Ryder left his bedroom, walking down the short hall from the bedrooms to where the hallway overlooked the frontroom of his parents small house. He leaned against the railing, looking down at his parents sitting on the couch below him. His mother, a small petite woman, was held against his father possessively by one of his arms, her head laying on his chest in submission to his toxic masculinity and subtle misogyny. Ryder curled his lip in disgust for his mother's internalized submission to the patriarchy and his father's encouragement of it. His two little sisters were sitting on the floor in front of his parents, watching TV.

Tugging the bottom of his black leather jacket, Ryder walked to the stairs, walking down the hardwood steps till his booted feet hit the soft carpet of the front room.

"Where are you going, honey?" His mother asked. No matter how many times he asked her not to use nicknames that infantilized him she insisted on using them anyway.

"To the Burger Times," Ryder said.

"It's a school night, be back by midnight," His father said without taking his eyes from the TV.

Ryder sighed in disgust. He was eighteen, almost nineteen. He was mature enough to know how much sleep he needed, he didn't need his father treating him like a child.

"Don't sigh, dear, it makes you sound like a sad little girl," His mother said.

"Whatever," Ryder said, sweeping out of the frontroom to the dining room.

He hated the way his mother stayed submissive to his father. Like the fact his father worked a job made it natural that his mother keep the house and do all the work and emotional labor of keeping the family running. Ryder often felt his father should let his mother work and take over what his mother did so he could see just how tough it was to be a woman in the modern world.

Ryder pushed the thought out of his head before he got angry, going into the garage. His mother's little hybrid car sat next to his father's gas guzzling dinosaur, but he spared them no thought or glace, his eyes instead on his pride a joy.

A BMW Electrolux x500i hybrid motorcycle. Ryder had gotten it for his 16th birthday, and he'd gotten his license inside of a week. Ryder lover the curves and design of the motorcycle. Strong, but not aggressively masculine.

After putting on his helmet, Ryder used his remote to open the garage door, then started his motorcycle up, the low purr of the electric motors soothing. He thumbed the garage door control and then shot out of the garage, ducking slightly to avoid the lowering door.

Ryder drove through the dark rainy night, zipping in and out of traffic. Stopping at a traffic light, Ryder enjoyed the feeling of freedom and rebellion that his motorcycle and attitude gave him. At the right street he turned off the main road and went down the street to his best friend's house. Stopping at the curb, Ryder thumbed the horn, the little beep beep of the horn sounding out over the rain and thunder.

Jack Roberts, who's father was ex-military, left his house, hurrying down the walk. Like Ryder he was wearing a leather jacket and carrying his helmet. Brown hair combed like Ryder's, his blue eyes were sharp and penetrating. Like Ryder he had a strong jaw with a cleft chin and a lean body that made the girls sigh. He stopped long enough to put his helmet on and press the button the side of activate the Blu-Tooth.

"Can you hear me?" Jack asked.

"Right-o, Daddy-o," Ryder said. "Get on. Let's go to the Burger Times."

Jack swung his leg over the back of the bike, putting his hands on Ryder's waist. "Ready."

Ryder hit the accelerator, the electric engines gaining speed until they were racing through the dark and rainy night, the thunder and lighting adding to the excitement.

"Think Skylar will be at the Burger Times?" Jack asked.

Skylar was a plain girl, with flawless features pale tanned skin, who had one pink eye and one green eye. Her pink hair with blue edging was attention getting, despite her plain perfect looks. An outspoken intersectional progressive feminist, her veganism combined with her activism for women's rights is what gained Jack and Ryder's attention.

Both of them liked that she didn't give into traditional gender roles.

"Hopefully. She's going to Evergreen College like we are," Ryder said, taking the corner fast, having to lean slightly. Jack leaned with him, the two of them having ridden the motorcycle like this for months and quickly mastering it.

Up ahead was the Carson River Bridge. Nearly two miles, it spanned the wide, deep, and slow river. Ryder noticed that the bridge was dark and silently cursed the greedy conservative politicians, none of which were in power in his city, county, or state, for taking money from infrastructure and probably spending it on the war mongering imperialistic military.

Together, the two bad boys raced onto the bridge, the electric motor purring as they sped onto the dark expanse of asphalt, concrete, and steel. Ryder held down the accelerator, watching as the speedometer slowly climbed to seventy miles an hour, the powerful dual electric engines humming between his legs.

They whipped across the bridge, the electric motors humming, the tires hissing on the rain wet pavement. The wind smeared the raindrops across Ryder's visor, blurring his vision slightly, but he wasn't worried about it.

Ryder gunned the electric motors as he approached the intersection, the lights turning yellow as he approached. He leaned forward, Jack staying tight on his back, the other man's hands sliding around to hold tightly around Ryder's waist.

The light turned red and Ryder realized he'd made a mistake. He was going too fast on the rainy road to stop, but was too far from the intersection to gun through it safely. The road being wet meant that at the speed they were going, nearly seventy-five miles an hour, that they would slide on the slick asphalt before stopping.

"Hang on," Ryder said, knowing the motorcycle's built-in Blu-Tooth could carry his speech to his best friend holding tightly to his back. Jack's arms tightened around his waist as they approached the intersection at nearly eighty miles an hour.

The semi-tractor trailer rig roared into the intersection, carrying a load of logs.

Ryder and Jack had almost no chance to react.

Ryder yanked the handlebars around, turning the wheel sharply, but the wet road gave the front wheel no purchase and instead of turned the bike started sliding forward, the back wheel kicking out.

The two young men hit the trailer, full of logs, broadside. The motorcycle came free of the two men, rolling, bouncing, leaving behind scrap of chrome, steel, and plastic as it bounced underneath the trailer and then down the street in a shower of sparks.

Jack and Ryder his the side of the trailer, were crushed off the motorcycle, and then their velocity pulled them under the trailer. The driver of the semi hit the breaks, but it was too late. Both young men were pulled underneath trailer, rolled, and dragged nearly thirty feet as the semi's brakes chattered and squealed.

Ryder was aware of pain, strange pain. Distant, yet consuming. He felt like his legs should hurt, but he couldn't feel anything beneath his chest. He could see Jack laying nearby, his limbs twisted.

His vision was dimming, his body going cold, as he stared at his life-long friend.

The sound of spurs on stone rang loudly as heavy bootsteps approached Ryder. The young man tried to look up, but found he couldn't move at all.

The boots, highly polished, militaristic looking black boots, stopped in front of Ryder. A man in a gray uniform with red edging stopped, kneeling down by Jack's head.

"You're not going to last much longer, Jack," The man said. His voice was a deep bass and sounded amused. "Do you want me to save you?"

There was a horrible gurgling, choking sound.

"Anything I want, just save you?" The man's voice was amused. "Promise it again."

Ryder could see that the man had Old West style spurs on his boots, only fancier, with gold and silverfish metal on the wheels in intricate designs.

"Anything? You'll give me anything?" He chuckled. "Swear to me anything and everything, Jack Roberts, and I'll consider saving you."

The man reached out, touching Jack's bloody forehead. Ryder was dimly ware that Jack's helmet had somehow come off in the impact.

"Promised thrice and sealed, Jack Roberts," The man said. "It will be painful, your passage into my care, but into my care you will pass."

He straightened up. "You may try to scream. There is no shame."

The man turned toward Ryder, taking three steps forward, and it was at that moment that Ryder became aware that the raindrops had stopped. It hadn't stopped the raining, the raindrops were still suspended in mid-air. As the man approached they flattened against his gray cloth uniform, slid to his sides, and vanished.

The man had a rack of multi-colored ribbons on his left breast. Pins and medals Ryder didn't understand on the right and left side.

He's a Nazi, Ryder thought, feeling fear. Still the pain, both so intense and so far away, made him choke and gag. He could taste blood in his mouth, and it oozed from his mouth.

"Really? You take me for something that archaic, Ryder Black?" the man chuckled. He knelt down and Ryder tried to gasp past the blood flooding his throat when he saw the man's face. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you a Nazi. I didn't know you were black, Ryder thought.

The man's face was dark brown, a starburst of white scar on his right cheek, his eyes nothing but solid chrome or polished steel, his hair cut short enough to see his scalp through what remained. He was smiling, a wide smile of mirth that showed off all his white strong teeth.

"Ryder, Ryder, Ryder," The man chided. "You have only half a heartbeat left. Would you like me to save you?"

Ryder tried to plead through the blood choking him. Please. I don't want to die.

The man nodded. "Nobody wants to die, Ryder. Not really. Not unless they've seen what happens when two naked girls are given a cup."

Misogyny, Ryder thought to himself, his male feminist sensibilities offended.

"Oh, you're going to be an amusing one," The man said. "Do you want me to save you? What will you give me?"

Anything, please, it hurts, Ryder thought.

The man chuckled. "You'll give me anything, but will you give me everything?"

Yes, please, I'll give you everything, anything you want, Ryder thought.

"Swear it. Swear you'll give me everything and anything I want, in that order," The man's voice was suddenly colder than the pavement Ryder was laying on.

Everything and anything you want, please, just save me, Ryder thought desperately.

"Thrice promised and now sealed," The man said. His hand came down, thick strong looking fingers dabbing in the blood that had been coughed from Ryder's mouth. "You will not hurt as long, but it will be painful," The man said. He straightened up, leaving Ryder only able to see his boots. "You may try to scream. There is no shame."

The man walked away, his spurs jingling on the asphalt, the sound rapidly dwindling.

When the sound vanished, the raindrops suddenly began falling again.

Pain, agony filled Ryder, and he coughed once, gouting blood onto the asphalt.

And then it all went dark.

* * * * *

Ryder woke to a steady thudding sound that seemed to come from inside of him and around him all at the same time. He could hear the sharp gurgling of bubbles in thick liquid as he floated, weightless, in the fetal position. He was aware he was naked, but it didn't seem to matter, as he slowly rolled in place.

A hand grabbed his hair, lifting him, painlessly, until he felt his head break the surface of some thick liquid.

"Much better," A man's voice rumbled. Ryder knew he should recognize it, even though it was not familiar, but he was sure he had heard it before.

"They were a mess. Why them?" A woman asked. Her voice, rich and sultry, brought the image of lush and wicked nakedness to Ryder's mind.

"I've worked with less. I need but a strand of hair, a hunk of bone, a drop of blood, or a scrap of flesh," The man said.

"But why them?" The woman asked.

"They have a connection to our little Indigo Child," The man said.

Ryder realized that his nose was not above the liquid, but he was breathing slowly, easily. Fingertips touched his exposed brow, but Ryder didn't feel the need to open his eyes to see who was touching him.

"His mind is a mess," The woman said. "Let me smooth it."

The fingertips on his forehead vanished when the man spoke. "No. His thoughts are his own. By my own code, I will not alter them nor him."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The woman sighed. "Fine. He believes things more akin to madness than reality."

The hand let go and Ryder was vaguely aware he was sinking into the liquid again.

"He would undoubtably say the same for us, my love," The man chuckled.

Is everything just a joke to him? Ryder wondered.

"Shh, go back to sleep, little one," The man said, patting Ryder's head just before it sank fully beneath the liquid.

And sleep Ryder did.

* * * * *

The thudding and the touch of a strong hand in his hair woke Ryder again. The hand gently righted him, then pulled him steadily upwards. He was weightless, in a loose fetal position, as he rose up through the liquid. He could hear bubbles in the liquid.

"Let's see how you're doing, little one," The man said.

"Well, he looks much better," the woman said.

The voices seemed familiar to Ryder. Had he heard them before?

"What can I say, I do good work," The man laughed.

"Will you spark them, like you did the girl?" The woman's voice was interested.

"Their power will be equal to hers. That's what they want, equality," The man chuckled. "Although I think they will still find reasons to complain that they are inequal."

"Magefire in a male is dangerous," The woman cautioned.

"Power has its price. They will learn this, or they will die," The man said, his voice bored, like he had said those words too often for too long. "What they do with the gifts I endow them with is up to them."

She woman made a chiding sound. "Why not just make what you want? Why use scraps of flesh and smears of blood you find?"

"It amuses me," The man said. He wiped Ryder's face a few times.

Ryder opened his eyes, but all he saw was luminous neon green.

"He's awake," the woman said.

"Not exactly, but close enough," The man said. Ryder could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "I need your touch upon his mind."

Light fingertips touched Ryder's brow, the ends of fingernails pressing lightly against his skin a half-inch from the pads of the fingers.

Ryder felt, no, saw images flash through his mind. They felt as if they had weight, even as they came and went too quickly for him to even comprehend them. A whispering started in his ears, low, silent, sibilant, worming into his ears and deep into his mind where the whispered coiled and dissolved, spreading into his mind.

Part of him wanted to fight it, struggle against whatever the woman's touch was doing to his mind, but he was too drowsy and warm to care.

"Done," She said, and the fingertips vanished from Ryder's brow.

"Sleep, little one, and grow," The man said. His hand settled on the top of Ryder's head and guided him back beneath the thick liquid. Ryder relaxed, once again curling into the fetal position.

And slept.

* * * * *

Jack Roberts felt a firm strong hand grasp his chin, rotating him slowly. He was weightless, curled slightly, his arms and legs relaxed. He could hear a thudding sound, something he presumed was his heartbeat. Once in a while he'd heard the metallic sound of bubbles moving through whatever he was suspended in.

Jack figured it was a liquid of some type.

Despite that it was liquid, he could breath easily. Slow, long, deep breaths.

For the first time in years, he felt completely relaxed, even as the hand moved from his chin to his hair and began lifting him up. He felt his head break free of the liquid until his eyes were above the surface, even though his nose was still submerged.

"He's awake," A woman's voice said.

"Indeed," A man's voice said. "Well, little one, let's get a look at you."

A heavy and callused hand wiped the goo from Jack's face but even though he opened his eyes all he could see was green.

"All of them had so little potential," The woman said, sounding bored. "Why bother with them? You could fashion tools that would be loyal, would know your will, that would do your bidding with much more reliability than these."

"What's the amusement in that?" The man chuckled. He sighed. "The Gods watch for creations of my Venomous Vats. They would be hindered, hounded, sought after. This is much more amusing."

The woman sighed. "You take such risks, Dusk-Walker," She chided.

"Who," Jack asked, the words bubbling from mouth.

"It speaks," The woman said, her voice sounding surprised.

"Of course. This one's mind works even when he sleeps, even when he dreams," The man laughed.

"Interesting," The woman didn't sound as bored as before. She gave a sigh. "You intend on firing this one's blood too?"

"They should be equal," The man chuckled. "Equality is what they want, I will make them equal."

"You play a dangerous game, beloved," The woman warned.

"Sleep, little one," The man's hand moved to the top of Jack's head, pushing him beneath the fluid.

Jack closed his eyes. There wasn't anything to see but green.

The words should have meant something to him, but they had not.

And as he sunk into sleep, he forgot them.

* * * * *

"Let's get a look at you, little one," The male voice said. Jack felt like he should recognize it, know who it was, but he couldn't recall having ever heard the voice before in his life.

A hand wiped at his face, wiping away some kind of thick liquid.

"Should I bring forth his true-name so it can be inscribed on the Tablets of Fate?" A woman asked.

"No. They serve my goals. I'll not have petty Godlings interfering in my task," The man rumbled. "This one is coming along nicely."

"Better than he was when I first saw them," The woman said, her voice bored. "Where will you place him?"

"With the others," Jack could almost hear the shrug in the man's voice.

"You have a love for that place and places like it," The woman's voice held affection.

The man chuckled. "You know why, Dawn-Strider," he said.

Fingertips touched Jack's forehead and the woman spoke again. "This one is odd."

"In what way?" The man asked.

"Will you grant me an amusement?" The woman asked.

"Of course, my love," The man said.

"Fill his veins with the blood of Von-Lon," The woman said.

The man snorted in amusement. "His kind have no experience with such."

"It falls in line with his beliefs," She protested. "It will amuse me for you to make his beliefs real upon his flesh."

"Very well," The man said. He put pressure on Jack's head, submerging him. "Sleep a while longer, little one. You are not yet full grown."

Jack slept.

* * * * *

Ryder shuddered, cold weight upon his skin. He lifted his head and gasped, as if he had been almost too long under water and his lungs had been close to bursting. He lifted his head from the slick wet clay he had been half buried face down in, taking in another whooping gasp.

It was raining, the same as it had been raining when he had been riding his motorcycle. Like that night, thunder played in the clouds above.

His arms trembled as he pushed himself up, pulling free of the thick sticky mud, until he was on his knees, kneeling in the mud. He bent forward, coughing, thick green liquid pouring from his mouth and nose. Liquid that turned to vapor just past his lips, the liquid vanishing in the rain.

He shivered, hugging himself as he bent forward to cough the thick green liquid from his lungs, the rain washing the thick mud from his naked body. For long moments he hacked, gagged, and coughed up the green fluid, unaware that it leaked from his eyes, turning to vapor right after it spilled over his eyelids.

Finally he was finished, his stomach aching, and he looked around.

Ryder was kneeling in a depression in the mud nearly two feet deep, as if he'd been buried in the mud.

But how was that possible? The last thing he remembered was riding his motorcycle across the bridge. How did he get here? How did he end up buried in the mud?

Around him were thick bushes. He was in a clear space less than an arm's length bigger than if he was still laying down. On three sides were the bushes, behind him was a large pond, or small lake, of dark water.

Ryder was looking when lightning flashed, showing that the pond was surrounded on three sides by stone cliffs that looked like massive stone blocks stacked upon each other.

Where am I? Ryder wondered, looking around again. There was nothing but brush, darkness, water, and rain. Why am I naked?

Ryder slowly got to his feet, shivering in the rain. He moved down to the pond, wading into the water. It was cold, but Ryder wanted to scrub the mud from his body. He waded waist deep into the water, using his hands to cup water up to his body and wash away the mud.

Finally, he was clean. Ryder waded out of the water, his hands over his genitals, and back into the mud. He looked up when lightning flickered in the clouds, thunder rolling in the night air.

Do I stay here, or should I find shelter? Ryder wondered. If I stay here, I'll freeze.

He moved into the bushes, heading away from the pond. He pushed his way through the bushes, wincing when some branches slapped against his sides or back. Several branches hit him in the groin, leaving him doubled over and gasping, a leaden pain spreading in his stomach. After a bit the bushes gave way to trees, the underbrush thinning and then dwindling to nothing.

Finally, he saw lights moving among the trees. Bobbing lights low to the ground, with shadows moving with the lights.

"Hello? Is there anyone out there?" Ryder called out. "I'm lost!"

The lights began moving toward him. Ryder moved faster, heading toward the lights.

Finally, people.

* * * * *

Skylar closed her eyes, shivering in the rain. The last thing she remembered was laying on her bed, reaching out for the lightning with her aura. Now she was standing ankle deep in thick sticky red mud, surrounded by bushes. Skylar looked up at the clouds, squinting, watching the purple lightning flicker up in the clouds.

The sight of the lightning gave her hope. It was bright purple, one of the colors that bracketed the indigo of her aura.

Did I finally catch lightning? She wondered. She closed her eyes, gathering her aura about her, and reached out toward the lightning.

Instead of the emptiness, the lack of sensation, that she was used to when she tried to reach out with her Indigo Child abilities, things were suddenly different.

The world around her was alive. She could feel a great rushing power surrounding her, like she was in the middle of the rapids of a great river. It surged around her, a storm of power that felt like it was battering her. She could feel the deep stillness of the water behind her, touch the trees and brush around her, taste the lightning in the sky, hear the power of the storm ravaging the night.

With a gasp she opened her eyes, releasing her Indigo powers, frightened by the sudden sensation of her powers actually touching something.

The sight of her arms made her scream in shock and fear.

Beneath her skin was a complex, intricate pattern of gold, blue, and red light that pulsed like a fire. She watched the light surge, ebb, and flow beneath her skin. Thick lines ran up and down her arms, smaller curling lines spiraling off of the thicker ones. The light from the fire beneath her skin was bright enough to light up the leaves on the bushes around her.

After her initial shriek of fear she stopped, staring at the fading light under her skin. It slowly faded away, leaving her pale skin unmarked. As it faded she felt as if something was draining out of her, leaving her body, an odd feeling like nothing she had ever felt before.

Just moments before she had been shivering, freezing in the rain. Now she felt like she had been standing in the summer sun, steam rising off of her. She was panting with the heat.

She was disappointed that the light beneath her skin had been gold, pale blue, and crimson rather than indigo like she knew her aura was.

Keeping her eyes open, she tried drawing on her Indigo powers, just like she had practiced since she was a child.

This time she saw it. The glow started between her small firm large breasts, turning from a soft glow to an intricate runic pattern.

I hope none of these runes are from a marginalized group. I don't want these patterns to be some kind of cultural appropriation, Skylar though at she watched it slowly spread.

It spread across her chest, and she could feel her body begin to heat up as the scrollwork began to flow down her stomach, across her shoulders, and finally down her arms and legs.

The light seemed to come along with some kind of tingling, burning feeling inside of herself. It seemed to create some kind of pressure inside of her that made her skin feel like it was swollen and tingly.

The smell of scorched and burnt hair reached her pert upturned nose and she made a face. She let go of the light, looking at her bangs. They were unmarked, although she felt her spirit droop slightly when she saw her pink and blue dye was gone, her hair back to golden blonde again. She could still smell scorched hair and looked down.

With a shock she realized the smell was coming from her armpits, her legs, her arms, and her crotch. She reached down and touched her pubic hair, startled when she felt it crumble and fall away. She took a minute to rub her legs, her arms, her armpits with her hands, rubbing away the singed hair.

The light creates a more heat than I thought, Skylar thought to herself.

She was nervous as she brought up her power again, afraid that she would damage the hair on her head. The tingling, burning feeling filled her as the light spread from the middle of her chest and across her body.

Skylar used the light to move through the bushes. Holding the light inside of her was an effort, like exercising in PE class, and was leaving her covered in sweat, but she needed the light to see.

She started staggering from exhaustion and let go of the power, reaching out with one hand to lean against a tree. When she let go of the power there was a bright flash that lit up the woods, making her eyes water.

The night closed back in as Skylar leaned against the tree, blinking the tears out of her eyes, her body covered in sweat. She panted at the heat, feeling like she'd spent too long in a tanning booth.

In the distance, not too far, she could see light. It looked like several fires, and a bunch of lights. Skylar wiped her brow and headed forward again, heading toward the lights.

"Hey! Hello! I'm lost!" Skylar called out, stumbling on hidden roots. "Hello!" Her nudity was completely forgotten as she hurried toward the lights. "Hello! I need some help!"

She heard voices and saw bobbing yellow lights heading toward her.

"Yes! Yes! Over here! I need help! I'm lost!" Skylar said, jumping up and down.

Unnoticed, in her excitement, the intricate rune between her chest lit up, an intertwining pattern of red, blue, and gold fire.

The lights started moving toward her faster.

Skylar stopped, staring. It looked like small children carrying old style lanterns moving toward her.

"Over here, they're over here!" One figured called out.

"I see them! It looks like a woman!" another one yelled.

"Quickly, quickly!" A third shouted.

Skylar suddenly remembered she was naked as the first two approached her. While they were short, only coming up to her waist, their mustaches and short beards showed they were adults. Their lanterns cast harsh shadows, making them look fierce.

"Um, stay back," Skylar said, covering her breasts with her arm and her groin with her hand. "Don't come any closer, I'll scream."

A third joined the first two, this one a woman. Their lights combined and she was able to see them clearly. The two men were wearing roughly looking pants, dyed dark red, light blue cloth shirts and brown leather vests. Their boots kicked up dirt as they headed straight for Skylar. The woman was shorter than the two men, her hair done up in braids, a patchwork dress of different colors covering her.

"It's nothing against little people," Skylar said, backing up. "Don't touch me."

"Is it magic?" The male on the right asked.

"Is she casting?" The one on the left shouted.

Both of the men were still moving toward her, slower now.

"No. I do not know what she speaks, but it is not arcane," The woman said, slowing down.

Skylar could see runes and patterns of light beneath the short woman's skin. Only thin lines of blue, missing the gold and crimson of Skylar's fire.

"Wait, please, that is happening to me," Skylar tried, looking at the woman. She brought up her own power. "I don't understand."

"Careful, she has power," the woman called out.

Both men suddenly came to a stop, holding up their lanterns. "Ware, Mistress, ware."

"Stay back, I'm uncomfortable with you staring at me," Skylar said. "I don't give my consent for you to stare at my naked body."

"What is it?" The woman asked, lifting her hand. Skylar could see that her hand was wrapped in bluish light, the tracery of runes beneath her skin brighter near the wrist and dimming toward her elbow.

"She's a pale one! Pink of skin and gold of hair!" The one on the right called out.

"She has fire of red, blue, and gold," The one on the left shouted.

"Does she have tattoos? Brands? A collar?" The woman asked.

"Please, help me, I'm lost and scared," Skylar said, almost crying with fear and confusion.

"No," The one of the left called out.

"What do we do, Mistress?" The one on the right asked.

"Run back, get bindings, I will hold her. She appears untrained, like the other two," The woman said.

"I'm cold and need clothing. Please, help me," Skylar said.

The one on the right turned and ran away, his lantern swinging in his hand. The woman began chanting, her fingers making intricate patterns in the air that left behind trails of phosphoresce. The one on the left shifted, making Skylar turn slightly to watch him, still covering her breasts and crotch.

He' trying to get a better look at me. He's disgusting, staring at me like that, Skylar thought.

She opened her mouth when the woman finished what she was muttering with a sharply shouted word.

Chains of amber fire leaped from the ground, wrapping around her wrists, around her waist, around her neck. Skylar could feel a tingling burning as chains spread from around her waist and neck to cross her back and chest. Her arms were pulled out straight, her knees buckled as the chain around her neck yanked her forward.

Skylar shrieked as she fell forward, landing painfully on her knees. Her arms were pulled by her wrists slightly behind her, and her head was pulled down by the fiery chain around her neck.

When Skylar went to speak the chain around her neck tightened her, gagging her. She struggled, trying to scream, but the chain around her neck would tighten, cutting off her cries.

"She's strong," The woman said. "Even untrained, she can nearly break my bindings upon her."

Skylar struggled, trying to bring up that energy. She felt the burning tingle start in the middle of her chest and the fiery chains seemed to loosen. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her aura.

Again she could feel the surging, roiling energy surrounding her. She could feel a burning bright fire and knew it was the small woman. Skylar could even sense the rippling tingling cord that connected her to the small woman.

Skylar realized that she could burn that cord away, draw in the power surging and rushing all around her, and snuff the smaller woman's fire with one of her own.

Skylar slowly straightened, baring her teeth in snarl, and started gathering her power. Bringing it in from around her, feeling it roar up inside of her.

Her intricate fire beneath her skin flashed into sudden bright light. Gold, crimson, and azure mingling and twisting together in complex patterns.

"I can't hold her," The small woman cried out.

With a yell of fear and aggression the smaller man drew a thick truncheon from his belt and charged forward.

Skylar looked over just in time to see it as it crashed into her face.

And everything went black.