Chapter 7

“You killed me.”

The voice surrounded me on all sides in the dark. I tried to look around but even as nothing would change my head felt like it could not move more than a slight pivot. My arms pulled at something that kept them spread, stretching me to my limit. My ankles were held to the ground beneath me, unable to be lifted. My mouth was open but I couldn’t speak, something rough and hard holding down my tongue and tearing at the skin of my lips.

I opened my eyes.

I was in the grove. All around me trees rose and cast foreboding shadows. Not too far away I could see Rose, standing there and staring blankly. I lost sight of her though as a fiery pain stabbed into my chest. I struggled to look down and see the knife hilt pultruding from the centre, held by hands that looked like mine. I stared at my own face as it looked hungrily at me. The lips on my face in front of me spoke with a voice that was not my own but that I knew for just as long.

“You killed me.”

I opened my eyes to a very different place. While the dream, as I now understood it to have been, had been lush and green, I was now surrounded by darkened torchlight. Stone walls cobbled around me and as my eyes adjusted, and I realized that metal bars separated me from outside of my apparent cell, where any light originated. The feeling of being restrained was just as present as I tried to move, my wrists shackled above my head by manacles that barely budged. They rattled as I shifted and I heard the scuffle of feet. A guard peered around the corner at me and made eye contact. Before I could speak he popped back around and I heard his jogging away down the dimly lit hall.

It was quiet, almost peaceful, as I collected my bearings. I was in some sort of prison, restrained… after…

Oh god…

My throat burned from the acid that rose from my empty stomach. I fought to keep it down but I still felt it dribble to my chin as I wretched at the memory of what I did.

I… I actually—

“Ren Gardener.” My train of thought was derailed by the man walking over to my cell, stopping in front. He looked down on me with an utter lack of interest. A blue cloak swirled around his feet, gold trim boasting status that I didn’t know the particulars of but his overall station was easily assumed: Military Mage.

He rifled through some papers in hand, as if skimming over them half heartedly. A hand ambled up to his head, idly scratching his poofy hair that poked out from under his askew hat, which matched his equally disheveled uniform. His eyelids drooped and he didn’t even attempt to stifle a yawn before continuing. “You here are charged with murder… blah blah blah… let's get these formalities out of the way. No no, no need to object,” he lazily cut in as my lips began to part, “as the evidence is plain as day inside you.” He rolled up the pages, not even looking at the bottom couple, and pointed them to my chest. “Between you and me, kid, we normally don’t encourage this sort of renegade mage rituals; we prefer to keep the sacrifices in a controlled environment. Nevertheless, you seemed to pull it off and there’s some interest from the higher ups to keep you around, so lucky break for you. There weren’t many more hands than mine that voted to have you put through the court for what you did.” He shrugged, as if it meant nothing to him. There was no humour in his voice, nor disdain or enthusiasm, just the general drone of a worker given an assignment they had no personal investment in.

He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, as if the empty air offended him. “Now, assuming that you join our little division here, I’m Lieutenant Bradey of the military mages. You can shake my hand later, when yours aren’t chained to the wall.” If that was a joke, he didn’t show it. “So, what’ll it be… I had kinda hoped you’d butt in and answer right now… I really hate giving long spiels. You gonna join us or get convicted for murder and executed?”

What kind of question is that? I wondered. But part of me, a small part I was trying to bury deep, darkly leaned towards the latter. My throat tightened before I finally spoke for the first time since… everything. “I don’t want to die.” My voice was as raw as the feeling of the knife in my chest.

“Great great, truly an original thought,” Bradey responded with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll just sign the paper work for you here…” He pulled out a pencil from his pocket and flipped to the last page in the roll. “You, Ren, swear undying loyalty to the… yadda yadda… uh, even to the point of death… under the forfeit of rights… it’s all the standard stuff,” he didn’t explain, half-closed eyes swinging back and forth as he skimmed the new conditions of my life.

“Wait, shouldn’t I be the one signing that!?” I objected, tugging lightly on the manacles, hoping for the chance to see the paper.

“Oh, of course.” He signed my name at the bottom. “And you just did.”

My hands clenched to fists, tugging again at the manacles. “Anxious to get out, are we?” Bradey raised an eyebrow before pulling a pair of keys from his pockets with one hand and a glove with the other. The first opened the cell, the barred door softly squealing on barely oiled hinges. The glove went on though as he stepped inside and used that hand to hold each manacle as he unlocked them, freeing me from the wall. I followed his motion to step forward and nearly stumbled, my legs weaker than I realized.

“Wha…what about my sister?” I asked as I rubbed my wrists. “Is she—”