II - Sigh of Smoke

Chapter 15 - Witch's Cage

-Aleksandra Bane-

It was so cold. So, so cold.

Aleksandra was in a small cell, which was more like a crate with metal bars, and had already begun to bruise her knees with the odd positions she tried to find comfort in. She was laying on her side, curled into a ball, her arms growing numb with the shackles around them as they lay in front of her. Oh, she was so tempted to reach through the metal and touch the cold iron of Yavel's cage, but last time she had done so someone had stepped on her hand, ripping a scream from her lungs before allowing her to get her hand back.

She remembered her scream echoing through the large room, bouncing off the walls, snapping people from their sleep, but no one spoke except for the Zarkarian guard who yelled at her to shut up. She had heard a familiar chuckle in the distance, and recognized the shaking of amused shoulders in the darkness that belonged to Jovrak, the Zarkarian she had angered with her back talk at the caravan.

Aleksandra shivered again.

Last time any Wielder had tried to talk to her, was when Yavel wondered if she was alright. He could tell something was off, but before even getting a sentence in for his worries, a guard jabbed the butt of his spear into Yavel's small cell and had nearly broken his ankle.

Yavel had not even cried out.

For some reason it seemed he knew what to do.

Sephine, another cage over, had stopped weeping. For a strong girl, she cried often, and Jak who was her neighbour could not comfort her. 

Aleksandra closed her eyes and slowly placed a hand to her thigh, trying to make sure the chains did not rattle too much. The wound she had gotten from battle the other day was healing, and nearly completely finished closing up, but she could tell it was healing at a slower rate than what was normal for her. Breathing heavily, she pressed into the wound, gritting her teeth as she felt the blood soaked in the filthy cloth the guards had given her make wet sounds. It made her sick.

It still hurt so much.

Her first fight was an 'act of welcoming', or so the gamekeeper had said. 

The first opponent she had to face was a grown man of maybe thirty, with scars all over his body and eyes as dead as the corpses left in the Barren Wastes. He was an elemental only, but a strong one, and with the earth at his feet he nearly buried her alive.

Somehow she had gotten out, and using her Donner abilities she nearly wrung his neck. Her anger had fuelled her, had made her blood boil, but then he had spoken through the grip on his throat.

"Kill me."

Her hands had almost stopped.

At her hesitation he had thrown her off and shot sharp pebbles at her, quick enough to cut through her. Even though he was fighting back, his eyes kept his request, and his skill kept up the performance.

It had finished in a blur. By the end she was standing and dripping in her own blood, over the body of a man who seemed to have finally found peace. Her breaths had come in heaves, and strangely enough at the sight of the body she nearly threw up.

Collapsing onto her knees, she finally heard the roaring crowds that sat around her, shouting for more, shouting for another. Hungry. Bloodthirsty.

They reminded her of someone. Someone she always saw in the mirror.

The Zarkarians had thrown her back into her cell once she was done, and had taken out Yavel, along with another Wielder as his opponent. He survived, and so did Sephine, though neither returned with a bright expression. Sephine survived barely with one arm hanging uselessly by her side, a growing, ugly bruise on her hip, and a cut so deep into her thigh Aleksandra wasn't sure how she was walking. They were about to bring Jak out to fight his 'act of welcoming' when Aleksandra felt herself yelling.