As a Cursed elf, one born with no magic, Edwyr has been forced to live among humans for over ten years. He doesn't mind his job of defending the town that he now lives in from beast attacks, and he gets along with most of the humans well enough, but...
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It took Feyrith a moment to remember what had happened once he woke up. He was too busy panicking about his current situation of being bound, gagged, and...had he been blinded? No, he wasn't blind—there was something tied around his eyes.
Feyrith swallowed thickly, biting down on the cloth in his mouth and pulling on the shackles binding his wrists to what felt like the arms of a chair. He couldn't tell since he couldn't see, but it felt that way. He was sitting down, and his ankles seemed to be tied down to something as well.
But knowing his situation hardly helped him feel calmer. If anything, now he was even more scared. He knew they should have left immediately after that fog had cleared. Now he was at the mercy of a deranged elf and with no idea what she might want from him.
His only solace was that at least there was no shame in being captured this time. He'd had no chance. Even without a staff of her own, the other elf had been much more powerful, especially with combat magic. She'd used spells Feyrith had never even heard of. There was no way he could have won, and he'd had very low chances of successfully running away from her as well.
Reminding himself of this didn't help him feel better either.
"Oh, he's awake. Good, I was getting tired of waiting," came the irritated voice of the elf who had attacked him, making Feyrith flinch. He hadn't been aware she was present at all. Everything had been so quiet. Or perhaps he was simply having a difficult time listening to anything other than his heart beating hard in his ears.
"Genrith, please," said a deeper, irritated voice, clearly belonging to a man. Was this another elf? Of course, it didn't have to be the case, but it was possible. So how many were there, actually? Feyrith fought against his bindings again as his heart beat even faster, ignoring the way his skin burned from the metal rubbing against it. "I am very sorry about this. This has to be done while you are conscious, and in touch with your magic. But you must understand this is for the good of all elf kind."
Feyrith stopped struggling as he realized the man was talking to him directly. The man—clearly truly an elf, judging by what he'd just said, and the way he was speaking—sounded regretful. If anything, that made Feyrith even more frightened. What were they going to do with him? He assumed it would be something concerning his magic if he needed to be in touch with it, but that didn't narrow the possibilities down much.
"Are you going to have this little monologue every time we do this?" the female elf asked, her tone dark and annoyed, to which the other elf scoffed.
"Yes, it is the least I can do, considering."
"He won't remember this. You only do it to ease your guilty conscience. Now let's be done with it."
He wouldn't remember what? Were they going to take away Feyrith's memories? The clear implication here was that this, whatever was going to be done to him, had been done to other elves before him, and yet no one had ever reported anything about meeting rogue elves as far as Feyrith knew. Was that why? Because they didn't remember afterward?
But surely they would have come back to Aendor, even without remembering. So how much were these elves going to erase?
Feyrith swallowed down a scared whimper when he heard the male elf sigh tiredly. "I...I am very sorry." Feyrith tried to use all his remaining strength to break free as he felt fingers brush over his wrists. And then he yelped as something pricked at them. It didn't hurt much, but immediately a terrible cold started to seep into him as if flowing into his very veins.
Feyrith tried to jerk away, or at least dislodge whatever had been stabbed into his wrists, but he could barely move his arms with the way they were bound. He didn't stop, though, not for one second. He couldn't even if he wanted to as his panic and desperation quickly took over, his instincts screaming at him to get away.
"Do it," the male elf said.
Feyrith expected pain at that moment. Despite everything he'd heard here that suggested otherwise, he expected to die. But instead, as a loud humming filled whatever place he was currently in, he felt...something else.
An awful feeling of emptiness and wrongness invaded his entire body as the humming gained intensity, but he still couldn't figure out what was happening. He felt like something was missing, but he couldn't....
Feyrith's heart seized for a second as he finally realized what was happening. They were somehow taking his magic away! He could feel it slipping from him now that he had figured out what this was. For a moment all he could do was sit there, frozen in shock and disbelief.
How was this possible? How could they do this? Magic was a gift from their Goddess. It couldn't be taken away by anyone but Her. It was impossible.
Only then did Feyrith notice that he had been silently crying, his tears soaking the blindfold as more and more of his magic was drained out of him. As desperation overcame him yet again, Feyrith struggled against his bonds some more. But his movements were slower now, sluggish, and his struggles were noticeably weaker.
As it went on, he started to feel his head getting heavier. He could barely stay conscious at this point. Feyrith almost didn't even notice when whatever had been stabbed into his wrists was pulled out, and magic stopped leaving his body.
But was there even any magic left?
More tears escaped his eyes as the full reality of what had just happened crashed down on him. He had no magic right now. He couldn't do magic, even if he weren't gagged. And these elves had somehow taken that from him.
Feyrith let out a sob. No, no, his magic would come back. He was sure it would happen eventually. It just needed some time. He refused to believe these elves had the ability to ruin the Goddess' designs. It would come back to him. It had to....
"Okay," said the male elf suddenly, clearing his throat. Feyrith could barely hear him over his despairing thoughts. "Bring him inside one of the buildings in the ruins for now, before Edwyr can come across him."
The name brought some clarity to Feyrith's mind, but all it did was create more confusion. Edwyr was here? Had they captured him as well? But what could they possibly want with a Cursed elf?
Feyrith desperately clung to these questions, letting them distract him from the crushing reality of his situation for at least a few seconds.
"Are you trying to order me around?"
There was a brief moment of silent tension before the male sighed. "Please, Genrith, would you be so kind as to bring him to the ruins?"
Feyrith tried to pull on the cuffs again in a last fit of hopeless desperation, but he barely managed to put together enough strength to move his fingers. Hanging his head, Feyrith finally gave up on trying to escape altogether, letting his tears flow freely as he started to feel consciousness slipping away from him once more.
"Better," Genrith said, the sound of boots against stone following immediately after.
Feyrith lost the fight to stay awake just as he heard her start casting a spell he didn't know.
