Chapter Text
“They’re not like us.”
“Animals, all of them.”
Aspen’s hand trembled, casing the steel blade to skitter in its hilt. Her hands were sticky, dry and far too warm for comfort. She couldn’t tell if the fluid dripping off her chin was blood or sweat. The forest drew its last breath, and even the leaves stilled into rigor mortis.
“Well done.” A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder, causing the blade to narrowly miss her foot as it fell onto the rocky ground. The blade reflected a red-tinted light onto a visage.
The eyes, once glowing hazel, no longer reflected the light. Unnaturally long lashes shaded them from the light, casting a long shadow. Pale wings fluttered occasionally, like a butterfly’s final neural spasms after being crushed by a foot. A deep pool flowed outwards, staining Aspen’s shoes.
“You didn’t damage the wings either.” A smile was directed towards her, porcelain-white teeth surrounded by dirt. “Very good.”
The man walked past her, crouching next to the body. He held the wings gently, softly. Careful to not cause any damage.
Then, he pulled out a knife.
It stabbed into the fae’s shoulder blade. It squelched, like a sponge, the skin moving above the burrowed blade like a sea’s wave. Red spewed onto the man’s clothes, but he continued to work diligently.
Bitter bile entangled with blood in her vocal cords. Coiling and coiling, the sight burning into her corneas. Pale white bones. Once-shimmering fibres, which allowed them to fly.
“Congrats on your first kill, Privateer Aspen.” A separate voice rang beside her, under the static which filled her ears. She could barely look away, holding a hand in front of her mouth in hopes that they couldn’t see her expression.
She only nodded. She knew that whatever she said would emerge as a wheeze or whimper.
One pair of wings was torn off the fae’s back, and placed upright such that the muscles were the only part of the limb which touched the blood-stained dirt. The man began to work on the other wing.
“Go take a rest,” a hand pointed to a nearby tree.
He didn’t have to say it twice. She barely made the distance until her organs churned. Warm bile burned her throat, overruling the thorns that scratched at her skin as she hurled into bush.
It was chunky, filled with water and half-digested jerky they had been feeding on during the last few days they searched for treasure. She stayed with her head burrowed in the bramble, trying to force up whatever more could emerge. She allowed herself a small grown, which she hoped was muted by the leaved.
Aspen fell back onto stone. Her legs were limp and cold, her arms wound’t stop trembling. It was a miracle it was only then her body decided to shut down.
She wiped her mouth, but froze as a familiar metallic tang laced her tongue. Her eyes burned as she hiccupped. She tried to spit it out, but there was no saliva to assist her. She took a nearby leaf and rubbed her tongue on it.
“Urrgh…”
Her lungs wouldn’t hammering against her ribs, arrhythmic and inflating her fear that her organs may combust out of her skin. Each spasm caused blood to flake off her skin.
For a moment, through the salty substance that blurred her vision, she saw a pair of eyes. Unblinking, glowing, eyes drawn into needle-fine slits.
There was a shout behind her. Maybe two, or three. It didn’t matter.
A warm splash coated her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” Aspen hit her head against the stone floor as she bowed. Her voice was broken, and nearly intelligible from the choking cracks which tangled with each syllable. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
She didn’t dare break her gaze from the stone. Fingertips touched her hair, gentle as a breeze. Was someone even there?
There were noises; a click, a soft howl and a hiss. Just audible under the sound of steel hitting bone and choked cries to her left.
Aspen saw the stars.
Huh…?
She swore her hands still touched the ground. Her chest was still pressed firmly against her thighs in a kneeling bow. Why could she see the night sky? The moon shone from behind a dark head, leaving the face dark enough to not make out.
The hand returned, pushing her eyelids over her corneas like curtains. The last star, astigmatized and crooked, blinked away. Then, she was falling.
“I have been searching for you.”
It was strange. She was falling, but she didn’t feel panicked. She didn’t feel anything as a warm blue flame enveloped her, burning away the blood which coated her skin, then her clothes. Then it dug into her flesh. Each fibre was pulled apart and scorched by the flames.
“My orphic, beautiful foxglove… and my dear vassal of darkness.”
She churned. A hand brushed through ash, sweeping it together into a single pile. The cool touch of glass resounded in every atom which manifested her form.
“May the mirror bring forth your reflection.”
"Allow the glass to swallow you whole.”
“As ice seals away even time itself.”
“As great trees swallow skies.”
“As flames reduce even stars to ash.”
“Fear not the power of darkness, and demonstrate your power— to me, to them, and to yourself. The hour grows long, and time is scarce.”
“Keep steady your grip, no matter what may come…”
݁ᛪ༙⊹⊹
Aspen’s lungs drew a sharp breath. Its very first, which kickstarted the heart. Neurons sent its first sparks, and the blood in her veins accelerated. She lifted an elbow to cough, but her temple instead hit a solid surface.
Wood?
Her breaths quickened. She hit the door, ignoring the dull bruise which began to form as her cries became more frantic.
“Someone!” She cried, “I’m not dead! I’m not dead!”
Aspen swore the coffin grew smaller, closing into her shoulders. “Help, please!”
Was this how she died? Buried, and forgotten forever? She wanted to cry. She really did, but her eyes had run dry from the tears she already shed through the night.
The smell of blood grew unbearable. It overtook the sawdust, the dirt on her clothes and the sweat which caused clothes to stick to skin. The dissected corpse flashed in her memories, nearly blinding her in the dark space.
There was a clack outside, barely audible over her heaving. Then, a knock resounded against wood.
“Is…” The voice was muffled. “Is someone in—“
“Yes!” She screamed, “Let me out, please— please!”
She hit the wood harder than before. A million scenarios ran through her mind: what if he left? What if he wasn’t human, or what if he takes advantage of her while she’s weak? What if he buried her?
There were a few more footsteps, as though the male outside was looking for a handle or hinge. Then, the a sliver of light pierced through.
She tripped as she took her first step out.
It was floating?
“What were you— shit!”
Aspen fell onto smooth stone. She couldn’t even break the brunt of the fall with her arms, which fell loose against her sides. She was so… tired. How long had it been since she last slept?
“Oh Seven. Oh dear fucking Seven.”
Bright red shoes reflected the edge of her vision, shaped like nothing she’d seen before. Warm hands turned her over, and she would’ve gasped if her throat wasn’t so dry.
There was a bright yellow collar with black stripes, shaped like a heart and sealed with a silver lock. A head of reddish hair sat above it, but her face couldn’t process the face more than a reddish blur.
“I’m, fuck, fuck!” He stammered, his hands flailing uncontrollably. His voice was strangely filtered, as though cotton here stuffed in her ears. “I’m going to get someone, okay? Don’t faint, or, shit, just don’t die! I don’t want any responsibility for this!”
He ran, his shouts fading further into the distance. A warm buzz fell over Aspen’s body, and she brought enough willpower to tilt her head to one side. Carpet brushed against her cheek.
The room was intricate, purplish and lit only with blue flames. She was utterly entranced. Where had she seen those flames before?
She could still feel the way those flames had brushed against her skin. She wanted to experience that feeling again— dissolved and rebuilt, rebirth. Despite the grime that smeared her skin, she had never felt so clean.
The ground began to rumble. Doors opened, and voices were heard. It didn’t matter anymore, though. She could close her eyes, and bathe in the new arrangement of herself.
Or so she thought.
The first clear sound Aspen heard was a strange, methodical beeping. Then, it was the rustle as the pillow beneath her head shifted with the movement of her head.
She squinted, and a brick ceiling came into view. It must’ve been daytime, as she had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. Her eyes jolted sideways. Where was she?
She jolted upright, but before she could process anything a stabbing pain emanated from her arm. She winced, and looked down. A needle had been poked into her arm, attached to some tube?
She ripped the tape holding the needle into her arm with a quick yank, and drew her legs nearer. Her spine creaked at the curved posture.
Her shoes—where were her shoes? Aspen crawled off the bed on fours, yelping when she sloppily fell off. Her ears rang, signalling an incoming migraine, but she heeded it no mind. She dug a hand into her pocket, but realized her clothes had been changed into a white shirt and pants. Her gear was no longer there.
“You’re finally awake.”
She jumped, her back hitting the wood bedframe as a figure stood only a couple metres from the foot of the bed.
It was a human man. He had split hair, half black and half white, and deep red eyes. He must be in his early thirties.
“Who,” she croaked, “who are you?”
“That’s our question, really.” He sighed, taking a cautious step forwards.
The action was met with a sharp flinch. Aspen pressed herself harder against the bed, as if she could melt into the shadow it casted and disappear from the conversation.
He blinked at the response, then took a step back. The man spoke slowly, and his posture showed no signs of danger. “You’re at Night Raven College.”
When Aspen showed no signs of understanding, he continued;
“Do you remember your name?”
She paused. Names are a powerful tool
“Aspen.”
“Is that your full name?”
She sent the man a darkened glare. “Why am I here?”
He squatted so they were at eye level.
“That’s our question, pup.” He shrugged, “You appeared in our Mirror Hall out of nowhere— in a locked coffin, no less. Furthermore, it’s been over a week since the entrance ceremony… were you summoned by the mirror?”
“Mirror?” She could recall a large frame in the distance, when someone opened the box she was trapped in. She didn’t remember if it was a mirror, since the whole room was so dark.
“I don’t…” She said.
“Do you have any of your parent’s contact information?”
“I… you can send a letter to Golde Templar.”
“I’m sorry?”
Aspen let out a shaky breath. Did the man not know one of the most renowned guilds in the whole world?
It added another drop of strangeness to the whole situation. There were items she had never seen before, the strange needle, and unrecognizable devices scattered throughout the room. Was it an alien world?
She stood suddenly. The blood rushed downwards, causing lightheadedness, but she pushed through it to pull the nearest window open. She brought a head through, ready to jump, but froze.
They were in a castle, on a mountain.
Jumping out would be a certain death.
“Hey—!”
Two firm hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back away from the outside. She let out a yelp, and bright light emanated from her palms.
The man jumped away, narrowly missing a jet of water. Fortunately it was neither fast nor strong, reflecting Aspen’s exhausted state. A strange heat, a concoction of embarrassment, shame and adrenaline pushed into her visage.
“We’re going to help you.” The man pushed her onto the bed, seemingly unphased. “So behave.”
Aspen sniffled. Sweat or tears, it didn’t matter. She wiped her face with her sleeve, uncaring of the red marks it left from the roughness.
“I’m sorry,” She whimpered, “Just don’t hurt me. Please.”
There was a long silence, which accentuated her broken breaths. “You won’t be hurt.”
The words surprisingly did nothing to soothe her fears. The bodies, the blood the stars. It still came in successive flashes, confusing her further from the strange reality.
“I am here!” A new voice sounded. It was eccentric and bright, in contrast to the other man. “Seriously, so much drama in the first week… Do you have anything to say for yourself, miss?”
She didn’t look up from the floor. She wouldn’t be able to see faces through her blurred vision anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
“I certainly hope you are! Gosh, even the mirror didn’t know where you came from! I understand your excitement to attend this institution, but you cannot force enrolment!”
“Crowley, a word?”
“Hm? Of course—“ The new one cleared his throat, and continued shakily. “Oh, outside? Not here? …As my dear staff, of course I’ll so graciously listen to you… please put that whip away.”
The footsteps shuffled away, and the door to the infirmary was shut with a soft click. Aspen wiped her tears, then punched her upper sternum. She had to get out of here— she can’t risk it being an enemy base.
She crawled over the bedside desk, and out the window. There was a ledge, and a balcony not too far below. If she could get low enough, she could jump onto that floor.
She drowned out the sound of wind in her ears with sheer willpower, then faced the grey outer wall of the castle. Her hands trembled, causing her hold onto the stone to be uneasy. Still, she persevered until her feet hit solid ground.
There was no time to waste; she pulled the doors open and ran. It must’ve been a library, as the room appeared to be a never-ending maze of bookshelves before she found doors leading out. She passed two men, both wearing black uniforms with purple vests.
Were they guards? Fortunately, the two men only shouted at her, but didn’t chase.
Her side began to ache, but Aspen persevered. She turned a corner, then crashed into a body. She winced as she fell back.
“You!” A voice bellowed, “Running is not permitted in the halls! Have you not read the College's rulebook?”
…It was the same black uniform. But this time, it was paired with a neon green vest.
She grit her teeth, forcing herself back up onto her feet. This time, she met the person in the eyes.
Light green eyes, with rounded slits. Pointed ears she was trained to discern from a crowd of hundreds, barely covered by light-green hair.
A fae.
She must've said it aloud, as the other being stared at her with furrowed brows.
“…Shit!” Aspen cursed, turning on her heel sharply and running faster than before. A dull relief flooded her mind— of course she was taken away by fae! But were they allied with humans? Since when? Where was this?
Her mind pumped scenarios like a factory. She could’ve been tortured for answers, or just tortured for revenge, or executed in public and used as an example. They could’ve starved her! Too many possibilities, too many ways to inflict pain. Being killed would be a mercy.
A long, black rope wrapped around her torso, causing her to fall.
Aspen hissed, struggling against the tight bindings.
“Struggle all you want,” A previous voice sounded, “This is my lash of love! Now you behave, and go back home before serious legal action is taken!”
“I’m sorry!” She cried, “Just don’t execute me!”
“You could even be jailed— I’m sorry?”
“Or if you do, please make it quick.” She continued to ramble, going limp in the binding. “I don’t want to suffer for a long time. Like a beheading— yes, a beheading! Isn’t that better than any other really painful methods you could be thinking of? I’m sorry for being a Golde Privateer! It wasn’t my decision, I swear!” She buried her face into the floor, afraid of how many fae may be watching.
She had always felt like prey. But this was the first time she felt utterly and completely hopeless.
There was a flash of memory. The fae she had killed. She, too, lay on the floor like this. Except for her, her limbs were dismembered and sold also.
Ah, maybe she deserved that painful death.
“A privateer?”
The voice came closer, and she swore she could feel the breath brush against her ear.
“Could you tell me more?