TRIGGER WARNING
This chapter may contain unsettling themes, not suitable for some audiences. Read with caution.

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Art of Vengeance

A mural of apples and roses,
Muses wearing gowns in vivid red;
Dread, crawling down the painter's thick brush,
Hush, your blood is now part of the art.

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Eva had lost all anchor to reality as her perception of time became a string tied into a knot. She let her mind drift in meditation to preserve it, just like what Faun had advised. It helped keep their mind away from the pain of hunger and thirst.

Both of her palms clasped with each other while her eyes were closed. There was no difference; either way, looming darkness engulfed them both.

Breathe, keep breathing. Relax, or everything will fail.

For countless hours, she endured the silence with Faun. Well, in her head, there was never silence. There were only whispers. Nonetheless, she took it—the screeching, the mockeries, and the voices from her past life.

They're hallucinations. Ignore them. Eva's nails dug at the back of her hands. Focus on the plan. She puffed rhythmically. Repeat it over and over until it becomes a part of you.

A series of taps on her arm pulled her out of her meditation.

"They're here," Faun whispered to her with a shivering voice. "Remember the plan."

She nodded. "We can do this."

The light coming from the crack beneath the door flickered. There was someone behind the exit, casting a shadow.

Not long after, keys jingled, and the lock clasped open. Eva reminded herself of the first phase of their escape.

Act submissive. Negotiate.

The door opened, letting in a dazzling light. A tall, skinny clergyman stepped inside with a coffee-colored bag hiding his face.

Coward.

Through the holes in the fabric, he glared at them with disdain. His steps as he strolled forward pounded with arrogance, causing Eva's blood to boil even more. But she couldn't act on it—she mustn't act on it.

"Minister!" Faun yelled out as she rose. Her knees quivered like a tree swaying through a storm. "This is a misunderstanding. Please, we did nothing wrong!"

The man slapped him, and the blow reverberated across the stone room. She crashed on the floor, her cheeks stinging red.

"You've dirtied my hand, filthy traveler." The clergyman wiped his fingers against his deep black cassock.

Eva clenched her dress in anger. She looked down, unable to look at his face without the urge to punch him in the gut.

The second phase of their plan commenced. Stall and find an opening.

"This is no misunderstanding," he said with a deep voice, thicker than that of the priest who imprisoned them. "You've practiced magic without blessing, and you." He turned to Eva. "You have the smell of curses under your skin. You're a witch."

Faun bellowed, "So what if we are? Goddess knows you look more like a devil's ass than both of us." Her voice softened toward the end.

The man grunted, quickly cooling himself off. "I know you are just trying to provoke me. But I do appreciate the confession of your sins. But now, you must answer for it."

"I'm sorry, please. Please, I'm sorry," Faun stuttered as she knelt in front of him. She raised her hand to the light, revealing the silver cuffs around her hand. Purple bruises began to form around them.

"I will come to you quietly. No. We will come to you quietly. But first, tell me, where is Calvin?" she added.

"I do not know the person you are talking about."

"He's with us. A boy in his teens. He has a sword. Please, I beg of you, remember," she docked her head to kiss the floor. Then, she gazed up. "We will do everything you want as payment."

"Is that so?" he said and leveled himself to Faun. With his broad fingers, he combed her vanilla and hazel hair. "Do not worry about him. He's resting peacefully in the room to our left."

"Thank you!" Faun exclaimed, forcing a burst of nervous laughter out of her lips. Her docile face quickly dissolved into a sinister grin. "Now, we have no need of you." She jeered. "Kill him!"

Eva leaped and kicked the back of the man's leg. His bone cracked loudly, followed by a painful scream. "You little—"

Faun sprang up, jabbing her palm against the man's chin. The force knocked the priest backward. He crashed his head against the cold floor, the sound of which made Eva's bones shiver.

Eva launched herself above him. She punched his cheek left and right. Blood covered her fists, but still, she continued until her dress soaked all the blood-red liquid. Die. Die. DIE.

"Stop," Faun shouted and pulled her away. "He's already dead."

Eva's rage faded with her adrenaline, and the pain started to surface. Her knuckles heated, stung by a thousand needles piercing through her bones.

Faun lifted her dress as she stepped to observe the dead priest. The pool of blood tainted her shoes with red.

"Stick to the plan," she said.

She pinched the edge of the old bag and pulled it out to unveil his face. Blood dripped from the smelly sack, spattering crimson dots on the floor.

The man had tan skin and curly brown hair. Faun swiped her palm over his face to shut his wide-open eyes. A pitiful look of shock was engraved on his face—forever frozen until he reduced to nothing but ash. There was nothing more pathetic than dying in service of blind faith.

Eva's guilt faded with ease, but the same didn't go for the sin. It was for survival—she claimed in her mind as if justifying her crime would relieve her from its consequences. But she didn't have time to depress about it. She already killed once; there was no reason she could not kill again.

"I found it." Faun pulled a silver hoop from the dead man's finger along with the number of keys from his pocket.

"Here, wear it," she said and handed Eva the silver ring.

The young maiden did as Faun told her. She slipped the jewel on her forefinger, and instantly, it consumed a surge of energy.

"It's draining me," she said, voice shaking.

"That's what it's supposed to do. Keep it on until you get used to it. For now, it's time to free Cal."

They stormed out of the stone room, dusty and bloodied, locking the door on their way out. The light from the burning torches revealed their worn-out faces. Eva grabbed one of them as they strolled toward the west corridor.

The hallways were long and empty, intersecting into a network of turns like the web of a spider. The dungeon itself was a palace made of gray-bloodied bricks doused with the smell of fuel and decaying matter. Dried blood mopped the floors and ceiling, and to how it got there, she could only imagine.

The door was in front of them. Faun's finger shook as she pushed, twisted, and pulled every key to find the right one. Any second, a guard may show up, and it would be the end of their little scheme.

But this time, luck was on their side, and the door unlocked.

"Cal. Are you here," Faun called out as she dashed into the darkness. Soft grumbles emerged from the corner of the room. Eva swung the torch in its direction, parting the thick obscurity away.

"Calvin!" Faun yelled.

Eva settled her torch against the wall while Faun ran to embrace the boy. He lay on the ground with bruises spotting in his skin. His face bulged in purple as a drop of blood trickled down the side of his popped lips.

His tunic barely shielded him from the cold, torn and littered with holes. Around his wrists were purple streaks of bruises from the tight anti-sorcery cuffs that bound his arms.

"They did this to you?" Eva asked, stoic. Somehow, she was able to maintain a straight face.

"I tried to escape; I failed." He spoke as if talking caused him pain. He was unable to do the littlest movement, like parting his lips without crying in agony. Tears welled in his scarlet eyes.

"Just hang on a bit. We'll take you to Ferdinand as soon as we can. He'll know what to do," Eva said, averting eye contact.

Calvin gazed at Faun, his bleeding lips frowned. "The children. . . they're here," he said.

"We know, Cal. Eva and I have a plan. We'll save them."

He bobbed his head with all the force he could muster. Eva looked at him like he was a reflection of Eva's father—same bruised body, same pained-ridden eyes, and a same stubborn smile that was trying to hide it.

Faun lay down the boy, using her shawl as the thin barrier between his back and the floor.

"Let's not waste any more time," she said. "Ready yourself, Eva. That'll be dangerous."

"I am ready. Tell me what to do."

Faun closed the door, clasping down the lock. "That relic we took. . . It functions similarly to a wand or a scepter. Think of it as training wheels for sorcerers. They help channel your Aither at the expense of decreasing your power output."

Eva rubbed the tight ring with her fingers, feeling the thin intricate runes carved into the smooth metal. "I see. You're planning to have me use sorcery."

"My sorcery is useless with these bracelets on. It's ironic, you know. When we were still training to be sold in the sorcerer trade, they controlled us with this. No child deserves what I've been through, and that is why you mustn't fail!"

She slipped her gaze away, powerless to promise success. The last time she tried sorcery, she marked her soul with a curse. Who knew what could happen next?

"The first thing you need to know is that sorcery has six types—"

Eva cut her off. "The Hexadic System of Techniques. I know."

"You're not supposed to know that unless." Faun gulped.

"Yes, I studied sorcery once. It didn't turn out so great."

"I'm not surprised. Learning sorcery on your own is next to impossible."

"You are right. Now tell me about those six types."

"Well, there is Enchantment, Illusion, Mentalism, Summoning, Healing, and the most elusive of all, Divination," Faun explained. "As you might've guessed, I'm an enchantress, and Cal's an illusionist. There is also what we call a signature for sorcery. Like how Calvin uses his sword, and the doctor uses his strings. But you shouldn't concern yourself with that yet."

"I think I'm getting it. Let me guess. Your signature is butter knives?" Eva gave a soft chuckle.

"No," Faun asserted before gazing deep into her eyes. "You're close, but not quite. The whole mansion is the medium of my sorcery, and that means everything inside it."

Eva choked on her voice and diverted her gaze. "Anyway, how do we find out what kind of sorcery I'd have?"

"Extend your hand, and close your eyes," Faun instructed. "Like what you did before when I taught you all about repelling Aither. Do you remember what it felt like?"

"Somewhat. There's this tingling feeling, and then, a powerful vibration."

"Exactly. Concentrate on that. Ignore your thoughts, and forget your emotions. Focus on the feeling."

Eva took a deep breath. The golden ring glowed as it drained more of her energy. "I feel sleepy."

"Fight it!" Faun yelled in her ears. "If you pass out, everything we did will come to waste!"

Eva bit her tongue. The metallic taste lingered in it. She clenched her eyes, pouring all she could into the ring.

"I—I can't hold it. It's draining me!"

"No! Trust the ring, Eva. It won't be long 'til they figure out we're missing from our room. You must do this now!"

Do it. Trust the ring; trust the—

Eva's knees crippled, and she collapsed on the floor. The hard ground caught her body as light as a feather. Despite crashing full force, there was nothing but numbness.

"Eva. . . " Faun's voice rang in her head, fading.

She froze along with all her nerves and muscles. As her hearing began to relieve, she expected a barrage of curses to come out of Faun's mouth. But instead, she heard a whisper, "Congratulations, you're a summoner."

A smile seeped out of Eva's lips without her noticing. When her eyes lifted, Faun was standing a few steps away. A golden butterfly, small as her nail, rested on her fingertip. The lady whispered to it, "You're our only hope," before gently hurling it into the air.

It flew in circles like any ordinary insect. Its wings shimmered in gold, and in its every flap, it sprinkled yellow stardust into the air.

Faun glanced at Eva with a grin on her lips. She helped her sat straight before resting herself beside her.

Calvin lay on the cold floor, his eyelids fluttered. He gave her an assuring smile before dozing off.

"How is that butterfly supposed to help us?" Eva asked.

"Just watch."

After a few more turns, the butterfly flew out into the wall. The small insect passed through the stone bricks, heading west.

"That thing you summoned is called a star moth. When I was young, I always played with it. Do you know what's so special with a star moth?"

Eva shook her head.

"Like how ordinary moths are attracted to a flame, a star moth is attracted to Aither. They could smell the strongest sorcerer from a mile away, and they would always find their way to it."

"The strongest sorcerer? Do you mean Darius?"

"Of course. He'll come to save us. And after that, we'll save everyone in this cursed place."

Eva curled her knees as she leaned the back of her head against the wall. She watched as Calvin rested his head on Faun's lap. Still, Faun's eyes beamed with optimism.

Eva smiled, looking at them. Darius was right; the four of them were a family. And she? She was nothing but a stranger who bred trouble.