Chapter 82
Lex
EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO
The scream that rent from Faylinn’s mouth was unlike any I had heard before, unlike any I had experienced up until this point. It sounded like they were tearing her apart from the inside out, and my heart was shredded each time.
Faylinn was not wrong in her assessment last night—today had been a day of horrors. They woke us early, and fed us as usual, but the torture started in earnest as soon as the dishes were cleared.
It hadn’t stopped.
Not for the midday break we usually received.
Not for the death of three other men and women today.
And certainly not for the begging and pleading that came from both Faylinn and me.
The men in the black robes no longer touched me with daggers or blunt tools of trauma.
But I wished they would.
I would take a hammer to my fingers, a short blade scraping along my bones, my blood sluicing from hundreds of half-healed incisions along my body, over the absolute terror and agony coming from Faylinn.
The worst part was, they weren’t touching her with knives and daggers. Instead, they brought in a fully developed Pain Mage, one whom I vaguely recognized from my time in the army, and used his powers to delve into Faylinn’s mind.
I couldn’t see her pain. But I could feel it.
And my heart broke with each passing minute, each scream that devolved into soft, pain-filled mewls.
“Leave him alone,” she whispered, her voice a broken and cracked thing from screaming for hours. Her lips were cracked and dry, her body folded in half from tense and taut muscles.
Leave who alone?
“Don’t touch him. You can’t have him.” My eyes never left her body as she shook with another tremor.
“She’s talking about you,” a man in a black robe whispered into my ear, and I shook my head.
The man simply leered at me, his yellowing teeth on full display.
“You’re a fool, then. A Pain Mage shows their victim what they want them to see. And he wants her to see you. In any number of fucked-up situations. He’s one of our best, too,” he mused. My eyes inadvertently shot to the Pain Mage.
He was older, probably in his thirties, with greasy mouse-brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. His nails were long and sharp, which matched his teeth—filed into impossible points. Sweat beaded on his brow and ran down his face as he forced his magic into Faylinn’s psyche.
His Vessel—a stunning ebony-skinned woman with long twisted braids and murder in her deep black eyes—was pressed tightly to his side. Her wrists were chained to his belt so she was never too far from contact, too far for him to draw from her.
Something about the Vessel spoke to me, pulled at me, and I suddenly forgot about the torture and Faylinn’s agony, her screams and the usual noises in the room dulling as my gaze zeroed in on her.
I saw the minute she felt my gaze, because her eyes flew to mine, her lips parted on a gasp. The moment our eyes met, I felt something shift inside me. Like my very blood began to burn, and I ached to reach for her, to hold her, to claim her.
The Vessel dropped her hands from her Mage’s body and stretched toward me, as if responding to the pull I felt in my own blood. As soon as her skin lost contact with his, his Pain Magic sputtered and died, Faylinn waking from her magic-induced nightmare with a low groan.
Still, the Vessel and I stared at each other, and my very soul felt like it would be consumed by the flame burning within.
“Bitch!” the Mage roared, backhanding the Vessel as she tried to reach for me, her progress halted by the clank and pinch of the chains binding her to him.
The slap reverberated across the space and she sprawled on the ground, her arms and wrists still suspended in the air from where they were attached to his belt.
“You are mine.” One of his taloned hands came around her throat, forcing her to her feet as she gagged for air. Her eyes grew wide as she tried to paw at her Mage, to get him to release her, and something inside me snapped.
I roared at him, fighting against my straps. I felt the leather groan and pop as I strained to reach her, to help her, to get his filthy fucking hands off of her.
The Mage simply sent me a bored look before returning his milky-blue eyes to his Vessel.
“Whore,” he spat before releasing her with a shove.
She gagged and coughed, spit running down her chin from the tightness of his hand.
“We need a break,” he announced to the men in black robes. “My Vessel,” he spat the words, “needs to be reminded of her place.”
The men in black robes bowed low and respectfully as they blustered about the space, avoiding eye contact with the unhinged Mage.
“Come, cunt. It’s time to remind you who you belong to.” The Mage pulled on her restraints, dragging her along as she continued to cough.
Anger and disgust warred within me as my blood continued to singe my veins.
“Oh, and that one”—he stopped at the door to point to me—“is close. Break him.” He hissed the last word before grabbing his Vessel by the arm in a white-knuckled grip and carrying her through the exit, the door slamming behind them in finality.
As soon as the door was closed and the Vessel was out of sight, my blood cooled. It was still singing, but simmering rather than a raging inferno.
“Interesting,” one of the men in black robes said as they unhooked Faylinn and me from the straps. “Very interesting.”
With the Vessel no longer present, my attention focused again on Faylinn once we were in our cells. Instantly, I felt disgusted with myself for forgetting about her in the first place. Chagrin washed over me, coating me in shame, and my cheeks pinked from it all.
I sat on my straw bed, my head hung low between my knees as I wrung my hands together. All I wanted to do when I left that pleasure house years ago was protect my family, protect my siblings.
Not only had I failed in that endeavor, but now I was putting other women—innocent women—in danger.
Objectively, I knew that Faylinn and the Vessel from earlier were not here because of me. That their punishments were not because of my existence or actions.
But it was difficult to separate myself from the situation. Especially after I watched Faylinn being tortured day after day, simply because she meant something to me.
I kept vigil for the rest of the evening and into the early parts of night, watching Faylinn’s back rise and fall shakily as her labored breathing fought to keep her alive.
Eventually, her body stopped shaking, her lungs ceased their rattling.
And I thought for sure she had died.
I flung myself at the bars that separated us, not caring for the clanging that echoed through the space and woke the other men and women.
They didn’t matter.
But Faylinn did.
“Faylinn,” I whispered urgently as I stuck my arm through the bars, desperate to touch her, to feel her warm skin against my palm, to ensure she was still alive.
My forearm got caught halfway through, her body just beyond the reach of my fingertips. I strained against the barrier, desperate to reach her. A keening noise came from somewhere in the cells, loud and low. Like an animal caught in a trap, certain of their death.
It took a minute, in accompaniment to the yells of “shut the fuck up” from others in the cells, to realize the sound came from me.
I pushed against the barrier again and again, until my torso was cut and bleeding as I desperately tried to force my arm further through the cage to reach her.
“Faylinn!” I cried.
“Lex. Be quiet.” Faylinn’s voice was a low rasp, barely a whisper, but I somehow heard it over the cacophony I was making.
Immediately, her voice halted my actions. I sagged against the bars of the cage, my arm suspended, as I greedily sucked in lungfuls of air. My eyes closed, and I rested my forehead against the bars of the cage.
“Fucking finally,” someone muttered from a nearby cell.
“Crazy fucker,” another grumbled.
I half-heartedly stuck my middle finger up before letting it fall listlessly to my side.
“Fay?” I whispered again.
I heard the rustling of hay and a quiet groan before her forehead was pressed against mine through the cage.
“Lex.” Her breath fanned over my face, the smell that was so inherently her washing over me as I inhaled. Her presence instantly calmed me, and I pulled my arm through the cage only to push it back through, closer to her so I could touch her, ensure she was actually alive.
We stayed like that for what felt like a quiet eternity—our foreheads pressed together, fingers delicately stroking each other’s faces and necks.
“Lex, what happened today?” Faylinn finally broke the silence.
My eyes fluttered open to hers, only to find confusion and desperation in her gaze. My brow furrowed involuntarily, and one of her thin fingers came to rub in between my eyebrows, trying to soothe my worry.
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head slightly.
“I do. I remember the . . . visions the Pain Mage gave me. I’m asking about you. What happened with you today?”
I paused, contemplating how to word what I experienced in the torture chamber earlier today.
“There was a Vessel,” I began, and Faylinn nodded encouragingly. “Something drew me to her? It’s hard to explain. It was like my very soul knew hers, wanted to be with her. She felt it, too. It’s why your torture stopped. Because she took her hands off her Mage, so he couldn’t channel anymore.”
Faylinn hummed for a moment, never ceasing her stroking.
“What did it feel like?” she finally asked.
“Like my blood was boiling. Like my very soul was on fire. Like that fire would consume me entirely if I let it.”
Faylinn paused her stroking and lifted my chin with her other hand so our eyes met again.
“You started Awakening,” she breathed, full of fear.
Instantly, my muscles tightened and a cold sweat broke across my brow and back.
No. No, I can’t Awaken. I can’t leave her here. I can’t be another body.
“No.” I shook my head in denial.