Kyra stepped insides, stiffening as it clicked closed behind her.
“Arms!” one of the enforcers grunted, unlocking her handcuffs when she passed her hands through the gap in the thick metal door. As soon as she pulled her hands back the gap snapped shut, leaving her alone in the small metal cube. There was no windows, only an artificial light that burned too brightly for comfort. There was no bed, no sink or toilet or anywhere to sit. Nothing but three-sixty metal with anti-violence enchantments lasered into every surface, the space so small she could stretch and touch each side.
She couldn’t feel her chi, which wasn’t all surprising, her aura aching at the loss.
Sweat beaded down her spine, darkness invading her vision. She took a steady breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. She was trapped.
Breathe.
She blinked past the panic, staring at the door. She would not die there, she refused. There was no lock to pick, the metal created so there was barely a seam where the door met the wall. The only indication that there even was a door was the slight bump of the hinges, the surface smooth to touch.
The enchantments reminded her of the bastion, the runes burning like orange embers in her peripheral, but darkened to coal when looked head on. She knew the patterns, the tight swirls and hard lines. She knew exactly how to disconnect them.
Her shirt squelched when she pulled it off, the scent of copper thick. Wringing the fabric between her hands the blood dripped heavily onto the floor, giving her a puddle. Dipping her finger she carefully touched the first rune, ignoring the biting sting as she carefully traced the divergent pattern across the top. She had no idea how long she was drawing for, the blood beginning to dry as she came to the edge of the first wall. The anti-violence enchantment flickered, and then the embers turned into polished metal.
A bang against the door, so hard it vibrated on impact. There was no other sounds, the room airtight. Kyra waited, hoping they knew she had disarmed the spell and open her door. But then what?
Bang.
Kyra pressed herself into the corner closest to the door, ready for when it swung open. She held her breath, legs tensed and ready to strike.
Bang.
The door opened faster than she had anticipated, a shadow taller than the frame appearing in the threshold.
“You miss me?” Dirk grinned, his face smeared with blood when he bent his head into the cell. His red eyes glistened when they dipped to her bra and bare stomach, his hand snaking out to pull her towards him. His grip was wet as he pulled her back into the hall. “Look at what you’ve done.”
Body parts decorated the floor, more limbs than she could account for making the floor slick and shiny.
“You should never have run, my Little Black Witch.” His hand tightened as smoke erupted around them.
Kyra had decided she no longer cared for drifting, not when it took precious seconds for her molecules and mind to settle. It didn’t give her time to steady herself before she was thrown forward onto her knees and palms, knocking hard against the floor with an audible crack.
Frederick sat in an armchair, his leg draped over the other and his face masked with fury. A large black cauldron lay beside him, in front of the cold hearth that she recognised despite the room appearing different. The glamour had disguised the area into a cramped bedroom, the four-poster bed in the corner rumpled, the stained sheets half fallen from the corner.
“You look pathetic,” Frederick commented as he stood, the floor beneath his feet creaking, uneven. “How does it feel to have killed all those innocent people?”
“I didn’t kill them!” she snapped, stress making her voice sharp.
“Oh, but you did,” Frederick mused. “That’s what The Magicka will believe anyway. The dangerous black witch escaped, and killed everyone in her way.”
Kyra tried to shuffle back when he stepped towards her, but she came into contact with Dirk. He kicked her down, keeping her on the floor.
“This was all your fault,” Frederick continued. “If you hadn’t run, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such extreme measures.”
“Naughty Little Black Witch,” Dirk smirked as he moved around her, settling himself on the bed, his head rested in his palms. “I had to punish Frederick for your disobedience.”
Frederick’s eyes narrowed, his bruises making sense. “You should have told me that all you needed was cock, I would have happily arranged something.”
Kyra flicked her gaze back to the bed and to where Dirk winked, horror freezing her blood as she tried to make herself appear smaller. Frederick knelt before her, her attention settling on the thick band on his wrist, the same type that Bane had worn when she had tried to cut his thread, and failed.
She hoped disgust burned in her gaze when he gripped her jaw, not the fear that soured her tongue when he forced her head up, his fingers pinching.
“Silly little bitch. You really believed I would give you all this freedom? Your own home? Your own privacy?” A dark chuckle. “I own you. I control where you live, I control if you earn money and I definitely control who you fuck.”
She hadn’t noticed Dirk move, but she felt cold fingers brush her throat before something locked tight around it. Kyra tried to twist, but Frederick’s grip kept her immobile. As soon as she was released she tried to claw at it, unable to find a fastening against the solid metal choker.
No, no, no!She swallowed her panic, blinking past the memories that threatened to destroy her. Her breathing became uneven, chest aching as she tried to figure out the lock. Her last one had been simple, only needing an iron key that had been kept in her father’s pocket. But the one she wore now pulsed with magic, so much so that it crackled against her skin, stinging.
