The throbbing in my head is what wakes me up.

I'm not sure how long I've been out, or where I am for that matter. All I know is this agonizing torment in my bones. As often as pain has been part of my daily routine, nothing prepares me for what I feel now. The dull ache in my heart intensifies the physical sensations in my body. I strain to turn my head, to catch some sign of Brendan, to see if he's okay, but I can't seem to move.

The memory I had in the van opened my eyes to a lot of truths no one wanted to talk about. The time I've remembered with my papa is something that I will forever cherish, and something I have a feeling I will never be able to experience again. Not after what I've done.

I push against the pain in my soul and focus on the problem at hand. Once I get Brendan out of here, I will deal with who I've become.

The first thing I notice is that my arms and legs are tied to whatever hard surface I'm attached to. I think it's a board of some sort, but I can't really see in this darkness. Not even with my super vision. I'm half suspended, I can feel my body hang against the restrains, attached to the wall by some kind of chains at my wrists and ankles. The metal itself is painfully sweltering my skin and I wonder if some kind of majyk has been placed on them.

"Cal?" I twist around, forgetting for a moment I'm attached, hissing at the new pain my movement brings. Swallowing down my cries, I try to peer through the darkness.

"Brendan? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Liar. "How are you?"

"Fine and dandy."

We're not very good at lying to each other. I can hear the pain lacing his voice and he can hear the frustration in mine. I need to get him out of here. That's my first order of business.

"Any idea where we are?" I ask, because it's easier to focus on that. I don't want to think about Brendan hurting. I hear rattling sounds, confirming the fact that he's just as uncomfortable as I am.

"No idea. I don't think we're in the human realm anymore."

"Why?"

"They're more powerful in their own."

Which technically means so am I. I mull that over, trying to think of a way to awaken my majyk and take care of business. But while I can feel it swimming at the surface, I'm still no closer to having control over the power. Grunting in frustration, I pull against the restraints to no avail. They've done a good job at securing us against escape. If we don't figure a way out of this, we're going to die. There's no other possible outcome. Yet, even worse than that, I know they'll use Brendan to get what they want out of me.

The pressure builds within my chest, and I'm gasping for breath. I can't let anything happen to him.

I can't.

I can't.

I won't.

What I told him is true, my life was missing a piece until he walked back into it. It's not just because he opened up the doorways in my mind. He opened up the windows in my soul. Now, I can't imagine my life without him.

It's my turn to be the brave one.

It's my turn to save him.

Before I can formulate my next thought, I hear pounding of heavy feet and rugged breathing and instantly I know they're here.

As the room bathes in sudden brightness, I fight to keep my eyes open against the glare. Quickly, I let my gaze scan my surroundings, looking for any type of an escape route.

We're in a huge room, almost completely empty but for a large table in the middle. Brendan is to my right, suspended against a large board about three feet off the floor. I glance down at myself, noticing the same position. There's also a metallic strap across my middle, and leather straps halfway on my arms and legs. We aren't going anywhere.

"I see you're finally awake,” what I assume is the leader says, coming to stand in front of me. I've never understood the need to state the obvious in these kinds of situations, but the way my body quivers at his voice makes me rethink that position. I take a deep breath, as much as my prison allows, throwing mental daggers at the monster standing in front of me.

He isn't exactly your Lord of the Rings kind of a monster. For some reason, that's what I've always pictured of their leader, something out a fantasy book. The ones we've fought were crude, uneven mess of limbs and skin, but he's not like that. He's huge. Probably over seven feet tall, with large square shoulders and hands the size of my arm from elbow down. His hair is in dreadlocks, hanging down past the middle of his back. He's dressed in robes of heavy, dark material. His eyes are the only thing I can see of his face because it's half covered by the cloth. They're pitch black, full of anger and hatred. It's as if he can see into my very soul, making me shudder all over again.

But I don't back down as I meet that look.

"You're a tough one.” He chuckles, making my skin crawl at the sound. A tingle of a memory stirs at his voice, but I bat it away. "I have to give credit where credit is due. It was hard tracking you down. But I think that has more to do with your companion here." He turns to Brendan then, taking a step in his direction and my body slams against the restraints as I try to go to him.

The creature turns to me, laughing outright.

"Someone cares a little too much for this servant."

I growl at his words, wishing with all my might for a way where I can rip his head right off his shoulders. "But we're getting a little bit ahead of ourselves,” he continues, coming back to stand in front of me once more. I know what he's going to say the moment he opens his mouth, because I know him.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Cornelius of the High Court of Neruda, Komandir of the Shadowlands. I am tasked with many things, one of which is bringing the relic back to the lands."

He's the man from my memories, the one I met in the woods. Yet, he looks so different. I wouldn't recognize him in a dark alley, but now that I see his eyes, I know it's him. I don’t know if he’s playing some kind of a game, pretending we’re anything but strangers, but I’ll go along with it for now. It takes me a second to recover my voice, but the retort is smart on my lips.

"Wow, that's a mighty long name. I think I'll call you Corny."

The sting of his slap is instantly on my cheek. I hear Brendan cry out as Cornelius's hand connects with my face. My ears are ringing at the impact, but I push through the pain, turning my face to the creature once more.

"Do not disrespect me again."

"Or what? You'll beat the crap out of me? I think you're planning on doing that anyway, so I'll do what I want in the meantime."

I don't stop to think, I spit right into his face. The growl that escapes him shakes the walls around me. The next punch is to the stomach and there are tears in my eyes instantly.

"Stop!" Brendan screams, but Cornelius isn't done. He reaches for my hair, grabbing a handful and yanking my head back.

"You will show respect to royalty, princess. Or the next blow goes to your precious Brendan. And I will not be using just my hands."

He releases me suddenly, my body bouncing in my restraints. I try to keep my mouth shut against the misery of my body breaking, but the tears are there before I can stop them.

"You touch him, I will end you,” I grind out between clenched teeth. The pain I'm experiencing is nothing compared to what I will do if Brendan is hurt. That is the determination that takes its rightful place within me as I glare at the Cornelius.

"Pretty words, princess. But I don't think you're in any position to be making threats."

Another growl escapes me, but he only chuckles again. In my head, I can picture all the different ways I will destroy him. And I will destroy him. I promise.

He turns to me, his eyes flashing, before he speaks again.

"Now, let's talk about the Relic."

* * *

These creatures do not speak with their mouths. They speak with their fists.

"Stop!" I shout as the one closest to Brendan slams his fist into Brendan's left side. He jerks against the restrains, biting down on his lips to keep from crying out. "I don't know anything."

"How can the Protector, Warrior of the High Realm, not know where the Relic is?" Cornelius hisses, his patience obviously waning. I'm terrified they're going to hit me again, my face is already a bloody mess from where I've been punched repeatedly. But I'm more terrified that they'll keep hitting Brendan.

Cornelius motions to the one he calls Mead, and the creature takes a step toward me, reaching for his knife. He stops right in front of me, then pivots, throwing the knife behind him. Brendan's screams echo through my very soul as the knife imbeds itself in his thigh.

"Stop, just stop.” I'm crying, sobbing, begging. "I can't help you. I don't remember anything. Why won't you believe me? I don't remember."

"Stop lying,” Cornelius shouts, once again in my face. He grabs my chin, raising it so I'd meet his eyes. Eyes so full of darkness it makes my head hurt and my vision swim. "I can't penetrate your defenses, which means you are protecting yourself with the majyks. You can't do that if you don't remember. So I'm going to ask you once again, where is Znaniye?"

"I told you. I. Don't. Know." I pull at every possible resolve in my essence, pushing for strength. I wish for that majyk to burst free and save us like last time, but nothing. I can feel it, but I can't control it.

"Fine. Then we'll start the draining,” Cornelius announces, turning to his goons.

Mead takes a step toward me once again, another knife already in his hands. This time he doesn't throw it, he reaches for my arm. I recoil at the pure rotting smell that surrounds his disfigured body. Brendan shouts something, but I can't hear him over the pain. Mead slashes my bicep in three clean strokes. The blood flow is instantaneous, but slow. A part of me wonders if it's majyk keeping it contained to barely a drip, but my mind can't focus long enough on anything.

"We don't want you to die. Just yet." Mead moves over to my other arm, making identical marks there. "Once most of the blood leaves your body, your defenses are going to be down and I will enter your mind. I will get all the answers."

Cornelius doesn't wait for a response. Turning away, he leads the rest of the monsters out of the room with a word. This time they don't turn the light off.

They let us see each other in our misery.

I try to wrap my mind around what's happening, but I can't understand the conflicting events. The Cornelius of my memory was a friend of my father, and yet, here he is, slashing me to pieces, as a stranger. As my enemy. What happened to bring us to this state? All I want to do is remember. Then maybe I could save Brendan.

It's so hard to keep my eyes open, the beatings have taken so much out of me. I'm not strong enough to withstand this much longer.

I'm crying again, because that's all I can do. I don't even realize it until Brendan speaks.

"Cal, we're going to be fine. We'll figure something out."

He's trying to be strong for me, but he sounds so broken. His handsome face is covered in blood, spilling down his neck and shoulders. Bruises are forming all over his beautiful body, the marks the size of the creatures’ hands covering him from waist up. They ripped the knife out of his thigh before leaving, the red is soaking his pants.

"I'm sorry, Brendan. I'm so sorry,” I whisper, but I know he hears me.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Yes, I do. It's my fault we're here. It's my fault you're hurt."

"No, it's not."

"For once, just stop arguing with me and accept the truth." I laugh, but there's no humor in my voice. I take a deep breath, trying to keep the sound from becoming hysterical. "If I only remembered. We wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have to protect me. You would be okay." I'm sobbing—babbling—the tears burning my raw skin, but I don't care. Whatever pain I feel, I deserve it. I caused this. I've caused pain to the people most precious to me. I'm not a Protector.

I'm a Destroyer.

"Cal, don't talk like that.” I don't know which part he's referring to, but either way it doesn't matter. I watch the fire that I've grown to love burn itself within Brendan's eyes.

"None of this is your fault. You're a pawn. They used you and now you're paying the price. But there's one thing you need to remember. Calista, I don't want to be anywhere else. I don't want to be anywhere that's not where you are."

His words are like majyk itself. It creates springs of hope within my heart, pouring light into the darkest places. Whatever I am, whatever may happen, whatever I believe, this is what majyk feels like.

“Brendan—"

"Did you know you have a favorite sword?" His question throws me off, cutting off the words I so long to speak.

"What?"

"You do. It was given to you on your thirteenth birthday. The hilt is the perfect size for your hands, even after all these years." He's struggling to speak, trying to force the words from his bloodied lips. He's breathing hard and I can almost feel the shudders that rake his body ever so often. "The blade is straight, except for the top half. There's an opening in the last quarter of the blade, making sort of a leaf shape. Right above the handle is a row of four jewels. Red, blue, green, light purple."

At his words, something clicks in the dark places of my memory. I know those colors, I've seen them in my dreams, I've carried them in my heart.

"The four elements,” I whisper, as Brendan stops speaking, watching me closely. "I don't know how I knew that."

"The four elements.” The boy smiles in response. Or tries to. The blood and the bruises are making it hard to see past the pain. I wish I could touch him, soothe the agony, take it all away. Instead, I just study him like my life depends on it.

"You used to carry it with you everywhere," Brendan continues, a far away look is once again in his gaze. "For a time, you slept with it under your pillow. I remember your mother admonishing you for it. More than once, actually. You told her it made you stronger. You felt safe."

I know he's trying to make me feel better, trying to distract me from our predicament, trying to stop my tears. Yet, I'm crying harder. He's done so much for me. He's always been there, keeping me safe. Keeping me sane. And he doesn't even know the whole story.

I open my mouth to thank him, but something stops me. A nagging in the back of my mind.

“You," I whisper and his eyes fly up to meet mine. "You gave me that sword."

He tries to smile again, the joy on his face overshadowing the pain for a moment. There are tears in his own eyes, and I'm in pieces. I remember his cute little face when he presented me with his gift. He's been looking for a perfect something to give me for close to a year. Thirteen was an important milestone for all of us and Brendan wanted me to have a piece of him when I crossed it.

I bring my tear-streaked face up to meet his. He's smiling, ever so softly and I wish with all of my heart I could go to him.

"I remember,” I say.

And then, the fire comes.