Fist after fist, the guards wailed on the Sorven girl. The weight and encumbrance of their armor did little to deter their ferocity. Each fist connected against her face and torso in a rhythmic cadence. Among the silence, all that could be heard was the sound of fists hitting skin, bone hitting ground, and the exasperated grunts of her assailants. Pain coursed (like venom) evenly throughout her body. She said and did nothing yielding to their desires. One powerful strike landed directly across her nose, and dark black Sorven blood oozed down her almond skin. The sight of the injury seemed to only excite them more.

They yelled in unbridled anger as if nothing else mattered other than ending her life. More guards entered the prison, cheering them on and provoking them for more while they indulged themselves in an orgy of bloodshed. Her Sorven skin was tough, but not unbreakable. They withdrew grimstone-forged batons and beat her with savage vehemence. With her hands chained tightly together, she was powerless. Each blow from their batons felt like a thousand. She could feel the power of the grimstone draining every aspect of her being. Her stomach churned and the world spinned. She raised her hand to surrender, but her joints were struck instead, and she gasped in pain. As she lay on the ground, the guards’ sweat and spit rained on her body, showering her in every insult known to man. Black blood pooled more and more around her broken figure, eclipsing her in darkness. Her warm body turned cold. The sound of the pounding was now but a faint muddle of noise. Her vision slowly began to fade. She would soon meet death.

“That’s enough!” A man clad in iron armor burst through the doors to the prison. He was wearing the same armor as her assailants but with a colored coat of arms upon his chest plate and an ornate hilt on his longsword.

“Remove yourself from this Sorven! We need them alive!” said the warden, disappointed.

“But sir. They are our enemy. What is a little-”

“Now! Do not let me tell you twice!” he yelled. “Quell your hatred for just a moment. We will have justice soon enough. You there!” he said, pointing to one of the guards. His fists were red and raw, and his baton was drenched in black ichor. “Return her to her cell at once! Everyone else, return to your posts. Now!” he ordered.

The warden watched as they filed out of the room eyeing them with disappointment. He left the room and the remaining guards shortly followed. The guard picked her up by her collar and dragged her down a stone-laden staircase painting the stone canvas black. The chains that bound her feet rattled against the stairs. They descended until they reached another floor of cells. He unlocked one of the cells and pushed her inside.

“Your campaign of genocide will be no more Sorven,” he said, spitting at her through the bars and locking the door. He insulted the other prisoners before leaving the chambers. Her limbs were stiff, and her skin cold. Her body screamed in distress as she tried to move. She had not felt such pain in a long time.

“Kyra. You’re still alive?” whispered a voice from across the hall in the other cell. He cursed under his breath. “Stay strong.” Kyra grunted in pain and rolled to her side, sousing in her own blood.

“This place…this place is total madness,” said the prisoner.  That was the last thing Kyra heard as she faded into the black.

~

Piercing screams echoed from above rousing Kyra from her slumber. Her muscles still ached from the previous night, and small cuts and bruises formed all over her skin. She sat upright on the cold hard floor, holding her side, and listened to the howls and grunts above. She could feel the victim’s pain reverberate against the thick walls. She knew it would inevitably be her turn.

She looked across the hall for the prisoner. The torches adjacent to each cell lit the empty cells. He was gone. Her own cell was small and claustrophobic, dimly lit by torches on the outside. A noxious breeze swarmed her nostrils and she wrestled with sudden queasiness. Her head throbbed making it difficult to think straight. She glanced over at the bricks of her cell embedded with specks of green light. The grimstone felt clammy and repulsive against her skin, as if she were submerged in the foulest of sewage.

She spat up a lump of clotted blood that plopped wetly onto the stone cold floor, strings of saliva mixed with dark blood dangling from her mouth as she trembled on all fours, the metallic tang coating her raw throat with each ragged breath. 

I, a Sorven, child of Isara and daughter of Psylle. How could I allow myself to be subject to this abuse by mankind? I cannot let them treat me as such.

She sat in silence for hours until she heard the creak of the main door open. The stomping of boots and jangle of keys became louder and louder until a guard stopped at her door and unlocked it.

“You there,” he said. “Come with me.”

“I will do no such thing,” she said adamantly.

She quickly closed her eyes and attempted to harness the Psenne winds, the magic of the mind and intellect, in an attempt to corrupt his thoughts. She stepped into the familiar mist of the ethereal plane, a place she had visited countless times before. The air shimmered with a blueish-purple glow, guiding her forward, yet something prevented her from reaching her destination. It was the grimstone. She could feel its presence in every brick of the walls enclosing her and in the cold shackles around her wrists, suppressing her magic. Just like the times before, her power was stifled. But this time, she held onto a flicker of hope—perhaps this time would be different.

The guard opened the door furiously, pulling out his rod and struck her across the face. He grabbed her by the collar and raised her short frame off the ground.

“You will do as I say,” said the guard. Kyra looked into his eyes and gazed straight into his soul.

“You should fear what I could do to you human,” she said. He bashed her head against the side of the cell and threw her down to the ground.

“Start walking or I will kill you where you stand.” Kyra stood up reluctantly and walked through the steel-laden doors with the guard following close behind. She walked up several flights of stairs before reaching a long corridor. The steps were lined in bricks of cobblestone in a staggered, irregular pattern. They continued through the long hall and stopped at a large door made of wood and steel. The guard knocked on the door five times.

“State your business,” said a voice from behind the door.

“It is I Mandel, caretaker of Fort Ardan. I have brought with me what you have asked.”

“Excellent. You may enter.”

The guard pushed her through the door. She entered a large room that was lit by a few lanterns hanging lazily on the walls. In the center lay a single concrete table with leather straps and steel chains. Resting upon its blood-stained surface lay a body whose lower legs were but raw tender meat. It was a sorven man. His mark lay on his right shoulder, covered in blood. His face was still and pale as if he’d been there for quite some time. Kyra’s face warmed. The Sorven’s abdomen was split transversely and several surgical instruments were nested inside. To the right was a table covered in parchment. Several books and leather pouches of sterilized surgical instruments also occupied the space. A wooden shelf holding containers full of organs in fluid and other unknown objects were to the left of the operating table.

At the head of the table was a middle-aged man whose wrinkles were just beginning to form. He had brownish hair and brown eyes. He turned to Kyra, eyeing her up and down, analyzing her potential right there on the spot.

“Thank you,” said the man. “You may take your leave.” The guard nodded and left. Kyra was still in shock at the sight of the desecrated Sorven lying before her.

“Good day Sorven. I am-“

Kyra charged at the man before he could even finish his sentence. She swung with both of her shackled fists, but the man was surprisingly quick. He sidestepped her strike, barely evading the blow. He grabbed a sword that was leaning against the nearby table and plunged it into Kyra’s thigh. The green fragments embedded in the blade glowed bright green as he pushed it deeper into her flesh. The grimstone scrambled her mind and seared her flesh and she collapsed, clutching her leg in agony.

“Now now, I will not allow that behavior during our time together,” said the man calmly. Kyra grimaced as he slowly pulled the blade from her thigh. The pressure in her leg lessened greatly and blood flowed freely.

“How dare you slaughter my kin like animals!” said Kyra, struggling to pull herself up.

“Do not be so hypocritical. we do what we must,” said the man. “Have you forgotten? It was the Sorven who started this war. It was the Sorven who destroyed The Council. It was the Sorven who started this genocide. Not us.”

“That was Saryn’s doing. Not mine!”

“Is she not your queen?” asked the man. Kyra cursed at him in a foreign tongue.

“Now, let me start over. My name is Radlan. I am the head surgeon and scholar here at Fort Ardan. My duties include research and experimentation. I am tasked to find out what makes you Sorven function. There are several surgeons here; however, I am the one that performs all of the experiments,” he said. “We must know what your weaknesses are. Grimstone alone will not suffice.” The doctor walked slowly and confidently towards the water basin and rinsed the blood from the sword. He grabbed a rag from a basket and wiped until the steel shined once again.

“You will be my aide, and you will assist me in all of my operations and experimentations. You will explain to me the complexities of Sorven design and if you do good work, perhaps you will have a chance at freedom.”

“I would rather die than to serve a human,” said Kyra, still holding her wound with both hands trying to stop the bleeding. “I am no slave. Release me or kill me.”

“I am not a killer. I am a learned man who seeks only to obtain the vast wealth of knowledge for the betterment or rather, the salvation of mankind,” said the doctor pacing around the room. “Yet, your wound. I would have you endure that a thousand times more for my research before I let you die.” He grabbed a stool from the corner of the room and placed it near the main table next to her.

“Stand tall, Sorven. Behave, and I shall cauterize your wound.” Kyra pulled herself up from the ground hobbling on one leg. “Come, have a seat,” he said. This human dares to order me? He will know his place. The doctor grabbed an instrument from a leather pouch on one of the tables and let it heat in the nearby furnace.

“They did you worse than I,” said the doctor. “They certainly did not spare you.” Kyra’s bruises were more pronounced now and her gray prison uniform was soaked in black blood. The doctor retrieved his instruments from the fire. 

She threw her head back and moaned as she waded in the thick viscous aura of grimstone

“Do not touch me,” said Kyra, backing away. The doctor ignored her plea and moved to her thigh, which was now bleeding more profusely. He grabbed a rag and tied it tightly around the top to slow the bleeding. Kyra wanted to strangle him but her body begged otherwise.

“Your body’s blood clotting technique is incredible,” he said intently, eyeing the wound with vicious curiosity. Her blood began weaving within itself turning into a semi viscous glue, coagulating the opening. “Let me help.” The doctor pressed the tips of the metal against her skin and it crackled and popped as he worked his way down. He moved meticulously, elegantly fusing skin to skin. His rough hands were steady and swift as if he had performed this many times before. She shuddered as his dirty human fingers brushed her skin, leaving her feeling soiled and defiled, like a pristine white dove forced to wade through the foulest swamps.

“What do they call you, Sorven?” asked the doctor, finishing up his procedure. She did not answer. He looked up from his work and stared at her trying to figure her out. “Listen, I am not like your jailers. I do not harm for sport. That is not my calling however,I harm if I must.”

Kyra watched him closely as he worked. This is why humans are at the bottom. If they cannot kill without hesitation, Sorven will always be superior. 

“Your healing methods are primitive,” insulted Kyra as he cut the last stitch of the wound.

“Regardless, this shall suffice.” He grabbed a swab of white ointment and rubbed it over the stitchings. He unraveled a separate pile of bandages and wrapped it around her thigh.

“Listen carefully,” said the doctor in a sudden shift in tone. Henceforth, you will be my aide. You will be by my side everyday assisting me in surgeries and research. I need you to help me understand how the Sorven body functions. I will not hurt you and I will make sure others do not. Do you understand?” he asked. She struggled to accept her newfound fate and that she would likely die here. She looked once more at the Sorven lying with his abdomen cut open and then to the sword that was lying next to the water basin. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“I suppose I do not have a choice.”

“I suppose not.”

She opened her eyes and bolted for the sword with breakneck speed. She managed to grab the hilt until an invisible wave of fatigue hit her hard like stone. She dropped the sword and crumbled to the ground again. Her arms and feet instantly turned flaccid. She looked up at the doctor standing before her. His palms were clenched from afar and a black ring glowed upon his finger.

“You Sorven are so stubborn. Your race is…unyielding I must admit. Do not resist.” Kyra gazed at the ring he wore. It looked similar to the one Sorven used for protection. Since when can humans harness magic? Surely, it is stolen.

“This ring? Yes, it is one of my most recent creations. Several months of research to craft in fact.” He clenched his palm even tighter and Kyra gritted her teeth, but she could not hold back the blood that flowed between them. Her abdomen and chest convulsed uncontrollably. The world spinned around her without end and all of her wounds blazed as if they had been bathed in salt and torn open again.

“Re..lease..me….” She pleaded and the doctor let go of his hold. The wave of pain diminished and Kyra coughed vigorously. Her throat burned like the sun.

“We can do this with compliance, or defiance if you must, but I’d much rather the former.”

“What…would you have me do?” asked Kyra in between gasps for air. The doctor smiled.

“Clean up your mess and change into these fresh garments. Once you are finished, go and fetch my pouch. Let us begin.”

~

When Kyra wasn’t needed, and Dr. Radlan was engrossed in his research or too busy documenting his findings, she engaged in various tasks around the fort. She treasured the time spent out in the misty air and seeing the clouds, even if under a foreign sky, but the frequent raining soiled the experience. It was as if there was a personal rain cloud hovering over the area that existed only to make her time there as miserable as possible. Her days were long, and the frigid winds and the sky’s cloudiness only fueled Kyra’s depression.

Fort Ardan was a large garrison whose inner courtyard was enveloped by massive stone walls and ramparts that towered over even the tallest oak tree. Its massive walls were composed of many bricks that pulsed in a green glow whenever she would walk near them, disorienting her. Within the stone walls on the western side, there were several medical clinics which housed wounded soldiers returning from the frontlines for treatment. Towards the north end of the fort lay the main keep where all the experiments took place where she worked, and below, the cells where she was imprisoned. The keep was a massive tower that soared above the ramparts surrounding it.

The eastern courtyard was a large open area that once was a makeshift training grounds but then was later repurposed into a fire pit solely for the burning of Sorven bodies. Kyra would spend most of her time here. Every day she would transport all of the corpses that proved no longer useful and transported them to the pyre. Doctor Radlan would go through at least one a day. Bodies once filled with arcane affinity and strength were now but fuel for the fire. Cremation was slow, and it took days before the bodies fully turned into ash. The stench of gelatinous char of Sorven skin and blood was a scent new to her. She did not like it.

The castle’s fortifications were strategically placed throughout the fort, with spiked barriers lining the perimeter. Archers manned each battlement, rotating daily to maintain constant oversight against potential threats. The area was heavily fortified, with tight security at every turn. Nothing could breach the defenses—at least, not easily.

Lastly, at the entrance of the fort was the main gate was a lofty portcullis made of strong steel resting menacingly between the castle walls. Flags of the region’s coat of arms were adorned on both sides of the gate. The green fragments within the gate’s metal sparkled at dusk. Every week at first light, a horse-drawn cart arrived, bringing prisoners of war captured from the battlefield. She would watch with somber eyes as they were thrown about and herded like cattle to the dungeons, where they would ultimately meet their end. Not once did she ever see a Sorven that entered through the gates leave the fort.

Seemingly every day, warriors arrived at Fort Ardan, seeking treatment for their battlefield injuries. Many were in dire condition, and some perished before reaching the fort. Those who lost limbs became the most despondent, quickly sent home in despair. Others recovered slowly, wandering the courtyard to stave off boredom. On more than one occasion, the patients berated her as she worked. They couldn’t understand why a Sorven was allowed within their walls. Dr. Radlan was the only reason they didn’t kill her outright, which only deepened their fury. As they shouted, she stared back, impassive—her black eyes filled with silent judgment, which provoked them even more. It always did.

They often blocked Kyra from entering the keep whenever she would return for the night and beat her just as she was beaten many times before. Her Sorven skin often held true, but after routine beatings, it was only a matter of time before it showed its asperity. In the early months, she resisted, but her restraints made it near impossible to fight back. Yet, after many unsuccessful attempts, she simply surrendered to her assailants and suffered in silence. She would return to Dr. Radlan with new scars, and he would tend to her wounds and continue on as if nothing ever happened. He didn’t care, and why would he? The only thing Dr. Radlan cared about was his research.

At the end of each day, Kyra returned to her cell, secluded from the other prisoners. She lay on the bed, getting lost in her thoughts for hours as the humans slept through the night. She did not require consistent sleep as the humans did, so most nights were spent thinking about what was. She longed to return to her homeland. She longed to feel the arcane winds once more. She longed to feel Goddess Isara’s loving embrace. Each night, she called upon the Psenne winds for an opportunity; for something to help her escape captivity. No such opportunity came. She hoped she would not be imprisoned for long, and the queen’s army would have discovered the fort by now and destroyed it, but with each passing day, she slowly lost hope.

~

“Cursed be the Gods!” screamed Dr. Radlan from behind the door. As Kyra approached the steel entrance for the hundredth time. The anxiety she felt knowing that she would again be complicit in the slaughter of her people never went away. The feeling of regret and helplessness lingered within her, slowly and steadily antagonizing her as each passing day. With great reluctance, Kyra opened the door.

Dr. Radlan was sitting on a stool next to a pale corpse whose torso was lacerated wide from the sternum down to the abdomen. The body’s innards were scrambled about with no semblance of order. Dark liquid erupted from somewhere inside the stew of viscera and showered the doctor in ebony rainfall; his grey gown splotched with black. He quickly severed the artery.

“Ah great you’re here,” he said looking up at Kyra. “Hurry and fetch me a rag,” said the doctor. Kyra pulled a clean rag from the drawer and gave it to him. He began wiping the blood from his gown, but the stains remained. The doctor shook his head. “He was a lost cause anyway. We shall continue,” he said and wiped his hands of the remaining blood with the rag and tossed it to Kyra.

“Today is a day most momentous!” said the doctor, grinning from ear to ear. “My research on grimphitic acid and valsene gas is finally complete,” said the doctor. “After eight months of painstaking labor and many sleepless nights, all my efforts may finally come to fruition. Now that you are here, we can begin testing at once. For this experiment, we will utilize a live specimen for this specific operation.” Kyra wondered why they would need to use a live Sorven. The Sorven they operated on were always dead.

“We will begin testing with the acid and conclude our experimentation with the gas. I must see if the acid can pierce the magical barrier of the Sorven core and as for the gas, we’ll see if the toxin will bind to the Alinen receptors of the Sorven respiratory system. If this is a success, I may no longer have use for you,” said the doctor. He glanced at Kyra for searching for any reaction, but she remained silent. Her beady eyes were fixed to the pale corpse.

“Your lips seldom move anymore, but you have already given me more than enough information. I suppose that’s all I can ask for. I will prepare the next specimen and retrieve the acid. Go and dispose of this body and return at once.”

Kyra nodded without looking at him and carried the body in her arms. The body was abnormally heavy. Kyra’s muscles ached as she carried the body through the door. She knew her body was getting weaker by the day and it was only a matter of time before she lost all strength. She left through the door and descended down the spiral cobblestone staircase. The guards scowled at her as they always did as she walked past them. She loaded the body into a tumbril nearby and began wheeling it to the bonfire. It was raining again and the wind was cool and light. A gloom fog plagued the skies and vision was opaque. She unloaded the body on the mound of corpses in the fire pit, rolling lifelessly towards the side. She despised seeing her Sorven kin lay torpid, bunched together like lifeless fish out of water, yet even in death, their faces remained fierce and resilient. She recognized the designs of the Sorven birthmarks on their corpses as she unloaded them onto the pyre. Her kin came from many regions of her homeland, only to reunite in manphrite flame.

“I cannot allow these weapons to exist” she thought as she wheeled the cart back through the courtyard. “I may be the only one that can stop this madness. I must try at least.” 

Kyra returned to the keep and entered the operating room to see another Sorven already secured to the table. Her Sorven birthmark sat elegantly between her eyes shadowed by her dark bangs in a very familiar design.

“Kyra?” said a voice.

“Amine?” asked Kyra. Suddenly, the hairs on her cheeks and arm stood tall. “By Isara’s grace, I have not seen you since you were exiled.” She felt more at ease seeing such a familiar face. A face she had not seen since before the war. Before all the madness. She looked as strong as ever.

“I know. It’s been so long and to think we’d meet here of all places,” said Kyra still in disbelief. “How did you end up here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” said Amine with a bright yet pained grin. Kyra forgot how it was to talk to someone who didn’t berate her and who spoke to her as equals. She missed the confident, bold demeanor of Sorven, rather than the petulant cowardly tone of humans she was far too accustomed to.

“We were marching through one of their cities when trebuchet fire rained down on top of us. I broke off from my unit when I saw some of their warriors flee into a nearby building. We didn’t expect them to fire on their own people, especially in the cities but I suppose they were desperate. I was in the middle of plunging my blade through one of them when the whole building collapsed on me. I was knocked out and next thing I know, I’m riding in a wagon heading…here.”

“Really? Beaten so easily by machinery?,” joked Kyra. Amine laughed.

“Well, no one could have predicted that,” said Amine. She glanced down at Kyra’s chains pulsating with freckles of green light. “I see you’ve been enslaved by these filth as well.”

“Yes sister. I’ve been confined to this hellhole for…I don’t even know anymore” said Kyra.

“Is there no escape?” asked Amine. Kyra shook her head.

“No. Death is the only way out and they would have us tortured before killing us. Do you feel it? The crippling (sickening) grasp of grimstone. It surrounds us all.”

“Yes, I felt it as soon as I entered this place. I cannot even harness illusion magic here LUSIA. I have not felt such a strong force anywhere on this planet. Yet even so, there must be a way. Can you free me of these chains?”

“I am weak Amine. I have been rotting in this septic fog for longer than I can remember. I can not free you with strength or spell, but…perhaps…”

“But what?”

“…the acid.”

“Acid?”

“The acid he means to test on you. Perhaps if I can seize it from him, I can destroy these chains and yours as well. He claims it to be corrosive and strong enough to break magical wards.”

“How do humans have such technology?”

“At the expense of the grave slaughter and sacrifice of our kin,” said Kyra. Amine cursed.

“Well, these chains are not terribly tight. You may be able to loosen them before he returns.”

Kyra took a look at the cuffs. She was right. Dr. Radlan never remembered to tighten them. He was always engrossed in his work that he rarely concerned himself with maintenance of any of his equipment. Kyra wiggled the shackles back and forth. They still held tight, but not too tight.

Dr. Radlan suddenly opened the door wearing leather gloves with a black flask in hand. He looked at the two Sorven trying to wriggle free.

“Fall back! Stay away from the specimen!” he yelled, startling Kyra. She had not heard him raise his voice like that in a long time. The doctor quickly ran towards her and kicked her chest with great force, launching her to the ground and away from the operating table. “You will not ruin my experiment! Not now.” He put the flask on the wooden cart next to Amine and grabbed his ring from the pouch.

“Must I remind you of your purpose?” he said, slipping on the ring. You are to serve me and tend to my every demand. Do the hill of corpses you haul not serve as a reminder for what your future could hold? It is I that have blessed you with life when others seek only to harm you and I only ask for little in return. If you dare do something like that again, I will put you on this table instead since you seem so very eager.”

Kyra rose from the floor, fists clenched. Her instincts demanded she retaliate but she knew that if she were to do so, any opportunity to escape would be lost so she ceded her anger.

“You humans think so highly of yourselves,” interjected Amine, pitying the man. Much bravado without an ounce of humility. I am almost impressed. I wish I had fought more of your kind on the battlefield. Most of them were cowards too scared to raise their blade against me. I slaughtered them all, with ease. You talk much. Just know that you are but only flesh and bone. Nothing more.” Dr. Radlan looked at Amine up and down with savory eyes.

“We will see who is but flesh and bone in a moment,” said Dr. Radlan, pulling his stool next to the table where Amine lay. He grabbed a long rag and fastened it over her mouth and around her head forming a gag. He removed her metal breastplate and leather armor and ripped her remaining clothing apart revealing her bare chest and abdomen.

“You are to stand on the other side of the table,” ordered the doctor. “Fetch me the large scalpel so that we may begin. Try that once more and today will be your last.” Kyra turned to Amine and they looked into each other’s eyes. Her stoic expression told Kyra everything. Kyra knew she needed to grab the flask somehow, and fast, but the doctor was on high alert. The flask was placed on the table beside him so it would be near impossible to retrieve it without getting caught especially with that ring. She had to wait for the right moment. Kyra handed him the serrated scalpel he asked for. It was of medium length and a blend of black and green like the rest of the tools.

“I was going to ease your pain with tonic, however I want you to experience this first hand.” Dr. Radlan eyed her chest and sunk the scalpel, deep between her breasts. The grimstone in the scalpel sparkled brightly against the dim room. Amine gasped for breath but held her tongue. She closed her eyes as the doctor slowly made his way down her chest towards her abdomen. Blood seeped down both sides of the laceration dripping onto the table and Amine clenched her teeth as the grimstone peeled her skin apart like ripped parchment.The doctor moved deeper into her chest vigorously, unconcerned for her comfort. The grimstone laid siege to her mental being, decoupling her thoughts and scrambling her mind; a coalesce of physical and mental torture.

Kyra looked away. She had witnessed her fair share of executions and experimentations  but this one made her feel disgusted in a way she had never felt during all her time by the doctor’s side. She struggled to see Amine in this state, but she did not utter a word. That was the Sorven way. Her Sorven sisters would rather die than give the enemy the satisfaction of their misfortune. Amine’s breathing started to slow and she began to wheeze. She would not forgive herself if she died on her watch.

The doctor entered her chest cavity. A blackened skeletal cage consisting of a series of eight dark black rectangular structures revealed itself. The skeletal cage fully encasing the thorax, protecting the core.

“The pliers, please.” Kyra handed him what he asked with a trembling hand.

The doctor gripped each rib with the pliers and snapped them in half making way for the other organs below.

He began segregating the other organs until he reached his objective. The sorven core was submerged in a saddle-like cradle which overflowed with blood rushing out of the opening. The core itself was a circular-shaped dark mass that radiated in a beautiful red luminescence as the Sorven breathed. It was encased in a transparent shroud which protected it. A shroud that was visible only to the Sorven eye. Kyra could hear the random, intermittent breaths of her friend.

“Remarkable” said the doctor. “The ward. Do you see it?”

“…yes,” replied Kyra

“What does it show,” asked the doctor. Kyra could see the protective shroud clear as day. White Sorven glyphs floated around the core, fading in and out like twinkling stars.

“I see symbols…symbols of protection…glyphs.”

“Excellent. Then it is time.”

Dr. Radlan wiped the blood from his hands and donned his leather gloves. He picked up the black flask and raised it high. The flask was emitting a very ashen smoke.

“At last…” he said, admiring the flask. “The key to our salvation.” His eyes sparkled in marvel. It’s as if he saw all his work flash before his eyes. With one hand at the mouth of the flask and one cupping the bottom, he raised it above Amine’s core and tipped the flask downwards.

Kyra reached over Amine’s body and grabbed his right hand from across the operating table. She quickly snapped his ring finger, splitting the joint and tendon and tearing the skin apart. His finger dropped to the floor. The doctor howled in pain.

His grip was iron, unyielding, while hers faltered. She tried to pry it free, but her hands shook uncontrollably, muscles quivering with the effort. Her fingers slipped, barely holding on as her arms ached, every movement feeling heavier than the last. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and she grit her teeth, fighting just to keep her grip steady

“What do you think you’re doing?” yelled the doctor. “How dare you!” She twisted and pulled on the flask but it remained firmly in his grasp. The doctor tried to yank it out of her hands, but Kyra held on for dear life. This was her only chance and what she was doing was not working. Kyra grabbed the doctor’s throat with both hands and exerted all her strength on his neck.

“No…no…!” he grunted. He held on to her wrists and tried to pry them off of his neck but they were stiff as a pole. The doctor’s breathing slowed down and his skin turned pale as he struggled to find oxygen. The doctor bashed the side of Kyra’s head with an explosive left hook, catching her by surprise and she staggered backwards trying to regain her senses.

The doctor clutched the flask in fear for his life and emptied its contents towards Kyra’s direction. The acid splashed squarely across both of her eyes and grazed part of her cheek while the rest splattered against the floor. Kyra let go of him and dropped to her knees instantly. The doctor leaned on the wall clinging to his neck trying to catch his breath.

First came the darkness. Immediate solitude. The whole world forsake her at that very moment, yet would be accompanied by a sensation like no other. The caustic liquid razed her eyes in fire hotter than the sun. It feasted on her flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves and its corrosiveness flayed her face without end. She felt her eyes slowly molt into a gelatinous pulp. They remained shut and refused her every command to open. She slammed her fist on the floor over and over hoping the pain would subside. It did not.

“Kyra…no…” she heard Amine shout in a voice so weak.

She tried wiping the acid from her face but immediately found new pain in her palms. The nerves in her hand convulged and contorted her fingers. Her skin twitched and spazzed sporadically like her eyes. She clenched her teeth and tried to endure the pain but it was simply too much. Heat surged across her sorven skin and sweat dripped profusely from her throbbing temples. The odor of sulfur, ash and raw flesh invaded her nose and throat and refused to leave. She screamed loud, struggling to breathe, choking with every breath. Nothing mattered except surviving that very moment.

“You goddamned Sorven!” screamed the doctor still catching his breath.“You will absolutely die for this!” he promised. Kyra’s muscles tensed as the doctor kicked her on the ground yet his strikes were nothing compared to the pain already caused by his corrosive concoction.The door opened and several guards rushed through the door upon hearing the commotion. Their hands lay on the hilt of their swords ready for action.

“Throw her in a cell before I slay her right now!” Two guards lifted Kyra from the floor screaming and wailing. The acid continued to burn deep as they dragged her down the stairs. They threw her into a single isolated cell at the base of the fort.

Kyra rocked back and forth trying to endure the pain, but the acid was not done with her. It continued to attack her eyes scraping away at the flesh like vultures feeding on prey. Her body was tense and her head pounded like the beat of a drum and she moaned woefully like the call of a dying sea creature. Her breathing was short and sluggish. She resisted every urge just to gouge out her own eyes and save herself from this hell.

“My God…” she heard one of the guards say as she faded in and out of consciousness. “…that is…. hell… unbelievable… deserve…no pity…”

~

After several hours, the pain around her face and palms gradually tapered into but a lingering ache. Her throat felt dry and coarse and she could still taste and smell the mephitic odor of the acid that lingered. She sat up from off of the cold surface and put her back against the wall. Her eyes had been closed, or at least she thought they had been. She knew the damage was severe but she needed to know for herself. She needed to confirm. She mustered all her courage and lifted her eyelids open. Everything was dark. No matter where she turned her head, darkness followed.

Kveth!” she cursed. It cannot be. I am blind! Isara, release me from this torment or end my suffering! Her fingers trembled as they traced the skin around her eyes, rough and raw like sandpaper, the sensation extending down to her cheeks. Anger and sorrow surged within her—she had failed in her only chance to escape. The weight of defeat crushed any lingering hope. Accepting her fate, she resigned herself to her blindness. Nothing mattered now; she was certain she wouldn’t live to see another day. Dr. Radlan would come for her soon—it was only a matter of time.

She entertained the thought that she could perhaps find a healer. She knew of several healers that could aid the regeneration process, however she was far away from one and even if she returned to her homeland, it would be difficult to find one willing to help an exile.

A loud creak followed by a gang of footsteps separated Kyra from her thoughts. Someone was approaching and they seemed to be courted by guards. The footsteps stopped just in front of her followed by a deep penitent sigh.

“Pitiful, you are,” said Dr. Radlan. Kyra followed the voice with her ears. He sounded defeated and displeased. “A sad little god damned Sorven.” He paused for a moment before speaking once more. “I’m over here,” he said, rapping an object on the prison bars.

“I see my research was not entirely wasted. Blind are you now?” he asked. Kyra kept quiet. Hearing those words confirmed the worst of her fears and grounded her fully into a grim reality. She truly was blind.

“Quite an interesting outcome that has transpired…interesting indeed.” He took a deep breath. “You could have had your freedom in but seven days time. Instead, you chose to disrupt everything I’ve worked so very hard for. Clearly a lapse in judgment.”

“You kept me because you needed me,” said Kyra. Her voice was haggard.

“Perhaps. I also kept you because I wanted to truly understand your kind. I wanted to know if the Sorven were more than the savage warring creatures that slaughter for sport. You have been by my side for more than a fortnight.

Do not dare speak to me as such. You do not know me human. You best kill me now before I get another chance.

“Did you truly think after all these months of torture and ridicule I would be so willing to advocate for peace with humans? Do not mistake loyalty with slavery.

I have shown you nothing but kindness given your… situation.

“Alas, tomorrow it will be you atop the table. I must study the acid’s effects. When I have obtained all the necessary findings, I will kill you. For now, stay in your cage. Rest well, Sorven.” he said. He turned away from the cell’s bars and left the room. The hall was quiet and once again, Kyra was alone with her thoughts.

He was right. A sad Sorven you are. A failure. You have failed the whole Sorven empire with your own incompetence. Praise be that you will die here, because shame and execution in the Queen’s land is a future worse than death itself.

Kyra pressed her head against the wall. An airy breeze wafted through the chamber brushing across her tender eyes. Her head throbbed slightly as the grimstone that surrounded her made its rounds on her body. She was tired. Tired of being imprisoned, tired of helping humans and tired of the. She was ready to be done with it. Done with all the pain she’s endured over the months. Thinking about all the times she played a part in a Sorven’s killing at the benefit of the humans made her feel more ill than the grimstone. At this point, the darkness was a welcome reprieve. She did not want to see the consequences of her actions and she thought that perhaps blindness was a blessing from Isara herself. She looked forward to the following day knowing that the end would finally come. An end to all her suffering. She closed her eyes and fell into a disquietous slumber.

~

“Get your hands off me!” said Kyra, flailing her arms.

“Hey hey, it’s me. It’s Dain. I’m here to free you.” Kyra stopped immediately. She had heard that comforting, warm resounding voice before.

“Dain? It cannot be…” said Kyra faintly. “These thoughts are not my own…by Veyth’s 9 hells, end me so I may be free of this suffering!”

“Hey hey, it is truly I,” Dain said with reassurance in his voice. “Take my hand.” Kyra reached into the void hestantly,  moving her arms around until she felt his clothing. She moved her hand over bits of cloth and metal until she brushed over his hand which was covered in rough calluses. She knew instantly that it was him. She felt a connection; one of familiarity; one she remembered so vividly. It was a feeling she could never forget.

“It really is you!” She hugged Dain tightly. She buried her face deep into his chest. “I have missed you so.”

“As have I” Dain replied. They held each other tightly. “Isara’s grace, what have they done to you? You look terrible.” Dain____. “We must leave before the humans arrive and my power wanes.” He stood up and extended his palms towards the wall. He parted the ore and bricks apart forming a large circular opening that continuously rotated clockwise.

“Wait! There are other Sorven here. We must free them. They are in the upper chambers!

“There is no time, Kyra. This is likely our only chance to escape.”

“Please Dain! There must be a way,” pleaded Kyra.

“I’m sorry Kyra. We must make haste now! Through the tunnel, come!” The door to the dungeon opened and several guards emerged.

“You must guide me. I cannot see,” said Kyra.

Dain swiftly grasped her arm, pulling her into the tunnel just as the earth sealed behind them. With a fluid motion, he waved his hand in a circular arc, parting the dirt and rock to create a spacious passage for the two Sorven. The earth shifted and trembled around them, sending rocks and silt cascading down from above as Kyra hurriedly ducked behind Dain. The ground rumbled angrily, grumbling like a storm as it made way for their escape, enclosing them in a turbulent embrace.

They traveled underground for quite some time. Her frail body was not as strong as it used to be. Kyra hobbled behind Dain, breathing hard, trying her damndest to keep up though with every step, mild pain shot up through her Sorven bones. As much as she wanted to stop, it wasn’t an option. As she ran through the darkness, the grime and filth of grimstone slowly began to wreak havoc on her body as it expelled itself. Her chest began to tighten and her head throbbed like the beat of a drum. They ran for what seemed like several hours until Dain suddenly stopped.

“Watch your footing,” he warned. The tunnel suddenly tilted upwards at a slight incline and a brisk, frigid breeze lashed at Kyra’s face and the wind.

“Alas, you are here!,” she heard a man say faintly.

“Quickly, here is the horse and the provisions you requested. The path to Siel is safe for travel from these lands for the moment. You must make haste.”

“Thank you,” said Dain. Kyra’s temples pulsated even more and she clenched her teeth trying to endure the sensation.

“We will need a healer.”

“You know that is going to be near impossible for you,” said one of the men.

“Please, she is not well…” pleaded Dain. “I know of one who can help.” The man sighed and looked to his companion and they nodded hesitantly.

“Seek Falan in Markent. He is loyal and knows me well. He will swear himself to secrecy.”

“As you wish, we will search for him and return to you” replied one of the men.

“Thank you brothers. I know you put your lives at risk for us and for that I am forever grateful,” said Dain.

“You need not worry. We know you would do the same for us. You are a good man Dain. We will see you once again in Siel. Stay in the shadows,” said the other man and glanced over at Kyra. “And take care of her.” Dain nodded and bid his farewells.

“Come Kyra, we’re going home,” said Dain turning towards her. Kyra fell to her hands and knees and retched. She could not control it. Her arms and chest twitched involuntarily. She spewed what seemed years of tainted blood on the earth. Saliva clung her mouth as she coughed and heaved.

“Woah woah woah,” said Dain, rushing to her aid. He grabbed her hand and rubbed it gently.

“Easy now.” He grabbed a miniature draught from his pouch and pressed it up against Kyra’s lips. “Take this. It should ease your pain.”

The liquid was bitter and ice cold. “Ilvenon silia,” she remembered. “A medicinal Sorven brew.” Vigor and strength rushed towards every corner of her being and her convulsions steadily ceased and her breathing returned to normal.

“Hear me. We are far from that human stronghold so they will not be able to track us. It will be more than a week’s travel back to Siel. The war still rages and our journey may be dangerous. However, the faster we make it back, the safer we shall be,” said Dain. Kyra nodded her head in agreement. She could hear him search frantically for something in a bag.

“Wear this.” said Dain. A garment was pulled over her and a hood was placed firmly on her head. “This will conceal us. We will ride in the shadows. Let us go.”

Dain grabbed her hand guiding her carefully and thrust her upon the mount and he followed suit. Without hesitation, he spurred the horse and rode into the dark misty horizon. Kyra held on tightly to his waist never wanting to let go. As they rode, her hair whipped across her face inside her hood. Even though she could not see the world around her, she could finally feel the arcane winds swirling and drifting as it always has, unaware of her absence. The winds’ affinity made her feel whole again. She closed her eyes and tried to access the Psenne winds and did so now without deterrent. She felt around and touched upon Dain’s mind and his feelings. He felt determined and anxious but most of all, happy. Kyra smiled as she felt his emotions and quickly left the plane. She was finally free, but she could not stop thinking about all the atrocities that occurred by her hand. For now, she was just glad that the direction she was heading was towards her homeland. She tightened her grip around Dain’s waist and closed her eyes.

“Thank you…brother.” said Kyra with a smile.