Chapter 29 Bound by Blood
BOUND BY BLOOD
“Maybe one day, we’ll live somewhere green. No uniforms. No orders. Just flowers and books with pictures and stars so bright we forget who hurt us.”
—Linnéa Fenrówe, age nine
Gregor
The darkness is absolute. My eyes are covered with a thick cloth, denying me any sense of location or direction.
The air is damp, musty, and it smells of mold and decay.
I can feel the cold, rough surface of the stone wall against my back and the hard floor beneath me.
My hands are bound behind me so tightly the ropes cut into my wrists.
Every movement sends a jolt of pain through my exhausted body.
Since they took me, everything has been a blur of agony and fear. They dragged me here, wherever “here” is, and left me. I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been trapped in this darkness. The only sounds are the distant voices and footsteps above and the drip of water from the ceiling.
My stomach growls. I’ve hardly eaten. They’ve given me just enough water to keep me alive and thrown some dried bread on the floor. My throat is parched, my lips cracked and dry. Each breath is a struggle. I’m completely miserable.
But the physical pain is nothing compared to the mental torment. The constant uncertainty, the fear of what might happen next. I’ve tried to stay strong, to hold on to the hope that I’ll find a way out, but each passing day makes me believe my end is near.
The faces of my captors . . . their cold eyes. The threats, the beatings, the games they play with me. I am nothing more than a pawn in their hands, a tool to be used as they please.
The sound of footsteps approaching pulls me from my thoughts. My heart races. What new torment will they bring today? The footsteps stop in front of me, and a rough hand grabs my chin, tilting my head up.
“Gregor,” a cold voice says. It’s the stranger who found me on the road, the one who promised help only to deliver me into this nightmare. “How are you feeling today?”
I don’t respond. What can I say? My mouth is dry, and my voice feels like a distant memory. The stranger’s grip tightens.
“You’ve had a week to think about your situation,” he continues. “Do you understand the gravity of your position?”
I nod in his hold. There’s no point in resisting. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.
“Good,” he says, releasing my chin. “We have a task for you. A mission, if you will. Succeed, and perhaps we’ll consider your cooperation. Fail, and Linnéa pays the price.”
The mention of my sister makes my heart beat faster. I’ve endured this torment for her sake, to protect her from these monsters. At least I know they need me and won’t kill me. Or her.
“Wha . . . what do you want me to do?” I manage to croak out.
“We need you to infiltrate ávera,” the stranger says. “Gain their trust, learn their secrets, and report back to us. We will provide you with a means of communication.”
He pauses, and I feel the warmth of his body near me. The cloth around my eyes is finally removed, the sudden light blinding me. As my vision adjusts, I see the stranger standing before me, a crystal that glows with pink light in his hand.
“This,” he says, holding the crystal up for me to see, “is your means of communication—a vólkin crystal. You will use it to send us messages. Place it in water, and it sends one signal. Rub it with a warm cloth, and it sends another. Simple enough, even for you.”
I swallow hard, my eyes wide, dancing between his face and the crystal in his hand. Why would they have a vólkin crystal in their possession?
That’s it. I’m done.
Noel . . . How can I betray her? She spared my life.
Goose bumps cover my spine as I think of the day that giant beast shredded Arnold into nothing. Noel was kind enough to let me live, even knowing the plans we had for her. I never wanted her death. But Arnold . . .
I’m so sorry, Noel. I have no choice.
“I’ll do it.” My voice trembles.
“Excellent.” The stranger sounds satisfied with my answer. “But first, we need to prepare you. You’re a wreck. We’ll heal you and teach you everything you need to know about the vólkins.”
He kneels down in front of me and says with a grin, “Then, before sending you off, we will beat you a little more.”
I nod again, too exhausted to argue. The stranger motions to someone beside me, and rough hands untie my wrists. This giant of a man pulls me to my feet, and my legs shake from the effort it takes to stand.
“Come with me,” the stranger says, leading me out of the cold room. The light is blinding after days in darkness, and I stumble, barely able to keep up. They guide me to a small room where a healer awaits, his expression indifferent as he examines my wounds.
They forced me to quit the military using a forged healer’s note to explain my sudden departure.
It was a reminder of the power they hold, how easily they can manipulate my life.
The beatings have been relentless, a method to extract every detail I know about the vólkins and my brief time in the forest. But I couldn’t tell them much, I only saw the vólkin for a few moments.
They were not satisfied with my answers.
Now, as the healer’s hands move over my injuries, I feel the slightest relief—relief that the physical pain might soon lessen—and dread for the mission that awaits me. I’m being prepared, molded into a tool for their use, and I can do nothing to stop it.
The wounds disappear before my eyes. How is that possible?
The bruises heal within moments, the cuts seal, and I feel as good as new.
What?
If they have this type of medicine, why aren’t they healing citizens? People die every day from fever. I don’t understand.
The healer finishes and steps back, his work done. The stranger, his gaze cold, hands me the glowing crystal.
“Remember, Gregor,” he says. “We are always watching.”
I take the crystal, its surface cool and smooth in my hand.
“Come,” he says, leading me out of the healer’s room. “We shall begin your vólkin lessons.” He looks at the crystal in my hand. “There’s so much you need to know.”
I feel a knot of fear tighten in my throat. I must succeed. For my sister’s sake and mine, I have to.
Otherwise, I’m dead.