Bound To; The Wish of the Witch

XX

Scinthia stood, frozen in place, staring at the empty wall in front of her, eyes wide in sheer disbelief. Her mind raced, still attempting to process what just happened as the split second vision of that cloaked specter holding Myla repeated in her mind. She quickly turned to Locke and spoke.

"Locke, we need to get back there now! That thing has Myla!" She shouted.

Locke, who'd also been staring at the empty wall with a stern expression, turned and looked back at her before speaking.

"Sorry Scinthia, even to recover something as important as one of our gate witches, I don't have the authority to disobey Spymaster Hailer's orders." He said in a somewhat somber manner.

Scinthia found his reference to the little girl as "something" a bit disturbing.

"He really considers her as nothing more than an object?" She wondered before speaking up.

"Locke, is now really the time for that? You saw how many undead there were, not to mention that strange thing that took Myla. Don't you think the Spymaster could use our help?" She asked, pleading for him to change his mind.

"You know, that's the kind of scofflaw-ish attitude that got Tori killed... And no, I didn't see the thing that took the witch, you'll have to explain that to Spymaster Gray later." Locke spoke with such a surprisingly scornful tone that Scinthia barely recognized him. "As for the undead, my mas-" He seemed to catch himself before clearing his throat and continuing. "Spymaster Hailer could easily handle that amount. To take full control of the situation, he just needed us to get out of his way and to keep the gate child safe..." He paused for a brief moment. "However it seems that last bit was too much of a task for you to handle." He added, turning away and approaching the three horses that seemed to be unsettled.

With knuckles whitening beneath her gauntlets, Scinthia could feel her temper bubbling up at that last comment. However despite her rage, she couldn't deny that he was evidently correct and simply stood still, fuming to herself in silence with her fists balled tightly. After a moment, she couldn't resist the urge to vent her boiling frustration and promptly punched the empty stone wall, hardly holding back and unintentionally cracking the brick she struck. A deep pain shot through her hand and partway up her forearm before it turned into a more bloated and throbbing pang.

"Damn. I think I just broke my friggin' hand... Sorry Tori, I just couldn't help myself." She thought, beginning to get more frustrated with herself.

"Well, looks like nothing more need be said then." A rough, grizzled voice stated from the other side of the corridor.

Scinthia turned to see Spymaster Gray standing by the door, his bow staff in hand and smoke rising from his pipe. She could only really see the lower half of his face, which surprisingly didn't look as displeased as she'd expected considering his apparent awareness of the situation. The short, elderly ranger, walked over to the door of the holding cells, unlocked it, and took hold of the door's handle before turning back to her.

"Dame Woodreel, you feel that pain? That frustration? That's what it means to fail in the Ranger Corps. Failure likely means death, and it feels arguably worse when you're not the one dead. Take this bitter feeling to heart, It'll help you focus better next time." He turned his gaze to Locke. "Well said boy." He stated before opening the reinforced door, walking in, and closing it behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment before Locke cleared his throat again.

"Sorry if I came off like an ass..." He began in an apologetic tone. "Gray is an ardent advocate of using demoralizing language to motivate better performance in the future. If I hadn't said something, he would've. And his tongue lashings can be pretty nasty. Trust me, I know..." He paused, petting his horse's head. "But I get it if you're still mad at me. I'm willing to bet that brick looked a lot like my face a moment ago, huh?" Locke said with a troubled smile before letting out a nervous chuckle.