Thoughts raced through my head as the guards pushed me into an enclosed carriage and closed the door behind. A raspy click confirmed that there was no getting out until they decided so. I hadn't seen either of my companions within the curious mob that had formed both inside and outside the tavern, though embarrassingly Mali's had been one of the faces I picked out from the crowd. Why her critical gaze stung more than the rest, I neither understood nor cared for as I sat there, confined by a wooden box.

I could hear the clopper of hooves against cobblestone, the usual desperate murmur from milling townsfolk, and the angry barks from the guardsmen ushering people to step aside. The nasal priest sat by the coachman, that much I could figure from his prideful babbling, though what he said was too muffled to be understood. A few words here and there perhaps—boy...repentance...Aloor—but nothing that could tell me where they were taking me, or why. Though I had my suspicion of that already.

The carriage came to a halt with a whinny from the horse pulling the robust thing. For a time now, I had considered burning my way through the wood, but thinking it through, that scenario would most likely end with me being stuck inside a rolling bonfire. If I lived, I would be marked an outlaw at that. I'm not that dumb, I muttered in my loneliness. Too late anyway. There were hasty steps outside, and then a blinding light, as a firm hand grabbed my arm and pulled me out into the morning sun.

Squinting, I gawked at the massive fortress towering before me, belonging to the lord of Karham. It had been an imposing presence even at a distance, more so up close with its pinnacles and towers, flapping banners and polished guards. While I had hoped and daydreamed of going there one day, I had never expected it to be this soon, or with such a knot in my stomach. I squinted and blinked as they pushed me along, across the courtyard towards one of the lesser entrances.

Father Kelmin led the way, tightly followed by several guards and myself, as we passed through winding, stone-clad corridors leading into a grand hall.

"Halt! Hold your hands out, boy," one of the guardsmen ordered as we approached the arching entry.

They clasped my wrists in heavy wooden shackles, then motioned for me to follow. I was a prisoner of the damn priest, but more than afraid, I felt irritation sear inside. Perhaps it was the fact that the shackles didn't impair my arts but chafed my skin, along with the slightest hint of a newfound confidence. Or perhaps it was the unimpressed glance of something resembling disgust that the powdered man atop a throne-like chair gave both Kelmin and myself as we neared. The lord of Karham sat at the room's center, the most powerful man in this part of the world, nonchalantly picking his nails.

"Why have you come here, to my court, dragging a serf, brother Kelmin?" the lord whined with an expression drooping with boredom.

In response, Kelmin gave a quick, lofty bow, as if it was beneath him to bend to anyone but Aloor himself. "Good morning, my lord!" the slimy priest greeted. "I have brought before you this criminal for judgment."

The lord didn't look all too interested and kept picking at his nails. "Why, Kelmin? We have a house of law, and judges, for that very reason, no?" he said as a counselor, a tall, stern man with graying temples, stepped forth and whispered in his ear, after which the lord exhaled irritated. "Belay, belay... I shall judge the boy."

He turned a face of genuine disgust towards me, and when he spoke, it was as if my very presence insulted him. "You, serf, what hexes did you cast upon father Hoghlas?"

I looked up, confused at the words. "I don't understand, mister—"

"Lord!" The snooty noble angrily interrupted. "You, young man, doth address me as 'My Lord' and nothing else!"

I could feel a surge of emotions within but chose to stay level-headed. "I'm sorry, my lord, I—"

"Go on, explain yourself!" He interrupted once more. "What evil did you muster to cause our most holy to lose his mind?"

I tried to answer, but again I was interrupted, this time by brother Kelmin. "Black magic, conjurings of the dark arts!" the priest bellowed. "I was there, I saw it all. How he, a boy of ill kin, cursed our holy father with darkness!" He stepped closer to the lord, handing him a scroll with a quick bow before continuing. "In father Hoghlas' stead, I shall govern the temple. Good Lord Arbant, I ask for you to see the matter through in this time of strife, Aloor be blessed."

The man on the chair looked taken aback by the priest's words. "Is this what happened, you, serf, did such?" he asked, eyes wide.

I readied myself. This time I wouldn't be interrupted. I had a sinking feeling, however, that my word would hold little weight in this company. Images of festering dungeons and rats played in my head as I spoke. "N...no, my lord. I don't know why the priest acted mad after treating my wound. I'm a mercenary, and newly so, I was simply in need of heal—"

"Lies!" Kelmin shouted, drowning out my words. "The boy is a manipulator of the mind, a dark sorcerer. Take heed for his words, for they curse with even a whisper!"

"I don't know any dark arts!" I cried out with growing desperation.

"Silence, you speak only when spoken to!" It was the stern man by the lord's side who had barked the order.

A servant walked up to the lord, taking the scroll from his hand.

"Bring this to my office, see to it that I sign before the end of the day..." the lord spoke before turning towards Kelmin. "The temple needs a head priest, one that isn't mad, that is."

Kelmin bowed, deeply this time, but from behind I could see the malicious smirk on his lips and the burning ambition in his eyes. I realized then and there that I had never been the target, only a tool to be used. I was a sacrificial lamb, to be locked away or worse, all for one weaselly man's hunger for power.

"I swear..." I cried out, ignoring the stern advisor's words, "I have nothing to do with this. I was told to never explore dark arts by my teacher."

The lord looked annoyed, yet he motioned for me to continue.

"I... I whisper flame, and wind, that is all. I came back from Wolagh just a day ago in need of healing. Indeed, the priest acted strange, but that's all I know!" my words tripped over one another as I hurriedly spoke my mind, trying to explain my innocence.

At first, it looked as if they might have reached the ears of the lord as he listened, curious, but then the stern counselor stepped forth. He slapped me hard across the face so that my knees buckled. I could taste blood from a cracked lip, and my head spun from the strike. Before I could pull myself together, a guardsman grabbed me by the hair while another forced a thick cloth into my mouth and tied it behind my head.

"Even the boy admits being capable of sorcery! Why wasn't he gagged before entry?" The advisor bellowed at the men before returning to the lord's side. "My Lord, may I handle this matter, so that you may later decide on his judgment?"

He received a short nod in response, then continued. "Take the boy to the west wing. And tell Thelik to not go testing any new tools on him. I want him with all his limbs intact, you hear?"

The guards nodded, then firmly pulled me along, out of the grand hall. The lord of Karham sat atop his chair, the same face of disinterest as before, as he returned to picking his nails.

Thelik was, in many ways, a curious man. When I first arrived in the dungeons, gagged, angry and scared for my life, he was friendly and kind. He nodded politely and welcomed me to my new gloomy residence. Often, he sat outside my cell as I cried, listened and comforted me with soothing thoughts.

"It's gon' be all fine, little man," he had said. "The lord will find it in him to pardon you. Soon you'll be runin' about all free again, you'll see."

His words, maybe wishful, still helped to quell the loneliness. But it wasn't just the solemn sadness that overwhelmed me. At times I felt anger well up and claw at my throat.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"I've done nothing to deserve this!" I shouted at the rusty but stubbornly thick door.

I pelted the walls with smaller flames that barely left soot behind on the cold stone.

"It's Kelmin, he lies, that's all he's done, lied!"

But my outbursts did little to resolve my predicament.

"Ho! Still yourself, little man. Scrubbing the walls from that black is thankless work. It's hard enough keeping these dungeons pest-free and the buckets empty, you know," Thelik complained as he peered in through the thin hatch used to serve food. "Now cheer up, little man, and have some famous Thelik-grub! It's not much, but it'll keep you plenty strong."

The crum overseer chuckled with a cheerful voice as he left me a bowl of tasteless, watery stew.

"Don't ask me for the recipe," he joked every time. "It's a family secret, you know, highly guarded."

Without him for company, and my flame for light and warmth, I might have gone truly mad in the cold, damp dark. After one especially wild outburst of shifting tears and anger, triggered by Thelik informing me that I'd been locked away for a full moon, a day of celebration according to him, I sat sniffling, gazing into my bobbing orb of flame, whispering heat into the little ball until it shifted from red to orange, from orange to yellow, then white and finally a deep blue.

"Any day now you'll be free as a bird that is, mark my words!" The man had added, and when I, in a moment of flaring anger, threw the ball at the door—the whole dungeon shook from the impact. I coughed as dust rained from the roof, dizzy from the shockwave.

"I'm sorry!" I shouted through the hatch, afraid I had scared off the only company I had down there.

But all Thelik said was, "Get it all out, little man, but be careful with my door, would you!"

A few days after my outburst, there was noise in the dungeon. Steps and clatter. Thelik was rummaging around out there in excitement.

"It's time!" He cheered. "Finally, it's time, little man!"

I felt a pulse of hope in my chest, the first in a long time. They've seen my innocence, the lord must have changed his mind. It was a moment of relief, and I held back tears as Thelik neared the door with guards by his side.

"Head!" They called, and I did as ordered. Anything to get out of this place, I thought as they covered my mouth with cloth through the hatch. Once the door opened, they bound my hands behind my back with rope and led me onwards. I could see Thelik skip ahead, happily applauding me on.

"It's time, little man, it's time!" He cheered.

We turned a corner into an unfamiliar room that smelled damp and rotten. I could have sworn the stairs were the other way, but I trusted my friend. His kind words had been everything over the past weeks. There was a table at the room's center, and freed from rope, I did as instructed. I lay down on top of it, let the guards clasp iron and leather around my wrists, waist, and ankles. Then, as Thelik cranked a mechanical construct under the table, it moved, angling itself until I hung almost upright, held in place by the shackles. Then the guards left, and I was alone with Thelik.

He turned and smiled at me with crooked teeth from a table across the small room covered by burlap, his eyes happier than I had ever seen through the hatch, his bushy eyebrows dancing on his face like scared caterpillars. He scratched the top of his bald head, a few stubborn strands still falling from beside his ears. There was nothing sweet about his looks, but he had a caring heart, that was for sure.

"I can't take the thing out of your mouth, little man. I hope you understand that," he had said, and I tried my best to nod in response.

"Good!" he beamed while approaching. "Now, there will be a few minor stings. But be assured, ol' Thelik will fix you up all good again!"

He held up a plier and clicked it in the air twice.

"Now the lord has a few questions he'd like answered. Keep them in that bushy head of yours, and you let me know later, alright?"

Later? Confused, I looked at him—wasn't it time? Wasn't I getting freed? He chuckled as if reading my thoughts, a chillingly cold sound as he took a firm grip with the pliers around the nail on my thumb.

"Now stay still, Little man... ready?"

Twitching, I lay on the hard floor, pain still surging throughout my hands, feet, mouth, and another half dozen places. Thelik was a skillful healer, perhaps even as good as father Hoghlas. And though there was no physical proof of what had happened that day, the scars ran deep, and the pain lingered. The questions had been so simple, and I would have happily answered them all, yet I couldn't. No matter how much I squealed or struggled, Thelik refused to remove the cloth from my mouth, kept at it with meticulous precision and rhythm. If he could be considered skillful in the healing arts, he was a true master in the ways of torture.

Next time the man spoke through the hatch, his voice was apologetic, soft, and remorseful, and he repeated the questions one after the other. I replied meekly as well as I could, drained from both anger and will. There was a nothingness left in my chest, a growing void that I crawled into, hid within, and used to close off the world. When sleep came that night, it was a welcome silence, and I wished for it to continue for a long, long time.

The dark around me felt nostalgic, familiar in some odd way, warm and encapsulating.

"I never thought you'd find your way here on your own," a voice chimed. "How...delightful."

I could feel tickling breaths against my ear as the voice whispered while my eyes remained closed.

"This little one was going utterly berserk, and it has been a real pain to keep her from sneaking out again."

I could feel something brush against my side as I floated, like a fetus, weightless through the darkness. No pain, no cruelty, no fear.

"Oh my," the voice said with a concerned sigh. "That took more of a toll on you than I thought...here, let me help."

Something soft briefly touched against my lips, and with it, I could feel the gashes and cuts re-emerge throughout my body. They tore into my skin and flesh, but at the same time, the rotten light forced into me by Thelik evaporated out through the same gaping wounds. Once I opened my eyes and brought my hands before me, there were no signs of damage left behind; still, I had been cleansed. The forever dark expanded around me endlessly, like always, but this time something felt different.

I stretched my legs, stepped onto nothing, only to find that I could move and walk as if on solid ground. The brushing sensation returned, against my leg this time, and when I looked down, I saw Cat's yellow eyes fixed into mine as she began to purr.

"She's been a ball of pure nightmares all day!" The scolding complaints reached me as if from nowhere but also everywhere.

"Who are you?" I asked. She was there, the one from my dreams, I could feel it, hidden in the shadowy veil that surrounded me. "Show yourself!"

A ringing laughter filled the void in response as I took Cat into my arms. With enthusiasm, she licked my hand, pressed and kneaded my arm with her paws. The purring intensified, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she was really there, that this was more than a dream.

"Considering your thoughts last time we met, I'm not sure that's such a great idea," the voice said once the laughter had waned. "Boys will be boys, mortal or divine. My arrogant brother still longs for my shade even as he basks in the sun."

I didn't understand what she was speaking of, but her voice was soothing, and so I listened.

"That little painsmith sure is a funny being. Light influenced by my precious dark, no wonder he fared better than that wrinkly one upon touching you, precious Euran."

I could feel something touch my face, a ghostly hand caressing my forehead, and fingers running through my hair. I could feel the breath on my face, faint and cold.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for a blonde one."

"Blonde?" I returned confused. "My hair is dark... well, almost."

"Exactly!" a resounding cheer echoed by my side. "Almost!"

There was a flicker in the darkness before me as invisible fingers touched my cheek.

"It's been hundreds of years since one of you came through with the right capacity. Now I'll be honest, I thought you'd be one of the lesser, but here you are already beginning to change!"

I followed the touch with my free hand as Cat rested, still purring content against my chest. I felt something cold, yet smooth, felt the touch of fabric and strands of hair tickle my palm. Then something soft, and wet. Lips pressed against the back of my hand while remaining unseen. A haunting groan echoed from within the void and I could feel an immeasurable longing in my chest, a nostalgia, a hunger that wasn’t mine.

"Aaah, a boy in body, but a man in soul..." a heavy sigh followed. "In a few years, perhaps, but not now."

The touch disappeared. And with it, the space before me once again felt empty.

"It is unfortunate that the first to show promise is also the one torn from his memory." I could hear her mumble from around.

"What memory? Is it the dreams? I don't understand!" The questions poured out of me.

In response, images of giant metallic structures, screaming boxes blaring with light, flying wonders and handheld clouds, all flashed by in a chaotic stir. I fell to my knees, trying to make sense of what I'd seen. But before I had collected my thoughts, new images emerged. Visions of a fire-torn landscape danced before me, cities crumbling under black flames, darkness spreading, pulling out the light from deep inside the earth, root and stem.

"The void I seeded within you needs time and should aid you plenty in your growth. But in the end, it's yours to do with as you wish. Know that I will be with you, always watching, judging."

I felt my conscious fade, felt the dark slip away from under my feet.

"Can I come see you again?" I asked the void, clutching Cat close.

"No, I don't think so..." the voice poured from above with a tone echoing with sadness. "I let this door open against better knowing, and I cannot fend off my hunger much longer. I won't welcome you again, at least for some time, my precious Euran."

I began to fall, but still I clung on to Cat, and as we fell, her purring grew even louder.

"Bring her with you, she keeps opening what I struggle to keep closed...alas, know that she will be missed."