Chapter 38
Thirty-eight
Zellie
Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t— an animalistic scream rips from my chest, agonizing waves of bubbling pain destroying any determination I had not to give them the satisfaction of hearing my cries. My magic curls within me, pressing down, down, down; as if hiding from their prying hands.
Two masked figures hover above my trapped body, strapped down tightly by cords similar to the bindings they use on me, but these are black.
These must suppress my magic too, but not as severely as the clear threads.
The black cords are only used when they’re trying to pull my magic out, so it must be less of a barrier, but they only remove the other bindings once these are secured.
Will my magic ever be free again? I suppress a sob, mourning the loss of something that has so inherently become a part of me.
They’ve moved me from my cell to an experimentation chamber; never speaking, always tormenting.
The masks cover their face in entirety, only small slits open where their eyes are, yet too small for me to discern their color.
The rest is a reflective, glossy silver.
It’s intentional, I think, to reflect the terror and suffering conveyed on my face. I try not to look.
I haven’t decided what is worse: the physical torture, when they cut and carve me like a meat intended to be served, or this—the magical poking, pulling, drowning.
Some wounds appear on the outside, but these ones, the ones that fester internally, shrivel and rot me into a shell of who I used to be.
“Again,” the garbled voice instructs the second masked torturer.
They wear cloaks as the Kosmos do; however, these are plain, thick, velvety black, intended to hide any recognizable features.
Not giving me more than a second to recover, the harrowing being raises his hands above me, poised to cause maximum wrecking.
Instantaneously, wave after wave of magic slams into me, coaxing and demanding my magic to rise to the surface.
My body revolts, denying the incessant pulling.
My magic hides, ducking between organs, as if too pure for the evil lurking outside.
I feel my blood rise to the surface of my skin, burning with the effort.
I blink, and wetness falls from the corner of my eye.
Is it a tear? A droplet of blood? The being grunts in effort, continuing to pull.
My organs shake within me. He’s going to disassemble me from the inside out.
Vision blurring, I give in to the pain, moments away from losing consciousness.
Something within me flares, the stubborn, resistant part of my soul that refuses to give up.
“There!” Pluto cries as my eyes light with power.
He always remains in the room, just out of view, his presence a nasty reminder that he is always nearby, always lingering.
Go, I whisper, begging it to conceal itself.
“Did you see it?” He asks the others, despicable excitement causing him to laugh manically.
The pain subsides, and I pant, gasping for air and relief. Another trail of wetness slides down my cheek as I close my eyes, recoiling into myself, as far away from here as I can be. Haven’t I suffered enough?
“This could be a lot easier if you stopped fighting us, Zellie.”
I don’t bother responding. I’m not sure my voice would work right now, anyway.
“Or… we could stop completely if you let us know where the tome is. Doesn’t that sound nice?
” It sounds really fucking nice, you piece of shit.
Stars, I hope they’ve hidden it somewhere safe.
Maybe underground, with Seb. Somewhere unreachable.
Breathlessly, I push out the words, “What tome?”
A stinging ache has my head snapping to the side. The pain is a nip compared to what I’ve endured, but nonetheless the skin on my cheek breaks upon impact from his slap. I push my tongue against my cheek, willing the hurt to subside.
“Do not feign ignorance!” His voice shakes the room, spittle flying from his mouth and onto his dumb goatee.
I’ve never hated someone so much in my life.
How long before he tires of my refusal to give him what he wants?
He can’t do this forever… can he? “Do you care so little for your life? You simply need to work with us, Zellie. Give us something, and all of this can stop.”
He puts on a convincing argument, I’ll give him that. A part of me longs to give in, to show him what I’m capable of. But the bigger part of me knows that, like a leech, he’ll never stop. Not until he’s had his fill, and I’m completely drained.
“Don’t you long for a warm meal, a hot bath? A healer to tend to your wounds? The comfort of a blanket, of a bed?” Stars, I do.
Hot tears form behind my closed eyes, my chin wobbling. I wish I could hide this vulnerability from him; he doesn’t deserve to see.
“Fresh air, to see the stars, to feel the sun?”
Stop. I don’t know if I think it or say it, but I plead with every fiber of my being.
“The tome or your magic, Zellie, and we can be done here.”
My friends won’t give up; Orion will come for me—I know it. Lenny didn’t give up. He fought his entire time in the Games. I won’t either, I cannot. For Len, for my friends, for me.
My eyes open. “No.”
“No?” He chuckles as if I’ve said the greatest joke he’s ever heard. “Do I need to involve your friends?” My eyes widen a fraction at the thought of him touching any one of the people I hold dear to my heart. He leans in, close enough that his hot breath touches my face. “I will kill them all.”
I hiss, my magic sharpening within me, ready to strike. But it can’t, and neither can I. The only power I hold here is my words. My friends have an advantage—the time to prepare. So I repeat myself, “No.”
Pluto straightens, smoothing his cloak. He turns his head slowly to the two masked beings waiting. “Again.”