Forged in Flame

Chapter 1

Welcome reader! Thanks so much for choosing to start my book! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

I just want to note that this is a first draft so it's fairly unedited and undoubtedly bursting with silly mistakes. I gladly welcome any comments and critiques so please don't hesitate to do so!

The beautiful cover was done by fanna-tastic!

Thanks again and enjoy!

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Even after four hundred and thirteen days in this hellhole, the reek of prison, of unwashed bodies, excrement, vomit and blood, still makes my stomach churn. Every time I wake up, the smell hits me all over again, reminding me that one more day has gone by. One more wretched day spent alive in this place. This morning is no different.

I wake up quickly, body tense. As a pair of boots march into view, I realize the sound of my cell door opening must have woken me.

The guards say nothing, only haul me roughly to my feet and wrench me out into the hallway. Their fingers press hard enough into my flesh that I know I'll have bruises.

I don't know where they are taking me, but I learned long ago, back on day two, to never question the guards. All that got you was a swift punch in the ribs... or worse.

But as we start heading down stairs of black stone, the air getting noticeably colder, my stomach stinks. I struggle to control my racing thoughts. Surely it's not the beginning of the month already. I can't have lost track of the days again. I try to count backwards but the days blur into one long stream of pain, of restless sleep, of never-ending darkness. I can't even remember the last time I saw the sun. No, that's a lie. It must have been the day they brought me here. But no matter how hard I try to remember, I can't seem to recall if the sun was out that day. If I got to feel one final, warm kiss of it on my skin before they locked me up.

As we descend farther into the bowels of the prison though, I know there's only one place we can be going. The truth sinks in; I did lose count. I didn't get time to to prepare myself.

The guards take me into a blank room with a single table. They strip me to my underclothes and strap me down, faces emotionless, the leather cutting into my skin. The shame of people seeing my body died long ago. Seconds later, a man comes in.

Tall and thin, with a face so plain, you'd never think to look at him twice. He's learned to hide the monster inside well. Healer Murik is his name and he's the prison's physician. Once a month he comes in to examine the prisoners.

"You're dismissed," he says to the guards, who exit quickly. They all know exactly what happens in these room with him, but none of them ever have the stomach to stick around and watch. If I didn't hate this man with every fiber of my being, I'd hate them for letting this happen.

He looks me at me, a smile curling at his lips. It's not my naked flesh that he enjoys, I don't even think he notices it. For him, it's the vulnerability of it, the loss of power. A body is just a blank canvas for him, a tool, nothing more. Stripping us is just another part of his game.

"Well Aeryn, how has your month been?" he asks me. I never answer. It's a little act he likes to play, pretending like he's actually here for an exam.

"It looks like you've stayed out of trouble this month, the guards say no new fights. You've been such a good girl." He steps forward to smooth the hair back from my face, fingers lingering on my skin. The heavy scent of his sour sweat settles around me.

I don't speak, though inside, a part of me is screaming to smash my head into his face, to fight, to do something, anything, so his hands won't touch me. But I can't move. It's pointless. He punishes you if you struggle.

Cold hands touch my feet and it takes all of my willpower to not jerk away from them.

"Let's start at the bottom, as usual." He slides his hands along my feet and to my legs, feeling for abnormalities.

He suddenly pinches the fleshy part of my calf and I jerk. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "Discomfort there? I'll have to relieve some of the pain."

I feel the cool kiss of metal before he slices the small knife he always carries into my leg, right where he had pinched. Shallow cuts, enough to inflict pain but not enough to do real damage. It would ruin his fun if he hurt his prisoners too much to continue.

I grind my teeth. Don't move, don't move, don't move, I tell myself. I can't stand this though, can't take another minute of him pinching and prodding, trying to make me flinch so he can cut-

Shhhh. A cool breeze rushes across my mind. Shhhh, Aeryn. The voice is warm and soothing. She sounds both old and new. Look, look at what I see. Look at where I am. Visions of the forest flash through me. Of green trees, a gray sky, the endless rows of brown trunks.

See Aeryn, see how beautiful the forest is? Let me show you. The room, Healer Murik, it all falls away until I'm in the forest. I swear I can hear the burbling stream, feel the brush of grass against my legs, the air brushing my skin. I breathe deep.

Minutes, maybe hours, go by. I can spend the rest of my life in this forest, listening to the voice describing all of its wonders. She shows me new things when the pain threatens to shatter the vision, keeping me moving and distracted.

This forest has become my paradise, one of the only reasons I haven't broken yet. I don't want to leave it.

But all too soon, Healer Murik's voice pulls me back to reality. "I think we're done here. You did so good today, Aeryn."

I close my eyes and catalog the new pains. There's the slice on my calf, one on my outer thigh, and two along my chest. I must have twitched or jerked reflexively. None of them are the worst I've received though, the pain already just a dull ache.

The worst pain is that in my chest, the feeling of being taken away from the peaceful forest. It's both a blessing and a curse to go there.

Healer Murik cleans his bloody knife with a cloth, watching me. He's always been suspicious of my lack of response to his torture, but he's never asked, never pushed. Perhaps he figures I was already broken by the time he got to me.

He exits and the guards come back in, unstrapping me and allowing me a minute to gather myself before getting dressed. This wasn't the worst session I've had with Healer Murik. When I first got here, my father had instructed him to deal with my attitude. He left scars I will carry forever.

We begin the long trek back up to my cell. I lag on the stairs so they just drag me up, knocking my ankles against the stone steps roughly.

Then it's back down one of many hallways, passing cell after cell of prisoners. I keep my eyes down, but I can hear moaning, cursing. Some even rattle the bars as we pass, a brave thing to do when the guards have killed for less.

We finally reach my cell and the guards throw me in roughly, slamming the door closed behind me. My cage, made entirely of thick metal bars, consists of a pile of filthy hay, a bucket for waste, and an empty bowl for water. If they remember to give you some. Your food, they just throw right on the floor and laugh while you eat it up like a dog.

Up and down the hallway are similar cages, all connected, all open to allow no privacy. As I said, being embarrassed of my body didn't last long in this place.

I'm fortunate enough to have an end cell so one of the sides is a stone wall rather than the bars of another cell. Being connected to only one other cell is a blessing when you're trying to sleep. I've heard whispers of prisoners rolling to far to one side and getting strangled in their sleep by a neighbor. I, at least, can huddle against the wall.

I lie on the cold stone floor for a second, trying to find the strength to move. But I know I need to tend to my wounds or they'll fester in this accursed place. Moving slowly, I haul myself up into a sitting position.

I pull at the collar of my stained and stinking tunic, examining the cuts on my chest as well as I can in the dim lighting. Feeling someone watching me, I look up slowly and meet a pair of silver eyes.