The Oath Forge

Chapter Three

Now, back in the small, plain room, they had a moment to think over what they experienced. And the only noticeable change was before them.

"The flame is a little larger," Phobos said, standing before the small flame, floating in the center. Reaching out, he felt no heat. Slowly, he touched it, and found it only mildly warm.

"It was getting smaller, when we kept failing," Will pointed out, leaning against a far wall, needing the most space as possible between them.

Phobos looked at her, face visible from his proximity to the light, and gave her a look of contempt. "We failed nothing."

Will smirked. "You're right. You messed up the translation. You failed. I saved the day." She knew that was unnecessary, but she had no fondness for the man before today and, after being trapped with him, she now shared in that contempt on his face.

All day the prince had been forced to tolerate those lesser than him in every way. For years he had been imprisoned, eating slop, dressed in rags, left to stare at a wall. Waiting for a chance to gain his freedom. Now, trapped in a new cell, freedom was still his goal. And the Keeper was the key to it. He knew he needed to work with her. In the mirror hall, there had been a moment of calm, where she talked and mused like she was capable of more than brute strength and trickery. But there were more moments of her mouth releasing nothing but nonsense and simplistic insults.

Why did it give a rise in him? It should be like a dog barking, annoying, but nothing to rage over. Yet, she was like a bright light in his face, impossible to block out, even if he closed his eyes.

"And pray tell, how are you able to read the old language of Metamoor?" he asked, turning to her, scanning her. He had barely given her much thought, just acknowledging her new fighting form. In her human state, she was still physically the same, but her expression was less focused than the being that grabbed him, eyes shining with magic and power.

The image he chose of her in the mirror hall was the natural progression of that power that rained down on him. It was puzzling why she would choose any other expression of herself. That creature that fought him was striking, something to strive to control. The one before him now, though, was a pitiful vessel of it.

Will brushed the dark Heart at her neck, reminded that her power was gone for the moment, but it still touched her, forever changed. "It's a power I have as the Holder of the Heart, I can read any language. I think since I'm using life-force right now it took a minute for it to click."

The way the prince was looking at her made her nervous as he said, voice devoid of all traces of emotion, "I see. What other talents does your status bestow on you, with no effort or skill needed on your part?"

Will held his gaze, not wanting to descend into another fight again so soon, but also not liking this change in his behavior. When he glared, yelled, threw his hands, stomped away, she knew what to do and how to react. This was unsettling. Unpredictable. Dangerous. It made her feel like he was noticing her for the first time.

"Do not know?" he asked, one hand on his elbow, the other on his chin. "I doubt that. Come now, we must trust each other, no? Also, how are you able to tap into any magic, even your life force? Every bit of mine is gone."

Will shrugged. "Maybe I needed it to pass? How can I participate if I don't understand?"

"Maybe," he said, taking a step towards her only to stop when she tensed. What else did she have access to she wasn't telling him about? Was he at a disadvantage here? He was relying on his knowledge of old magic to keep him one step ahead. The idea that she was closer to his level than he thought made him uneasy. And he never grew uneasy. He took everything in strides, reworking plans, making split second choices, working with anyone or thing that the situation called for.