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T he room spun. My head turned about at a dizzying speed. Any attempts to still myself were futile. I was powerless in my own body.

Stone floor … supplies … moldy walls … chains. I observed the world as if through another’s eyes. My head shifting, eyes darting against my will.

Finally, my vision focused on my wrist, held taut and bound in metal chains at each side. I watched my own arm pull crudely against the metal cuff. Intense pain radiated up my arm and blood ran from my battered skin. I couldn’t control my limbs—but could feel every fragment of pain.

My body rose on wobbly legs, only to crumple back down onto a wooden chair. Again and again, the motion repeated along with the jarring pain, but I could do nothing to stop it.

Maddening shouts and laughter filled the room. I had seen no one else in the cell.

The garbled sounds are coming from me!

Possessed. The Slip was inside me and had taken control of my body; I was being forced to witness its actions and feel the repercussions.

Panic was taking over. My heart was on the verge of stopping my heart when hinges moaned. A nearby door opened.

“What an outstanding job, Nova.” Jesmine’s voice sliced at my insides, like a knife screeching over glass. “This Slip you’ve captured is so … lively! ” She stepped in front of me, wide eyed and beaming, dressed in a new fine floor-length gown, indicating I had spent the night in these chains.

She moved to the side of the cell. A table had been laid out with varying tools, pouches, stones, and vials.

“I know you must have felt awful for how badly things went with Lord Embers.” She clucked her tongue.

“I do wonder what the actual story is though, considering he was gracious enough to cover for you … something about a little mishap and the bottle of spirits being bumped from the table. Doubtful. … But no need to worry, his work here isn’t done.

In fact, he will be returning to us soon enough.

” Her voice held an edge with wickedness.

I wondered if Devrix would return, knowing that she had tried to poison him. I wouldn’t blame him for never looking back.

Jesmine continued, “Regardless of what took place, and despite another of your blundering failures, I think the current events should put us back on solid ground.” She lifted my chin, giving me a clear view of her stony eyes.

“This situation should help you gain a clearer understanding of your place here in my fortress—something you seem to have been confused about.”

She moved back and stepped over to the door. When she collected the Ashloran torch mounted there, the Slip’s attention snapped to her, widening my eyes involuntarily.

Voice filled with excitement, Jesmine declared, “Now, on to more important things. … Let’s see who we’ve got trapped in this body.” She crept forward, holding the flame near my face. “Tell me your name, Slip.”

The Slip jerked my body forward, snapping my jaws, a growl escaped my chest.

“Well, that is not very nice,” she chided. “You Slips always need so much convincing to use your words.” She stood back, observing. The sound of my heaving breath and animalistic snarling filled the room. Jesmine let out a sigh and remounted the torch.

Grabbing a large sack propped against the table, she pulled away the string binding it. At a point in front of me, she began pouring a line of black powder on the floor, continuing behind and back around the chair, enclosing me in a circle.

Once finished, she moved to the back of the cell, then reappeared with a golden urn in her clutch. The urn was simple and small, with a row of unfamiliar symbols across the center and on the lid. Jesmine set the vessel on the ground in front of me, in between the line of black powder and my legs.

She retrieved the torch from its mount, turned to face me, and lowered it to the floor. The black powder erupted with blue flame, encircling me.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” she asked the Slip trapped inside of me.

Another growl rose from my throat; the spirit would not submit.

She released a long breath, “Always so stubborn.” Her attention returned to the table of supplies.

There was a sound of tinkling glass, her back blocking the view. When she turned back, she held a dropper of red liquid.

“Unfortunately for you, my new friend, I am going to need this human body for a little longer. Seeing as how you are unwilling to cooperate; I will have to keep your dreadful little soul with the others.” The Slip thrashed my body side to side.

“Don’t worry, I will bring you out to play again soon. ”

Jesmine stepped through the flames and grabbed my hair roughly, forcing my face up. I registered the ache of my scalp throbbing from her hard tug.

Her grip moved, prying one of my eyes open. She dropped the liquid in and hurried to the next. The room became a blur of red; my eyes blinked rapidly, stinging. Jesmine released my hair and retreated beyond the circle of fire.

An unfamiliar sensation took root in my head.

Hot white burning flared from my eyes, moving down my face.

What has she done to me?! A guttural roar ripped from my throat, scorching my vocal cords.

The Slip twisted my body madly in a hopeless effort to tear from the chains, inciting more throbbing discomfort.

Something in my left shoulder popped, and a shooting pain cut deep—I could focus on nothing else. The Slip continued to thrash my body about, laughing wildly, igniting waves of stinging agony in my shoulder.

Incoherent calls rolled out louder, my mind screamed for it to stop, the pain too much.

The edges of my world faded once again.

When I came to, I was in my room, lying on my hard cot, misery in my bones. I lifted my right hand, surprised that I could. The moment was fleeting, and I was quickly pulled back into the darkness.

Morning light shone through the small round window of my room as I opened my eyes. There was a soft tap on my door. I looked over to see Jarrett entering.

“I got an exception for the day, and came to you,” he said, lifting an empty drawing vial. He’d brought a tray with all the necessary tools to collect my blood.

My head and eyes throbbed, keeping me from rising. “I …,” My throat was tender as I strained to speak. “Why? … You tied me up.” It was barely a murmur, but my bitterness was obvious.

“I’m sorry.” His tone was somber. “The orders were given, and nothing could be done. You may not believe me, but I knew you would be ok. There are others who wouldn’t have been if we disobeyed.”

I turned my head to face the wall, angry and unsure of how to process it all.

Jarrett didn’t elaborate. He set the equipment down before tenderly lifting my right arm. “We are going to have to use this arm for a few days.” I looked down, noticing my left arm was wrapped in a sling, pulled tight to my chest.

Following my gaze, Jarrett continued, “I had to reset your shoulder this morning while you were still out. It will be tender for a few weeks, but we can go back to collecting from it in a few days if you want.” When I didn’t reply, he prepared to make a cut in the unmarked flesh of my right arm.

The sting was negligible compared to my recent suffering. My heavy eyelids drifted closed.

The next time I awoke, Claire was beside me. A sad smile crossed her face when she noticed I’d opened my eyes.

Claire said little, she just held my hand and remained by my side. I knew she understood what I was feeling all too well. Jesmine had done the same to her numerous times.

I looked down at her small hand wrapped in mine, faded bruises spotted her wrist.

The sight broke me—I couldn’t stop this, I couldn’t help her, I couldn’t even help myself. Turning my head, I closed my eyes to hide the tears that lined them. I didn’t want her to see.

There was no future for us, and maybe there never had been.

Naively, I had shown up and planted a seed of hope—but it was a seed that would never take root.

For some unknown reason, I had believed I could do better, that I would beat the odds and make it out of this obsidian nightmare.

Why had I thought that? It wasn’t as if I was any different from other humans.

The only thing that made me special was how unlucky I was to be sent here in the first place.

I feigned sleep; Claire slipped away to see to her endless chores—chores that I wouldn’t be able to help with.

Alone, I sunk deeper. I had been in this fortress for over two moon cycles and what did I have to show for it? What grand plans had I devised? I still didn’t know how to get outside without Jesmine opening the door. Even if I did, I hadn’t secured any elixir to make it through the Shadow Wilds.

The Shadow Wilds—another failure. A vast territory, I stood no chance of getting through without a map … which I still didn’t possess.

Nothing but a powerless human.

At least Claire had a bit of Dewhirl blood in her veins to give her some security against Jesmine’s burnings. Maybe over time she could find a way to freedom.

The things fate had in store for me would not be kind and would be revealed soon enough.

My door had remained unlocked since my return from the dungeon.

Jesmine declared my lesson for disobedience had been learned.

I was free to resume my chores and traverse the permitted corridors.

My body was sore, but I could rise, move about, and dress myself properly.

As Jarrett said it would, my shoulder ached with the memory of the trauma inflicted.

Movement made it worse. I adapted my arm sling to fit over my smock.

Claire tried to stop me from working, but I refused her pleas, explaining that I’d spent enough time trapped in my small room.

The idea of laying on that cot all day was more painful than the ache in my shoulder.

She understood, and we agreed I would take care of the simple duties, such as dusting and picking up in the common areas.

Jarrett waited every morning for my offering.