5 years earlier

Ropes burned her wrists, and thirst parched her throat. They stopped for the night in the woods. A small fire flickered, offering no warmth to her distant spot. Two men sat nearby: one wiry with sickly pale skin, the other muscular but nearly toothless. Both were filthy. She leaned against the rough bark of a tree, which dug uncomfortably into her back. With tied hands she couldn't get rid of a bug that crawled on her. At least she wasn’t gagged anymore.

The men roasted meat and mushrooms over the fire. The mushrooms had green tops, sparking a brief hope within her. But a glance revealed they were the edible kind. It was very common for folk to mistake the poison for edible green mushrooms. Her grandma taught her how to distinguish them. Saliva pooled in her mouth as the meat sizzled, but all she received was a piece of stale bread from their bag.

The sound of hoofbeats reached her before she saw the rider. A man arrived with a boy, whose hands were also tied. Vira watched, her despair deepening.

"Did you save some meat for me?" the third man asked, taking the boy off the horse. He tugged the child roughly, pausing when he noticed Vira, then shoved the boy to the ground beside her. The child couldn’t have been older than ten. Tears streaked down his face, covered in dirt, likely from the long ride.

"That one’s a bit old, don’t you think?" the man remarked, eyeing Vira. "Won’t make much profit as a mage."

"She's a blue mage," the man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Besides," the wiry one added, "selling her anywhere else is too risky. We’d have to go farther than Aven, and we’re too close to the border. I don’t want to get caught hiding a blue mage. The boss will decide what to do with her." The others nodded in agreement.

"What about the boy?"

"Green mage. His mother tried to fight back, even cut me with a knife," the new man continued, showing a red stain on his jacket where a cloth was wrapped around a wound on his arm. "But I made sure she wouldn’t do that again." The others snickered, and the boy cried silently.

"They didn’t want to sell him?"

"No, he’s from a village southwest of here," the toothless man grunted. "Those people are trouble, but they’re easier to deal with than... the tribe and the people near the border."

"You don’t need to come with us to the boss, Bron," the taller man said, turning to the toothless one. "We can manage two scrawny kids on our own. You don’t have to tire yourself from the travel."

The man called Bron spat on the ground.

"You think you’ll get my cut, eh?" he snapped. "Forget it you scum. You two are always trying to cheat me. Nothing but cheaters." He pointed at the boy. "Don’t cry, boy," he said, throwing a stone at him. The boy curled up further. "You don’t have it so bad. Look at her. A grown woman, and doesn’t cry!" The men laughed.

"You're lucky you have magic, or you'd end up a slave in the southern lands," the wiry one added, standing up and walking over to the boy. He leaned down, voice dripping with malice. "Are you a pretty lady?"

"Yes, a pretty lady!" the man at the fire shouted drunkenly. The wiry one laughed and turned back to his companions, pretending to dance.

"Should we dress him like one? If he so wishes to be one?" he mused, glancing at the boy. "He’s got pretty blonde hair. It’ll fit."

Vira discreetly kicked the boy in the shin.

"Stop crying," she hissed, just loud enough for the men to miss it. "Stop your crying, or it’ll get worse."

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The boy peeked at her with eyes so big it broke her heart how much pain and fear they held.

"So?" The man turned around and looked at the boy, who hiccuped but managed to stop his tears.

"Look, the lady decided to stop crying!" he shouted, leaning in close to the boy. "You better not cry anymore."

Fortunately for the rest of the night the men left them alone. Vira’s joints ached from sleeping on the cold forest floor, and the morning air was biting. The boy shivered beside her but didn’t cry again.

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"What's your name?" Vira asked quietly when the men prepared the horses.

The boy whimpered, but didn’t answer.

They traveled all day, without a break, the storm clouds gathering ominously in the sky.

"Damn," the third man swore, clearly the leader among them. "We’ll have to stay another night. Won’t make it to the estate until tomorrow."

They stopped as evening fell, just as the storm was about to break. They found a small wooden shack that looked ready to collapse under the coming rain. It was empty, though it wasn’t the first time they’d come here—there was a familiarity in the way the men moved through the space. Vira and the boy, still tied, were shoved into a small, dark room that smelled of mold. The room seemed to have once been a pantry, but time had worn away all signs of it. There were no windows, but holes in the roof let in the rain. It was cold.

One of the holes was made by a warped board. Vira felt her hair dampen, sweat mixing with the dirt on her skin. She was exhausted—her body sore from the hard journey and another night on the unforgiving floor. The boy still hadn’t said a word, curled up in a corner. The voices of the men grew louder outside, no doubt fueled by drink. Vira saw flickers of firelight through the crack under the door. Her stomach clenched with hunger. That night, they got no food. She lay on her back, staring up at the crack in the roof. Through it, she could see the sky. The roof had been pecked apart by birds, and the hole was eaten by mold and insects. She turned her head, trying to focus on the clouds instead. Beside her, an old shelf was leaning precariously, falling apart. She eyed it warily. It looked anything but stable.

She waited until the voices and fire sounds died down.

"Get up," she hissed, kicking the boy with her foot. He blinked up at her slowly, his eyes glazed with sleep. The storm outside cracked loudly. A small pool of water had formed on the floor beneath the roof hole.

"Get up!" she whispered more urgently, pointing to the roof. "Help me get up there."

She pointed to the shelf. "Hold this for me. We’ll get out together."

The boy looked at her, then at the shelf, and finally at the hole in the roof. His big, teary eyes met hers. He turned his head and sat back down on the floor.

"What do you mean, no?" she asked, frustrated. "Don’t you want to get out? You want to stay here with them?" She pointed to the wall separating them from the men. The boy remained silent, staring at the floor. They didn’t have much time. Once the storm subsided, the sounds would carry in the shack.

"Fine. Suit yourself," she snapped, anger rising. "Can you at least get the ropes off my hands?" She twisted to show him the ropes, and he nodded reluctantly.

It took them almost a quarter of an hour to untie them, and Vira kept looking impatiently at the door. Finally, the ropes were off. She wanted to return the favor, but the boy scurried away and sat in the corner again. She shot him one last frustrated look, then pushed herself up onto the shelf. She needed to get at least herself out of here alive.

The improvised ladder was wobbly beneath her. When she reached the hole, the wood was worse than she had expected, brittle and sharp. She began to make it larger. Splinters cut into her skin, and rain poured down on her, making the surface slippery. One of the boards slid under her nail, and she hissed in pain but kept pushing forward. The hardest part was not the escape itself, but getting onto the roof. She had to use her hands, which were already weak from the recent events. Still, with a grunt and a curse, she managed to haul herself up. She reached back through the hole, panting harshly, waiting for the boy to change his mind, but he remained motionless, stubborn.

Sighing, Vira left the roof as quietly and gracefully as she could. Her feet landed softly in the wet grass. She was free. But she needed to move quickly, before any of the men noticed she was gone. She only hoped they wouldn’t take their anger out on the boy.

Her freedom waited in the forest behind her. Turning to the forest, she froze. A dark figure stood between her and freedom. Her blood turned to ice. It was one of the men—she could tell by his stance. The toothless one. He was swaying slightly as he walked back to the shack, unaware of her presence. She held her breath, trying to stay still, praying he wouldn’t see her.

Only ten more feet separated him from the door. She held her breath. Only a few seconds more… A lightning bolt split the sky. Sharp light filled the space. The man stumbled and turned his head. The thunder that followed drowned out all other sound, and she felt her pulse hammer in her ears. Then a ringing. They broke out to run at the same moment. The man was too close, he caught her before she managed to reach the edge of the forest. Next thing she felt was pain on her face. Then again. And again.