Wizard of the Wood

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6

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“Again.”

That voice… her voice… commanded something of her once again. Unfeeling with no inkling of pity or soul in her voice. Did she not know how it felt? Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to be made to suffer? Had she done something wrong? Had she hurt someone in a past life to deserve this?

She didn’t want to do it again. She wanted to be done. She wanted to be free. Why couldn’t they just let her go? Why couldn’t she just let her go?

“Drill it again!” That voice. That cold female voice. Like a dagger of ice carving its way down her spine, it sent a frigid shiver through her that reached the depth of the fragment of should she clung to.

Did she dare try to refuse? Bad things happened when she refused; but, then again, bad things always happened whether she obeyed or not.

Obedient.

Unfeeling.

Unthinking.

She raised her hand and dared to tap into her power. At least this way, the hurt might not be as bad. The air around her swirled. The crack of a lightning strike ripped through the sky.

Power.

Pure adrenaline.

The flash of deep crimson raining down from the sky meant she was doing something right. The lightning flash struck her chest. Suddenly, everything hurt. Every nerve and fiber of her being screamed in agony and exhilaration as the rush of electricity surged through her.

“Good. Very good. Run it again,” said that same cool voice.

Sourceless.

Untouchable.

Omnipresent.

That wicked woman – her tormentor – was always there; and she couldn’t refuse without consequence.

So, they did.

She ran it again and again, which is when the commands began.

“Hit the target.”

“Make the cut clean.”

“Grab the blade.”

“Ignite the blade.”

Every command was fulfilled, even when exhaustion took her vision.

“Good. Very good. Maybe you are ready.”

Then, as the last flash vaporized, there was darkness.

Alone.

Black above, below, and from side to side. As the light faded and left her in only darkness, she realized the muzzle was gone. The gag was gone. Was now her chance? Taking a few bold steps and spinning around to see where that psychopathic woman was, she cried out.

“Let me go! Please! Just let me go!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, but her voice was swallowed b the thick darkness surrounding her. The air felt tangible, as if her words were swirling around her, stagnant and suspended in mid-air.

Then, that laugh. That cackling laugh from that wicked captor of hers. It began as a whisper formed from an echo’s dream. It grew exponentially until she thought her eardrums were going to burst.

The cacophonous laugh, without warning, was silenced and, instead, produced one single terrifying word…

Run…

Willing her body to move, she sprinted as fast as she could, not knowing where she was going and unsure if she was even moving forward.

Why did this place look familiar? It was nowhere, but even nowhere is somewhere.

Step after step landed onto some semblance of a surface. It was only as her lungs screamed for mercy when things began to emerge in puffs of verdant-grey smoke. Implements used to hurt her. Tables she was strapped to. They formed as though the smoke were moving through water, dissipating in the air and expanding out to engulf all it touched.

Easily, she breezed past the emerging objects as they formed from the smoke. Barriers shot up from the ground, but she leapt over them. Beams and wires spread themselves like spiderwebs over every path she turned to; but she refused to stop running.

She refused to give up again.

Today would be her day.

The crackling crimson lightening shot from the tips of her fingers on her outstretched hand, melting the wires and clearing her path.

There!

There, up ahead, was a sliver of golden light. Indescribable, it was the most beautiful thing she laid her eyes on. Drawn to this beauty, she ran toward it, spending every ounce of willpower she had left in her broken body.

Her heart raced faster and faster until she thought it was going to burst. The golden light was so close, expanding wider and wider into a doorway that could only lead to a better place. Were those flowers? Was that the mountain side? Shapes began to form from a golden sandy mist, and their clarity was enhancing with every step.

She reached out her hand. She could nearly touch it.

It was too good to be true.

As though an invisible noose had latched onto her throat, her head was snapped back, and her body was flung backwards into the air. She hit the ground hard, the air being thrown from her lungs. To her horror, that invisible tether began dragging her backward away from the light and into the menacing contraption that kept her pinned down. Her body slid onto the metallic slab and stayed there as she thrashed with all her might.

“Oh, my dear, we still have work to do.”

She watched two sourceless hands emerged with that awful mouthpiece she was all too familiar with. Leather straps secured her body down, choking her wrists and legs.

“No!” she screamed through the gag as the thunderous laughter consumed her once again. The glint of the master’s blade caught what little golden light was left as that doorway slowly sealed itself away.

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Essie’s eyes snapped open, heart palpitating in her chest so hard she felt lightheaded. She sat bolt upright in her bed, heaving a few breaths as she looked at the glistening sweat on her arms and chest.

What happened? Why had she woken up so startled? Essie glanced around the room, but the window and door were both secure. There was nothing actively breaking into her home. She glanced up at the shelf where her small roommate slept on the shelf. Nothing. He was such a sound sleeper, and he hardly could make such a ruckus at his size.

Was it a dream?

Impossible.

She couldn’t dream. She hadn’t dreamed for years.

Right?

Then again… was she dreaming and just not remembering? If that were the case, the juniper should make the dreams soothing, right?

There were spells she tried, but they didn’t work.

Why?

Why couldn’t she remember what happened?

Was there a reason?

And, if there were a reason, why was it so hidden? Essie considered herself to be intelligent and being unable to solve this riddle weighed on her mind and soul.

Then again, would she want to remember whatever it was if it made her seat like this? If she woke up with her heart breaking through her ribs, it couldn’t be good, right?

With a sigh, she forced herself out from under her covers and stared at the fireplace. “Igni,” she said firmly, and a sparking flame formed on the tip of her finger. She flicked the spark into the fireplace and focused on growing the flame until it engulfed the wood. Her ice shard like eyes latched onto the crackling warmth of the wood. Draping her blanket over her shoulders, she sat by the fireplace and stared for a time before coaxing herself from her mind.

Maybe being productive would take her mind off of things.