Bonus Chapter

Adara

I wake to the buzzing in my skull. It’s annoying, incessant, and stifling. It’s how being in a powerful anti-mage chamber feels when all the runes are activated, the anti-magic carved into its walls constantly pushing against the inside of my skull, inhibiting the magic in my veins. Torture, pure torture. After months of being in the chamber and weeks of it being fully activated, I really am starting to wish that they would just kill me.

I close my eyes again, trying to go back to sleep. It’s not easy, as the buzzing is always at the edge of my awareness, the lumen crystals are always lit, and I don’t have a bed anymore. My fault. I tore the last one apart, trying to find a way to use its parts to escape and my captors didn’t replace it when they saw what I had done. So the hard, cold floor it is. At least the two idiot prisoners that kept fucking are finally gone. They were loud and passionate enough to wake the dead. I briefly wonder what happened to them, then decide I don’t care. At least I am alone and things are peaceful again. It might even be pleasant, if not for the buzzing.

The door to the chamber suddenly opens, and I slowly open my eyes to see my most hated person in the world there. My orc interrogator, the calm one with the dead, cold eyes. I don’t know his name, as he has never told it to me, but in my mind I call him Lacrys, the gatekeeper to the Nether, reaper of souls, and the death goddess Karnia’s lover. He is austere and frightening enough to fit the mold of Lacrys, though I will never let him know that. When he is around, I try to pretend that I do not care, that I am not frightened, that he means nothing to me. Truthfully, I inwardly flinch every time I see him. He is the one who activated all of the runes in the room, even though not all of them were necessary to contain me. He knew that the extra runes would hurt me, would slowly drive me mad. A punishment for trying to escape.

I don’t know what he wants now, though. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, ever since he discovered my broken bed and had the parts removed. We long ago established that I didn’t know enough about his enemies to be useful, so that can’t be why he is here. I lazily glance over his form, my gaze arrested on his right hand that holds a pair of iron manacles. Iron inhibits magic, though not as completely as the anti-magic chamber. Are we going somewhere?

“Get up, prisoner,” he says in his silky smooth voice. I hate that I like his voice so much, after everything he’s done to me. “We are going to decide your fate.”

Is it my trial, finally? I breathe a sigh of relief. The sweet release of death at last. I scramble up and put out my arms, cooperating as he puts the manacles on. Then he steps behind me and commands, “Walk. And don’t try to run. I would catch you before you get far.”

I almost scoff at the stupidity of Lacrys’ words. After months of being in a cell, I have no strength left, and being cut off from my magic, I have no way to fight my way out. I’m no idiot. I won’t try to run from my fate.

He gives my back a little push and I start walking, trying not to seem too eager, but the moment I walk out of the anti-mage chamber I almost start crying from relief. The buzzing, after weeks of it, is finally blessedly silent. I could almost skip merrily to my doom, just because the buzzing is gone.

We move through the castle, a few people stopping and staring as we walk by. A few orcs stop and put their fists on their chest, bowing their heads when the orc walks by. It’s a strange sight and looks like they are honoring him, for some reason. Is Lacrys someone important? Why is he my tormentor then?

I expect to be taken to the throne room, where all high-profile trials are held. It’s not that I am particularly important, but I did try to kill the queen and that is a high-profile crime. It is, at the very least, the most ambitious thing I ever tried to do, stupid though it was. But no, we walk past the throne room, winding down some more halls, until we come to a small door. Lacrys knocks respectfully and a high, sweet voice answers.

“Enter.”

I know that voice, though I have only heard it once before. What are we doing being taken to the queen? We enter a small, warm room. A large lead-paned window is on one wall and the queen sits behind a desk, making marks in a ledger. She looks up as we come in and I have to hold my breath at her beauty. She was fairy-blessed at birth with an uncanny loveliness and seeing it is as shocking now as it was when I tried to kill her in Undrian Forest. Then I had my anger to act as a shield from being affected by her, but now, after months of having my spirit broken, it almost feels like being punched to see her.

She doesn’t smile when she sees me, but gestures to a chair. “Sit.”

I glance at Lacrys, but his face is immovable. So, not knowing what else to do, I obey the queen and sit in the chair she indicated. She looks back at her ledger and makes a few more marks.

I am confused. What kind of trial is this? There’s no court and the orc king is nowhere to be seen. Am I to be executed without even a show trial being put on?

The queen finishes whatever she is doing in her ledger. She pours some fine-grit sand over her ink, then gently blows it away, before closing her book. Then she takes a piece of parchment out of a stack. It has words written on it, but I can’t make out what they say from my vantage point. She reads the parchment for a moment, and I get antsy. Nothing is going the way I always imagined it would when I was finally let out of the cell. If the queen wants to keep me feeling off-kilter, she is succeeding.

Finally, her lavender-gray eyes flick up at me. “Adara Flameborn,” she begins, shocking me by saying my name. “Twenty-eight summers old. Orphaned and adopted by the Mage’s Tower. Most talented mage of her generation. A rare Fire Affinity mage, with training in combat magic. Your credentials are quite impressive.” She holds up the paper and I squint. At the top, I can make out my name. She has a dossier on me?

“That’s me,” I remark, a little saucily. I feel the need to gain some power back in this situation, and being a little snarky is how I’ve always done that. “What does it matter to you? I’m going to be killed, anyway.”

The queen doesn’t respond to my needling. Instead, she looks back at her parchment, acting almost like I’m not here. She murmurs, almost to herself, “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“What is?” I ask, confounded.

Her gaze comes back to me, the full force of her fairy beauty aimed at me once more. “Adara,” she says, still surprising me by using my name like we are old friends, “I’m sure you’ve wondered why you are still alive. You attacked my convoy. You tried to kill me. You almost burned down the Undrian Forest to do so.”

“I know,” I say cautiously. “I was there.”

She ignores my quip. “These are serious crimes, crimes that cannot be forgiven. But to lose a resource such as yourself, when you were only acting out of misguided pain, would be a waste.”

I don’t really appreciate being called a resource, but, I suppose, that to one such as a queen, everyone must look like a resource. Pieces to move on the board.

The queen continues, “I am not a wasteful person. And it just so happens that I have a job that requires someone like you and, at the moment, you are all we have.”

“Someone like me?” I ask, still confused. I don’t know what the queen is talking about.

“A fire mage,” she says bluntly. “We never had very many in the first place. After the war we have none left, save you. And the mission I have in mind is imperative. One only you can do. So, I come to you with a deal.”

“I still do not like this idea, My Queen,” interrupts Lacrys, surprising me.

“Be that as it may, Urim, it is what we have left,” the queen chides.

Urim? The terrifying specter of my captivity is named Urim? The name is simple and sounds inviting, warm. I like Lacrys better. It fits him more.

The queen turns back to me and continues, “The deal I have for you is simple. Do this job for me, succeed where only you can, and I will grant you a pardon. You will be free. Refuse, and you will go to trial and be put to death. The punishment of the last person who tried to kill me was to be torn apart by warbeasts. I imagine your end would be similar.”

Eek . The queen, beautiful as she is, with a sweet, high voice, can sound absolutely intimidating when she wants to.

I slump in my chair. There’s not much of a choice here, but still, I want to hear what she needs me to do. Some battles are not worth fighting.

“What is this mission?” I query cautiously. Anything that she will require in return for clemency will not be pleasant, I’m sure.

“Simple,” the queen says, finally smiling somewhat, though it is not a pleasant expression. “I want you to kill a demon.”