Epilogue

Senka

15 years earlier

There were cracks in the floorboards, allowing slivers of cold light to shine down on my face. I held my breath for as long as I could while dust rained down overhead. I had to sneeze, but doing so would mean giving away my position. The sound of slow, heavy boot steps had me grinding my teeth and gripping Beau's collar even tighter as we clung to one another.

I held my other hand in a tight fist, struggling to keep the darkness at bay long enough to keep hidden.

I felt it swirling inside of me even now as we cowered in the dark. It was a cold feeling that started in my stomach, tingling like I'd had too much sour milk or eaten curdled cheese. My mouth flooded with saliva, tangy and sour.

For a moment, it always felt like I might be sick, until the world went dark and yet crystal clear. Until sounds became more focused and raw. Until I felt powerful and empty, needing to be filled with something.

I didn"t know what this thing inside of me was. I didn't have a name for it, but if it was a blessing from the gods, then they'd made a mistake with me.

The men were here for the debt my father owed them. My stupid father who gambled away all of our money, leaving us with debt after debt that he couldn't repay.

I looked down at Beau, tucked into my side as we crouched in a damp crevice beneath the sitting room floor where we used to spend our evenings listening to my mother's stories. She was tied up somewhere in the house, while my father was bleeding on the floor, the steady drip of his blood leaking through the floorboards.

I could hear them walking around above our heads, and everything inside of me clenched tight as sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped down my back. My shadows were made of a thick, black mist that hung in the air around us, pulled from somewhere inside of me. I could control them to a point, much like an extension of myself, but I was still learning.

Having no other choice, I flexed the dark tendrils of mist like a familiar muscle, but like all muscles, it quickly grew tired. But I held on for Beau's sake, despite the tremor in my arms, legs and fingers.

A tangy smell filled my nostrils, flowing into my lungs thickly. I tried to repress the urge to vomit when a drop of dark blood landed next to my right boot, soaking into the dirt. Jerking my leg back swiftly, I looked upwards and tried to stifle a cry as I spotted a familiar face between the cracks...a blue eye still open, staring vacantly in death.

Kestrel, our maid, was dead, her blood flowing downward and those eyes were haunted in her last moments. She didn't deserve this. None of us deserved any of this.

The men spoke to each other, their voices were low and had a whispering quality that was quite out of character for their cocky, overly loud selves . They must have realized that their two runaways had to be hiding somewhere close by.

They probably had the estate surrounded. Tears dripped down my dirt-coated cheeks and fell into Beau's dark hair.

I lost count of the seconds as they passed, but by the light up above, I could tell the sun was about to rise. Orange lines danced along the dirt walls of the little room we're huddled in, reflecting off of the old bottles of wine Kestrel used to collect.

I held my breath, afraid that even a single sound might draw them in.

After a while, a door slammed somewhere in the distance up above, and the sound of voices grew fainter and fainter, until eventually there was nothing but heavy silence.

Still, I waited. I waited for what seemed like hours, until the sun grew brighter through the floorboards. I looked to Beau and whispered, "We need to get out before they burn it."

His black eyes widened, but then he schooled his features a moment later, giving me a curt nod.

I expected the slavers to rip our home apart by the floorboards, or perhaps even burn it to the ground until nothing remained but hot cinders. They still might. It would have been the surest way of snuffing out the easy prey they hunted. But then, how would they earn back the money my father stole from them?

When I knew we were finally alone, I grabbed my brother's hand in mine, and together, we fled the cellar, and then the house, stepping through the puddle of Kestrel's blood on the way out.

I had no choice but to hear for the docks. One of my father's boats was bound to be departing soon, and whichever one was leaving first, we'd be on it.

A massive wavethrust me onto land, causing me to tumble head over heels. I swallowed mouthfuls of water, internally groaning at the thought of throwing it all up later.

Beau was already on his feet, shaking his head and rushing towards me with wide, scared eyes. I stood to my shaky feet and started running, but I tripped every few steps. The sand was deep, and I kept sinking into it.

My thighs burned as I fought my way to Beau, but before I could make it very far, a man came out of the brush at the edge of the tree line and grabbed Beau around the shoulders.

I cried out, standing back up, but fell once more as my tired legs gave out. I had next to no energy left in my body. My face was buried in the sand as I tried in vain to use my hands to claw my way forward.

Something hard kicked me stomach and in one heave, my body flipped over until I was laying on my back and staring at the cloud-covered sky.

A shadow moved over my prone form, blotting out the sun. I knew we'd been caught. Blinking my eyes against the sun's rays, I gazed up into the dull grey eyes of Moran Mirks, Capitan Savage's right-hand man.

Mirks leered at me as his companion, a fat man with dark brown skin and a bald head, roughly dragged my brother away. Rough hands suddenly grasped my shoulders as two other men hoisted me from the sand.

I thrashed around and fought hard as I started to lose sight of my brother. Beau was being dragged towards a small wooden boat and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

I bit down on the grimy hand that clamped my shoulder and received a swift blow to my left cheek. Pain lanced across my face and my teeth rattled from the impact.

Never before had I been struck by a man, but it hurt more than I anticipated. For a moment, my stomach lurched and I thought I might be sick. A part of me almost wished I could vomit all over Moran's boots. It would serve the man right.

I squinted through the pain and watched as Mirks' men hauled Beau kicking and screaming into small wooden boat. His tiny hands were bound behind him now and his mouth was gagged with a dirty white cloth.

The men holding me dropped me to the ground and dragged me by my feet towards the treeline. I thrashed again this way and that, but I was nowhere near strong enough to fend off two fully grown men.

When we reached the dense foliage, I received another kick to my stomach that made me heave watery bile onto the hot sand. I wished she could pull on my shadows and disappear, but I was running so low on energy, I was useless.

A part of me internally screamed for that strange boy on the boat. The one with the sun in his skin. He could burn these men to ashes, and then we could escape together.

I was flipped onto her back and my arms were forced to my sides as a large man straddled my waist. The other stomped over, removing a shining serrated dagger with a green pommel from its place on his thigh.

The man was short, but stocky. His head was clean shaven but his coppery beard was thick and unkempt with little bits of meat still hanging off the tips of his wiry hair. Scars snaked over his skin and dotted the top of his bald head. Everything about the man screamed danger and savagery. I suddenly knew I was going to die.

My skin burned where they touched me, and my throat was raw with swallowed sea water. The man took his time, sliding the flat of the blade along my skin.

I couldn't move, couldn"t breathe. I could only stare blankly towards the sky and wish for this death to be swift. By now, the pain had faded and numbness had taken over.

Turning my head to the side, I could see the shoreline through the trees and could only make out Beau's small figure because of his black, shining curly hair against the blue backdrop of the Rordan Strait. I recognized the port with dread slithering through my veins. A slaver port.

I wished I had time to say goodbye to Beau; to hug and kiss him and tell him he would be alright without me. I wanted so badly to believe it myself, but lying on the sand under the scorching sun at the mercy of a slaver, I could no longer imagine a world without pain and suffering.

A scream ripped from my throat when one of the men on the boat hoisted Beau from his seat and lifted him into the air. Despite the numbness in my limbs, I rocked back and forth, trying in vain to free myself.

Beau struggled in the man"s arms, but he was just too small. My heart seized and nearly shuddered to a stop when the man sent my innocent twin brother sailing through the open air and into the waters of the sea.

I screamed louder and harder than I'd ever screamed before. I screamed until I retched, while I sobbed and thrashed. I screamed and screamed and screamed.

My head lolled to the side as heavy tears leaked onto the sand. The man"s weight lifted from my body when a pair of heavy black boots stomped into my vision.

Almost lazily, I lifted her eyes and trailed them up the legs attached to the boots until the murderous face of Kipp Savage himself burned into my hazy brain.

The man had the nerve to smile. It was a beautiful smile, sadly enough. He was a beautiful man, with light golden hair falling around his shoulders like a regal lion. His frilly tunic tucked into silk trousers were pressed, while a deep blue waistcoat hung to mid-calf where his black boots shone in the sun. He looked like a hero from the tales our mother told us.

He looked like a man who rode into battle atop a white elhorn with a gleaming sword on his hip. Like someone you could run to when you needed saving. His bright teeth shone in his smiling mouth, and it made me want to vomit again.

As beautiful as Savage was on the outside, his insides were rotten and evil to the core. When his lips moved, shaping words I did not hear and did not care to, I was suddenly sure I would die this day.

Savage knelt beside me, reaching out a large palm and gently swiped a stray curl of hair from my sweat-soaked face. I felt weightless now and the only thing I could bring myself to regret, was that his face would be the last thing I'd see before I left this gods-forsaken world.