51. Vera
Vera
FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO
My feet carried me straight to the underground tunnel system of Scarven’s massive property, past his guards and the other cells full of nameless prisoners covered in their own sweat and piss.
The stench of their blood stung the inside of my nose, until I looked down and realized the smell was coming from me.
My hands were coated in the blood of Scarven’s latest victim, one of his guards who had turned traitor and was passing intel to a local group of rebels.
Scarven’s bloodlust still coursed through my veins with the drugs in my system, the echo of his last command beating in my head like a drum.
“Bring me his tongue.”
I marched into Mortep’s laboratory and planted the slimy appendage on the table in the center. Mortep and Scarven both looked up at me.
“That was quick,” Scarven said with an impressed nod. His approval melted into my mind, and I stood before him obediently, awaiting his next command.
“That’s all for today,” he said, then motioned to Mortep. “The memory serum, Mortep.”
Mortep inclined his head. I sat in the usual chair, muscles stiff, and held out my arm.
I distantly noticed the deep purple, blue, and green mottled skin at the crook of my elbow, where dozens of miniscule red pinpricks were laid out like constellations, but I merely blinked the thought away.
If it was what Lord Scarven willed, who was I to question it?
The needle sank into my skin, and everything went black.
My eyes fluttered open, cheek plastered to the familiar cold floor of my cell. I pinched the bridge of my nose, then massaged my temple with a groan. My head was throbbing so hard, my teeth rattled.
“Songbird? Are you awake?” Swift asked from the other side of the wall.
I groaned in answer. “How long was I gone?”
“They brought you back a few hours ago, in the middle of the night. They just dropped off food.”
I couldn’t remember anything, only an endless cycle of needles and darkness. It all bled together now. I could never recall what happened after the injections, just that they left my mind drained and my arm sore with even more bruises.
I sniffed myself and winced. The tang of blood clung to my skin, but I didn’t think it was mine. Where had I been last night?
“How do you feel?” Swift asked gently.
“Couldn’t be better,” I snapped. “How do you think I feel?”
The answering silence pressed into me, louder than any crowd. I instantly got to my knees and crawled to the wall between us. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“It’s okay,” he said. He was always so patient, so understanding, even when I didn’t deserve it. I’d been more and more irritable these past few months. I never meant to take it out on him, but sometimes...I couldn’t hold it in.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “What they did this time?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I sighed. “I can’t remember. Again.”
There were gaps in my life over the last six months, moments of eerie blackness that didn’t feel like unconsciousness, but were just…
empty. A void that got farther away every time I tried to touch it.
Lately, however, my nightmares were worse.
I saw flashes of myself, only there was something off—something that didn’t quite look like me.
I was doing the most horrible things. Burning homes, ripping through flesh with my claws, beating faceless strangers until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp.
I had to believe they were simply dreams. I couldn’t think about the alternative.
“Alright,” Swift said. “Well, did they say anything that—”
“I said, there’s nothing to talk about. Leave it alone!” I snarled, anger surging through me. The emotion was dark and unfamiliar, gone as quickly as it appeared.
Shame swept in, crowding out the foreign rage. “Swift, I—I’m so sorry.” I pushed my hand into the wall as tears leaked from my eyes. They came so fast, I couldn’t control them, could only let them fall and splash to the ground. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said. “You have every right to be angry.”
“But I’m not angry at you. It’s like there’s this—this voice, or a feeling inside me that’s not mine. Or maybe it is, and I—I don’t know.” I let out a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Swift. I don’t know what they’re doing to me.”
A shuffling came from his side before his finger poked through the hole, and I twisted mine around it.
That simple touch sent a pang of yearning through my heart, so strong my chest caved in.
“I just wish you were here,” I choked out.
Hot tears slid down my cheeks as I clung to his finger. “I need you. I can’t do this anymore.”
His finger tightened around mine. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know, but I—I need to feel you.” My breath hitched. “I need to feel something real. I can’t remember the last time someone held me.” I swallowed hard, pressing my forehead to the stone. “I just need you.”
Stone scraped as he shifted closer. “You have me,” he murmured. “Every breath you take, I’m taking it with you. You’re real to me in every way that matters, and some day, I’m going to hold you and never let you go. We just have to keep fighting.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m so tired.”
“I know. I know, Songbird. But sometimes it’s not just about strength.
” There was a pause. “Sometimes it’s opening your eyes when you don’t want to.
It’s breathing through the pain instead of letting it swallow you.
Sometimes it’s just…surviving.” His voice softened.
“You’re still here. That’s fighting. And I’m with you every step of the way. ”
I drew in a deep breath, and I could hear his own breathing match mine, grounding me without saying a word. “I love you, Swift,” I finally said, kissing the tip of his finger.
“I love you too, Songbird.” His voice settled something inside me. “You should try to sleep. You sound exhausted.”
I was. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept more than an hour or two. It was hard to make my body rest, despite how weak I was. Part of me was afraid I’d wake up and more pieces would be missing, more gaps in my memory, more blank time I couldn’t get back.
I leaned my shoulder into the wall, still holding tight to his finger. Through his touch, I felt warmth spread up my arm and into my mind. Everything became soft and heavy at the same time, relaxing my muscles and soothing the bleakness.
I sighed, slow and steady. I could tell he was using his magic on me. “Swift, no,” I managed to say. “The chains…”
“It’s okay.” Beneath his carefully controlled voice, I heard the strain, the effort it took to fight against the punishing, magic-dampening chains. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.”
Before I could protest, my eyes slid shut as my head lolled to my chest. Illusions of peace cocooned me, separating me from the coldness of the cell. I faded to sleep with the image of strong arms holding me against a warm chest.