Choking and sputtering, Eva was sharply and suddenly brought back to her senses by something cold and wet. In her startled confusion, she opened her mouth to suck in a breath but only succeeded in swallowing a mouthful of water. Panic then swiftly followed as her bewildered mind finally cleared enough to produce one lucid, terrifying thought: I’m drowning! With a sudden surge of adrenaline-fueled energy, Eva began to thrash and kick wildly in an attempt to free herself from the liquid prison, but no matter how hard she struggled, her limbs would not respond to her urgings. Instead, her efforts only brought on an intense and overwhelming pain that seemed to rage throughout her entire body. Soon, her lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, and her head began to throb as black spots danced behind her lids.

With heart pounding, she called upon her magic to force the water away, but after a moment in which nothing happened, her panic quickly changed to sheer horror. Desperately, she searched within herself for the gift that had been hers since birth, but she could not find it. It was gone!

No… Please, no! her thoughts screamed. This can’t be the end. I don’t want to die! Please…

Suddenly, the water disappeared and air brushed across the damp skin of her face once again. Frantic with relief, Eva began alternately coughing and gasping as her body worked to expel the excess liquid from her throat and lungs to be able to take in a deep breath. When at last she had somewhat recovered, she flung open her eyes to scan her surroundings for danger, but the blinding amount of light that assaulted her vision quickly forced her to close them again. Squinting against the glare, the acrid scent of burning pitch that assailed her nostrils coupled with the popping and sizzling sounds that reached her ears lead her to believe that the source of the light was torches, but that bit of information provided little insight as to what had just happened and where she was now.

After a few moments passed, her eyes had adjusted enough to open them fully once again, and almost immediately, her gaze fell on a brute of a man looming over her with an upturned bucket in his hands, explaining the cause of her near drowning. Sweat ran down from his bald head, and an unkempt beard framed his scarred, pockmarked face. Beneath his large forehead and bushy eyebrows, a set of dark eyes leered at her in a way that had Eva recoiling in revulsion. Her reaction must have amused him, though, for his wiry mass of facial hair then parted to reveal an incomplete set of yellowed teeth before he turned away to place the bucket on a nearby table.

With his attention now diverted, Eva quickly glanced around the room, craning her neck this way and that to examine as much as she could from her prone position on the stone slab. What she saw nearly caused her to faint with terror, for hanging on each wall were many different kinds of sharp, pointed, and menacing instruments. Even the table where the man was standing contained an array of what looked like hooked knives and clamps along with rope and other things she didn’t recognize. While she was still taking this all in, a voice spoke from somewhere above her head, startling her by its nearness.

“Quite an impressive collection, isn’t it?” the man said with apparent pride. “Over the years, we’ve perfected our system of questioning and accumulated quite a large and varying assortment of tools.”

After speaking, the man at last stepped around to her side and into view, allowing her a good look at his tall, muscular form and hard jaw. He was much better kempt than the other man with his black hair cut short and parted to one side and his beard trimmed into a neat goatee. The way he held himself with shoulders squared and chin raised screamed power and authority, but it was the emptiness of his eyes that struck the most fear into Eva’s being. She could find no sympathy or concern in their depths despite the disarming smile he offered her. The only emotion she could identify from his piercing gaze was a fierce and unyielding determination to get what he wanted.

“Who are you?” she finally asked. Surprisingly, her voice came out strong and unwavering, despite the way her insides trembled and heart raced.

“I apologize. We should have introduced ourselves from the beginning. This is Rave,” he extended a hand toward the man who had drenched her earlier, “our chief interrogator. I am Severin, direct descendent of Demitrus the First and leader of our people.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Eva cut him off with another question, “And who exactly are your people?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, but otherwise, Severin showed no signs that her interruption had fazed him. “I believe your ancestors named us the Banished, but we refer to ourselves as the Betrayed.”

With eyes widening in surprise, Eva couldn’t stop the barrage of questions that began to flow, “What? How did—”

“Enough!” Severin bellowed. “I will ask the questions, not you.”

Hearing the underlying threat in his voice, Eva wisely clamped down on her curiosity and put a stop to her probing.

After taking a deep breath to compose himself, Severin flexed his shoulders and began walking in a circle around her. “Now,” he said in a conversational tone that put her already taught nerves on edge, “as I mentioned before, we have perfected our method of questioning over the years. Should you refuse to answer my questions, we will be forced to… persuade you. If you continue to resist, we will increase the severity of our persuasion techniques from those of simple discomfort to those that will leave you permanently marred or maimed. So, I would highly recommend that you provide me with answers as quickly and easily as possible,” he paused at her side to caress her right cheek with the back of his hand, “because I’d hate to have to damage such beautiful skin.”

Eva’s stomach roiled violently at his touch. On impulse, she tried to bring her hand up to knock his away, but something hindered her attempts. Looking down, she discovered that her wrists and ankles were shackled to the stone slab on which she was lying. Her armor and chainmail had also been removed, effectively rendering her immobile and helpless. With a building sense of doom gnawing away at her, the reality of her circumstances began to sink in, and Eva realized that there was nothing she could do to stop whatever was about to happen to her. Instead of becoming consumed by fear and hopelessness, however, a new emotion began to build like a roaring fire in her chest until it superceded all others—rage.

A spark of amusement flashed across Severin’s features as he witnessed Eva’s momentary bewilderment at being unable to lift her hand, but the sentiment passed quickly. Straightening to his full height, he once again put on his expressionless mask and returned to the business at hand. “All right, I believe you now fully understand the gravity of the situation. So, let’s get started. Shall we?”

“You can ask me whatever you want,” Eva replied before lifting her eyes to his, revealing the fury that burned within her, “but you may as well kill me because I will not tell you anything.”

The transformation was instantaneous. In the blink of an eye, Severin’s features contorted with anger, turning it into a hideous sight with veins bulging in his neck and pulsing at his temples. Before Eva could react, he struck out a hand and gripped her upper arm violently. As he clamped down on it, the bone shifted beneath his grip, making it clear that it was already broken. Eva felt the ripple of excruciating pain only a second before a vicious scream tore from her throat. Biting down on her lower lip, she used all of her willpower to cut off the sound, making her breaths come in short, shallow pants as her captor leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“My dear, I will never kill you. I will continue to make your life one of anguish and torment as long as you resist me. You will beg for death many times, and many times you will even be brought to death's door. But I will not let you die. Even if you never tell me what I ask, I will still have use for you alive as a breeder. So, trust me when I say your only hope is to cooperate in every way possible.”

A tear slid down Eva's cheek as he withdrew, but she refused to look at him. With her eyes boring holes in the uneven ceiling, she tried to prepare herself mentally for what was to come. Just breathe, Eva, she encouraged herself. Slowly, in and out... In and out.

“So,” Severin continued, as if nothing had happened, “let's begin. First of all, what is your name?”

While keeping her focus on the ceiling, Eva ignored his question completely. However, she didn't miss the slight nod he gave to Rave when she didn't answer, nor did it escape her notice when Rave lifted a fresh bucket of water and made his way to her side. Closing her eyes, she tried to turn her thoughts to something else, anything else, but it was no use. Her body tensed in anticipation just as she heard the water begin to pour from its container, and in the final moments before panic drove away the last of her sanity, she sent up a desperate prayer to the Creator for strength. She knew she was going to need all the help she could get.

  ~~

The grating of rusty iron hinges awoke her hours later as the door to her cell swung outward with audible protest. Tensing, Eva forced open her one good eye and hastily scanned her surroundings in fright. As her gaze darted about, she realized that she wasn’t in the same room as before. This room resembled a crudely carved out cave with no furnishings whatsoever beside the shackles protruding from the wall to encase her wrists and ankles, and the only opening to the small space was a single door that was now standing open. With her head tilted to the side, Eva then watched with bated breath as a middle-aged woman was shoved into the small room with her. In her arms she clutched a basket of some sort, which she nearly dropped as she was forcefully knocked to her knees by one of the guards.

“See to the prisoner,” he ordered with a snarl of disdain. “Then knock on the door when you're done.”

The woman gave a meek nod in understanding before hastily clambering over to where Eva was lying on the hard ground. A moment later, the iron door slammed shut, the explosive sound causing both women to flinch involuntarily. In the suffocating quiet that followed, several strained moments passed as the women regarded each other through wary eyes. The tension in their gazes told of their distrust for one another, but Eva was too battered and worn to even move and the stranger appeared unarmed and too timid to pose a threat. After the silence had stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the unknown woman finally remembered her purpose and tore her gaze away from Eva’s face to begin removing items out of her basket. Bandages, herbs, and ointments emerged from within and were soon set out in order, ready to be utilized as needed. The last items she retrieved were a wooden pestle and bowl, which she used to begin mashing the delicate herbs into a thick paste.

As she worked, Eva noticed some of the stiffness in the woman’s posture melt away as she became more relaxed and, eventually, started trying to make conversation. “I'm Netta,” she said softly. “I serve as a slave here, although I haven’t always. Where are you from?”

Eva's only response was to continue staring at the woman. Realizing she didn't intend to answer, Netta simply shrugged and continued mashing the herbs. Once she felt the paste had reached the right consistency, she cast Eva one more cautious glance and then began applying it to any open wounds she could find. To Eva's relief, the herbs actually helped to numb the pain slightly. She sighed audibly at the momentary reprise from the constant throbbing, and finding that to be a sign of encouragement, Netta again tried to start up conversation.

With her small talk filling the uncomfortable silence of the cell, she finished applying the paste and moved on to bandaging the wounds to protect them from infection. She rambled on about her duties as a slave until she was nearly finished binding the last wound, and Eva realized that the idle chatter was somewhat comforting. It seemed such a small thing, but the normalcy of it helped to chase away the insanity lurking in the corners of her mind. As Netta continued tending her wounds and prattling about anything and everything, curiosity won out, and Eva at last broke her silence.

“Why are you here?” Her voice came out weak and brittle, causing her to cringe inwardly. She tried licking her lips to moisten them but found that her mouth was as dry as cotton, and the action only served to reopen a split in her lip, making it bleed again.

“Oh! Here, this will help,” Netta said while pressing a waterskin to her mouth.

As the cool liquid rushed across her chapped lips, Eva's mind flashed with the memory of water being repeatedly poured over her face, preventing her from catching her breath. The memory sparked a wave of panic, and she quickly jerked her head away from the flow with a gasp. She started to try and knock the waterskin away, but Netta gently grasped her shoulders and held her down.

“No, no. Shhh,” she urged with a gentle voice. “It's all right. You're safe. I promise. It's just water. I was just offering you a drink. I'm sorry I scared you.”

Slowly, Eva relaxed back against the rough floor of the cell and began to breathe normally again. “I... it's fine. I'm sorry for reacting that way. I-I don't know what came over me.”

“I understand. Do you want to try again?”

“Please.”

Once more, Netta brought the waterskin up to Eva's lips and this time, she drank deeply, her loud gulps testifying to the extent of her dehydration. When she was finished, Netta replaced the cork in the opening and set the skin back in her basket. “Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Returning her attention to the task at hand, Netta picked up the container of oil and began applying it with a folded cloth to any swollen areas where the skin was not broken. “This will help with the bruising,” she explained.

“You never answered my question earlier,” Eva reminded softly.

Netta paused with the cloth in her hand hovering over a darkened portion of skin on Eva’s shoulder as she considered how best to respond. Her olive-tinted irises darkened considerably and the corners of her eyes creased as a haunted look overcame her features. “You mean, why am I treating your injuries when you are likely just to receive more?”

Eva did her best to nod in the affirmative, but the motion was slight.

“I should think it obvious,” Netta continued without really noticing Eva’s confirmation. Her gaze was locked on some place far away and on a time passed. “How can they question you and get the answers they want if you die from infection or blood loss first?”

“So, you’re here to make sure I stay healthy enough for further torturing.” The statement tasted foul on her tongue and brought with it such a strong wave of nausea that she feared she would vomit. Forcing herself to take deep, cleansing breaths, Eva managed to retain the water she had ingested long enough for the worst of it to pass.

Looking slightly ashamed at the truth in Eva’s words, Netta hung her head and brought her hands to rest in her lap. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

With a soul-weary sigh, Eva closed the eye that wasn’t already swollen shut, and tried to come to terms with her reality. “Well,” she said after a long pause, “at least I’ll have someone to talk to from time to time.” Opening her eye again, she made an attempt to smile at the other woman. “Maybe that will be enough to keep me from losing my mind in this place. My name is Eva, by the way, and to answer your earlier question, I am from the Kingdom of Atara.”

Her words had the desired effect. Like dawn breaking on the horizon, Netta’s face instantly lit up with excitement. Her eyes sparkled with new life, and Eva noticed for the first time that the older woman was actually quite beautiful. Her skin was still creamy and smooth, although smeared here and there with streaks of dirt, and her long, black hair, though streaked with grey, possessed a lush, healthy sheen that even the darkness could not hide. As the woman opened her mouth speak, though, an uneasy feeling begin to take root in Eva’s gut, and she had to force herself to maintain her friendly expression while her gaze took in details that she had previously overlooked.

“Eva,” Netta said, testing the name on her lips. “That’s a charming name, and you’re Ataran? I’ve heard the capital city of Elysia is absolutely beautiful. Have you ever been there?”

“What? Oh, yes of course. I live there,” Eva stumbled to reply. She’d had to run the question through her mind again in order to give an appropriate answer for her attention had strayed away from the woman’s words and to her mouth. Normally, one would expect a slave’s teeth to be corroded and decayed, a testament to their sub-standard living conditions, but hers were nearly immaculate. None were missing, and as far as Eva could tell in the dim light, all were cleanly polished and intact.

Even though her reply had been short and gave little information, Eva’s response caused Netta to lean forward with an unexpected eagerness and her eyes to take on a gleam of hungry anticipation which reminded Eva of a predator on the scent of it’s prey. Immediately, the uneasiness in her gut doubled in size.

“You must tell me about it,” Netta urged. “What’s it like there? Is the palace as stunning as I’ve heard? Have you ever met the king and queen?”

“Why do you want to know so much about Elysia?” she hedged apprehensively.

“Well… I just want to be able to picture everything. I’m sure it’s much more glamorous than my life here,” she replied while gesturing with a hand to their bleak surroundings.

Her answer struck a sour chord in Eva. It was an odd sensation, one that she had only felt a handful of times, but like each instance before, she knew it was her Royal magic warning her that the other person was not being entirely truthful.

Deciding she was through with all the games, Eva dropped all pretenses of friendliness and hardened her gaze into a steely glare. “You’re lying,” she said simply. It was more of a statement than an accusation, but the underlying tone in her voice seemed almost to dare the other woman to try and deny it.

Netta’s eyes went wide in shock, and her nostrils flared with what appeared to be a flicker of fear. “Wh-what? Why would you think I’m lying? What other possible reason could I have for inquiring about your home? I thought we were becoming friends…”

Stiffening her resolve, Eva lifted her chin slightly in a challenge. “I can think of several reasons why you would ask such questions of me. One of which would be that you were sent here as a spy to gain my trust and then extract information from me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m just a slave. They’d never trust me with such a sensitive task.”

There it was again. The odd sensation rippled through her being, stronger than the last. That was an outright lie, Eva observed to herself. As she considered this, her gaze lost some of its strength and a measure of disappointment swept over her. I was foolish to be so easily taken in. Of course no one can be trusted here. I let myself get carried away by my hopes for some small token of comfort and relief, and it could have cost me dearly.

Feeling more alone than ever, Eva dropped her gaze and replied in nearly a whisper, “You’re right. They would never trust a slave to accomplish such a task, but then again, you’re not really a slave.” The last was spoken with such a quiet confidence that it left no room for argument as she lifted her one eye to meet the older woman’s two once more.

Slowly, the woman’s eyebrows lowered as her surprise faded and was then replaced by a wicked sneer. “What gave me away?”

Eva offered her a sly smirk before proceeding. “First of all, you’re too healthy and well-fed. Secondly, your teeth are too well polished and your skin is too smooth for anyone of your supposed status. Also, although you have some smeared on you, there is no dirt under your fingernails, proving that you haven’t actually been working as a slave would. Would you like for me to continue?”

Netta smiled down at her with an unnerving grin. “I’m impressed. It took the other women much longer to figure it out. You are quite the observant one, Eva. I’ll give you that.”

The woman then angled herself away to begin returning all the healing supplies back to the basket in preparation to leave, but Eva was still preoccupied with something she’d said. It kept nagging at her mind until, finally, she gave voice to her thoughts. “Other women?”

Pausing in her work, Netta turned back to face her. “Well, of course. You didn’t honestly think you were the first they’ve captured, did you?”

Confusion brushed across her features. “Well, I hadn’t really considered—”

“Ha!” Netta burst with a mocking laugh. “Perhaps I gave you too much credit. The Betrayed, or Banished whichever you prefer, have been spying on and capturing citizens from Atara for nigh on two hundred years now. I’m surprised no one has noticed yet, but then again, they do wait several decades between snatchings to ensure no one becomes suspicious. I myself used to be like you, a Warrior fully devoted to my king and queen, but I’ve grown since then. I learned quickly that the only way to survive in this place is to do whatever they ask. My obedience has provided me with many rewards, and you’d be wise to follow my example.”

Staggered by Netta’s revelation, Eva was left utterly speechless. Her mouth opened and closed several times as her emotions boiled within her, but anger and indignation quickly rose above the rest and at last managed to break the spell binding her tongue. “You—you traitor! How could you? You have chosen these barbarians over your own people!” The outburst left her winded and shaking. Her head swam slightly, but she ground her teeth together and forced herself to focus. She couldn’t blackout now.

“Don’t you dare think yourself better than me just because you’ve withstood one simple round of questioning! This is only the beginning, and you have yet to even fathom the kind of pain they are capable of inflicting. Everyone has a breaking point, Eva. Even you. And don’t think for a moment that there’s any possibility of escape. I’m sure by now you’ve noticed you can’t reach your magic?”

She takes Eva’s silence as an affirmative before holding up her own wrist and tapping a fingernail against the shackle encasing it. The black iron appeared identical to the ones binding Eva except hers were connected to heavy chains whereas Netta’s were not. “They’ve been learning too,” the older woman continued. “Apparently, the early descendents of those that were banished traveled to the Wilds in the far north and came across a band of pixies. Now, pixies are nasty little things with sharp teeth so it took quite a bit of bartering to convince them not to eat the wandering humans, but once the pixies learned of their intentions to strike back against some faeries, they were more than cooperative. The pixies told them of an ancient spell that could block a faerie’s powers, and after years of searching far and wide, the Banished finally found the words to the spell in an ancient scroll buried in some ancient elven ruins to the west. Those words were then engraved on the inside of these shackles that bind us, giving them the power to prevent us from using our faerie-given magic.

“So you see,” she said, drawing her explanation to a close, “there is no hope of ever escaping by force, and there is no hope of them ever showing mercy. Your only option is to do as I have done and cooperate to the fullest extent of your ability.”

“Never,” Eva hissed with all the conviction she possessed. “I will never betray my people or my king. You can tell that to those who sent you in here.”

Shrugging, Netta picked up her basket of supplies and stood. “Suit yourself. I tried to warn you, but I see you can’t be reasoned with.” Stepping across Eva’s immobile form, she then made her way over to the iron door and gave it three swift raps. “I’ll be sure to let Severin know that you’re ready for him.”

Suddenly, the door swung outward with the same loud, grating protest as before, and with one last piercing look, Netta disappeared through the opening. The jarring slam of the rusty door soon followed, and then Eva was left alone in the blistering silence once more. The only thing that signaled the passing of time was her own heartbeat as it steadily pounded out a rhythm despite the crushing weight of despair that bore down on her making it harder and harder to breathe. At last at the end of her strength, Eva let herself cry for the first time in this horrible experience. Deep, soul-wracking sobs reverberated around the cell, echoing back on each other until she had nothing left.

With her emotions now spent, Eva lay gasping up at the ceiling wondering when she’d wake up from this nightmare, but Netta’s words snaked through her mind once more, reminding her that there was no escape from this—she should just give in. No! She recoiled from the notion. I can’t. Nadia is counting on me. At the mere thought of her delicate little charge, Eva nearly succumbed to a fresh wave of tears. Oh, Nadia… It could’ve been you here instead of me. Thank the Creator you got away. In spite of her attempts, a few tears did manage to escape their bounds and trail more wet paths down her cheeks. And mother… she’s probably sick with worry.

Clenching her eyes shut, Eva forced her thoughts away from the sentimental and towards a more productive avenue. No. Come on think, Eva, think. You won’t help anyone by feeling sorry for yourself. Then with a new purpose, she once again replayed all that Netta had said through her mind along with the pieces of information Severin had provided earlier. Words such as “breeding” and “other women” soon stood out from amongst the rest and seemed to tug at something buried in the back at her mind. She began pulling a little harder on whatever it was her subconscious was trying to tell her when without warning she remembered the battle in the Wetlands.

Magic! Eva realized with sudden clarity as her one eye flew open. They had the same magic! The Banished have been breeding with our women to acquire the magic for themselves. The revelation caused a surge of satisfaction to wash through her at having solved some of the mystery, but soon the feeling passed as a new doubt settled. But why? They wanted nothing to do with magic before; that’s why they rebelled. Why, then, have they gone to so much trouble to claim it as their own centuries later?

No answer was forthcoming at first, but a heavy feeling quickly settled in her gut when her mind was once again drawn to the encounter with the Banished in the Wetlands. Allister had asked the attackers then what they wanted, and that answer now sent a new chill through Eva’s veins as she recalled the leader’s words, “We want you to die!” There. That was it—revenge. They needed the power of the magic to enact revenge. Without it, they wouldn’t stand a chance against the Ataran Warriors.

Dear Creator, she breathed in horror. My people have no idea of the beast lying in wait for them ready to pounce. When the Banished attack… so many lives could be lost. I have to warn them!

Just then, the rusty hinges screeched their warning as the door forcefully scraped open, revealing a large, shadowed figure waiting on the other side. Stepping into her cell, the man turned towards her prone position and the light from behind him shifted enough for her to finally make out his features. In that instant, Eva’s heart leapt to her throat, and her lungs forgot how to function properly. His name sprang to her lips and, before she could stop it, slipped out in a terrified whisper, “Rave!”