A glyph [https://i.imgur.com/ZLENX3y.png]

Andra lay face down. Straw pricked her eyes and nose. The smell of animals and men, rotting meat, gas and stale musty air — all familiar. Her sister too was a smell and a soft breathing presence.

The cage again: she was back in the cage. She hunched onto hands and knees, and hissed at the return of pain. Her fingers were swollen and tender. The lightest touch hurt. Her limbs ached with bruises and half-healed cuts. All of her hurt.

Memory skittered away. She would not think of that place. She would not think of the pale man and his soft hands and his knife. She would not.

The cage: she was back in the cage, and she lived.

Strange. She loathed the cage and all it meant, yet this place, with all its awfulness, was at least not that place.

Slowly and carefully, Andra sat. The bars brushed the top of her head.

The cage to her right, that had held the wolf, was empty now: straw swept away, water bowl upside-down. So at least one prisoner had found freedom. She hoped it had died well.

Her own death had brought no peace, only a fresh hell and a return to the old one. She hunched and shivered. Even death could not be relied on here. Next time, she would be sure of it.

‘You have been in the other place,’ Cara said, her voice small and thin with lack of use. ‘They took me too. I know, I know.’

‘Be silent,’ Andra said. ‘The dead do not speak.’

Cara rocked, arms round her knees, eyes downcast. The wolf used to pace: one stride from one side of its cage to the other, twist and repeat for hour after hour with its amber eyes staring at everything, seeing nothing.

Cara rocked like the wolf had paced. ‘They change you. They hurt you and it makes changes.’

Andra snarled. ‘Be silent, dead thing.’

‘We were sisters. We are sisters, blood and bone. They mark you and it doesn’t go away. It hurts, doesn’t it?’

Andra turned her back. But her sister was still there, and hate was acid and ice in her throat, and a burning pain in her heart. Everything, she had lost. Everything precious, everything loved, and still her sister lived, and spoke in the voice of the dead that had no right speaking to the living. No right to live.

She slammed herself against the bars dividing them, squeezed her arm through, reaching, claws straining for her sister’s flesh.

The bars bent. Not far enough; her sister shrank from her. She couldn’t reach, not so much as scratch her, though she strained every muscle to breaking point.

She sagged back on her heels and covered her face with her hands. Her painful, swollen hands. They change you… She had not seen before. She had not wanted to see, but she had reached for her sister with claws.

Her hands had claws, curved and long and black like ice-bear claws. She could not clench her fists, could not grip. She stared in disbelief. They change you…

Where the claws emerged from her fingers, the natural flesh was raw, still healing. Pressing on the claws hurt. Tugging at them hurt. Unwelcome and unnatural as they were, they were part of her.

They change you…

Rage howled and beat at the bars of her mind. She thought she had known the depths of despair long ago, but she had not.

They had caged her like an animal among animals. They had forced her to fight animals for their amusement. Made her kill for their amusement. Watched her die for their amusement. And not content to let her die, they had tortured her, and changed her, and made her into a monster so she could fight better and kill more.

But she was not a beast. They could change her, but not unmake her soul. She would not pace mindlessly. She would not despair, or let rage master her, because she was not an animal. She was Andra, the Fire That Walks.

And for what they had done to her, she would make them suffer.

Sa glyph [https://i.imgur.com/plK5EWM.png]

It wasn’t easy to get Ellise on her own. When she wasn’t with the group, Baily would never be far away, keeping a jealous eye on Sam, or Paet would be looming in the background. Sam watched, and waited, and bided his time.

He finally caught her on the way back from the washroom. He stepped out from the shadows where he’d been lurking. ‘Hey, Ellise.’

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She started. ‘Gosh, Sam, don’t jump out on me like that.’

‘Sorry.’ He grinned. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Of course.’

‘In private, I mean.’

She frowned. ‘I share everything with the group, Sam.’

He slipped his arm round her waist. ‘Well, maybe there’s things I don’t want to share.’

She blushed and giggled, and didn’t resist when he drew her off into a darker recess of the cavern. ‘This is far enough,’ she said. ‘We aren’t meant to be alone.’

He took a seat on the stone. She snuggled into his side. ‘Ellise, I like you a lot…’

‘Do you?’ She twisted to gaze into his eyes. ‘I like you too.’

‘Thing is, I don’t want to stay here forever.’ Seven long days he’d been with the Seekers, maybe more — the days and nights slid together into one interminable mass of boredom. It was seven days too many, anyway. ‘My family will be worried about me. I should go visit them, at least, so they know I’m all right.’

‘I don’t want you to go.’ She pouted. ‘But I understand, I guess. I’m sure if you explain, the Master will give you permission to leave.’

Sam wasn’t so sure. And so far, all his efforts to escape had failed, but last night, lying awake on the hard stone, listening to Ellise’s soft breathing by his ear, he’d realised something.

His mother used to tell him stories of heroes rescuing princesses from horrible fates. Naturally, he’d dreamed of rescuing a princess of his own. Only Sark had no adventures requiring a hero, and no princesses, and his mother had stopped telling stories as she slowly faded away.

Sam hadn’t been able to save her, and he hadn’t been able to save the girl on the wagon-train, Andra’s sister. Ellise though — he could save her. The two of them must escape together.

He wound his fingers through hers. ‘I want you to come with me. Please say you will.’

‘Me? But I don’t want to go. I like it here. We’re like a family, only better, because everyone’s nice, and I have enough to eat everyday. Why would I give that up?’

‘You could stay with my family. You don’t know them, but they’re nice too. Well, Dad’s always telling me what to do, but he isn’t, like, nasty. Nana shouts a lot, but she’s really kind and she doesn’t mean to. And my sister, Lorie — you’d like her, I think.’

Ellise shook her head. ‘But I don’t want to leave. Didn’t you hear what the Master said? There’s fighting in the city and it’s dangerous.’

Sam took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think that’s true. What if the Master is lying?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Don’t be daft. He loves us. He looks after us all.’

‘Do you really believe all this stuff the Master tells you?’ Sam didn’t understand how she could be so blind. Ellise wasn’t stupid: she was as clever as he was, maybe more, and if a dumb kid from Sark could see the Master was fake as a double-headed forint, why couldn’t a city-brat like her? ‘It isn’t true, none of it’s true. Mikael is dead. I saw him being carried away that night. He didn’t ascend anywhere. He died.’

Her mouth made a little O of horrified denial. She shrank away from him. ‘That’s not true. You’re lying.’

Boots grated on stone. Sam jumped to his feet defensively.

‘There you are,’ Paet said. His gaze swept over Ellise. ‘You shouldn’t hide off in corners, you know. It leads to temptation and moral error.’

‘We weren’t doing anything,’ Sam said. Ellise trembled against his side. ‘Just talking. That’s allowed, isn’t it?’

‘The Master is here,’ Paet said. ‘He wants to speak to us.’

Ellise straightened her robe. She walked beside Sam, but when Sam tried to take her hand she pulled away. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt hot inside, annoyed, frustrated, confused, and if he was honest with himself, a little scared.

The Master sat on a rocky pedestal with his white robe tucked around him, talking to Kizzy and Shy. He had a book in his hands, a book bound in shiny red leather. He smiled warmly at them all. ‘I have good news. Wonderful news.’ He held up the book. ‘By great good fortune and the blessing of Light, a marvellous new discovery has come into my hands. This new ritual will allow even more of us to join the celestial warriors, with even greater powers to fight against evil.

‘Now.’ The smile dimmed into a more serious expression. ‘It has come to me, in a vision, that we must step up our efforts. We are too few for the mighty tasks ahead. Who are the new recruits?’

Sam glowered; he wasn’t a recruit. He had never asked to join. Even the stupid green robe had been forced on him.

‘Master.’ Kizzy shifted her feet. ‘The recruiters haven’t been out because of the disturbances in the undercity. You instructed us to remain safe. Sam here was the last one.’

A trace of irritation crossed the Master’s face, quickly suppressed. ‘True, true. You were wise to heed my advice. These are dangerous times.’ He nodded in agreement with himself. ‘The good news is the situation in the undercity has calmed somewhat. The recruiters must go forth today and every day. We must bring more young people to the Light.’

Everyone smiled at that, Sam with them. This was good news: if he could tag along with the group going to the market, he could easily give them the slip and escape back to the storeroom.

‘We’ll go straight away,’ Kizzy said.

‘Good,’ the Master said. ‘But first, another pleasant task. I have studied the new rite and made the necessary spiritual preparations. Who among you is ready to join the warriors of Light?’

Ellise raised her hand. ‘Master, choose me.’

‘No,’ Sam said. ‘Ellise, don’t. You can’t.’

She glared at him. ‘I’m ready.’

Paet grasped Sam’s arm. ‘What about Sam?’

‘What?’ Sam twisted to stare at Paet. ‘No. I don’t—’

The older boy jerked his arm sharply. He bent and whispered in Sam’s ear: ‘Would you rather it was Ellise?’

‘He’s rather new,’ the Master said. ‘Bring him forward.’

Paet dragged Sam in front of the Master, his hands vice-like on Sam’s shoulders.

The Master eyed him. He rubbed his jawline thoughtfully. ‘He seems a lively young man.’

‘You may recall I’ve mentioned him to you before,’ Paet said.

‘Ah, yes. That’s true.’ The Master smiled and patted Sam’s shoulder. ‘Congratulations, Sam.’

‘But I want to be chosen,’ Ellise said. ‘Sam doesn’t. It’s not fair. He can’t be ready. He doesn’t know anything.’

Sam closed his eyes. He felt sick. Every instinct told him to protest, to fight, to run… but if, by some miracle, he escaped, Ellise would take his place. A small guilty piece of him screamed that he didn’t want to die, that he didn’t care if she died instead. She was volunteering.

But what sort of hero threw his princess to the dragon to buy his own life? And was there really any escape? Paet had a tight hold of him. Even if he got away, they’d chase him down.

The Master patted Ellise’s shoulder. ‘My sweet girl, your turn will come soon enough. For now, you must rejoice on Sam’s behalf and remember my words on the subjects of humility and patience. Besides, you are our best recruiter. We can’t spare you just yet.’

Ellise sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Master. I shouldn’t have spoken angrily to you.’ She turned to Sam. ‘Forgive me, Sam. I’m happy for you.’

Sam stared at her. She was so beautiful and so very stupid. How could she not see how wrong this was? But then, he was no better himself. He was the idiot who’d got himself into this mess.

‘I’ll need you, Paet,’ the Master said. ‘To help prepare for the new ritual. The rest of you, go to the market. Find more pure young souls in need of our kindness.’