Wordlessly, he spun, and started up the stairs. The glowing orb of light that hovered over his shoulder retreated with him.
“Wait,” Eira rasped. “How much longer?” The bread slipped through her fingers, falling to the floor. “How much longer do I have to be in here?” She shook the bars. “How long will you leave me here?” she screamed.
Her shouts echoed without response.
* * *
“I’m awake. I’m here. Marcus is dead. I’m in the Pillars’ stronghold. Marcus is dead and Ferro is here. I am awake. I’m here…” Over and over, she muttered the words as she lay with the cool stone on her cheek.
The bread had been gone a day ago and her stomach was now trying to eat itself. Luckily, she could summon water from the damp walls to drink. They didn’t seem to be bringing her anything else. Did they intend to kill her here? Had she already failed? She was certainly the worst spy there had ever been.
Eira shifted, curling into the fetal position. “I’m tired, Marcus. I’m so tired…and I’m so sorry.”
That night replayed over and over again in her mind, relentless and horrible. How many times would she have to relive his death before it was enough? How much longer would she endure this until her sanity gave up?
Eira blinked into the void.
The light had returned.
The young man was back again with another loaf of bread, the dots along his brow shining softly. They did the same dance. He judged her, said she had been deemed worthy of food.
“Bless his goodness,” Eira repeated.
She got food and was left in the darkness.
Over and over, time after time. How many days had it been now? Did her friends think she was dead? Had the city guards and shadows given up looking? Or had it merely been hours since she left Risen? Time had expanded and contracted to the point that it was no longer something she could comprehend.
Eira closed her eyes, welcoming the thoughts of Marcus. It was the only way she slept. But this time, her thoughts continued beyond weeping over his body in the moonlight. They continued to her fight with Ferro.
He should have killed her, too.
She shouldn’t be alive. Not because of just punishment for Marcus’s death. Ferro was strong and had no problem subduing her. Why hadn’t he that night?
Sheshouldbe dead.
Eira blinked, as if suddenly seeing clearly. Somehow, she had finally suffered through the memories of Marcus’s death enough to see them with some level of objectivity.
Ferroshouldhave killed her. He’d tried. He’d wanted to. But he couldn’t. She’d overpowered him against all odds. There was no reason why she should have won.
The memory replayed for her—his flickering glyphs, fading and weak. No matter how many times he repeated the words of power, he couldn’t summon strength. That was when she’d overtaken him.
Had he been merely exhausted? Or was it something more? The glyph on the lake had vanished, too, when he had never seemed to have a problem controlling his magic prior. It had been the end of a long and bloody night for him.
And how you can steal people’s magic, Ferro had said to her.
Is that what he thought she did? Eira touched the pads of her fingers together lightly in thought. She could almost see the glyphs Ferro tried to summon.
Eira had never heard of a Waterrunner being able to steal someone’s magic. But she had heard of Waterrunners being able to eradicate other sorcerers—to put a block in the channel that connected a sorcerer with their power. It was difficult to do, however, and usually required a great deal of focus and time. She couldn’t have done it without meaning to. She couldn’t do it at all.
But what if you could?Marcus’s disembodied ghost had returned, whispering from the corner of her cell.
“I can’t.”
Are you sure?
Eira turned to face him, imagining his silhouette cutting against the void.
You said that unintentional vessels were more common than anyone thought. Even when everyone said otherwise, you persevered. You knew the truth—your truth—and with it, you proved everyone wrong.
