The burlap sack that covered her head reeked of onions, a pungent odor that irritated her nose. And the piece of linen that gagged her didn’t smell great either; she preferred not to imagine where they had gotten it from. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure where she was, though she had tried to count the turns the cart had taken, attempting to form a mental map of where they were being taken.

Lysandra realized they were going around in circles without any apparent reason, perhaps to throw them off or to check if they were being followed. After quite a long while, the cart finally stopped, and they were forced to get off blindly. She could make out the shadows of buildings against the light, but she couldn’t distinguish any details. They made them walk down a street for several meters. She felt the cold, cobblestone ground under her feet, as they had also taken her boots. They were good boots, made of worked leather, but she didn’t think they had taken them to sell; rather, it was to hinder her escape if she had to run.

She heard the creak of a door opening, and then they were forced to grope their way down a wooden staircase into what must have been an underground basement. The air grew colder and damper, and the smell of mold and moisture was intense. There, they were made to sit down, and their hands were tied behind the backrest. She heard the men murmur among themselves, and then some went upstairs, the wooden steps creaking and a door closing behind them. She could hear footsteps above her head. She wasn’t sure how many stayed down there with them. Occasionally, she heard noises around her, though it was difficult to identify their source. A very long time passed. Perhaps hours. The lack of stimuli made her lose track of time. But finally, she heard the door open again and footsteps descending the stairs.

“They’ve already told us that to use your abilities, you need to recite something and be able to see who you want to bewitch,” croaked the Crow again. “Don’t make us cut out your tongue and gouge out your eyes. They pay for you alive, but not necessarily whole.”

“Mmmh, mhmh mhmm,” responded Lysandra.

“Huh? No, I’m not going to take off your gag; I’m not that stupid. Try to rest; we need you until those two fools get here. Hopefully, they’ll bring your mother with them. But if not, I already have some men who will enter the house as soon as they leave it alone.”

“MMMH, MMH, MMHMH!”

“Wow, sorry that bothers you. Don’t worry; when we kill the old woman, we’ll take you out of the city and deliver you to the Count. I understand he wants to have some fun with you personally,” continued the Crow, with a slightly cheerful and sadistic tone.

Lysandra felt the little man moving behind her. He seemed to be inspecting her or something like that. Suddenly, he grabbed her breasts firmly from behind.

“That’s why we’re not going to touch you; we don’t want to devalue the merchandise,” he whispered in her ear, his breath reeking of wine and rotten fish. “But believe me, I wouldn’t mind having a little fun myself. I’d leave your sister to my men, to deflower her properly, and I’d keep you for myself. My, how you smell like a woman. I assure you that you would enjoy it…”

For a moment, Lysandra said nothing, nor did she move. While the Crow continued to grope her breasts, breathing heavily on her neck, she turned her head to the side to gain momentum and swung back quickly, delivering a headbutt to the man. The impact hurt them both, perhaps even more for her, but at least it got him off her.

“Damn bitch!” roared the Crow, who punched her hard in the face, knocking her to the ground along with the chair. “You’re lucky the reward is large, because otherwise, I wouldn’t mind giving it up to skin you alive and feed you to the dogs!”

“Mmhh!” tried to scream Zari, concerned.

“And you shut up, brat, or you’ll get it too!”

Lysandra felt her nose drip as the sack became damp with blood. They lifted her and set her back up, and she felt the Crow beside her again. She felt the steel of a dagger at her neck.

“And now that I think about it, maybe I’ll settle for only half the payment and let my guys have some fun with the girl for the rest of the day, down here, while you hear her scream,” he said, in a threatening tone. “I’ll think it over upstairs, with a glass of wine. Guys, watch them. If they do anything weird, cut the blonde’s throat.”

“Uh, Crow; which one is the blonde?” asked a voice from the other side of the room.

“Idiot, the smaller one. If you’re unsure, strip her petticoats and check the color of her hair,” responded the Crow, annoyed.

She heard the wretched man climb the stairs, and at least a couple more sat near them. Then, silence, except for some muffled voices coming from the upper floor. She felt her temple throb, and her face was swelling, painful. But that was better than having the repugnant little man next to her.

She thought about what she could do to get out of there. Fortunately, the Crow wasn’t well-informed about her abilities. True, being able to speak made things much easier, as concentration mantras helped focus the mind. But it wasn’t indispensable. A trained sorceress like her could perform spells without speaking, if she could concentrate enough.

She didn’t need to see her target either, although it was preferable, to control who or what it affected. Otherwise, it would impact everything within the radius of her influence, chaotically and unpredictably. So, she had to find a way to deal with the men watching her, do it silently, and avoid harming her sister. Then, she’d also have to free herself from the bonds. Oh my, it was quite the challenging task!

She mentally reviewed all the spells she could use. Put them to sleep? That wouldn’t harm her sister, but it would put her to sleep too. And then, how would she free herself? No, bad idea. Make them untie them? She wasn’t sure how that would influence Zarinia. Besides, mind control would exhaust her, and once the men fulfilled the order, they would come back to themselves and kill them. Telekinesis? Move a knife or dagger to cut the bonds? No. Absolutely not. She wasn’t particularly good at that. Her specialty was mind control. No, “will domination” sounded better. And to move things with her mind, she needed to see the object clearly, or everything would end up flying around the room.

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She continued thinking for a while until suddenly, she had an idea. It was risky. Even crazy. She’d only have one chance, but the situation called for it. And at that moment, it was the best she could come up with. She tried to forget about the pain, the throbbing in her face, the smells, the ropes binding her wrists. She concentrated, closing her mind to the outside, sinking deeply into her inner consciousness, into her personal darkness. Her breathing became stronger and slower, which must have alerted her guards, as she felt them getting up from their chairs.

But the spell was already in motion. Until now, she had never achieved something so complex. She had always projected simple commands: "Bring me that," "Open the door," "Fall asleep," "Carry these things for me."… After that, her control ended. Her mother had shown her how to control minds more deeply, but she had never managed to do it herself. Nevertheless, she had to try.

This involved introducing something deeper than a direct command: a feeling, a memory, a desire that would make the person keep their will but focus it on the goal she needed. She would delve into the minds of everyone around her, not to force them to release her, but to convince them that they had to protect and help her at all costs. The effort was immense, as she couldn't focus her power on any particular mind, and what she intended to do was the most complicated thing she had ever attempted. But she had to endure. Either she succeeded, or they would die right there.

She concentrated, exerted herself, and used all her Power, to the point where her nose started to bleed again. And when she was about to faint, she felt someone cut her bonds and remove the sack from her head. She saw her sister, holding her to prevent her from falling off the chair, and their two guards, who had suddenly switched sides, covering the stairs with their swords drawn. The effect wouldn’t last long, so they had to act quickly.

“Don’t worry, Lysandra, we’ll protect you no matter what. We won’t let anyone hurt you, and we’ll get you out of here,” said Zarinia, as she removed the gag.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Zari,” Lysa replied, in a low voice. “Forgive me for getting into your head like this, you know I’ve come to hate it. But I had no other choice. Now, listen carefully. Even though right now you think these men are your friends, I want you to remember who they really are. They are our captors, and they are going to kill us. Please remember, before they… revert to themselves.”

"I know, and I'm sorry, Zari," Lysa replied softly. "Forgive me for getting into your head like that; you know very well that it's something I've come to hate. But I had no other choice. Now, listen to me carefully. Although right now you believe these men are your friends, I want you to remember who they really are. They are our captors, and they are going to kill us. Please remember. You need to be yourself again before they… become themselves again."

Zarinia looked at her sister, puzzled, as if she didn't quite understand what she was saying.

"But Lysa, they are them. They are our friends."

"Yeah? And what are their names? How do you know them?" Lysandra responded, exhausted.

Zari stared off into space, thinking. It was clear that in her mind, loose gears were starting to reconnect. She opened her mouth, intending to say something, but no sound came out. Then she looked at the men, puzzled, and instantly, her eyes widened as she came to her senses.

"What do we do with them? How long will they be like this? What do I do, Lysa?" she suddenly burst out in a fit of anxiety.

"Calm down. At least they'll stay like this for a few more minutes. They won't harm you for now. Take their daggers. And you'll have to kill them before they regain their will," Lysandra said, trying to stay awake.

"What? Like this, in cold blood? No, I can't. Besides, they are our friends. No, wait, they're not. But I'm not going to kill them this way. I… I can't," whimpered Zarinia, who suddenly began to tremble, on the verge of tears. Her mind was still struggling to recover fully.

"Zari, I'm too weak to do it. I can barely stand. Right now, they won't resist. If you hesitate or wait, they will kill us both."

"But… but I… I never…" stammered the poor girl, retreating fearfully to a corner. "What if I enchant them?"

"What are you going to do, create an illusion to make them think we're not here anymore? They'll raise the alarm, and it will have been for nothing. You'll end up exhausted, and I need you at full strength," Lysandra pleaded, holding her hands and looking her in the eyes. "Please, Zari, we both depend on you. It's them or us."

Zarinia nodded, uncertain, and approached one of the bandits from behind, who turned as soon as he noticed her drawing the dagger from its sheath.

"Good idea, girl. Better to be armed for when they come down," the man said, smiling at her.

At that moment, he didn't seem like a bad guy. Not too old, with hard, defined features, a goatee, though with bright eyes. Lysandra watched as her sister gripped the weapon tightly. But it started to tremble in her hands. No, it wasn't the weapon. It was Zari, trembling all over.

"What's wrong, friend?" asked the other man, who had also turned to see what she was doing.

He was shorter and stockier, almost bald, with simpler, rounder features. He attempted a smile, but suddenly, a doubt crossed his face.

"Wait a moment. What are you doing with that dagger? And also…"

"Do it now, Zari! There's no time!" Lysandra shouted, struggling to get up from the chair. If her sister couldn't do it, she would have to, somehow.

The girl looked away from the man with the goatee and took a step forward. His eyes suddenly lost their brightness, and his expression turned to surprise as he realized the girl had pierced his heart with the dagger.

"I'm… I'm sorry," was all Zari could say, her eyes filled with tears, as the man fell to the ground, lifeless.

The other man was horrified and confused, backing away from the girl and brandishing his sword.

"Why? We are comrades. Wait… No… You… What have you done to me? Help!"

Lysandra, alarmed, heard voices and footsteps rushing on the floor above. It was over; they had lost. Maybe Zari could cast a spell against the first enemies to come down, but she couldn't handle them all. And she had no strength left. But she would fight to the end. She threw herself, screaming, at the surprised man so he was unable to use his sword, and they both fell to the ground. Meanwhile, the girl pounced on him in a fit of hysterical fury, stabbing the ruffian repeatedly in the back with the dagger, while he howled for help.

"Run, Zari! Save yourself!" Lysandra tried to shout. But her voice came out as a barely audible whisper.

She felt everything growing darker. She was short of breath and felt a deep pain next to her chest. It was the sword. It had pierced her side when they fell. She lay on the damp straw covering the floor, looking at the ceiling, covered by the heavy man's body, who no longer moved or screamed. She saw her sister curled up beside her, crying and shouting, though she couldn't hear her. She tried to push the body away to free her but couldn't. Strong arms pulled her away, and she watched as several bandits dragged her upstairs, kicking and screaming. It seemed that time was slowing down, and everything was happening more slowly. More darkness. More silence.

The last thing she could see was the Crow, crouching beside her, saying something, though she couldn't understand it. She only saw his lips moving. She was unable to hear anything anymore. He spat in her face and drew his dagger. She felt the cold steel lightly on her neck, waiting for the fatal cut. She thought she heard her sister screaming, "Enough! Stop! STOP!". Or more than hearing her, it felt like she sensed her in her head. The last thing she could see before fading was the blurry image of the Crow next to her, with a fixed look and a strange expression. Motionless.