He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.

Jim Elliot

Slowly, the ceiling came back into focus. She felt heavy and tired. There was a bad taste in her mouth, and she felt chilly. Wait. Chilly? She looked down and saw that she only wore a negligee, which barely covered her; no wonder she was freezing. She tried to remember how she ended up in this situation. The room was somewhat nice, and there was some incense burning in the corner. The Bed was wide and soft. There was a mirror on the wall above a fireplace. What little light there was came from some candles lit on the side table. What was disconcerting were the iron bars before the window, which was partly hidden by heavy drapes. A low murmur came from outside, and steps slowly grew nearer.

She felt fear creep up on her, and her breath hitched. She tried to get up and managed on the third try. She was still feeling wobbly. Then, there came memories of her seeking her father and talking to the madam. She had cast a sleep spell on her. If she was not drunk that never would have worked! There was no time to lose, and she concentrated on standing up and moving towards the door. But before she managed that, the door opened.

There stood the madam leading a gangling youth of about twenty-some years of age with a sparse blonde beard and watery blue eyes. He looked excited and was in the process of loosening his neckerchief.

Upon seeing Alyssa, he was at first a bit flustered, but after seeing that she was unsteady and weak on her feet, he grinned. “Madam, you surpass yourself. If all is as you promised, you shall have your price. This here will do for starters.” And he took a small pouch clinking with coin, throwing it to the madam who weighed it expertly before letting it vanish in her voluminous skirts.

Alyssa held fast to the doorknob and said haltingly, “Let me go! I did not agree to this.” “But I already paid, and the merchandise seems to be in order.” a sick grin stole over his face. He pushed her back into the room. “Don't tell me you didn’t know that when you got the money, you have to pay the price.”

She blacked out for a moment. After she regained her bearings, she felt the bed underneath her. “So, now it is only us.” she more felt than saw his gaze. He grabbed her leg and pulled her towards him a sneer on his face grabbing her thigh. “Come here.”

Near physical revulsion made her feel nauseous, and his grip was bruising her. She felt a cold that was far more profound than any physical change of temperature. Her left hand so long thought weak and useless seemed drenched in arctic frost.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Inside of her, a portal opened to realms of endless darkness where even light was devoured, and nothing remained but emptiness and endless, suffocating cold. The bed groaned as blackness seeped from her fingertips.

“Don’t come closer,” she whispered. “Make me.” He laughed breathlessly.

And then she reached with her left hand, and the shadows drew into and through him, shrouding him completely. “An illusion? Come on.” A hint of fear crept into his arrogant tone. And then the cold shot into his eyes, his mouth, his ears, and he felt his life ebbing, his flesh shriveling from his bones.

But there was not even enough left to scream, even when it was all he wanted to do in the end.

A stream of molten unlife raged through her veins, and as it is with a flood, it carves away the banks of the river. She felt herself weakening further but also strangely strengthened. Her left hand was always withered, seeming to take on the hue of old polished bones but much fuller-looking. It even felt stronger even if the feeling of distance and alienation also increased. Was this even her Hand? She grabbed his cloak and pulled it around herself, taking care not to look too closely at the mummified corpse, which looked as if it had been drying for decades.

Gagging she lurched towards the window. Blue wisps of energy crackling around her left hand anew. She grabbed the bar and waited for the iron to fully corrode. Which it did some few minutes later. Her breath came in labored gasps as she let the bar fall towards the bed. Then forcing herself through the gap she came upon a small awning protecting the balcony below her.

Standing barefoot on the cold shingles adrenaline-pumping she was fully awake and alert now. Slowly sliding to the side she grabbed hold of the edge and dangled over the dark alleyway beneath the balcony. Letting go she balanced precariously on the railing of said platform.

Then she looked carefully inside the room, seeing a sleeping well-fed man lying half-exposed in the bed positioned in the middle. His trousers and boots lying haphazardly about.

Taking a deep but slow breath she shuddered and then took the clothes which were much too big for her together with his purse. Silently apologizing she then climbed as far down as possible only then letting herself drop the last meters.

Landing heavily but thankfully only bruising further she unsteadily got up and then ran for home.

Her left hand was now fully white. The rest of her arm was feeling stronger but looked dried out and thin. Underneath the skin motes of darkness could be seen floating through her veins and flesh. This grew lesser with time spent running and hobbling to her and her father's house. Leaving her to slowly come to terms with what had happened.

A realization sparked inside her. She had killed the viscount's son with dark magic.

She had to flee.