A Court of Truths and Revival

A Sixth Sense

SEREN

Seren sat in a cell with her knees huddled to her chest. Looking up through a long, knotted mess of black hair, she was puzzled to find it not as dark as she remembered. Or rather, it was a natural dark, instead of a spelled blackness so thick that it had to be waded through.

To her left, the bed was different as well. It was smaller as if meant for a child and pieces of straw poked out like thorns. The stone beneath her was damp, but when she brought her wet hand to her nose, she smelled no salt. Whatever was leaking in and down the slick walls wasn't from the sea. But it wasn't all that was leaking in. Shadows gliding low to the ground rippled the puddles and longer forms stretched overhead, making it almost seem like she were beneath a starless sky rather than a cell.

Absorbed in her own confusion, Seren didn't realize she wasn't alone until two Illyrian male novices by the looks of them, swaggered into the cell and began to coo cruelly at the boy huddled in the opposite corner.

Nausea left Seren swaying as she jumped to her feet in fright. The young boy was unmistakable. With dread, she understood that this wasn't Hybern at all, nor was it any nightmare of hers.

"Have you come to let me out?" Azriel quietly asked, his hazel eyes shining with hope as he peered up at the two other males. "I've been stretching my wings every day as you said. I'm sure I'm ready to fly now."

Seren was stunned into silence at how meek this young Azriel was. She knew he must have been about eight, but he appeared much younger. With twigs for arms, shaky knees, and oddly bent wings that dragged against the stone floor, the horrors of his life were impossible to ignore. Her heart was aching...breaking.

The taller of the two males approached Azriel. "You're not strong enough to fly yet, little brother." He laughed and Azriel's face fell. Seren had the urge to shield him from the males so that they wouldn't see the tears begin to form, but she couldn't move. She wasn't in control here. Her only option was to watch.

"But we've come to test your strength," the other male she supposed was a half-brother said.

Azriel shook his head, sending tears flying off his face. "I don't want to be tested. I want my mother!" Around him, shadows leaned in and a small one no bigger than a finger brushed against his face.

"You're never going to be let out again if father hears you've been crying over that whore again," crooned one of his brothers. "You don't want that do you? Besides, we are just here to have some fun."

Azriel solemnly shook his head and wiped his nose. To Seren's horror, his skin was smooth and perfect. As the two males closed in, she noticed that one held a tin of oil behind his back.

She wanted to wake up. She wanted out. She didn't want to see—

The orange glow from the small torch one of them carried expanded and sent shadows darting up the walls. Before Seren could get her hands over her ears, Azriel started screaming in a pitch so high, that she became convinced her ears would ring forever.

"STOP!" She screamed at the same time as Azriel.

They were burning him for their own amusement. Mutilating little hands that would never be the same. Her chest ached fiercer than her dry throat and the smell of burning skin assaulted her nose.

Unable to continue watching, Seren hurtled herself at Azriel's brothers, but she passed right through them. It was a dream she wasn't part of it and didn't belong in. Clawing at their laughing forms did nothing to stop the flames from consuming Azriel's small, beautiful hands as they quickly healed and bubbled over and over again.

Thundering boots sounded and shouting, full-grown warriors stormed in, but Seren couldn't see what they did to put out the flames through her own tear-filled eyes. Her sobs left her panting and then heaving as she tried to cope with the unnecessary cruelty of others. Her lungs constricted painfully as icy rage swelled inside her, Seren lost her hold on whatever was anchoring her and embraced smothering darkness.