Dreamless nights were rare, but Rane didn’t mind them. Tonight, the warmth and softness of the rags had made it a bit easier to drift off. The deep slumber helped him face the upcoming tribulations with a clear head, but what little rest they offered never went undisturbed. The grinding of the metal door signalled Sydell’s return and always woke him. The sound had been burned into his mind and the man knew it. He’d often instruct the guards to push the door back and forth just to disturb Rane’s sleep.

The damned sound woke him once more and he fought his body’s numbness as he tried to stand. He wouldn’t take his chances today. A little rest wasn’t worth the punishment. This time it was Sydell who entered the cell. Rane didn’t have the time to celebrate this tiny victory as he struggled to his feet.

He grew even more anxious when Sydell neared him. Rane had used the dagger to cut the man’s palm once, and ever since then he’d yell orders instead of getting this close. Perhaps his fists were tingly and he wanted to knock Rane around. Sydell would often get bored of using spells and experiment with other forms of torture. Fists, spikes, knives and swords. Rane’s flesh had tasted them all. So when the man gently helped him up, he had to take a second look to ensure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“Stop staring at me like an idiot,” Sydell said. “Master Leylin prepared some tests for you.”

“What does that mean?” Rane asked.

“If you perform as expected, you’ll get to leave this place.” Sydell sneered.

Rane found himself shaking. It could be the chance he was waiting for. “What if I don’t?”

“Then it’ll be the last time you see this kind and caring side of me.” Sydell shoved Rane out of the cell. “Follow. We’ll start right away.”

For the first time, Rane had the chance to safely study his prison. No windows or doors, only long intersecting corridors of white, glowing stone. A few corpses lay charred on the ground, metal armour still on. It seemed Sydell would take out his anger on the guards at times. That was probably the reason they obeyed him so readily.

The prison proved an unending maze. Memorising its layout as they walked proved impossible, as he had trouble even keeping up with Sydell. The two of them came to a stop before a dead end and Rane wondered if Sydell had gotten lost as well. The man touched the wall and channelled nora through it.

If there’s one human that deserves death, it’d be him. Think about how many others you’d be saving.

The voice returned, a mere whisper on the back of his mind, and it was right. Sydell had his back turned. It was a chance to take his life. His whole body tingled with the urge. Then he’d have to suffer no more. He’d show mercy, make it quick and painless. Rane reached out but then hesitated. He didn’t know the way out.

He gave you so much pain. Death is too small a price to pay.

Rane lowered his hand. He could break free without killing anyone. Without letting this horrible place break him.

The wall in front of them melted away under Sydell’s magic to reveal a door. It screeched open with a sound Rane wished he’d never hear again. Yet unlike his tiny shell, the room it led to had a wooden bed and a low table decorating its insides. A thick, brown tome instantly caught Rane’s eye. Even though he couldn’t remember ever reading a book, he knew it was once his.

“Recognise your old toy, don’t you? Perhaps Leylin left more of a brain in there than I thought,” Sydell said, drawing Rane’s attention away from the table. “Bring them in,” he ordered.

The guards dragged a terrified ashfen inside. He was a little taller than them, but almost as slender as Rane. His vigorous resistance had earned him some rough treatment, covering his white skin with bruises and the clothing that he wore with cuts. A human dressed in rags followed them inside as the guards forced the ashfen to kneel in front of Sydell.

“Vice-Commander of Andre’s fifth battalion.” Sydell circled the ashfen. “Following the orders of his Emperor, he raided the town of Danira four years ago, claiming the lives of hundreds of humans.”

“Please have mercy,” pleaded the ashfen. “I was obeying my superiors. I can work, I can–”

“Shut up.” Sydell slapped him hard across the face. “You only speak when the boy asks you a question. Understood?”

The man’s head hung forward, blood dripping onto the stone. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem that way!” Sydell kicked him in the guts with all his strength.

Just the sound made Rane wince. He had been on the receiving end of that boot more than once. It seemed Sydell had been ordered not to hurt Rane anymore, so someone else had to be the scapegoat for his sadistic tendencies.

“Ah, and you.” Sydell turned his attention to the other man. “One of Danira’s soldiers who lost his son in the very same attack. He fought valiantly until the end of the war one year later. But that wasn’t what he truly wanted.”

The human stood more still than a statue, staring at the ashfen with eyes filled to the brim with hatred.

“What he desired was revenge. To kill the one who murdered his son with his own two hands. He almost succeeded too!” Sydell gave the man a crooked smile. “Thankfully, I stopped him just in time. A former soldier killing an enemy commander during a ceasefire would result in a diplomatic episode.” Sydell rested a hand on Rane’s shoulder, making him shiver. “And that would be against my master’s interests.”

Rane looked down at the two captives. “And what does your master want in exchange for my freedom?”

“I’m kind, you know.” Sydell clicked his fingers and the guards grabbed both prisoners by the hair, forcing them to bear their throats. “Since you can’t muster the will to kill, I’ll chew your damned food for you. You only have to choose which one of them deserves to die.”

Rane doubted his ears. The whole purpose of being tortured was to strengthen his magic power. Why did he have to decide on people’s lives all of a sudden? “You’re not kind. You’re utterly insane,” he protested. “Why would either of them have to die?”

“So that you get to live.” Sydell’s hand slid down his neck. “I give you some leeway and disobedience is what I get in return.”

The grip on Rane’s throat tightened and his breath caught in his chest.

“In here, I am the Arbiter,” Sydell whispered into his ear. “My word is your law. If I command you to kill, you will do so. If I command you to choose, you will do so. And if you fail, I kill them both, and you spend two days burning.”

Rane stared into the man’s eyes and saw only hate and depravity, like an untamed beast given human form. A monster crazy enough to live up to that threat. He nodded. Sydell let go of his neck and he fell down, gasping for air. His gaze alternated between the two prisoners as he tried to convince himself to do it.

Judging others made Rane feel guilty himself. Shouldn’t the right to enact punishment be entrusted to those with better knowledge of the outside world than himself? Yet if the choice was going to be forced onto him, he’d take it as fairly as he could. “Do you have a family?” he asked the ashfen first.

“A brother and two daughters,” the ashfen replied, white hair hanging forward and covering his face.

Rane had seen it before, but he couldn’t remember where. The attitude of a man who had given up, who believed his time had come. He wished it was that easy.

“What about you?” He turned to face the human.

“No one,” he spat. “Not anymore.”

“So you chose vengeance?” Rane asked again, almost pleading. “It’d only cause more pain and heartache.”

“There was nothing else!” The man snapped. “I failed as a father… Couldn’t protect my own son.”

Kill him.

Rane shut the voice in his head away. Deciding wasn’t easy, nor a matter of race or background. Any sense of belonging he once had died the day he woke up in this damned prison.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Tell me.” He already knew the answer to this twisted test, but he couldn’t condemn a man without knowing his name.

“It’s Seim, not that it matters anymore.”

“Hurry up,” Sydell said. “All the drama is making me impatient.”

Rane couldn’t rush through this. No amount of questions would be enough to determine a man’s fate and Rane had only asked a couple. But of course, Sydell only cared for the bloodshed and the slaughter.

Was he really about to do this? What would come of it? He’d be one step closer to freedom, and he’d save one of them from Sydell’s murderous urges. That alone had to be enough. He focused on that perspective. It was either saving one of the two, or having them both die. “You betrayed your people,” Rane said. “When you had nothing to gain.”

“What? I did my duty as a soldier, served my country well.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You disregarded it and almost plunged it back into war. Hatred blinded you.”

The man stared at him. There was no anger in his expression, no sadness. “You’ve never lost someone precious to you,” he said, “or you’d understand. You can’t judge me.”

Seim stated the bitter truth Rane so desperately wanted to deny. He wasn’t qualified to decide, but he had to. Sydell would kill them all otherwise. “You’re right. But I have to. I’m sorry.”

Sydell inched closer to the captives. “The kid has made his choice. Any last words that might change his mind?”

“No,” Seim replied.

This wasn’t the face of someone who feared death, Rane decided. Too many battles had that effect on a man. Numbed him. Somehow that made it harder for Rane to deliver the sentence.

“Is it final then?” asked Sydell, not bothering to conceal his eagerness for blood.

Seim lunged before Rane could answer, falling upon the ashfen with a vengeance. Each punch carried pure hate, the kind Rane had never seen before. His nails dug into the ashfen’s skin, slamming his head against the ground. Not even the combined efforts of the guards could force them apart. Fire lit up in Sydell’s hands.

“Filthy monster! You took my son! You killed hi–” Seim screamed as the spell found his back. The fire tore through their bodies in an instant, ploughing a hole through Seim’s heart and the ashfen’s neck.

A few more seconds of life granted Seim the pleasure of watching the ashfen die. A smile crept up on his face, which went cold moments later. His body fell to the ground. Silence reigned for a few moments.

“Bravo!” Sydell clapped. “What an amazing performance!”

Rane couldn’t turn his eyes away. Doubts and regret surfaced uncontrollably, forcing him to look. It was the only punishment he could impose on himself. Blood pooled beneath the bodies, a mix of black and crimson flowing through the cracks in the stone floor. He fought back the urge to vomit.

Sydell gave him a pat on the back. “Don’t look so down. See how happy he is?” He turned Seim’s head to the side with his boot, revealing a ghastly grin. “All because of someone else’s death. A simple base desire.”

Rane nodded out of habit. He finally managed to turn his eyes away. If this scene had shown him anything, it was that he had to leave this place as soon as possible. Every moment in here would strengthen the voice and drive him to madness. He knew it, almost intuitively.

Sydell frowned when he saw that Rane didn’t share in his excitement. “Clean this mess up already,” he ordered.

Rane sat on the bed and watched as the guards hurriedly dragged the bodies outside. They did their best to clean up the blood, but the smell of copper still tainted the air.

“When you go outside, don’t mourn the dead,” Sydell said as he left. “Or you won’t have time to live.”

Rane spent some time in silence, staring at the spot where the two men once stood. The outside world couldn’t be worse than this.

I can’t be blamed for their death, he told himself. I had to make a choice. Alas, believing you are innocent and ridding yourself of guilt are different struggles. Rane gazed at the tome on the table, hoping it would at least serve as a distraction.

His whole body shivered when he touched its hard leather exterior. There was something so familiar about it. He knew he had felt it before. Held it in his hands before. It was his. He turned to the first page. The words ‘Apprentice spells,’ were written in ink. Rane traced the letters with his finger. He could remember holding this book and immersing himself in its contents, but nothing else. His hands trembled as he turned the page. Rane already knew that he’d find nothing, somehow. He could remember idly turning past this white page a thousand times. He almost did the same now, until he looked at the handwriting.

‘Learn the Ice Shield spell within two days.’

How hard could it be? Rane was confident in his magic. He could light a fire with just a thought. Learning another spell should be a simple task. He skimmed through the pages and found the spell’s explanation.

“Water creation, physical properties, heat diverting, solid states…” He trailed off as he read. More than twenty pages of notes, charts and diagrams on how to cast a single spell. Fire was much simpler to create. He just needed nora and a concentration of energy. Why not use the same principles?

Rane held the book in one hand and visualised the ice forming over his palm. Nora seeped out of his hand and turned into glistening particles, barely visible to the naked eye. It was impossible to control the movement of so many particles at once though, and they slowly coalesced into a single, amorphous mass above his hand. A useless chunk of ice.

That would never work. He’d have to use the proper method, so he began reading furiously, practising each part of the spell as soon as he understood how. A sphere of water slowly took form over his palm. He used his nora to make a disc-shaped container. It was starting to look more like a shield, but Rane could feel his nora depleting rapidly. His eyes scanned over to the final paragraph of instructions once more and he took a deep breath.

The temperature of his nora dropped rapidly, but there was no shield in front of him. The moment he tried to change the properties of his nora he lost control of its shape. Not to mention he had lost a third of it for one attempt.

Rane looked at the water on the floor. The spell was harder than it seemed, but he wasn’t disheartened. This was a chance that couldn’t be wasted, and every single second spent inside the dungeon felt more tortuous than the last. He sat on the bed and waited for his nora to recover. Yet the harrowing memory of what he’d seen still lingered in his mind, ready to resurface if he didn't focus on his magic.

The door swung open, offering a different distraction. Sydell walked inside, dragging the ashfen from the day before by her hair. There were bruises on her arms and legs, their purple contrasting her pale white skin. She’d gotten off easy.

“We’re short on space, so you’re sharing the cell for now.” Sydell pushed her inside and wiped his glove on his pants with disgust. “Perhaps training with a distraction will do you some good.” He threw a bowl of slop and bread loaf onto the table before leaving. The door shut behind them with a screech.

“Are you hurt?” Rane made to help her up, but she flinched away from his touch. He backed away and gave her some space.

The ashfen turned to him, and the wide, emerald eyes hidden under the flocks of her hair scanned him over. She couldn’t be more than a few years younger than him. It was hard to tell with ashfen sometimes. The fear and trepidation on her face quickly shifted to confusion. “You’re a slave.” she said.

Rane absentmindedly brushed a finger on his Oathbrand. He didn’t remember getting it, but Sydell couldn’t be the one he was bound to. “Among other things, it’d seem.” He paused, glancing at her neck. The shallow cut of the dagger he’d used striked through her skin in a red scab. “I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier.”

“It’s fine.” She seemed to relax a little. “Afterwards… I heard you scream. T-Thank you.” Her speech painted the word with a weird, persistent stutter. “And sorry.”

Rane smiled, then shook his head. “I’ve come to think of that pain as a compass. If it hurts me… If I’m suffering, it means I’m on the right path. That I have yet to give in to the sickness that they spread.”

She gazed up at him, almost with pity. “How long have you been here?”

“Ever since I can remember,” Rane replied. “It’s hard to keep track of time in this place. You? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Three days, I t-think.” She looked down at the stone between her legs and her arms trembled a little. “I’m scared. I d-don’t know what they’ll do to me.”

The poor thing. Who knows what she suffered through to end up in this damned, wretched place? “Hey,” he said softly and reached out to pat her hair. “It will be okay.” He wanted to believe it as well. “Just don’t follow my example. Obey Sydell’s orders, and you should be okay.” Maybe not unscathed, but at least alive.

“O-Okay.” She nodded and stifled a few sobs, wiping the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I’m the one that should be sorry. She was most likely here because of him, simply another tool in Sydell’s eyes. What his plans for her were… Rane didn’t want to find out.

“Here.” Rane reached over to the table to hand her the bread loaf. Somehow, she seemed even thinner than he was.

She held it between her trembling hands and looked up at him wide-eyed. “Why?”

“You’ll need the strength,” Rane said. “Eat up. I can make do with the slop.”

After a heartbeat of hesitation, she nodded, and started to dig into the bread.

Rane had come to learn that it was dry and stale, but she didn’t seem to mind. He glanced at the door in worry, before turning to her again with a slight smile. “What’s your name?”

She swallowed down hard and lowered her chin, as if fearing Rane would take the loaf back. “Elen,” she said meekly.

“I’m Rane,” he said and distanced himself a little. She seemed to relax at that, so he let her eat as he pondered what to say next. He hadn’t held a proper conversation in months. “Do you remember anything before being brought here?” he asked.

“Andre,” Elen said. “The mines where I worked.” She turned her hands over and Rane saw her callused, misshapen palms. “I was looking f-for Blightsteel.”

“Blightsteel?”

“You don’t know?” Elen looked at him curiously. “It’s a black-green metal, used to forge weapons. The m-most valuable mineral in the world, they say. My mother went her whole life without ever seeing a single ore.”

“But you did?” Rane asked.

Elen nodded. “I tried to sneak it past the foreman, but he caught me.” Her fingers reached up to her forehead, and Rane caught a glimpse of the Oathbrand under her hair. “Then when I woke up, I was here and branded...” He could see her eyes welling up with tears again.

Rane sat there, unsure of how to console her. “I’m branded too and I don’t know who did it either. We’re in this together, and I’ll do my best to get us both out.”

“How?” Elen cried out, and her head sunk between her arms.

“With this.” Rane clicked his fingers and Elen flinched away from the flame. He let it dissipate.

“You– You have magic!”

“That’s why you heard screams. This is what he’s been training me for.” Rane allowed himself some hope. “And if I show him what I’ve learned, perhaps he’ll let us go.”

Elen looked at his hands intently while her own fiddled with the hems of her rags. “You really think so?”

I damn hope so. Rane nodded and gathered magic to his fingertips. Just a few minutes of conversation and he could already feel warmth on the right side of his chest. The experience alone had created new nora in him. It was time to start practicing again.

Rane moved to the opposite corner of the cell and Elen, still sitting on the stone, watched with interest. He created water and shaped it into a sphere, but instead of trying to freeze it he kept toying with his nora and changing the container into various forms. The first step was learning how to control the shape without much thought, so that he could focus on the next part of the spell. The nora kept flowing down his arms until he could feel the rush of heat to his chest and the dizziness overtaking his brain.

Rane slumped backward onto the stone and closed his eyes. Sydell’s test and all the casting were starting to take their toll. He placed an arm under his head and lay on the bed. There was only a thin piece of leather between him and the wooden boards, but it still beat sleeping on the ground. “If something happens, wake me up,” Rane said, shifting a little. “I can’t afford to sleep too long either way…”

“Wake up and sleep?” Elen repeated, struggling to put the syllables together. “Is this what humans do every night while standing still? I thought it was a tale.”

Rane lifted his head to look at her. “Ashfen don’t sleep?” He tried to remember, but it was in vain. Most of his memories before being imprisoned were of his childhood, and nobody would talk to a child so young about wars or the races that fought them.

“No.” Elen shook her head. “It seems boring.”

“I suppose it might be for some.” Rane chuckled, before laying back again. For him, sleep was a pleasant release, a way to reconnect with whatever was left for him outside. It was sad to think about but it gave him strength, so he welcomed it. “Anyway, I have to rest. I need strength if I’m to get us out.”

“Rane… T-Thank you.” Elen gave him a smile for the very first time. “Perhaps humans aren’t that bad after all.”

I wouldn't bet on that, Rane thought as he closed his eyes and let the tiredness take him.