Seiren sat in a different cell, one that was a bit warmer at least, for two more days. They fed her bread and water, but otherwise kept their distance. Nobody answered her questions. Nobody she knew came by. In fact, nobody else came to her at all. A small, barred window stood at the top, too high for her to see through, but at least she could keep track of the days and nights. This cell was also runed. She couldn't even summon a puff of burst magic.

On the third day, the guards came for her. There were, again, an entourage of them, weapons drawn. One banged his gun against her bars, but she'd heard them coming. She didn't jump. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction. There was the jingling of metal keys and two guards filed in, guns pointed at her. She stared at the wall, heaving a sigh.

"On your feet, Seiren Nithercott," barked the nearest one, throwing a pile of clothes and some boots at her feet. "Get dressed. We're escorting you to your train."

She gave them a side glance and they stiffened up.

"You're going to watch me change?"

"You're a traitor. You don't get afforded human courtesies," said another one, a woman, who stepped forward cautiously and unlocked her shackles. The men turned around, but the female soldier kept her gun trained on Seiren. With a shake of her head, Seiren threw the thin gown off her head and tugged the itchy but somewhat thicker knee-length tunic dress on. The leggings were baggy but at least the boots fitted. She stood and followed. They slapped metal cuffs on her wrists again and kept close, watching her every move. They took such a long and convoluted way she could not make head nor tail of the direction, but, noting the indigo runes that glowed atop each cell, she wasn't surprised. The design of this place was to confuse prisoners, making escape impossible. She didn't bother to look into each cell. Rowan was far from here. The king's mages would make sure of that.

They emerged onto an isolated corridor. To her surprise, they were still in the Council of Mages. She'd half-expected to end up in Bicknor with the time they'd taken to drag her out. And the soldiers stopped.

"Mage Haigh," said one in a courteous but wary voice. Seiren looked up.

Kommora Haigh stood there, nose turned up and mouth downturned, looking as disgruntled as always. Her beady dark eyes gave showed no recognition when they met Seiren's.

"So this is where you held that little traitor," she said in a haughty voice.

"We're escorting her to her next holding area, Mage Haigh. If you'll excuse us."

"Well, I only have one thing to say." Her eyes bored holes into Seiren's soul. "Rules are there to prevent traitors from rising, Nithercott. You may beg, but there will always be just punishment."

Seiren's mouth half-opened, but before she could say a word, a shove sent her forward and almost flying. Kommora strode ahead without a backward glance, back straight. She wasn't accompanied by Ash and Liore. How unusual.

She knows how to play the game, Madeleine had said. Seiren bit her lip. She was sure that message was encrypted. There will always be just punishment. To others, it might seem Kommora was referring to Seiren's apparent treason, but she knew Kommora meant more than that. She meant the king's mages. She was on Loren's side, and Loren was good. Kommora has to be on their side. Seiren could only hope. Rowan trusted Kommora and Seiren trusted Rowan.

All she had to do was ditch these soldiers and escape before she got forced onto the train to Moakai. Once the train started, there was no way back. They were not magical, so if she chose the right moment, a strong enough bout of burst magic could throw them off and there would be a split second when she could draw a rune.

They took her to the train station in a runed motor, flanking her on all sides so tightly she could barely breathe. Her neck never felt so naked. She wondered where the bastards had taken Madeleine and made a silent promise to her sister that she would find her again.

The motor stopped. One clamped his hand on her shoulder before allowing her to disembark. They were at an isolated end of the station, probably away from prying public eyes to avoid drawing attention to them. That meant she only had to incapacitate those around her and there wouldn't be any passers-by at risk. Only one person stood waiting at the end cart. He grinned, tipping his wide-brimmed hat at her. Her attempt to clear her mind to summon burst magic faltered.

"Mage Portendorfer," said the nearest soldier, nodding with respect. "Thank you for answering the call."

"I wouldn't miss it. How goes it, Nithercott? You're looking a little worse for wear. I hear treason's your new thing with Baby Woodbead, eh?"

She glared at him. His neck had healed since the last time she saw him in Acrise. He chuckled, sensing her animosity.

"What are you doing here?" she said with a surly look. "Don't you have more people to kill?"

"The bigwigs asked for an escort to your new home and I volunteered, sweetheart." His eyes twinkled, but that only made Seiren fidget more. The soldiers on either side of her froze, their guns trained on her. "Relax, friends. She's no threat."

"She single-handedly took down half of Brigadier General Villin's squadron, Mage," said the nearest one, not taking his eyes off her. "Forgive us if we beg to differ."

"Oh, she'll be no threat to me now, would you, my sweet?" Portendorfer said, clapping an unreserved hand on her shoulder. Seiren snarled and flinched away.

They dragged her along, passing several runed motors already loaded and secured onto the other carriages, before shoving her onto one. And then there were two soldiers and Portendorfer left. The low rumble and vibrations along the body of the train told her they were readying to leave Benover. Her time was running out.

Portendorfer hummed to himself. The view began to shift outside as the train pulled out of the station. Seiren glared at him from her spot on the hard wooden bench, chained to the floor and to the two soldiers on either side of her. Portendorfer caught her furious look and grinned, crossing his legs on the bench at the opposite end of their section, and adjusted the folds of his shiny rainbow-lined black mage's cloak. Nobody else was present except for them four.

Seiren shifted. A pointed part of the shackle dug into her wrist. She grimaced. The soldiers glanced at her and stared ahead again.

Before long, there was a throbbing at her wrist and a warm, wet feeling trickling down to her fingertips. Seiren feigned interest at the views they passed. The soldiers relaxed into their seats, although still kept a steady grip on their weapons. She barely moved her fingers, trailing the tip of her little fingernail from memory. Drop by drop, the lines fell in place.

She sucked in a breath and snapped her fingers.

The burst of electricity tore through her body like an explosion of arrows, in all directions. Her head snapped back, banging against the wall and making stars spray across her field of vision. Her limbs slammed together. Her muscles seized, screaming as they all contracted at once. The men yelled, stiffening up at the same time. They fell off their seats, eyes rolling and bodies twitching. Seiren kept her arms clenched by her sides, the familiar sensation of burning from the inside out and a thousand spears tearing through her skin reminding her vividly of the fight with Halen Ashworth in Iwade.

Her head swam when the last of the jolts eased. Cold sweat covered her all over. She bent down and tore the keys from the pockets of the nearest guard and, with tremulous hands that barely obeyed, unlocked her shackles. They fell to the floor, bloodied and shiny, and the keys followed. She then took a pen from his pocket and sketched a green rune. Her muscles ached, crying from fatigue. Barely a coherent thought went through her head. The pen fell from her hands. She used the remaining strength to snap her fingers. The glow of the green rune bathed her, flooding her with the relief of healing and protection. It had been a while since she'd been forced to use one on herself.

When the injuries healed, she scrambled to her feet and knelt down beside each soldier, sketching one blue rune beside each man whilst they remained disoriented. She snapped her fingers. They yelped, jerking and eyes rolling, and fell silent.

She straightened up with a sigh that left her breathless. Out of instinct, she touched the back of her head, but it was healed, of course. Luckily the blue rune hadn't left her with significant enough injures. She could probably still live without a few thousand fewer brain cells. Probably.

Behind her, Portendorfer clapped.

"Quite a show, Nithercott."

"Thanks," she said, scrunching up her face at him. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I can't think of a better job."

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. Here was her chance. "I can."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, appearing intrigued. "You're not thinking of fighting me, are you, Nithercott?"

"I'm not stupid. I know I can't win. But you like action, right? Using your flash magic, killing people, anything to get your hands dirty..."

"You speak as if you know me so well."

"I've seen you in action several times." Seiren wet her dry lips and continued, not breaking their gaze. His dark brown eyes were like an animal's, impossible to read beyond the surface, currently twinkling with mild curiosity. "I have a deal."

"I'm listening." He lounged back, tilting his head against the wall.

"Kommora Haigh is leading a coup d'etat against Pollin and his mages," said Seiren in a rush. There was a spark in his eyes. At last. "The rebel mages have their own forces and they're joining our side. And quite a lot of state mages too, after what happened in Acrise."

"Oh? And why should I care?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She thought he'd jump at the chance to join in. "Because there will be lots of casualties. Because you can use your flash magic to do whatever you want."

There was no guarantee Portendorfer would be on their side. There was no guarantee Portendorfer wouldn't just kill her on the spot right here, right now.

Except something told her he had no intention of killing her -- yet.

"Magic is thrilling, right? It makes you feel alive? Then why aren't you stopping the train right now and heading back?" Seiren said, desperation colouring her voice. If he didn't see things her way, there was no way she could get back to Benover.

"I know you're manipulating me to help you and Woodbead out, and rest assured I have no particular interest in aiding either of you." He cocked his head. "You speak as if you know the feeling. But do you?"

Seiren licked her dry lips. "Rune magic is fulfilling. Seeing the shapes interact and the creation at the end of it -- that's the exhilaration for me."

"But do you feel the life within magic? Within burst? When you see flash?"

"When I see your flash magic, I do," she admitted, frowning and reliving the moment when Portendorfer's fire scorched the night skies of Acrise. "There's a lot of energy and... beauty behind such immense power. I can see why you live for it."

"But you need to feel it." Portendorfer sat forward, eyes glowing with exhilaration, gesturing with vigour. "The flurry of intense emotions, the explosion of raw, unadulterated energy from your fingertips, the overwhelming sensation of destruction in a single breath -- you need to feel it."

Seiren stared, unsure what he was getting at. He began to resemble a child at his birthday, face bright, energetically waving his hands, energy crackling at his fingertips.

"You want to turn this train around, Seiren Nithercott?" Portendorfer bared his teeth at her. "I'll strike you a deal. If you can do flash magic and feel this raw energy, then I'll stop this train."  

Remember to vote!