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M cColl

I feel myself fading. The mirror, as always, expects too much from me.

Using me to the point where my head aches.

It pulls…and pulls. I’m being used as a vessel, and it hurts.

I grit my teeth against the pain. Sweat beads on my brow.

The fae giving his power is beginning to look pale.

He is still standing tall, but it won’t last. None of them do.

It doesn’t take long before he grits his teeth as well, turning white as a ghost. His back starts to bow as he crouches, falling into himself. His face twisting in pain.

I feel it too.

Agony. On and on…

The mirror is relentless in its pursuit of power.

She is relentless. Moons, but I hate her.

It feels like I have been standing here for days instead of hours.

I’m not sure how long I can go on, and I’m not talking about this session.

I grit my teeth harder and suck in air. My head feels like it’s going to explode like a ripe melon left in the sun on a scorching day.

By now, the sweat is pouring, and I’m shaking.

I feel ill.

“I…I…I can’t…” I croak through parched lips.

“I…” I shake my head, gasping as the hold on me is released.

I sigh with relief, breathing hard as I try to catch my breath.

Bending fully through my middle, I fold my arms around myself as shivers run through me.

Nausea rolls in my stomach. It grips me and holds me as more sweat beads on my forehead.

“You’re useless, girl!” The fae overseer shoves me with so much force that I land hard on my knees.

I cry out as pain lances through me. I look up through my tangled hair at the old fae. His eyes are hard and angry. I see fear there, too. There is a small part of me that feels sorry for him. We’re all under pressure.

Every last one of us has to produce, one way or another.

“And you call yourself a witch,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head in disgust. His face is deeply lined. Too wrinkled for a fae. His hair is fully gray, which is unusual, too.

I wince as I pull myself to a standing position. My knees throb. I will have bruises come morning. I sway, working to keep my feet under me. Thankfully, the nausea is subsiding. You have to hold on to all of the positives in a place like this, where they are few and far between.

If he thinks his taunts will have any effect on me, he’s wrong. I’m used to it. I’ve had a lifetime of insults thrown at me, and by people I care more about than this old cod.

“Already used up, and we’ve barely begun,” the overseer spits. Now, all I see is anger and hate etched into the lines of his face. In his eyes, too.

A nearby guard snorts in disgust. Like it has anything to do with him.

“Take her away,” the overseer barks at the same guard, who nods once. “I’m not sure how you’ve lasted this long,” he mutters.

Sheer, stubborn grit. I don’t dare tell him.

The guard takes my arm in an iron-tight grip. I bite back a hiss, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. More bruises to add to the ones I have already.

Bastard!

“If you can’t fill your quota by the end of the week, it’s to the mines, girl. That or the brothel.” He looks me up and down. “That’s if they’ll take you. I’d start thinking about which option you’d prefer, since it’s about to become a reality.”

My options would be death within a year below the ground or years spent on my back. Neither is very enticing.

“I’m trying as hard as I can…I swear,” I tell him, even though it would be best if I held my tongue.

“It looks like trying as hard as you can isn’t good enough,” he snarls. “Not nearly good enough, I’m afraid.” He looks over at the guard standing opposite us. “It looks like we’re going to need fresh blood soon. It might be time for another witch hunt.”

I bite back a sigh, closing my eyes and looking away. My failure means that more of my kind will be ripped away from their homes.

I touch the amulet resting on my chest, looking down at the piece. It’s quite beautiful, a stone of deep emerald embedded in the center, surrounded by intricate gold filigree on a pretty gold necklace.

I hate it.

I wish I could rip it from my neck. With it in place, I am left vulnerable and unable to summon my magic, paltry as it may be. The overseer is right; I’m as good as useless.

I can’t break the chain since it has been spelled by a witch or a sorcerer far more powerful than I am.

What am I saying? Most witches are more powerful than I am.

I wouldn’t be in so much trouble, about to be sent to the mines, if I had any real magic to speak of.

Actually, that’s not true. The infuriating thing is that I have plenty of power, just not much access to it.

I’m almost as useless as the emptyfae themselves.

Still, if only I could get rid of it. I know all too well what would happen if I tried, and it’s not worth it. The thick gold chain will wrap itself tightly around my neck, choking the life from me. Letting up only as I’m about to pass out. The metal is unbreakable; it may as well be a part of me.

“Come on!” the guard says as he drags me away, his fingers digging into my flesh.

He pulls me down the hallway that leads to the servants’ quarters. By now, I can barely lift my feet. I feel like my limbs have been weighted down by rocks. I do my best to keep up.

After a time, I realize that the guard is leering at me.

“What?” I frown.

“I would pay for a tumble with you,” he says, smirking. “You should pick the brothel when you are asked to choose. I’ve never bedded a witch before. I have heard tales.” He scratches his chin, his eyes glinting.

“You’ll never bed me. I’d sooner die.”

His face turns red, and his jaw tightens. “You think you’re too good, witch? That your cunt is too good for the likes of me?”

“Yes,” I blurt. “You stink like a swine with a—”

He backhands me hard enough to send me reeling, but not so hard as to leave a mark.

I hit the wall, seeing stars for a second as my knees give in, and I crumple to the ground onto my already bruised knees.

I hate being this damned weak. I hate that I was captured.

That no one from my coven has come for me.

If Lydia or Willow had been taken in my place, they would have…

No! I can’t think like that. It’s too dangerous, and so I can’t blame them.

“Up,” he growls, dragging me to my feet. Then he laughs in my face. “So, destined for the mines, then. You won’t last six moon cycles. Mark my words.”

“I’d rather die than lie with the likes of you, fae. Empty at that. So useless you need me to—”

“You should keep your mouth shut while I still have my temper in check. Any more out of you, and I won’t hold back when I strike you again.

I might accidentally break something, and without the use of your magic, you wouldn’t be able to heal yourself.

You’d die quickly underground. That’s for sure. ”

I hate them, these bastard fae. Especially the empty bastards. It’s not my fault they can’t access their magic. Although I know all too well how that feels. I’m only one or two notches above them.

I start walking with more energy this time. I have barely taken three steps when I am almost knocked onto the ground again when someone is thrown from one of the rooms, landing on the floor at my feet with a hard thud.

“Don’t come back!” a woman yells. I recognize her voice since she’s a fellow witch. Her name is Rhiannon, a witch with hair as red as the flames of a blazing hearth. She stands in the doorway, her eyes bright with anger. They’re locked on the man at my feet.

By now, he has lifted himself onto his elbows. His eyes are blue; they flicker with mischief. Not bad looking for a human.

Not that I’m interested. How did that thought even creep into my mind?

I have neither the strength nor the inclination for such a dalliance. I haven’t so much as thought about sex in years. Perhaps it’s because I’m going to be sent to the mines soon. At this rate, it is a given. The bastard guard is right; I’ll be dead well within a year. It’s depressing.

The scoundrel at my feet jumps up in one fluid motion that is impressive…for a human.

The guard shoves me forward, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the scene unfolding. Rhiannon moves her eyes to mine for a brief moment before dismissing me completely. Again, something I am used to.

Then she slams the door so hard I’m sure that the wall will crack.

“Get going, girl!” The guard pushes me. “And you!” he yells at the human. “Get back to your quarters…now! This section is out of bounds. It houses witches only.”

“Right away,” he says in a voice that is so deep it sends shivers up and down my spine. “My sincerest apologies.” He inclines his head at the guard, who seems placated.

I start walking before the guard pushes me again; he has to take a few big steps to catch up.

“You’d better get some sleep, witch! If you don’t make quota, it’s to the mines with you.” He laughs. “I’d start packing if I were you.”

I ignore him, my back prickling. I’m sure that the human is watching us leave. I want to turn back to check, but I don’t.

Who is he?

I’ve never seen him before.

What is he doing messing with Rhiannon?

I’m too tired to care. As soon as I reach my tiny quarters, I go inside, shutting the door in the guard’s face.

Without bothering to undress, I lie down on the small bed.

The mattress is hard, and the blanket is threadbare.

I am asleep in seconds as exhaustion takes over, the human all but forgotten.