Black.

It's amazing how many shades one color can have, even if it's thought to be plain.

Same goes with red. It's nondescript. Singular. Plain.

Until it turns into something more.

Funnily enough, the only color I could think of, the only color I could see, was red. It's what showed up best in black.

They kept me blindfolded. When I woke up, all I saw was that blasted black color. It worked its way into my body, slithering down my spine and into my lungs. Then I thought of blood red and it came in, bringing along fire.

Seeing wasn't much better. When the muraes stopped, they put me in a chill room with floor as hard and as cold as it could be. It smelled like sweat and stale mold.

It didn't take long for me to figure out where I was once they took the blindfold off.

It was a dungeon. A dungeon for humans ruled by rats. The only light that managed to sneak in was through one of the few open slices in the wall. What looked to be a small river of water trickled down the slight hill all hours of the day. Rusted bars separated me from freedom and me from anyone in the cells next to mine.

I was constantly under watch. Whether it be the murae or my father who paced around the jail cells, or the older, dark-skinned man in the room next to mine, there was constantly a pair of eyes on me.

My father. I could barely even call him that. Whatever he had become, it wasn't him. It was someone--something--else. Rosinka told me it was miralis in the last stage.

If it was, Dad would have been shoved so far into his mind he would never surface again.

I plucked at one of the bandages tied around my ankle. It wasn't very well done--the ends weren't tied together, it was too loose in some places--but it was there. The bleeding in both my arm and leg quit hours before, but it was only because King stopped it.

He said he wanted me alive a little longer.

I said he needed me alive (not to his face). The only person who knew where the cavaliers were was William, and I guess Will told him I knew too.

I didn't, but it kept me breathing.

I wasn't sure about Merlin, though. In the two days of being in the dungeon, not one murae mentioned him. He could've been dead. The last time I saw him, he was beaten to a pulp by the muraes and laying on the ground.

Other than Dad, no one I knew showed up. With the only other possible human the slightly creepy guy next door, I was out of luck.

I leaned against the wall. Boredom had officially struck. With all the running Will and I did for the past who-knows-how-long, sitting felt like torture.

Sitting still with a broken wrist, burned arm, and slashed ankle was even worse.

You can heal, you know.

I held back a laugh. Rosinka had been telling me the same thing for at least six hours. How do you expect me to do that? Hate to break it to you, but I can't spontaneously heal myself. It doesn't work like that.

She rolled her eyes, which made my eyes turn in my head. It has to transfer, doesn't it?

"By a willing person, Rosi! They have to be wanting to take this!"

The man in the cell over raised his eyebrow. Heat rose to my cheeks. I stuck out my tongue and turned my back to him.

Not necessarily. If you're strong enough, you can move it to something yourself.

"That's not how it works. That's just... wrong."

Wrong and right vary depending on the situation. You're in a prison. They will more than likely try to kill you, and you expect to beat them with half an arm and one leg?

I bit my lip. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. If at any point I had to defend myself, I'd be mincemeat.

"Fine." I lowered my voice. "What should I do?"

Find something living. It must be alive for this to work right.

"The only 'living' thing near me is the old guy! No offense," I added, turning to the man.

He held is arms in surrender. His long, gray beard rustled softly as he moved his hands against it. "There is none taken. I see age as a gift."

I felt Rosinka stop. A smart comment soared into my mind.

"Shut it, Rosi," I mumbled.

The man smirked like he knew exactly what was going on.

Shifting my weight so I didn't have to look at anyone, I took a deep breath, getting a noseful of a dull, musty odor mingled with the smell of urine.

I fought back the urge to gag. Rosinka's voice powered through the nausea.

Use a rat. There are plenty of them.

"What if--" A thud caught my attention. I glanced up. One of the muraes was walking through, checking each cell.

"Aren't rats muraes?" I hissed.

Yes.

"Then what if I grab a murae instead?"

Who cares. They're dead anyway.

Great. Clair Maktevos, mass murderer of the undead.

After the guard passes, just do it. You want to be healed, right?

A pit formed in the bottom of my stomach. She had a point, but something wasn't right. All she told me felt wrong, as if a small demon was sitting in my shoulder, telling me what to do.

Taking control of someone's body was against everything I'd ever thought.

The murae walked by. A trail of small, dirt brown rats followed.

Like I was under a trance, I reached through the bars and grabbed the last one in the line. It squeaked for only a moment then fell silent, smuggled under the fold of my dress.

The murae didn't even notice. The dungeon door slammed shut behind him.

I had five minutes.

The old man next to me cleared his throat. He moistened his lips, then in the smallest breath of a sentence said: "Are you going to eat that?"

My stomach churned. I could feel all the blood drain from my face. The mere thought was... not appealing in the slightest.

I'm not, am I? I asked Rosinka.

She shivered. NO!

My head shook so hard my hair slapped my face. "No, I'm not."

The man let out a breath. He placed his wrinkled hand over his heart. "Thank the skies. I was beginning to believe you were even crazier than you already are."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I paused, his words finally sinking in. "But, I'm not crazy."

An eyebrow raise was my response. "Who have you been arguing with, then?"

Oh bohezhtas. He thought I was arguing with myself! The embarrassment that vanished earlier came back full-force, bringing reinforcements.

"Someone else. She's--" I shook my head, sudden amusement bubbling in my chest. "It just occurred to me, I have no earthly idea how to explain this without sounding stranger than you think I am."

He smiled with me. "Don't try, then."

You are holding a rat in your hand, yet having a perfectly calm conversation with less than three minutes before the next guard comes in. Wake up, moron.

I pursed my lips. My eyes darted away from the man and to the wall. "Sorry," I whispered. "Let's get on with it."

Thought you'd never ask. When I say so, whisper the word 'therana.'

My fingers wrapped around the rat tighter. Its fur was surprisingly soft. "What'll that do?"

Trust me. Close your eyes.

Did I trust Rosinka? That was an easy answer: no. There were too many occasions she tried to kill me or someone I cared about.

I did trust her willingness to live. She was ready to do anything she had to in order to survive, and in that case, it meant me living.

I shut my eyes.

She wasted no time. Think of everything you have--every pain or injury--transferring to the rat. You have to imagine it. Picture it.

Feel it.

I did. It was like a crimson light that surrounded me detached itself. It balled up and shark down to the size of the rat, then covered it like a blanket. It swarmed around the rodent, tightening its grip every second.

The rat's eyes bulged from their sockets, small, beady balls with red veins scrawling over its pupil. Its soft, tan fur turned to coarse gray. Both arms twisted around, one puckering the skin, the other jolting and bending in all the wrong angles. Droplets of blood squeezed from its hind leg, falling to the floor like teardrops.

It squeaked. It squeaked so long and so loud I felt as if my ears would shatter.

Then it hit me. The rat wasn't squeaking. It was screaming.

I had to stop. It was too much. I was transferring too much. It would die.

My lips moved. A sound came out, similar to my voice, if my voice was a choked gasp.

The rat stopped screaming. It stopped moving altogether.

My eyes flew open. Deep inside me, I prayed I had seen a dream. That I hadn't caused so much pain.

The rat lay in my hands, limp as a dish cloth. Its eyes stared into nothingness. No veins stood out in its eyes, neither did the burned skin or broken bones.

It was still dead. Something happened to it. What I saw wasn't just a horror sequence, it was what the rat went through. It was what I caused.

I placed the dead animal on the stone. My heart hammered in my throat. A wave of panic soared over me, drenching me in too many emotions at once.

I grabbed my arm to stop it from shaking, then withdrew, ready for the stab of pain that would follow. Nothing came. New skin, clean and shiny and untouched, covered the place where my burn was.

Fear momentarily forgotten, I grabbed my other wrist. No black spots danced in my vision from weight on a broken bone. Instead, it felt good.

The bandage. Rosinka's glee came off her in tidal waves. Check the bandage.

Without thinking, I reached for the dirty cloth on my ankle. My hand felt like it hit a wall. It wouldn't move closer to the bandage, no matter how I...

No matter how much she wanted it.

My eyes darted over the old man. He stared at me, eyes wide. A space of air formed between his lips. Both his hands stuck to the ground, pushing on it, readying him for a chance to get away.

A chance to get away from me.

All at once, I knew. What I saw with my eyes closed, it wasn't fake. It was real. All of it happened.

My fingers brushed against the rough hair of the rat. Its body was already cooling down. If healing myself caused it to die, then what would happen if I tried it on a human?

Carefully, I picked the rat up again. With my other hand, I touched the stone floor.

What are you doing?

She got no answer.

"Thávelite."

A pile of dirt covered my hand. The ground was unmoved, yet it was changed.

It was almost dumb, burying a rat. It was just a rodent, and a rodent in an enemy's castle at that.

Did you really just bury the thing?

I met the old man's eyes. The green flickered between fear and excitement.

No longer caring if he thought I was crazy, I replied to her, loudly. "Yes, I did. I'm not doing that again."

It healed you! Her surprise wanted to overrun everything I felt. Why would you not do it again? It helped you survive.

"Rosi, it killed something else. I can't take someone's life in my hands again. It's wrong."

It's. A. Rodent.

I threw my arms into the air. "What if it wasn't? What if it was a person I was transferring to? Me doing that killed the rat. If it was an equal exchange, then it shouldn't have died."

It just couldn't take it, that's all.

"No." I shook my head. "It could've taken it. I think the exchange is different when they aren't willing."

A sudden thought barged into my mind. Rosi felt it too.

King. He can heal himself in battle. He kills his own people.

My point slowly dawned on Rosi.

A vice wrapped around my throat. It tightened, air not easily flowing to and from my lungs "King kills his own people, Rosi. He kills them like that. I can't stoop to his level. Please, don't make me do it again."

For once, my head was silent. Thinking. Weighing options. We both knew if it came down to me or a murae which one I'd choose. There would be a fight, but we both knew who would win.

No, it's-- I understand.

Her understanding was all I needed.

The man in the next cell cleared his throat. "It's settled. You are completely insane."

I sighed. "Aren't we all."

______________________________________

I am Groot.