with a human, a horrible, cruel human.
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