The Test
Hazel recoiled as though she’d been slapped. No, that’s on me, she thought. I should have seen this coming. He’s a dangerous monster. This is what he does, and I let my guard down. She backed away from him slowly, hand rising to touch the locket.
He grabbed her other wrist and held firm. It didn’t hurt, but she yelped, nonetheless.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Just let me explain.” His eyes were remorseful, but once again, her mind was screaming at her to get away.
How? How does one simply explain murdering their own sister? She said nothing aloud, only stared into his eyes, fearful and searching.
Slaide’s grip slid down to her hand. Hazel glanced at their clasped hands, her insides roiling with conflicting emotions. When she looked back up at him, his eyes were pleading, so she offered a silent, consenting nod.
He walked back to the boulder overlooking the lake, tugging her gently behind him. He sat facing her and pulled his hand from hers.
“I never meant for it to happen. If you understand nothing else I tell you tonight, please believe me when I say that.” Slaide released her then.
He ran his hands down his face.
“As far back as I can remember, they’ve been telling me I was special, filling my head with delusions and making promises that would never be fulfilled. I entered combat and weapons training from a younger age than you can possibly imagine.”
Hazel crossed her arms over her body, cradling herself.
Slaide continued. “I spent my entire young life as the bastard. The weapon. The beast. The odd one out. It became unbearable.” He looked into Hazel’s eyes, his own glassy and full of sadness.
“I fought tooth and nail against what they were trying to turn me into. I was just a boy. I wanted to play with the other boys in the castle yard, harass the young maidens as they often did, and practice sword fighting. But I wasn’t allowed to be normal.
“I tried—on more than one occasion, I tried to escape this fate I’ve been dealt, this life I’ve had no choice in.
I thought if I could just remove myself from this world, then I could undo some of the harm my existence had caused.
And do you know what I learned? I can’t even die like a mortal.
I’m blessed, so they say, with advanced healing capabilities.
Some blessing that is, when you don’t want to live. ”
Hazel’s heart was ripping in two. This man was dangerous.
He was a trained killer who’d shown no remorse for his victims. However, hearing him admit he couldn’t continue on, that he’d rather die at his own hand than face what the future holds?
She wondered if maybe he wasn’t as hardened inside as he’d led everyone to believe.
That perhaps he showed them what they wanted to see while he suffered within.
“My life improved for a bit when they introduced me to Sylvie,” he said.
“I’d had no idea I had a sister, let alone a twin.
They’d kept us separate to prevent us from forming a bond as siblings do, insisting this would be a hindrance on missions.
Which was laughable at best because when I met her, the connection was immediate.
Her presence lit a long-dormant beacon in my soul, one I always knew existed but never knew how to light.
All they’d managed to do was to delay the inevitable.
She was not just the only family I had, but my other half.
The missing piece of my soul. I finally had someone who understood the struggles of being what we are.
For once, I wasn’t alone. We shared in each other’s hardships and burdens, and having her in my life made the days seem just a little bit brighter. ”
He took a deep breath before continuing.
“It was short lived. The rest is a blur, except the bits and pieces that are burned into my memory.
The Magistry cooked something up in the Citadel.
A potent serum that causes the user to return to their base instincts and magnifies any special abilities, be it magic, strength, or ferocity.
The Archmages paired this with a magefire-infused obsidian collar—one they could control with a flick of their fingers—and it gave them the ability to wield powerful beings like weapons.
“Sylvie and I were used for late-stage testing. I remember seeing Gammen’s smug face as they led us into an arena and forced us to slaughter scores of men.
They’d forced us both to take the serum.
I never tired. Nor did she. But then it was just us remaining…
and I… I didn’t have a choice. She was Hel-bent on killing me and if not for the serum… I would have let her. But I couldn’t.”
He was staring at the ground, but Hazel heard the choked sob in his voice. Her eyes welled, too.
“She smiled at me just before she went limp in my arms. No one rushed to us or offered help. They just watched from the stands like they were watching a couple of caged animals fight.”
Hazel’s eyes spilled over, and when Slaide looked up at her, a single tear ran down his cheek. She stepped forward and cupped his face, brushing the tear away with a swipe of her thumb. He grabbed her wrist and held her hand in place.
“You needed to know. I saw the look on your face. The fear. It fits the narrative, doesn’t it?
Slaide Elias, the monster. And you know what?
They’re right. I am all those things and more.
Because after Sylvie’s death, I made a choice.
I became everything they feared I would be.
Every whispered rumor, every assumption made behind my back.
I brought it all to life. I altered my entire essence to become their nightmare, and I never looked back. ”
He looked up and Hazel stared at him as though she could see into his soul.
And after he’d laid himself bare, maybe she could.
She watched his eyes follow a lone tear as it traced a line down her pink-tinged cheek, and then he was moving, pulling her close.
She didn’t balk at his firm touch, didn’t pull away.
Instead, she stepped in to Slaide and swung her leg over his thighs, straddling his lap.
He reached up, hand trembling, and cupped her cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb. She closed her eyes at his touch and her cheek warmed under his caress, the pink in her cheeks deepening.
She opened her eyes again and let out a breath before reaching up and covering his hand with her own.
“I see you, Slaide Elias. I see there is more to you than meets the eye. More than the rumors and the assumptions and the horrible things they’ve made you do.
I am sorry your childhood was stripped from you, and that you’ve been forced to live your life as a monster.
But you are more than the skin they’ve forced you to wear. ”
He closed his eyes and Hazel watched as a layer of the barrier he’d built around himself came down. How long had he waited for someone to tell him it was okay? To validate his suffering? To give a name to his inner turmoil?
She leaned in, bringing her soft lips to his cheek, laying a kiss where the tear had been.
Slaide flinched, and his eyes shot open, wide with disbelief.
Hazel pulled back and ran a hand through his hair.
This wasn’t lust or some feral hunger. It was something completely different.
Something new. A tender touch for a broken soul.
“I don’t know why the Fates insisted we cross paths,” she said, “but I’m starting to believe it was for a reason.”
All he could do was stare into her eyes, shining more green than brown in the pale moonlight.
Another otherworldly howl shattered the otherwise silent night, interrupting what was quickly becoming something Hazel couldn’t put a name to.
She was almost grateful for the distraction.
Slaide, however, bristled. She watched as his pupils dilated in an animalistic manner, his features scanning, searching.
“Uh, Slaide?” She questioned uncomfortably, shifting from his lap.
“Shh.” He stood, slowly.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” She lowered her voice to a whisper.
Slaide ignored her, walking to the cliff’s edge and staring out over the lake. Hazel followed, keeping a respectful distance. She stopped beside him and watched as he looked out over their surroundings. He tipped his head to the sky and closed his eyes, letting the soft breeze blow over him.
When he turned to face her, she noted how he fixed his expression, masking the concern that flickered there.
“What is it?”
“Something that isn’t supposed to be on this side of the Border. It’s… nothing. But we should go.” His voice was laced with concern, something Hazel wasn’t used to hearing. And to make matters worse, her locket’s warmth was noticeable again.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing. Why can’t you just tell me what it is?”
“Because I don’t know what it is. You need to stop talking, and we need to head back. Speaking of which, where’d you leave my horse?”
She shrugged. Admittedly, she had forgotten about Phillip, but she was sure he was fine. I hope. But she pushed those thoughts down, instead saying, “Phillip is in a glade in the forest, probably still grazing. That boy doesn’t miss an opportunity to eat.”
“No, he doesn’t.” He began walking down the hill, Hazel taking her cue to follow.
“So, you’re not going after it?” She asked, a little too eagerly. Was she enjoying the danger? Or was it the proximity… the opportunity to get to know this not-so-deadly witch hunter?
“No.” He huffed.
“And why not?” She tried not to sound too disappointed.
“Because you’re dead weight.”
Rude. But for once, she wasn’t in the mood to argue. It was getting late, dark, and they had a long ride back through the forest while the night’s creatures began their haunts. She found herself sidling up to him.
He glanced down at her as they walked, a smirk crawling across his face. “You’re not scared, are you? The infallible Hazel Callahan. You’ll take me on, but you’re afraid of the dark?” He put his arm around her then, pulling her a little closer.
“You know as well as anyone it’s not the dark I’m afraid of. It’s what lurks in the shadows.” She frowned up at him.
Slaide let out a hmph in response. “You’ve got a lot to learn if you think your only enemies are the ones hiding in the shadows. Sometimes the ones who don’t hide are the most dangerous of all.”
Hazel didn’t think they were still talking about wild beasts in the night or the monsters crossing the Border. His gaze lingered over her for a moment before he looked away.
They rounded a bend, and sure enough, Phillip was right where she’d left him. Still eating. Much to Phillip’s dismay, Slaide put an end to his extended mealtime and pulled the stubborn horse from his grassy buffet.
Things were almost too quiet on the ride back.
“You know,” Hazel started, breaking the silence, “you’re not the only one struggling with who and what you are. I’ve never felt so lost and alone as I have these past few days. My life was turned upside down before I landed here, after I battled a Striga, of all things.”
He perked up at the name of the monster. “Striga. You’re sure? They generally don’t come that far beyond the Border.”
“I am. And if I wasn’t, the man who showed up and drove her off confirmed it.”
Hazel thought she heard him scoff over her shoulder.
“You don’t believe me.”
“It would be a lot more believable if you were dead. You used your powers, didn’t you?”
There was no sense in lying about it anymore, was there? “If I had these powers everyone claims I do, wouldn’t I have used them by now? Wouldn’t I have obliterated you during our fight? Used them to escape?”
For a moment, Slaide said nothing, and Hazel enjoyed the satisfaction of shutting him up for once.
It was short lived.
“Probably self-preservation,” he replied at last. “The same reason you’re lying right now.”
Hazel stiffened.
Slaide chuckled softly against her back. “Fine then. Keep your secrets.”
She scrunched her face. “The only thing I know for sure, and you know for sure, is that my mother was more than likely a witch. And while I don’t understand it, I’m not denying it.
I just…” her words trailed off. “I don’t know what it means for me.
I’m trying to wrap my head around Connall and Agnes both lying to me for so many years. My entire life has been a lie.”
Silence spread between them again, the clopping of Phillip’s hooves on cobblestone the only sound. It was as though Slaide was giving her space to process.
“Searching for answers is how I ended up in this mess, you know. I don’t have a single memory of my mother, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the associations I’m forming around her now…
well, they’re not great. I was hoping to find out she was a good cook, perhaps a talented seamstress, or even a healer of some sort.
” She didn’t need to clarify that she meant the non-magical variety.
“Well for what it’s worth coming from a witch hunter,” Slaide said, voice low, “your worth isn’t limited by who or what your mother was. All that matters is how you choose to move forward.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Because there was absolutely no way Slaide was being nice to her.
But she didn’t have the energy to argue. Hazel was so tired, the weariness seeming to catch up with her out of nowhere. The side-to-side rocking and dipping of Phillip’s stride reminded her of Nan’s old rocking chair, lulling her in as the day’s events caught up with her.
Slaide’s chest was a warm, solid wall behind her, his breaths coming in a steady rhythm, his heart thumping in time with Phillip’s hoofbeats.
She leaned into him involuntarily, but Slaide didn’t protest. For the first time all evening, she let her guard down and closed her eyes, replaying the gentle words of a man who should have killed her by now.