I try to breathe carefully, like Mama had taught me, so I can calm down. At this rate, I’ll be killed in my own core - if that’s possible. The memory of Mama’s patience spurs on another wave of confusion and sense of betrayal. I don’t understand! Why wouldn’t anyone tell me about something so important?! What if the woman who gave birth to me had something to do with this elemental situation? Xavier should have told me more! I don’t care about some stupid history lesson, tell me about her! Anger rises from within my confusion and overwhelms me. Through all these thoughts I begin pounding on the wall he used to be encased in. On the first hit, a crack spreads, on the second hit, the crack turns into a hole, on the third, the hole crumbles into what looks like a tunnel. My curiosity is piqued but my anger doesn’t dissipate; this is just one more thing he didn’t mention. I no longer have the intent to throw my weight around but the intense scorn on my face isn’t going anywhere. In the corner of my view I notice movement, the black vines are quickly crawling up the wall to a platform that juts out above me. I didn’t notice this before. I’m then taken away from that discovery by the warmth edging around my feet.

With every second the warmth moves around me I can feel the tension ebbing away. At this point I no longer want to calm down and try to move out of the magma that flows along the floor. Although I try to move out of it, it follows me. With a surging wave, the magma swirls around me and quickly engulfs my legs. I feel a sense of worry and comfort. It’s strange, there’s something about this magma that imitates consciousness. Like a warm embrace, the magma climbs up my body and steals away the strengthening wrath; what’s left is weakening disappointment, fear, and sadness. The thoughts hidden underneath my ire seep through: is it because they didn’t think I could handle it? Obviously I can’t. Mama and Papa were right, I’m too weak to be trusted with something so important.

I stop resisting the magma as it pulls me into the depths and cradles me in its currents. I want to cry, I think I am, did they ever really love me? I don’t notice anything else but the warm, slight pressure on my body. I feel no need to breathe and the lights slowly dim; I just want to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes open and I’m confronted with hazy vision. Oh, wait, my eyes aren’t open yet. I guess it should be more like: I regain consciousness and I’m confronted with something hazy in front of me. I do open my eyes and the image isn’t noticeably clearer. What I’m seeing is distorted and mildly green tinted. It’s like looking through badly made glowing glass colored in a thin, lime hue. Behind it is mostly a dark expanse but I notice some indications that I’m in a room.

As I get up from my place on the floor I notice that the glass isn’t only on one side of me but instead surrounding me completely. It’s like I’m in a box, within a room, dimly lit by the box. The room behind the glow is warped but I can see well enough that there’s nothing else in here but me. Unsteadily, I stand only to lean against the glass to secure my footing. In a moment I realize the shock that my weight isn’t breaking through the translucent wall. This revelation shakes away my haze and I begin to analyze it. Its texture is smooth without any of the protrusions that I expected given its appearance. It’s somewhat chilled and really is glowing. I obviously don’t want to remain trapped so I steady my tired legs and throw a fist straight at it. Amazingly, my fist bounces off and I’m pulled to the other side of the box by the force. The resulting connection of my body and the other side results in a similar force throwing me to the other side with less force than before. My dumbfounded self is left lying on the floor with wide eyes and slack jaw.

“What the fuck?!” I usually don’t talk like this but there’s no regret in my lapse in verbal control.

“Hahahaha.”

Laughter echoes around me and I jolt to attention. No longer laying on the floor, I’m sitting vigilantly with my legs underneath me in an attempt to be ready in case I need to leap to my feet. I haven’t needed to pay so much attention to my surroundings since the fight with the water elemental; even before that I was only twelve years old - it’s been a while. Although I’m scanning my surroundings to the best of my abilities I can’t seem to find any indication of someone else within the room. “Where are you?” Really, that jovial laughter indicates that the man behind the voice doesn’t care if I know he’s here or not. He already revealed himself so why not let me see him?

“It’s unusual, isn’t it? This feeling of weakness,” the man taunts me.

“I’m starting to get used to it,” I wonder if he’ll come out if I talk to him. It’s true that I don’t like the feeling of having no control but it’s not completely strange.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Is that so? Isaac told me that you did well in his fight against you. Well, maybe it wasn’t so much as a fight but rather a struggle against his attacks.” Any sense of being amused is gone and he speaks smoothly but carefully. I’m not sure how to feel about this, it reminds me of Mama interrogating someone when she knows they did something wrong. The memories of the water attacks resurface and I attach the name Isaac to the water elemental.

“‘Struggle, that sounds about right,” I mumble to myself without realizing I’m speaking out loud.

“You’re quite aware of your limits against him, aren’t you?” I can feel his calculating gaze through his voice. “Tell me, why can’t you beat him?” This man confuses me. Why does this matter? I’m already caught and should be dead by now based on how they know my origins. They want something from me and I shouldn’t just let them take what they want without resistance.

“Why do you care about what I think? You should already know the answer if the man himself told you.” There must be something he’s after concerning my abilities. I don't even know what’s going on inside of me. My core doesn’t make much sense in a couple of ways, those vines for instance.

“Your answers tell me if I should let you live or not,” he’s surprisingly blunt. “I can tell whether you’re telling the truth or not so don’t bother lying. I also advise you to not hide any information as well. Every word said and unsaid is taken into account.”

“How can you tell if I’m hiding anything?” There must be some clue from body language; it’s not like he can hear my thoughts. He probably won’t even tell me but I can’t help but to ask.

“It’s better if you don’t know,” his voice turns sharp. “Answer my question. Why can’t you beat Isaac?” He gives me a chance to answer and I can’t deny him at this point. It’s not really for those who told me that I should live, in reality it’s because of my own will.

“First: I can’t use strength against him. His body is made out of water so I doubt I can hurt him by throwing a few punches.

Second: when I’m surrounded by his water I’m somehow lifted up and I can’t secure myself. This means that it’s difficult to run away and use any strength that is already established as useless.

Third: if I open my eyes then he can send water into them and it hurts like Hell.

Fourth: I was able to run away at one point but didn’t because I was worried about him hurting my family. In the end, I only ran because a hunch told me that he’d just leave them and follow me.

Fifth: I’m pretty sure he’s faster than me too.

And sixth: there was someone else working with him.”

There’s a pause of silence before he continues with his questions.

“How were you able to survive?”

“My hard skin protects my magma-like body. When I close my eyelids there’s no way in and I can still see, because of this I was unhurt. Also, a few times he let me escape his water, and so I was able to move around without much difficulty. The real reason I’m sure I survived is that at some point the two decided to let me live. I have no idea what the other one is capable of so there’s a fair chance that the partner could have killed me without trouble.”

“You thought about this a lot, didn’t you?” His voice is calm and still holds that analytical caution.

“I think a lot,” I reply without hesitation. It’s a well known fact to me since it hasn’t only been a benefit but also a hindrance.

“Why is that?” I’m not sure how to answer this question but consider it carefully. This question seems to have a lot of weight behind it.

“Well, I read a lot. What I read has to do with farming and survival. If I don’t understand what I’m reading then someone may get hurt or crops might fail. At best, if I screw up, I can try again. At worst, I would have been responsible for the downfall of the entire family or even someone’s death. So, I developed the habit of overthinking.”

“Hmm,” it’s similar to a grunt of understanding and I can tell that he’s taking a lot from my words and how I say them. It’s the honest truth. I may have been told I was being dramatic or that my worries were unnecessary, but it was how I felt. This was also due to thinking too much and caused a lot of my stress.

“Have you ever been the cause of someone’s death?” He speaks calmly yet these words caused my chest to tighten. There’s no use in lying, like he told me before, he very well may be able to tell if I’m lying or hiding something. It’s best to lay it all out there and hope they consider my honesty; it feels like the dumbest decision I’ve ever made.

“Yes,” this word slides from my tongue and drops heavily into the atmosphere. Neither of us speak for a while and I get the idea that I’m done for. The final nail driven into my figurative coffin.

“Explain.”

“Huh?” This is something I never expected. Why would he care if it’s already been established what I did? I’ve killed people and I admit it! For a second I can only stare into the darkness in front of me.

“I said, ‘explain’. I want you to explain why you were the cause of someone’s death.” He’s a little impatient but otherwise not too agitated.

“Oh,” I’m still surprised. For a little while I describe the situation surrounding the time I killed the three soldiers when the war began. He asks for specifics and with hesitance I tell him everything, about the ax, hammer… and my hands. After I finish he moves on like it was no big deal. The anxiety built up in my chest deflates as he asks me about what I’ve noticed about my body and the time spent in my core. When I wondered if I should tell him about Xavier the box suddenly constricted and I took it as a sign he knew I was holding back. With only a second’s hesitation I slowly relayed what main points I was told by the man within my core. No other sounds reverberated throughout the room but my cautious voice. Even if cautious, all the more worried and fearful. Somehow I felt like I betrayed Xavier and the eerie silence at the end of my tale brought forth thoughts of my own death.