My consciousness returns slowly. I’m drowsy. My body aches. I can’t even find the strength to open my eyes. I am lying on my belly over some surface; rugged, damp, hard and cold. My mood has its ups and downs.

Dry throat.

Hungry.

Sad.

Bruised.

Heartbroken.

I don’t have tears anymore. I cried all I could on this floor.

The feeble strength left is entirely used to breathe. Feet is numb. Fingers tingle. Something scurries over my ankle. I think it is a rat. I hear its steps like *pik pik pik* around me. Then it begins to gnaw on something. It goes *wrok wrok wrok*. After a while, more *pik pik pik*. And it goes away.

Time goes on. A standstill. It is still the same moment as it was ago. Beating. Violence. I’m hated. I don’t know my crime. Men come to my cell, and just beat me. They slap my face, punch my womb. I'm stripped naked, and shamed in front of them. The make a circle, with me in the middle. Insults fly while they hit me.

"This is what you deserve for giving yourself to that monster."

"Shit, I had to risk my neck in that expedition just to get this filthy bitch back to town."

"Oh, I'm disgusted just for touching her with gloves"

"Monster bitch. The world will be undone by your spawn. Die."

In desperation, I try to reach for solace: "Grendel..." but I find only scorn.

"Whoa, did you hear that guys? She is calling for that thing! Disgusting." another kick. I try to run somewhere safe, they push me back.

They never abuse me so far that I get endangered. They are doing this to "purify" me, not to kill me. When some guards went too far, they were reprimanded. I'm important to them still.

"Why did the boss bring this filth into town? What if she birthes demons in here?"

"That is none of your business. You were the one that asked to come here. Just leave."

"Poor girl. She was so beautiful, so lively, to become a nest for demons."

"Cut it out. She did that by herself. If it were my daughter, she would've ended her life on the spot with her own hands."

Words of loathing and deject hurt me more than spears. Days go by. The abuse grows. I dislocate a shoulder. They are scolded by someone. I’m not beat every day now, but they always force me to take the herb extract. It makes my mind cloudy.

The guards got tired of me, I am like a broken toy.

I was brought into somewhere deeper. Damper. Darker. They dressed me in a tunic made of rags.

The swelling of my face makes it difficult to even open a slit of my eyes. I'm in darkness in more than one way. But I have to overcome my weakness. I have to become strong, or I can't stay by Grendel's side.

I try moving my arms, there is the cold feeling of metal around my wrists. The part that was in contact with my unmoving body is warm. I try moving my legs, there is metal around my ankles.

I realize my predicament. I am imprisoned. I am without a spec of MP. Chained. Abandoned.

Magi are drugged when put in prison, or they would use magic to escape. There is a controlled herb that cuts MP recovery. Chytheria. Mildly poisonous. Causes fever and dizziness on top of the MP exhaustion. I'm feeling those now.

Some dust is caught up in my breath. I cough. After a while, a jingling sound, and footsteps. Heavy footsteps that echo in the otherwise silent prison. They draw close, then stop.

A man’s voice resounds. “So you are awake, monster wench. Good, good. Lets have some fun.”

I try to tell the man I am still pure. I haven’t been touched by any monster. But the voice is not there. Just some dry whispers, like wheezing.

Jiggling, clacking, metal creaking. Someone is inside my cell. A hand moves over my scalp, then grabs my hair and pulls my head up.

“Aren’t you lovely today? Hungry? Thirsty? What is the matter, did the rats chew your tongue away?”

A splashing sound. The anticipation of water makes every hair on my body stand up.

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“Here, drink up.” - The man’s voice is very close to me.

Something touches my lips, then a cold liquid moistens them. I open my mouth a little, and begin to sip it. It is stinky, filthy and muddy. But still I sip. Unease wells up in my stomach. My body tries to throw up, but there is nothing. I end up belching and spitting the liquid. The hand releases me at once, and my face hits the stone floor.

“Oh, you don’t want our ‘hospitality’… so be it lass. Have it your way.”

The man leaves the cell, and the sounds repeat in reverse. Creaking, clacking, jiggling. Steps going far away.

Silence reigns. A stiffness like a knot chokes my throat. I want to cry, but nothing happens. No tears. I drift back into unconsciousness.

Between episodes of consciousness, I attempt to use magic. There is no MP. Meditation. MP recovers but the herb takes it away. I faint from MP exhaustion.

I wake up to the sound of steps. Softer steps. Jiggling, clacking, metal creaking. A woman’s whispers. It is warmer than before. It is daytime already. My face is swollen.

“The rat ate her food again… Oh dear. If it goes like this, she will waste away.”

I move and groan. ‘Help me’ the words that don’t come out. I move a hand towards the voice.

Voice is startled and scared. “Don’t touch me. Pu-please.” The girl pleas for me not to soil her. Loathing. I’m worse than a cockroach or a rabbit in her eyes. “I can still marry.”

She won’t be able to marry if I just touch her. It comes to me now. The guard called me ‘monster wench’. They think Grendel and I… we… did not.

I summon all my strength. Words come out in a very weak and hoarse voice.

“Water… wa… ter, please.”

I hear splashing. She picked up the cup, but her hands are shaking.

“Don’t move. I will give you water. Turn around and stand still.”

I turn around, moving my head to a side. She pours a few drops of water over my mouth. Most of it spills, but some finds its way to my throat. Clear water from the well. Soothing. Nothing in my life will ever be so delicious as this water.

“More… water, please.”

Slowly, the contents of the cup are poured. I drink all I can. I lick the stone ground. The woman whispers words of disgust. I can’t hear her.

“Your food is here. Eat it.” - She leaves hurriedly.

Time passes. I feel my blood flowing once again because of the moisture. I can’t cry here. Can’t waste water. Scent of gruel. Can’t reach it. I can’t see. Eyes won’t open. Magic. My only talent. I have to cast a spell. The poison saps my focus.

Pain.

Sadness.

Despair.

I want to fade away into nothing. But I can't. Grendel is waiting for me. One thread of hope. The poison is weak. I can feel some power. But still it fades. Again I fail and faint.

After it becomes quiet, the rat comes out. It moves to the food, and begins eating.

Rat goes away. Steps. Several people are coming. Jiggle, clack, creak. The door opens.

“Too bad this girl has ended like this. She learned under me for a while.” I know this voice. It is the apothecary uncle. Kind. Reserved. Name Alvus. Taught me about herbs. I used to go there in my breaks from my magician apprenticeship. He was next door to my master.

Herbs. Even back then, they spoke to me. I couldn’t hear their voices then, but I notice them now. He opens a vial, and I understand why he is here. Chytheria extract. Imprisoned magi must be controlled. Even though the remedy causes wasting. It is mildly poisoned. They were giving it to me while I was passed away. But now I am awake and hurting all the time.

The Chytheria extract is near me. Hands hold my mouth and pull down my jaw. A metal spoon is shoved over my tongue. Press down. Hurts. Chytheria is dead in the flask. But its power is still there. I can feel it. Maybe I can use it? I can’t focus. Must. I plea the Chytheria.

"When all else has abandoned me be kind to me you of all things. Heed my plea." I pray in my head.

Sadness makes me lose precious moisture in my eyes. Push it back. I must concentrate. There is no MP in me, but I focus. Can’t chant even so. My inner voice.

I can talk with the voice of my soul. The metallic scent of blood runs in my nose. It is bleeding. Warm blood drips into my mouth.

The apothecary drips Chytheria extract in my throat. Skipping the tongue, straight in the gullet. Drops are carefully counted out loud. One. Two. Three. The voice is soft, like a lullaby. Alvus is kind. Thank you. Bitter. Poisonous. My body wants to reject the Chytheria extract. Throw it up. I’m held. Nose pinched hard. Forced to swallow.

“She is at her limit. We can’t keep giving her the extract for too long. Also, you are not feeding her. See? The bowl is upturned, the porridge spilled all around, there are paw prints everywhere.”

"So you have sympathy for this thing, doc. I didn't think you would..."

A long pause, and then Alvus continues. “I understand the circumstances, and I will do what is best for the village. But all will be wasted if she dies.”

In my world of darkness, the rude hands release me. Hasty. Harshly. My breathing is rugged. Cut short. The poison is making its job.

Alvus complains. “Hey, slowly there. Do you want me to tell the captain you killed the girl because you let her head drop on a stone? She will die if you don’t take care.”

The rude man snorts. “Just heal her. I don’t want to have nothing with this ‘monster bride.’ It was bad luck I got assigned to assist you. My wife told me not to touch her tonight, and to go to the river wash myself tomorrow morning. I'll have to sleep in the floor today.” His voice shows a deep disgust.

“I will put it on the garrison’s tab." Sounds of glass. A potion. My mouth is opened, the liquid is poured inside. Warmth wraps around me. I can feel the swelling of my face improving.

I will remain motionless. Spasms come and go from the poison. Cold sweat.

The guards and Alvus leave. The door is closed and locked. I’m wearing my cloak of darkness again.

The sacrifice has been made. I bid my time, to see if it was accepted.