Sold

32: Awake, Marked

When my eyes flutter open, I'm laying in a hammock with my body aching. 

Everything races back into my mind. My life in the tribe, being sold as a slave, belonging to Synn, growing feelings toward Synn, getting captured by the Draconians, finding power, meeting Berea, killing the Draconians in the clearing, and Synn...

He pierced me through the heart. Shouldn't I be dead?

Berea clicks her tongue and steps toward the side of the hammock, her warm eyes tracing over me. I thought I killed her the day I left, but maybe I should have known better. She knows much more about magick than I do, so maybe it was silly to think I could ever overtake her.

"Why aren't you dead?" My voice scratches through my esophagus and comes out like a croak.

"Why aren't you apologizing?" A no-nonsense expression is spread across her face and her white hair dangles above my nose. I cough once, then double over, hacking profusely. My chest burns with each cough. Every breath feels tight and the area around my heart stings.

"I'm sorry." I manage to choke out between hacking fits. She pats her hand on my back, hard enough to cause me to cough up phlegm on her floor.

Her lip twitches as she stares at the globs. "You're forgiven only after you clean my floor."

"I'm sure I owe you much more than a whole house cleaning..." I return to a sitting position in the hammock, wobbling. Every part of my body feels drained. "How am I alive, Berea?"

All I remember is Synn's blood-red eyes peering into mine, the thunder booming overhead, the rain crashing down around us, and something piercing my chest. I feel like I need to either vomit or cry, but I'm not really sure which.

Berea gestures over to the flask she drew my blood into the first time I came to her home, now sitting empty on the shelf. "I told you blood was a powerful thing, didn't I?"

Her gaze flutters toward the other side of the room. "My grandson has been moping around the house for weeks now while you recovered. Coming back from the cusp of death isn't easy on the body, but thankfully you weren't quite as far gone as my daughter was. He said he doesn't think you'll want to see him."

Her grandson? I hear footsteps come to the bedroom's entrance and I look up, locking my gaze to a set of familiar white eyes. I look away quickly, anxiety building up in my chest.

"He tried to kill me. He's right. I don't want to see him." I hiss, but beneath my harsh tone, my heart stings. I want desperately to run to him and let him hold me in his arms, but I know I don't deserve that after everything I put him through.

Berea raises an eyebrow at me. She places her hand across my forehead as if checking to see if I'm running a fever. "That he did, but he also saved your life. The magick was consuming you. It  grew every sunrise inside you, changing you."

Her words sting. They're hard to accept and I scoff, looking away from both of them. 

Even when I had magick, I was still me. I still controlled my life and made my own choices, didn't I? My thoughts flicker back to my interactions with Berea. 

Would I have had more patience for her if I hadn't been under the influence of the chrysallite's magick? Would I have listened to her teachings? Would I have respected her more, or even grown to care for her? Would I have never tried to run away or kill her?

What about Synn's family? Would I have tried to kill them if I had more magick? Would I have tried to kill Synn, too? Would I have wanted to take over the whole continent and force everyone else to bend to my will?

Most importantly, what do I feel right now?

I turn my gaze toward Berea and can honestly say in my heart that I don't hate her. She's a kind woman with a bit of a snarky personality who put up with a lot of my anger, gave me food and shelter, offered me advice and support, and saved my life. I'm not angry at her.

And I look across the room at Synn. I don't hate him, either. I...miss him. I'm not angry at him for controlling me. I felt cared for and freer when I was with him than I ever did back in my village. 

"If you don't believe me, look at yourself. Think about how your emotions have been lately, and how they feel now." Berea grabs a handheld ornate mirror from the jumbled mess of objects on her table and hands it to me.

Look at myself?

 Shaking, I grab the mirror and hold it up to look at my face.

My formerly tanned skin is pale and colorless. Areas that were once soft and smooth are covered with burnt craters of missing flesh and deep, jagged blue scars lace across large areas of my skin. My eyes have lost any color, my lashes are burnt completely away, and my once dark and long, beaded hair is now as light, short, and straight as straw.

I shudder, dropping the mirror. Berea catches it with her magick and levitates it back onto the table. Hugging my knees to my chest on the hammock, I roll onto my side and let my body tremble. I don't want to accept my reflection. I can't accept it. I don't look anything like myself anymore. Did I really let the magick change me so much?

Berea places her hand comfortingly on my shoulder and I jerk away. Warm tears spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. "I can't. Just...I can't. Leave me alone, please."

Their footsteps move across the room, the door creaks open, and they both step outside.

A long exhale spills from my lips and I close my eyes, choking out sobs. I've ruined everything. Was it worth it? Killing the Draconians? Getting vengeance? Having power and control?

I think of the look in Synn's eyes when he stared at me in the clearing. I remember the animal I killed outside of the chrysallite's cave. I recall mistreating Berea and look down at my magick altered blueish flesh.

No, it wasn't. It wasn't worth it.