Dreamless nights were rare, but Rane didn’t mind them. Tonight, the warmth and softness of the rags had made it a bit easier to drift off. The deep slumber helped him face the upcoming tribulations with a clear head, but what little rest they offered never went undisturbed. The grinding of the metal door signalled Sydell’s return and always woke him. The sound had been burned into his mind and the man knew it. He’d often instruct the guards to push the door back and forth just to disturb Rane’s sleep. 

The damned sound woke him once more and he fought his body’s numbness as he tried to stand. He wouldn’t take his chances today. A little rest wasn’t worth the punishment. This time it was Sydell who entered the cell. Rane didn’t have the time to celebrate this tiny victory as he struggled to his feet. 

He grew even more anxious when Sydell neared him. After Rane cut his face, he would yell orders instead of getting this close. Perhaps his fists were tingly and he wanted to knock Rane around. It had happened before. Sydell would sometimes get bored of using spells and experiment with other forms of torture. Fists, spikes, knives and swords. Rane’s flesh had tasted them all. So when the man gently helped him up, he had to take a second look to ensure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Sydell said. “Your training has come to an end.”

“What does that mean?” Rane blinked. He didn’t even dare think of freedom, out of fear that he’d curse his already ill luck.

“Master Leylin prepared some tests for you. If you succeed you’ll get to leave this dungeon.”

Rane found himself shaking. “What do I have to do?” Was this a trick? The chance to free himself felt unreal. 

Grinning, Sydell led Rane out of the cell. “Follow me,” he said. “We’ll start with the easiest test.”

For the first time, Rane had the chance to safely study his prison. No windows or doors, only long intersecting corridors of white, glowing stone. A few corpses lay charred on the ground, metal armour still on. It seemed Sydell would take out his anger on the guards at times. That was probably the reason they obeyed him so readily. 

The prison proved an unending maze. Memorising its layout as they walked proved impossible, as he had trouble even keeping up with Sydell. The two of them came to a stop before a dead end and Rane wondered if Sydell had gotten lost as well. The man touched the wall and channelled nora through it.

Do it. Break free.

The voice returned, a mere whisper on the back of his mind. He could kill Sydell right now. His whole body tingled with the urge. Sydell had his back turned. It would be easy to take his life. Then he’d have to suffer no more. He’d show mercy, make it quick and painless. Rane reached out but then hesitated. He didn’t know the way out.

He gave you pain. Death is too small a price to pay.

Rane lowered his hand. He had a chance to break free without killing anyone. Without letting this horrible place corrupt him. The wall in front of them melted away under Sydell’s magic to reveal a door. It screeched open with a sound Rane wished he’d never hear again. Yet unlike his tiny shell, the room it led to had a wooden bed and a low table decorating its insides. A thick, brown tome instantly caught Rane’s eye. Even though he couldn’t remember ever reading a book, he knew it was once his.

 “You’ll get it after the first test,” Sydell said, drawing Rane’s attention away from the table. “Bring them in,” he ordered.

The guards dragged a terrified ashfen inside. He was a little taller than them, but almost as slender as Rane. His vigorous resistance had earned him some rough treatment, covering his gray skin with bruises and the luxurious clothing that he wore with cuts. A human dressed in rags willingly followed them inside as the guards forced the ashfen to kneel in front of Sydell.

“Vice-Commander of Andre’s fifth battalion.” Sydell circled the ashfen. “Following the orders of his Emperor, he raided the town of Danira four years ago, claiming the lives of hundreds of humans.”

“Have mercy,” pleaded the ashfen. “I don’t want to die. I was just following orders.”

“Shut up.” Sydell slapped him hard across the face. “You only speak when the boy asks you a question. Understood?”

“Yes,” came a muffled reply.

“Doesn’t seem that way!” Sydell kicked him in the guts with all his strength.

Just the sound made Rane wince. He had been on the receiving end of that boot more than once, but it seemed Sydell had been ordered not to hurt Rane anymore. Someone else had to be the scapegoat for his sadistic tendencies.

Sydell turned his attention to the other man. “Today’s second toy is one of Danira’s soldiers who lost his son in the attack. He fought valiantly until the end of the war one year later. But that wasn’t what he truly wanted.”

The human stood more still than a statue, staring at the ashfen with eyes filled to the brim with hatred.

“What he desired was revenge. To kill the one who murdered his son with his own two hands. He almost succeeded too!” Sydell gave the man a crooked smile. “Thankfully, we stopped him just in time. A former soldier killing an enemy commander during ceasefire would result in a diplomatic episode.” Sydell rested a hand on Rane’s shoulder, making him shiver. “And that would be against my master’s interests.”

Rane looked down at the two captives. “And what does your master want in exchange for my freedom?” 

“It’s simple.” Sydell clicked his fingers and the guards grabbed both prisoners by the hair, forcing them to bear their throats. “Choose which one of them deserves to die.”

Rane doubted his ears. The whole purpose of being tortured was to strengthen his magic power. Why did he have to decide on people’s lives all of a sudden? “I can’t make that choice!” he protested. “Why would either of them have to die?”

“So that you get to live.” Sydell’s hand slid down his neck. “I give you some leeway and disobedience is what I get in return.”

The grip on Rane’s throat tightened and his breath caught in his chest. 

“In here, I am the Arbiter,” Sydell whispered into his ear. “My word is your law. If I command you to kill, you will do so. If I command you to choose, you will do so. Understand?”

Rane stared into the man’s eyes and saw only hate and depravity, like an untamed beast given human form. A monster crazy enough to kill them all. He nodded. Sydell let go of his neck and he fell down, gasping for air. Just the fear he felt was enough to stop his breathing. His gaze alternated between the two prisoners. If he didn’t choose one, Sydell would murder them both, along with any chances he had at freedom. Still, judging others made Rane feel guilty himself. Shouldn’t the right to enact punishment be entrusted to those with better knowledge of the outside world than himself? Yet the choice was forced onto him, so he had to take it as fairly as he could. “Do you have a family?” he asked the ashfen first. 

“A brother and two daughters,” the ashfen replied, his gaze still lowered.

Rane had seen it before, but he couldn’t remember where. The attitude of a man who had given up, who believed his time had come. He wished it was that easy.

“What about you?” He turned to face the human.

“No one,” he spat. “Not anymore.”

“But why vengeance?” Rane asked again, almost pleading. “It’d only cause more pain and heartache.”

“There was nothing else!” The man snapped. “I failed as a father… Couldn’t protect my own son.”

Kill him.

Rane shut the voice in his head away. Deciding wasn’t easy, nor a matter of race or background. Any sense of belonging he once had died the day he woke up in this damned prison.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Tell me,” Rane pleaded. He already knew the answer to this twisted test, but he couldn’t condemn a man without knowing his name.

“It’s Seim, not that it matters anymore.”

“Hurry up,” Sydell said. “All the drama is making me impatient.” 

Rane couldn’t rush through this. No amount of questions would be enough to determine a man’s fate and Rane had only asked a couple. But of course, Sydell only cared for the bloodshed and the slaughter.

Guilty.

Was he really about to choose? What would come of it? He’d be one step closer to freedom, and he’d save one of them from Sydell’s murderous urges. That alone had to be enough. He focused on that perspective. It was either saving one of the two, or having them both die. “You betrayed your people,” Rane said and got to his feet. If he was to sentence a man to death, he’d at least do it standing.

“What? I did my duty as a soldier, served my country well.”

“You disregarded it and almost plunged it back into war. Hatred blinded you.”

The man stared at him. There was no anger in his expression, no sadness. “You’ve never lost someone precious to you,” he said, “or you’d understand. You can’t judge me.”

Seim stated the bitter truth Rane so desperately wanted to deny. He wasn’t qualified to decide, but he had to. Sydell would kill them all otherwise. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

Sydell inched closer to the captives. “The kid has made his choice. Any last words that might change his mind?”

“No,” Seim replied.

This wasn’t the face of someone who feared death, Rane decided. Too many battles had that effect on a man. Numbed him. Somehow that made it harder for Rane to deliver the sentence.

“Is it final then?” asked Sydell, not bothering to conceal his eagerness for blood.

Seim lunged before Rane could answer, falling upon the ashfen with a vengeance. Each punch carried pure hate, the kind Rane had never seen before. His nails dug into the ashfen’s skin, slamming his head against the ground. Not even the combined efforts of the guards could force them apart. Fire lit up in Sydell’s hands.

“Filthy monster! You took my son! You killed hi--” Seim screamed as the spell found his back. The fire tore through their bodies in an instant, ploughing a hole through Seim’s heart and the ashfen’s neck.

A few more seconds of life granted Seim the pleasure of watching the ashfen die. A smile crept up on his face, which went cold moments later. His body fell to the ground and his ghastly grin was dyed red. Silence reigned for a few moments.

“Bravo!” Sydell clapped. “What an amazing performance!”

Rane couldn’t turn his eyes away. He was the one who created this gruesome scene. Would it be any different if he had more time? Would it matter? Doubts and regret surfaced uncontrollably, forcing him to look. It was the only punishment he could impose on himself. Blood pooled beneath the bodies, a mix of black and crimson flowing through the cracks in the stone floor. Rane fought back the urge to vomit.

Sydell gave him a pat on the back. “Don’t look so down. You made the right choice.” 

Rane nodded out of habit. He finally managed to turn his eyes away but a stray thought lingered in his mind. No one would hear their voices again. It carried with it sadness and a sense of guilt. 

Sydell frowned when he saw that Rane didn’t share in his excitement. “Clean this mess up already,” he ordered.

Rane sat on the bed and watched as the guards hurriedly dragged the bodies outside. They did their best to clean up the blood, but the smell of copper still tainted the air.

“When you go outside, don’t mourn the dead,” Sydell said as he left. “Or you won’t have time to live.”

Rane spent some time in silence, staring at the spot where the two men once stood. The outside world couldn’t be worse than this. I can’t be blamed for their death, he told himself. I had to make a choice. Alas, believing you are innocent and ridding yourself of guilt are different struggles. Rane gazed at the tome on the table, hoping it would at least serve as a distraction. 

His whole body shivered when he touched its hard leather exterior. There was something so familiar about it. He had felt it before. Held it before. It was his. He turned to the first page. The words ‘Elemental spells,’ were written in ink. Rane traced the letters with his finger. He could remember holding this book and immersing himself in its contents, but nothing else.

His hands trembled as he turned the page. Rane already knew that he’d find nothing, somehow. He could remember idly turning past this white page a thousand times. He almost did the same now, until he looked at the handwriting.

‘This is the second test. Learn the Ice Shield spell within two days.’

How hard could it be? Rane was confident in his magic. He could light a fire with just a thought. Learning another spell should be a simple task. He skimmed through the pages and found the spell’s explanation.

“Water creation, physical properties, heat diverting, solid states…” He trailed off as he read. More than twenty pages of notes, charts and diagrams on how to cast a single spell. Fire was much simpler to create. He just needed nora and a concentration of energy. Why not use the same principles?

Rane held the book in one hand and visualised the ice forming over his palm. Nora seeped out of his hand and turned into glistening particles, barely visible to the naked eye. It was impossible to control the movement of so many particles at once though, and they slowly coalesced into a single, amorphous mass above his hand. A useless chunk of ice.

That would never work. He’d have to use the proper method, so he began reading furiously, practising each part of the spell as soon as he understood how. A sphere of water slowly took form over his palm. He used his nora to make a disc-shaped container. It was starting to look more like a shield, but Rane could feel his nora depleting rapidly. His eyes scanned over to the final layer once more and he took a deep breath.

The temperature of his nora dropped rapidly, but there was no shield in front of him. The moment he tried to change the properties of his nora he lost control of its shape. Not to mention he had lost a third of his nora for one attempt.

Rane looked at the water on the floor. It was harder than it seemed, but he wasn’t disheartened. This was a chance that couldn’t be wasted, and every single second spent inside the dungeon felt more tortuous than the last. He sat on the bed and waited for his nora to recover. Yet the harrowing memory of the first test still lingered in his mind, ready to resurface if he didn't focus on his magic. 

The door swung open, offering a different distraction. Sydell walked inside, dragging yet another unfortunate soul behind him. This time it was an ashfen youth with grey skin and dark eyes. His wrinkly white hair and thin frame made him seem like a ghost. Rane had a habit of assuming the worst. How could he not, after so many months of deprivation, torture, and brutality? He just hoped he didn’t have to kill this one too. Thankfully, Sydell had different intentions.

“We’re a bit short on space,” he said, “so you two will be staying together. Try to get along.”

He placed a small bowl and a bread loaf on the table and flashed Rane a smile before leaving.

“So…” Rane hesitated. “What’s your name?”

“Torien,” the ashfen answered. His eyes glanced over Rane briefly, then chose to ignore him. 

Rane didn’t take it to heart. Being dragged here against his will must have been infuriating. Unsurprisingly, the first thing Torien tried to do was find an exit. He pulled at the door with all his might, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s no use,” Rane sighed. “It’s sealed with magic.”

Torien stared daggers at him.

“I’m just saying this so you don’t waste your energy,” Rane said. “We’re short on food as it is…”

The ashfen walked up to him. He seemed taller and imposing, even though he was as thin as Rane.

“I’m not short on food,” he said. “You are.”

“We should split it in half.” Rane stood his ground.

He saw Torien’s dark eyes spark with hostility. Right as he was about to move, Rane kicked him away and clicked his fingers to produce a flame. The ashfen expected neither the kick nor the spell that followed, so he simply stood in a daze as he watched the fire burning in Rane’s hand. He didn’t dare come closer and his bravado had all but disappeared. 

Rane neared the table and yanked the bowl and the bread away. He looked down at the grey slop and grimaced at its foul and rotten stench. Disgusting though it was, it was all they would get. He began to eat it with his fingers, not letting Torien out of sight. The ashfen had knelt and hungrily eyed it, but didn’t dare move at all.

Rane stopped himself. The promise of freedom had made him forget about his hunger until now. His stomach growled non-stop even as he ate. But had he really become so heartless? Even if most of his memories had been taken away, there was one thing he had to retain.

“Here,” Rane threw half of the stale bread at the ashfen.

Torien flinched but caught it. He looked up at Rane, confused, but he had already gone back to eating the slop.

“Why?” he asked. “What do you want from me?”

Rane glanced at the ashfen. “I just need to leave this place. Don’t interfere and I won’t hurt you.”

Torien nodded, then looked back down at the bread in doubt. Rane ignored the ashfen and finished his own pitiable meal. Torien’s attitude before was just a show. Many of the slaves that passed through this place try to feign strength when they had none. Perhaps the act would have worked on someone else, but Sydell had shown him what true power felt like time and time again. And he hated it. 

Rane went back to practising and Torien, still crouched in the corner, watched with interest. He created water and shaped it as he wanted, but instead of trying to freeze it, he kept toying with his nora and changed the container into various forms. The first step was learning how to control the shape without much thought, so that he could focus on the next part of the spell. He kept practising until his nora was almost depleted, but he always kept enough to create fire, just in case Torien became a threat.

“Your Oath,” Torien asked after Rane stopped the spellscasting. “Is it a slave’s brand?” 

 

“No,” Rane touched the wound on his forehead. “Even if it is, Sydell is not the one I’m bound to. To be honest, I don’t even remember getting it.” 

“I was knocked out too, when they gave me my brand,” Torien replied. “They say the pain is too horrible otherwise.” He paused. “Then why are you stuck in here? Can’t you use magic to escape?” 

“I can do all sorts of things,” Rane lied, “but I can’t escape.”

Torien nodded. He still hadn’t moved from the corner.

“What about you? How did you end up here?” Rane asked. He couldn’t remember when he had last held a normal conversation. Not to mention he was interested in the world outside. Things must have changed after he left. 

“I've worked in the mines my whole life, excavating Blightsteel.” Torien turned his hands over and Rane saw his callused and misshapen palms.

“Blightsteel?”

“Black-green metal, used to forge weapons. The most valuable mineral in the world, they say. I've heard that most workers go their whole lives without ever seeing a single ore. So when I found one, my first thought was to sneak it past the guards and sell it to start a new life.”

“You being here means it didn't work out…”

“I got caught straight away.” Torien moved his hair aside and exposed the eye-shaped mark that branded him a slave. Rane’s hand brushed his forehead. An Oathbrand, much like his own. 

“I was scared when a human bought me, but being a slave beats working in the mines so far.”

“What about your relatives? You left them behind?”

“I have none. I never knew my parents. None of us did.”

Andre sounded like a hellish place, even for its own people. Rane was eager to hear more about the outside, but he was getting sleepy. The first test and the practice had taken their toll.

“What– What should I call you?” Torien asked under his breath. 

“Rane. It's one of the few things I can remember after waking up here.”

“Waking up,” Torien repeated, struggling to put the syllables together. “I’ve heard of this. Is it true that humans need to spend a lot of time each day without doing anything?”

“You mean sleeping?” Rane scratched his head.

“That’s the word I heard,” Torien said. “I thought it was just another tale. Isn’t it boring?”

Ashfen didn’t need sleep? Rane tried to remember, but it was in vain. Most of his memories before being imprisoned were of his childhood, and nobody would talk to a child so young about wars or the races that fought them. “Not if you know how to do it,” Rane said. He didn’t trust Torien yet, so he didn’t want to make it seem like a weakness. Still, he needed sleep. There was only one day left to learn the spell and Torien seemed too scared to turn against him after Rane used his magic.

“In fact, I have to sleep right now, so don’t disturb me,” he threatened.

Torien stiffened again. Rane laid on the bed and turned his back to the ashfen. There was only a thin piece of leather between him and the wooden boards, but it still beat sleeping on the ground.

“Be a bit patient and I'll get us out,” Rane said, to encourage himself more than anything else.

“Rane… Humans aren't that bad after all,” 

I wouldn't bet on that, Rane thought as he closed his eyes. Despite the ashfen’s presence, he managed to doze off.