Chapter Four
Day after day, Seon endured the same treatment. Artiz only left her alone from outdoor training if it happened to be howling blizzards outside, because he didn’t actually want her to die. Could have fooled me. Each session felt progressively worse than the last. Each one left her wishing to just give up the training entirely and make a run for it. Artiz tried to treat her kindly between sessions, but it didn't convince her. It felt like he wore a hollow mask, concealing the glee at her torment within.
Even if he bought her drinks and nice food, and offered to take her on flights around the mountains.
“You’re valuable to us,” he said, when she asked him in a fit of frustration why he treated her so harshly with the training. “That’s why we absolutely have to do this. And why you can’t share the information of your suspected powers, either. There are people who would do everything in their power to sell you off or kill you. Maybe even people in this place if they found out.”
Again, this made Seon's caution rise. She suspected for herself that not everyone in this school could be trustworthy. Everyone had a selling price.
“Small, petty magic doesn’t frighten the wyrms as much as you think, though they’d wipe out the school if they could. But you, Seon – you’d terrify them.”
Seon didn’t feel particularly terrifying at the moment. She did, however, agree with the old adage, “Trust no one,” since she operated her entire life on that. She certainly didn’t insert her trust in Isera, who for all her brusque charms, still might be concealing more than she let on. What better way to find out about Seon's magic than to pretend to be her friend?
Come to think of it, Seon didn't trust Artiz either, who said one thing, but acted contrary to what he stated. He relentlessly pushed her to the limits. More than once, her shaking body had to be carried in by him, because for all his training, sometimes he took her too far. He claimed he didn't, but Seon doubted. She thought sometimes she even saw guilt in his eyes.
It was a shame he treated her so drastically, with the bad balancing with small moments of good. What was he, really? A slave driver? A concerned trainer? Did he actually like her or find her magic despicable?
She didn't know. But she did notice some of his touches upon her when he lifted her up to be less rough than before. And she did find steaming mugs of hot chocolate waiting in her room when she retired to it at night. Sometimes it might be lukewarm, but she could heat it up again without much issue.
His face began to haunt her dreams at night. Sometimes he’d be standing there, hands folded behind his back, ordering her to do something impossible, like walk on thin air. She’d be protesting, and he’d tell her that if she didn’t, he’d break her bones and make her suffer, because he’d rather she be dead than useless. No warmth lingered in those eyes when he stated such things.
Sometimes he whipped her in those dreams, like a master did a slave. Other times he tore her apart in his drake form, claws ripping into soft flesh. And other times still, Artiz would find another, insidious way to get her back, softer and less brutal than the other nightmares.
Those dreams made her wake up flushed, heated, and ashamed. Dreams where, with a smirk upon his pale lips, a steel in his eyes, he’d pluck off her robes, leaving her naked in the snow. Dreams that left her unsure if she was aroused or scared.
There’s another way to train your body, too. It was something her mother used to say, mixing up with Artiz’s words. Sex is the best exercise. In that vision, his fingers stroked her skin, which erupted in goosebumps. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from him. Alarm flooded, along with a sense of longing. The two conflicting emotions reeled her into chaos.
She didn’t want such thoughts or such things to happen. Surely she must wake up now, and leave the trappings of this nightmare. Yet her body betrayed her as he pushed her down, held her by the back of her hair, and bit into her neck.
Remember. It’s all training. We have to get your mind and body ready…
Seon didn’t share that dream with anyone. She also devoutly avoided the ones that people said could read minds. She didn't know the extent of their ability, but she assumed they needed to be close somehow.
She struggled to avoid Edith, though, who had lit a special brazier in her heart for hating Seon. Whore was the nicest insult she came up with. Her animosity confused Seon at times, because she didn’t understand how a fellow magician could be so hateful. Weren’t they all in the same boat now? They should all be united in their secret, training in long forgotten magic, preparing themselves against the wyrms that wanted them dead.
“She wants to be the best,” Isera said. “She can’t stand anyone possibly being better than her. I think if it was up to her, she’d be the only one to use magic in this place.”
Or maybe she’s a spy. Of course, this way, anyone Seon didn't like might be a spy. Not exactly fair thinking on her part.
Artiz’s training did have a notable effect on Seon’s body about a month in. A month of eating simple meals, of being tripped in the corridor, of being stared at, of listening to Isera’s witty observations, and falling asleep to boring teachers. People liked to mock Seon's writing as well, since she wrote slowly and wobbly, like a child. She still needed assistance with reading, and most of the time wanted to toss the book out the window.
She had suffered multiple incidents of planting her face in snow, of limbs trembling as they forced another push-up. She endured her lungs expanding and taking in cold air when running around the school, bones jarring, trying not to slip. With the heavy fur robes, it made the going arduous, and her legs sank into the snow, leaden from exercise. Her muscles screamed a lot of the time, making it hard to move or even to chew. At least she found longer intervals between that pain now, as her body adjusted, becoming fitter than she thought possible. Artiz always encouraged, acting tough and harsh at first, but genuinely complimenting when she completed something and didn't mess anything up.
Artiz watched her this time, sitting on a tree stump, a little distant as she reached fifty push-ups. “Good work,” he said. “Now, again with the stomach crunches. Fifty of those.”
She hooked her feet under a root, ready to put her stomach through more pulsing pain. Always wearing the robes made her have to deal with more weight, and she had learned to adjust to it as best as able. She faced opposite him. Her cheeks flushed slightly, remembering the dream from this morning. It had woken her up wet, wet enough to start doing something about it. Honestly, it had been a while since she allowed herself to get that turned on.
At least Artiz couldn’t read minds.
I need to stop thinking about this. He was her instructor. Nothing more. Didn’t help matters that Artiz looked good, with that crimped blond hair accompanying his sideburns and slowly forming beard. He possessed haunting gray eyes, a thin warrior’s face, and a nose both crooked and charming. He might have the default scowl, but in the brothel Seon once lived in, she knew Artiz would get insane discounts from the ladies for his looks. There was also that certain way he moved, as if he knew how to use his body, and lived in full control of it. That kind of self-awareness drew attention.
Men like that make good partners. No partners for her, of course. Not in this place. Still, the heat remained. The lingering memories of those dreams... and of his touch upon her body... it fascinated her. The longer she went without sex, the more she wanted it. No strings attached sex was her thing. The trouble with Artiz was that she needed to face him every day, and get trained by him until her body crumpled. So if she did plunge into sex with him, if he even wanted that at any point, she wouldn't be able to separate him. She'd have to develop it further, like a relationship.
I can't risk that. I get enough shit from the school without hooking up with a teacher in the process.
Her body had gained in strength and endurance, and her mind felt crisper than before.
As for her magic, she still only heard the whispers of inanimate objects, apart from also detecting the walls of Isera’s soul. However, she did hear such whispers more often, which Seon assumed was an improvement of sorts.
Fifty crunches later, a bored Artiz said, “Well done. I'll now make you run around the school. Twenty times. You’re improving, so we’ll raise the bar.” He twitched her a smile, and she scowled.
“Twenty?” Seon scowled. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. You managed all this and sixteen times the other day. I'm sure you'll do great.” He flashed a smile, though when it vanished, it left a distinctive blank expression upon his face.
Seon waved at him to get his attention. “Does this bore you or something?”
“A little,” he admitted clasping his hands together. “But it's not over you personally. There’s no help for it. You’re not going to suddenly become amazing at your magic overnight. It’s just I’d rather have other things to do. Even if training you is the most important thing I can do right now, and you're a good person.”
“I bet,” Seon said, deciding to not get offended by his attitude. She understood his sentiment in a way. Forced to babysit, whilst she still showed no extra promise of developing her magic further. Still rubbed her the wrong way, though, because she hated the thought of being a burden to someone else. Even though this idiot had essentially made her his burden. She wouldn't be here if not for him. Bold words leaped onto her lips, hot from the need to know. “Don’t you have a lover in these parts? Someone to warm your bed at night?” Such words didn't embarrass her. But the thought of Artiz linking that statement to her, signalling any intent from her mind – that was the thing that made her flush.
Artiz shook his head, wry amusement curling. “You think I have eligible options in the mountain villages?”
Seon found that an odd announcement. “What about the school? There’s a lot of lonely women here. I'm not that blind that I can't see it.”
“And they’re all students. Who may be here for years. And too important to waste in a relationship. How awkward do you think it will be if I sleep with someone and then have to face them the next day?”
Seon pursed her lips. Exactly the way she thought. Although, now that she dwelled on it further, was that really such a big deal? She struggled right now to see why she felt that was important. “That's a shame. I can't imagine that would be easy for you. Being a male and all.” Curses. That revealed a chunk of her past to him, didn't it?
Now one of Artiz's eyebrows cocked. “I assume you're referring to male virility.”
Seon nodded, not trusting herself to speak further. She expected Artiz to dismiss the statement and tell her she was being stupid. Instead, he said with a smirk, “You're not wrong. It can get difficult at times. Especially when I see interesting types wandering about the school. But I resist, because I'm strong enough to do so, and I have more important things to do than to pursue a relationship.” He leaned closer to her as he said the words, eyes taking on an icy glint.
“It doesn't always have to be a relationship,” Seon said. “It can be a mutual way for people to satisfy themselves. I know it can become... stressful and irritating for both genders when they don't get some. Need to vent all that energy somewhere, you know?”
Artiz paused at this, and his nose shivered slightly, as if sniffing something. “Someone here smells aroused. It practically hisses out of your pores.”
“Excuse me?” She had the audacity to smile confidently and blush at the same time. She'd forgotten about that sniffing ability. If he could smell magic, it stood to reason he could smell minute changes in her body chemistry.
“I can smell your arousal from here.”
Should I bluff it? Panic struck for a second, before she squashed it down and plastered on a determined smile. “Women have needs as much as men.”
He paused. Those gray eyes seemed cold for some reason. “I suppose it’s to be expected, given your background.”
Oh. He knows. Of course he knew. If people in the canteen whispered at it, why wouldn't Artiz and the other trainers know?
She hated the accusations especially since they were true, but they distorted the truth to mean only something bad.
Yes. She did once upon a time sleep for money, before leaving that place behind. Words choked in her throat at the faint recollection of dingy rooms with men sweating over her, fat and ugly as well as slim and handsome. Such people made her skin crawl. The tentative arousal dwindled into nothing. The faint redness on her cheeks changed, becoming fiercer.
Admittedly, the only thing she salvaged from that time was the practise she got upon pleasuring herself, since the men didn’t bother with getting off the girl. Just themselves.
“Are you okay there?” Artiz grinned, tapping his nose. “Wouldn't think you'd get so embarrassed about something like that. Anyway, let's go back to the lesson at hand.”
“Fuck you!” Seon spat, before disappearing onto her run around the school. She ignored his exclamations behind her and just powered on, focused on the snowy trail ahead. Taking this path led to the near apex of the mountain and curved back down to the entrance, and then to the training grounds again to the side. It wasn't a tall mountain, at least. Other peaks towered much higher.
She didn’t know why Artiz’s statement affected her like that. He was right. She could shrug that shit off. She was used to it. But somehow, hearing him say those words really sank her low. It dug into her heart like thousands of tiny needles.
I didn’t like hearing him say that. She didn’t want him to see her as nothing else but a whore. No one looked kindly on whores. No one respected them for what they did. So if he thought of her as one, then that meant he didn't think much of her at all.
Gritting her teeth, she began her run, feet pounding on the hard ground, breath hissing through her teeth. She hated this place, with its stupid snows and bitterly cold winds. Hated it with every fiber of her being, because her magic made her a prisoner. She knew that it was needed. She likely never would have figured out her magic by herself and would have continued seeing those shadows for the rest of her life, never fully understanding what exactly her powers entitled her to. Away from the mountains, she had lived on borrowed time before the wyrms came for her. She didn't let it register at first, but Artiz spoke the truth on that. Here, she at least lived under the mercy of her instructor and magic ability. With the blossoming of her powers, perhaps he would be less harsh on the training.
He ran her ragged through the gamut of exercises. Pushed her past her limits. She had hoped, somehow, that he told the truth, that he cared a little about her. Enough to leave hot chocolate by her bedside at night, enough to carry her in when she collapsed from exhaustion and wrap her up warm. Part of her hoped he liked her, because he spent so much time with her, and offered to listen if she needed someone to vent to, because he saw how the others regarded her for keeping the magic a tight secret.
But he thought of her as a whore.
One lap around the school. Her breath came in bursts, and she timed it in her head, making sure time was spent equally inhaling and exhaling. She spotted him briefly, and anger surged through her veins. Without looking at him further, she sped up, cold breath unfurling like smoke behind her. Her boots crunched into the snow, fighting for grip in the rocky trail.
“Seon. Wait! Why do you look so furious?”
She ignored him. Now back up to the highest part of the path. Now down – this revealed the most dangerous part, where she needed to slow down to avoid losing balance, her bones jarring. She hit the descent hard, because she was stupid. Too hard. She skidded, slipped. Not the first time she’d slipped, but definitely the worst slip experienced. Come on. Slow down! Grab something! Her hands flailed for something to grab, but she kicked out badly with her foot, forcing her to change direction and hurtle off the path. She tried using her knees to slow the movement, but shot off an icy precipice. Her hand groped uselessly for the ledge.
Oh, fuck. It wasn’t a painful fall, because the descent sheared outwards like a slide. Deep snow awaited at the bottom. Wind rushed past her, screaming into her ears, blasting her cheeks with cold as she tumbled, before somersaulting and landing into five feet of snow.
Scrabbling out, clawing a path to the string of trees to haul herself onto solid ground, she looked up the cliff face. Her heart sank. This far down, it’d be a good few hours before she made it close to the school again. All because she was an idiot.
Growling, she punched the snow in frustration, tears springing to her eyes.
Why am I so stupid? I know better than this. I should be better than this. Taking a deep breath, examining the woods around her, she began the arduous journey back. She shouldn't be too far. There would be a path. There was always a path. The fur robes afforded her good protection from the elements, at least. Maybe she should invest in a face mask and some thick gloves. Gloves made her hands clumsy, but right now, she needed them. She picked at her fur pocket on the side until she yanked out a pair of leather gloves. Still dry. She dried off her hands as best as she could and blew onto the fingers to heat them up, before sliding the leather on.
The woods here were cold and dark. She rubbed her hands constantly, which made the leather crackle and groan. Her eyes darted for danger. One foot in front of the other. Her shoulder ached from the fall, but mostly her body remained unharmed.
She stopped for a moment.
Maybe she should just run for it. Find somewhere so far away that nothing would ever bother her again. She entertained the thought before dismissing it.
No. Seon couldn’t do that. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just up and leave. Not when the mystery of her magic still boiled inside her. It trapped her not only because the others wanted to coax it out of her, but because she wanted to become stronger. Useful. To hear more than just one-dimensional thoughts of inanimate objects. Zannis had acted awed, impressed at Seon's ability. They made her keep it secret, but it didn't seem so impressive.
Something scratched at her consciousness. Colder than the world around her. Something sad and deep and lost. Her magic instantly started seeking out the source like invisible tendrils, where the shadows began flickering at the edge of her vision. How long had it been since she saw this? The uneven shapes led her somewhere.
She followed the sadness, the lost feelings, crunching through the path and brushing past pinewood trees which prickled her. The heady scent of winter and forest illuminated her brain, clearing her thoughts.
I’m stupid. I shouldn’t be doing this. I need to head back.
She didn't, though. The fact her magic was leading the way made her all the more determined to listen. She must find out what it meant. The sadness continued to tug at her heartstrings, and she stumbled on for another five minutes before encountering an odd lump upon the ground.
The sadness originated from here. Nervous and puzzled at the same time, Seon began brushing at the snow which covered the lump. She heard the soul of the thing urging her on.
Her gloves brushed something, making a scratching sound. As if touching fabric.
She uncovered more, and saw a dead body frozen by the snows. It didn't seem real. A silent, stiff thing encased in an icy sarcophagus. Breathing faster, she focused on unveiling the whole thing.
The clothes were intact. They looked like the kind of robes everyone at the school wore. Gray, a little worn from the ice and winds that whipped over it, or even from a deadlier fall than Seon's.
A former student? The death didn’t frighten Seon, because the soul kept singing to her. She saw only the frozen features of a young woman, her once brown eyes glassy, and her skin oddly glossy.
Had the school lost someone recently, or some time ago? Assuming she even came from it. Seon had no way of dating the perfectly preserved corpse. Crouching by the body, listening to the lonely hum, Seon wondered what she could do. What was the point in being able to hear this if nothing could be done? Surely her magic allowed her to help it. She just needed to figure out how.
She sat by the corpse and started probing through the robes, trying to find some item of identification. A grim but necessary task. All she found in the end was a silver locket with someone’s blonde hair inside it. No name was apparent, though the hair belonged to someone else, since the woman had dark tresses. Examining further, Seon spotted an etching on the locket that read: A W.
Her initials. Maybe. Sighing, she took the locket, considering what to do next. It didn’t feel right to just leave the corpse. Nor to continue walking, when she still heard the soul.
A chill went through Seon. Nothing to do with the environment, and more related to a memory. Maybe the soul can’t return home. Hesitating, Seon tried to concentrate on the soul. Straining her mind to hear it better. She closed her eyes to help focus.
There must be a way for me to help. There must be!
Something slithered over her leg, and she snapped her eyes open, seeing nothing. Her heart pulsed faster.
Can you hear me?
Seon jerked her hand away from the body at this phrasing. As soon as she heard the words, a wave of despair slammed into Seon, forcing her to bend her spine as if enduring a great weight. It's not my despair.
She gritted her teeth, resisting the obnoxious influence.
Can you hear me?
“Yes,” Seon answered out loud. She shivered, feeling dizzy and sick. This was the first time she’d ever heard coherent words rather than the suggestion of language, or the susurration of darkness.
Shock seemed to pulse through the soul’s mournful melody, and the sound faded. Really? You hear?
“Really.” Now Seon had no idea what to say. Probably best to stick to the basics. “What happened to you?”
A hesitation. Did those brown eyes move? No. Impossible.
I don’t know the way home.
“What happened to you?” Seon wanted the answer to this question first.
More silence. I was ill.
Ill? Seon hesitantly opened the robes of the dead woman. She struggled to do so, since everything had a sheen of ice. Under the gray robes lay pale, frozen skin with dark smudges across the breasts, above the heart.
Oh no. This was the disease Zannis mentioned. The same one that destroyed all human magic users years ago.
How old was this corpse? How long had she been here, so well preserved?
Months? Years? Centuries? Maybe she came from the time before drakes and wyrms took over the world. Maybe she comes from when humans still held power.
“How old are you?”
I don’t know the way home. Can you help me?
The inner voice took on a desperate longing. Seon felt something clutching at her, grabbing her flesh, though she couldn’t see what it was.
Can you help me?
Seon got up, terrified, heart almost bursting out of her chest. The invisible thing here clung with the desperation of an addict. Not willing to let go.
Help me! You must!
“I don’t know how!” Seon yelled. She now swiped at her body, trying to prise away the invisible fingers.
Yes, you do. The voice took on a dark, accusing tone.
No, she didn’t. But the soul seemed quite content to drag her down, pull her back towards the corpse.
Show me the way home.
It needed to stop saying that. Seon had no idea. But, given that it refused to let her escape, she tried searching, thinking if she looked for a door or something, it would stop. But how to do that? Maybe by locating the source of the sound, or delving deeper into herself.
The soul dug harder, and Seon winced.
I don’t know the way home. Please. Please.
How sad, really. It was like a broken doll. Unable to think full thoughts, unable to function properly without a body. Only able to repeat the desperate, haunting obsession to find a way home.
To death.
Nothing made itself obvious to Seon. So, in a burst of ill temper and fear, she closed her eyes and envisioned a door. A wooden door with a fancy archway. For good measure she imagined the light, similar to the vision she experienced with Zannis. She built up the image in her head, fashioning rusted black loops upon the door. She then creaked it open, allowing a glimmer of light to shine through.
“Okay, the way home is here.”
Seon waited for those invisible claws to loosen their grip.
Where?
“Here,” Seon said, now feeling foolish. Of course she couldn’t just imagine a door. How was that supposed to help anything?
Something blurred past her. To her astonishment, she saw the soul appear at the door in her mind. A faint image of the girl it once belonged to. She definitely wasn't imagining that. Somehow the spirit stood by the random door she'd created.
Here?
“Um… yes?”
The soul peered at the door, before stepping through it. The light blazed, and the door swung shut.
The weight upon Seon’s body vanished. The claws stopped digging. She opened her eyes and stared at the empty corpse. She no longer heard the sadness, or had it vibrating in her bones.
Did it work?
Maybe, if she chose to believe what she saw, and thought about the lack of pressure upon her soul. No more voices whispered. The only worthwhile thing that remained now was the locket. Seon tucked it into her pocket and continued trekking through the forest, seeking a way back.
The image of that girl slipping through the door lingered. A fullness wedged in her throat and made her heart throb.
I can't believe I did that. A smile spread across her lips, widening when she found a path which looked as if it had seen plenty of activity in the past few days, with trenched boot prints and cart tracks.
Wait until I tell Artiz what I did! Then the smile faded. Seon's anger was what distracted her in the first place.
Why bother telling him anything?
Mood instantly soured again, Seon strolled down the path, knowing she’d likely need to curve all around the mountain to find the path that led to the school.
At least nothing else should happen. Right?
Around the bend, she saw a group of four people walking along, talking to one another.
She squinted at them. They wore robes of a rich brown color. All were men. She heard their voices, and fear slithered through her. A lonely woman on a mountain, and a group of men. No. Don’t show the fear, just keep walking.
The men caught sight of her, and stopped. She walked right up to them, gaze fixed ahead. They didn’t part ways.
“Excuse me, I need to pass,” Seon said. She managed to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Yellow eyes gleamed. City insignias displayed on their gloves.
Wyrms. Oh. I spoke way too soon about no more trouble appearing. Oh no.
What were wyrms doing all the way up here, close enough to the school to be a threat? Couldn't be good. She prayed desperately that they'd let her through, that they wouldn't cause a scene...
“Oh, I don’t think you need to pass at all, human,” the lead wyrm said. An evil grin highlighted his face.
“I need to get back to my grandma,” Seon invented wildly. “She’s expecting me to bring her bread. She trades with the drakes in the area. Please, just let me pass. I won’t be any bother.”
An attempt at implicating she was involved with drakes and invoking a sense of mercy fell on deaf ears, cold hearts.
“Guess your grandma’s starving to death,” another wyrm remarked.
Hands seized Seon around the throat and slammed her against a tree.
“No! What are you doing?” The hands squeezed around her throat tighter.
“What whores deserve,” the wyrm said.
He began tugging at her clothes.