My head…
The pain is excruciating, gripping my skull like a steel vice.
“Ah, Miss DeWinter. We were hoping you’d be joining us soon.”
I slowly open my eyes, waiting for the black spots to clear from my vision. An orange blob appears in front of me, coming into focus as I regain clarity.
The Magician stares at me with a sadistic grin.
“Welcome to my lab.”
The room is dimly lit by purple lighting, radiating down from the dome-shaped ceiling. My hands are chained above my head, and my feet just barely touch the concrete floor. I turn my neck and see Scythe next to me, in the same position. He’s staring blankly ahead, his eyes empty hollows.
The Magician walks over to a table and picks up an odd-looking object that resembles a lantern. On the wall is mounted a large tool board with instruments of various shapes and sizes. He scans over each item before grabbing a crescent-shaped knife.
I want to say something to Scythe, but can’t find my voice.
The Magician moves back towards us.
“I’m going to tell you a little story.” He takes off his orange, pointed hat and places in on a stool next to him. “Because when you get right down to it, we really don’t know each other that well, do we?”
“Where’s my brother?” I manage to whisper.
My throat feels like sandpaper.
“He’s preoccupied at the moment.” The Magician rolls his eyes. “And before you ask…no. I didn’t kill him…yet.”
“Where are we?” Scythe says.
“We’re in the Void Keep. Now ask another question, and I’ll cut your tongue out.” The Magician flashes the knife at us. “You see, after the fall of Ganstin Remores, our Void King, most of our followers were scattered to the winds—scared into hiding, arrested and imprisoned, murdered. They were broken and downtrodden. Without the Void King, there was very little hope of us being restored to the power we once were. But with the leadership and guidance of the Dark Lady, we glued back the pieces, one splinter at a time. And then it all changed. The Dark Lady found out that our Void King might not truly be dead. It was surmised that he was alive, sealed away in an eternal abyss. Of course, it was your mother’s power that forever cursed him, locking him away, enslaved to her will. So it made sense that the only way to undo the spell would be to use an entity similar to the one that had initially imprisoned him. And then the Dark Lady learned that Addisyn DeWinter had a daughter.” He sneers at me, his stained teeth gleaming in the purple light. “Well, you know how the story goes from there. And here we are.” He frowns at Scythe. “And this one. Well, we were foolish to recruit his help. He came to the Voidweavers years ago, joining the other youths in the Orphanotrophium. The goal was always to rehabilitate the adolescents into soldiers for the Dark Lady’s army. But Scythe never had…potential.” The Magician scoffs. “At best, we thought he could help us find you. And if he got killed along the way, no one would care. But he did find you. Took him a couple months, but he did. Isn’t that right, Scythe?”
Scythe sways from the metal chains, his gaze fixed on the floor below him.
“The problem is that he fell in love with you.” The Magician guffaws. “As if the boy even knows what that word means. He hasn’t experienced love his entire life. Ah, but I guess following someone around for several months will do that to you.”
“If my mother is still alive, why haven’t you gone after her?” I glare at the Magician.
“A damn fine question, Genevieve. Good for you.” He stalks forward, extending the knife toward my chest. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to discuss that issue right now.”
“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Scythe writhes next to me. “Don’t you touch her!”
My heart beats faster as the Magician curls the metal blade under my shirt’s neck collar, pushing my mother’s necklace out of the way and slicing through the cotton like butter. The material falls forward, exposing my upper chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, my breaths shallow and rapid.
“Shh. Calm down, Genevieve, it’s okay,” the Magician whispers into my ear.
I feel his hot breath creep across my skin.
“I just need a little bit of your blood, that’s all.”
“Stop. No!” Scythe snarls, thrashing his chains.
The Magician places the knife’s edge against my skin, carving into me with a slow, steady motion. I cringe as the metal cuts deep into my flesh, sending a jolt of pain through my body. My eyes are shut tight, the tears burning my cheeks as they force through. A warm liquid drips down my chest.
“This device I’ve created,” the Magician places the lantern underneath the flowing blood, “can distinguish what type of Formulist a person is.” He presses hard on my collarbone to milk even more blood. “Ergo, if our dear Genevieve truly is a paladin, this will let us know. There. All done.”
He tightens the top of the device and places it on his lab bench. The glass windows are splattered with blood, and the red liquid is sloshing around at the container’s bottom. He presses a button at its base and the machine whirs to life, working itself up until it’s spinning so fast that the blood is nothing but a red blur.
“Just have to wait a few minutes now.” The Magician sneers. “I’m sure the anticipation is killing us all.”
Clang, clang, clang! The sharp metal knocks reverberate around the room.
“Yes?” The Magician turns toward the steel door.
It slowly swings open, revealing the young man who’d helped me escape from Banewind just days before.
“Ah, Kingston,” the Magician mumbles. “I was hoping the Dark Lady would be down to check on us.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Kingston’s black armor sparkles in the room’s light. “How’s it going in here?”
I shudder as his haunting gaze makes contact with mine, the white glow of his eyes reflecting their mysterious aura in the dim room. His white hair is styled neatly to the side, with a few escaped strands dangling over his forehead. He pays no attention to Scythe, nor me.
“I’m testing her blood now.” The Magician motions to the device. “We’ll soon know whether this entire goose chase was worth it or not.”
“I see.” Kingston walks over to a stack of steel rods leaning against the wall. “Have you spoken to Valkryn yet?”
“She was taking the girl’s brother down to the Prison Ward.” The Magician strokes his black goatee. “But that’s as much as I know.”
“Gotcha.” Kingston places his black gauntlet on one of the rods and spins it against the floor. “And what about Scythe?”
“Eh, I don’t know.” The Magician frowns and turns back around to face us, moving closer to Scythe. “I’m hoping they have no need for him now. I could always use another subject for Project Corlynnia.”
Click! The machine slows down.
“Well?” Kingston moves towards the lab bench. “What happened?”
“It…no…” The Magician places his hand against the lantern. “Nothing happened. There was no reaction.” He turns around and glares at me. “She isn’t a paladin! She has no Formulist’s blood in her at all.” His nostrils flare. “She’s nothing but a stupid gir—”
Kingston plunges the rod into the Magician’s back until it explodes out through his chest. I scream as blood projects across the room, speckling my face and body. The Magician lurches forward, blood seeping from his mouth as he sputters for breath. Kingston retracts the rod, and the Magician crumples to his knees.
“You may want to look away.” Kingston keeps his gaze on the Magician and reels the rod around like a baseball bat to slam it into the side of the Magician’s face.
The sound of bones splintering resonates through my ears as his body crumples to the floor.
The bloodied rod drops from Kingston’s grip and clangs on the ground next to the mangled corpse.
He looks at me and grins. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that. Now let’s get you two out of here.”