White light shoots from their hand. I shield and shut my eyes, but it's too late. The glare of their light echoes in my eyes, washes the world from around me. Blinded, I scramble back, but one of them comes above me. He yanks my arms back and jerks me to my feet. I blink-blink-blink—try to force my eyes to adjust. My vision is hazy and my eyes sting, but focusing on the blurred outline of my dresser, I lift my foot against it, push, tip us back. He slams against the floor with a groan and I tumble on top of him, wincing as my full weight presses against my wrists. The dagger slips from my hold.

"Come on, you can't deal with a little non-magic?" the other one taunts.

The one that holds me rolls us until my stomach is pressed against the floor. He straddles me from behind as his partner's footsteps tap around us. I writhe, scream, kick, but a punch between my shoulder blades cuts my fight. The pain shoots to my limbs, echoes with each pulse.

He presses my hands against the floor. "Hurry and take the sample!"

His partner's black boots step into a stream of light coming in from outside. He kneels down and brings his face close to mine. I gasp.

"Surprised to see me?' Lachlan says, waving hello with the knife in his hand. I am. I went to school with him. He Crossed three years ago, and had gone on to do missionary work. No doubt the one above me is Perry, his brother. They're twins and inseparable, but whereas Lachlan Crossed, Perry is a non-magic.

Lachlan hauls in a deep breath as if to savor the scene. A smile twists onto his lips. Sadistic pleasure darkens his blue eyes. "I was told I'd get a pretty penny for you."

He touches the curved tip of his knife onto my skin. On contact, three diamonds on the black handle illuminate a faint blue glow. He grins. "She's pure."

He doesn't mean a virgin, as Caleb made sure of that. But I'm pure in that I haven't Shared— haven't used from someone's magic.

The floorboards outside groan. Lachlan's head whips around to the sound. A minute of silence and nothing.

"What was that?" Perry asks, his voice shaky. "Is someone there? Maybe you sh-should ch-check?"

"It's nothing, you're spooked. Let's grab her and go."

Go. The word churns in my stomach, sprouts images of dead non-magics, innocents bled dry. I can't let them take me. I'll die if they do.

I haul in a breath. Scream until I'm out of air. Hope it's enough to catch someone's attention. Somewhere. Anywhere. Anyone.

Lachlan brings his face close to mine, brushes blond strands from his face, his thin lips curled to a smile as he takes in my screams and pleas for help. "I hope you said your goodbyes to Caleb."

The name stabs at my heart. Caleb. His mother is missing, most likely kidnapped by monsters like Lachlan and Perry. Now he'll lose me, too. 

I struggle and squirm to get away but he fists my hair and shoves my head against the floor. "Fighting won't change anything."

My temple aches where he presses down, but I breathe in and spit in his face. "Screw you!"

He shifts back. Eyes dark and jaw tight, he brings the blade to my face. "You won't need this pretty face for where you're going—"

He sucks in a breath. 

His eyes widen, his body arched back. 

The dagger drops to the floor before my eyes. 

He tumbles down beside it. Lifeless.

"Lachlan!" Perry screams.

I take the bloody dagger—gasp as a hooded figure appears before us, snatches Perry from above me, and thrusts him against the wall. I inhale, desperate, finally able to take a full breath. I clutch my fingers into the floor, try to drag myself forward, but slip on Lachlan's blood that pools around him.

The hooded stranger jerks me up by an arm, rips the dagger from my hand, throws it past me before I can breathe. Before I can scream. A groan resounds and a tumbling thud ricochets in the dark when Perry's body hits the floor, the dagger shoved into his shoulder.

I shift back, mean to run, but the message doesn't reach my watery legs. Snatching up my blade, I press back against the wall with it held before me, toward the hooded man. Blood marks his footsteps as he approaches Perry.

"Who are you?" Perry sobs into the open. His blond hair is darker now, blood and sweat matting it to his face.

The tall figure lowers their hood. Instincts tell me to run. I almost do, but they step into the light.

My breath catches. "Roane?"

Roane grabs Perry by the collar. A dry crack permeates the air as his fist collides with Perry's jaw. Roane drags him toward my desk. There, he yanks out my chair and thrusts Perry down onto it. Perry's head lolls forward, his frame slumped like a rag doll.

I hold up the dagger between us, my hand trembling. "Look, I haven't seen anything." I inch closer to the door. "I don't know what's going on or what this is about—"

"They were going to sell you to the highest bidder." Roane fists Perry's hair and jerks his head up. "Isn't that right?"

Perry groans and hacks, sputtering blood. The knife protrudes from his shoulder and blood dribbles to the floor. "I don't know anything. Lachlan...he got the orders," he struggles to say. "We just fill them."

Their words feel like a blow to the gut. Orders. Sell. Highest Bidder.

My blood burns. Remembering the photos that leaked of all the non-magics whose necks had been severed and all those who were still missing because of orders and highest bidders, I walk across the room and slap him. I slap him again.

"What orders?" I press the tip if the blade to his face. Just as his brother had done me, just as they'd done to so many non-magics before me.

He moans and evades his face while sniffling through pathetic tears. "In Lachlan's pocket."

I dig my blade a little deeper as Roane walks to Lachlan and searches his pockets. Extracting the blood-stained list, Roane unfolds it and comes up beside me. I take the list from his hand and he takes over watching Perry.

On the page is Lachlan's hand written list, the names of countless girls.

"What do you do with these girls?" I scan the list and realize, "My name isn't even on here."

"You must've pissed someone off," he slurs and spits into the air beside him. "They called us directly and told us to take you and sell you if you were pure."

A knot fists in my stomach. They would have sold me if I was pure. If I wasn't...

"Who are they?" I ask.

He tries to speak, but a faint blue light illuminates at his throat and he stumbles on his words. He sobs then, and shakes his head. The light vanishes.

Roane grips his hair again and yanks his head back. "She asked you a question."

"He can't tell me," I say. "He's sworn to secrecy. That's why the words won't come out. It's a powerful spell. People have died trying to break it."

Roane looks to me. His black eyes are pits of anger and no mercy. "Can you break it?"

I pause at this. It's clear what he's suggesting, but while I don't mind scaring Perry with the dagger, the thought of killing someone tangles the words in my throat. I shake my head no.

"Fine. Then when is transport coming?" Roane asks him.

Perry shakes his head. "Midnight, but when I don't deliver her, they'll come."

Roane's jaw clenches. "Go and get your things," he says to me, taking the list from my hands. "We have to go."

"Go? But we don't even know if he's telling the truth." I rush across the room and snatch up my phone. It's in pieces and useless. Great. "We have to call for help. This is my home and I'm not leaving—"

He looks me straight in the eyes. "The magics coming for you don't abide by any laws and they will either sell you or kill you."

I stumble back as if pushed. "How do you know all of this?"

"Because I deal with them every day." He glares down at Perry. "I've been watching how they work and we need to leave."

Logic wars within me, that maybe Roane is lying, that maybe I should call the cops. But what will I say? Sheriff Richards is a Guardian, a magician assigned with looking after a town of magic. He's also Perry and Lachlan's uncle and an adamant supporter of Mage Claudius. Roane is right. We have to leave. I nod and make for the door.

"Don't leave me here with him," Perry begs. "We—we used to be friends," he cries. The fact he can say that nauseates me. But I can't pay attention to him. I don't. My body moves faster than my mind. In the time I wonder who Roane is and why I trust him, I'm downstairs with an open duffel bag, gathering supplies blindly, from food to a first aid kit, to a sweater. I don't know what to take, and my hands won't stop shaking.

I run my hand along the cabinets and pour everything inside. We'll need some of them. Which, how, and why, I don't know, but it's better to be prepared.

"You ready?"

I jump, startled to find Roane on the other side of the glass counter. How does he move so quietly? I nod, lifting the full duffel bag before me.

He stuffs my journal inside and takes the bag from my hands. "Let's go." He walks through the beaded curtains and makes for the back entrance of the store. The door is open, and I stop.

"How did you know they were here? And who are you? And how did you move so fast? You shadowed, didn't you? Shadowing is forbidden magic, but you used it." I point to his arms, breathless at the questions that won't stop coming. "And your marks aren't from any coven I know. Where are you from? And why were you watching Perry and Lachlan?"

"Can we talk about this later? Magics are going to storm through that door, more than I'll be able to fight alone while protecting you, and your little dagger won't stop them." He hands me my dagger, handle first. "I was sent to help you, is that enough for now?"

I take it from him. "By who?"

He turns, makes for the door.

"By who, Roane?"

He stops with a sigh, his gaze trained forward. "By Lara."

"The Great Mistress?" My heart stutters. "But-but how?"

He walks through the back door without ever looking at me.

"You mean know where she is?" Hope pushes me after him. If Caleb knew his mother was alive... "Is she okay?"

He moves fast and I can barely get the words out.

"Shit, Roane, can you just answer one question? Do you know where she is?"

He stops sharply, bores dark eyes into mine. "Yeah, she's dead, the same way you'll be if I don't get you out of here."

The ground beneath me feels to shift, while the brick exterior of the shop spins around me. Lara is dead. The words split me in two. One half, led by either adrenaline or the primal instinct to survive follows Roane as he walks to the alley opening. The other half, numbed at his revelation replays Lara and dead over and over in my head. It's all I can think of, and Caleb. A painful hollowness caves my chest. How am I ever going to tell him that his mother is dead? Will I even be alive to tell him?

Roane inches his head out the alley. A minute passes and he steps out, looks both ways. "We'll go to the woods and figure out our next steps there."

We keep to the shadows and outside of lamplights. I'm confident no one can see us, but just in case I throw my hood over my head and tuck my hands into my pockets, curling in to make myself appear shorter, smaller.

When we make it a few steps into the darkness of Bale Forest, Roane stops and turns back to my sleepy town. He holds a hand before him and wriggles his fingers. White light whirls into existence and gathers at his palm like threads of spider silk appearing from thin air. The tendrils join and grow to a blinding white orb that spins fast and illuminates his face in silvery light, softening his sharp features.

Roane flicks a finger and the orb dashes from his hand like a shooting star.

I follow its trajectory. "What was that for?"

His gaze remains on the horizon. "I'm sorry, but I had to do it."

An explosion in the distance trails his words. Flames burst into the air, in the direction of...

"No...no...no! You didn't!" I rush him, punch him in the chest. "That's my home!"

He grips my wrist tightly, but I wriggle still, watching the flames lick the sky and devour the only home I've ever known.

"Thinking that you're dead will keep them away from us for a while, at least until we can get out of here. I'm only doing this to help you. If you want to go back, fine, but then Lara's death will have been in vain."

His words rush down my body like ice and my fight stops. "She...she died for me?"

He releases me. "She died for this cause, to keep non-magics alive. So go back if you want, but think about it. If those two back there are of your people, then you can't trust anyone."

He's right, but I look to my home burning in the distance. "I know people we can trust. My aunt will help us, and Caleb. He's the Great Mistress's son. He'll make sure nothing happens to me. But we need to go to Convent."

Roane nods and steps back, leading the way into the darkness of the forest. Darkness I'm supposed to keep him from, only how am I supposed to protect him when I don't even know which one of us is in more danger?

We travel deep into the forest, and with each step, the knot in my stomach tightens. Bale Forest is vast, but the deeper parts are forbidden, especially the abandoned bridges there. There are no guards enforcing this law, no gates to keep people out. None are needed. No one is foolish enough to travel so deep, much less cross one of the bridges. Anyone who is deserves to die for being so stupid.

The bridges connect our world to the various realms of magic, from the faeries to shifters to ogres. Between the realms, there is only evil and darkness—The Nether. As magics, we built our towns by these bridges back when our kinds were free to travel across them safely. When there were guards who escorted travelers, protecting them against the perils of every bridge and the evil that haunted them. It's into this void that the trolls, the most despised race of all was banished to years ago during the Great War that divided the races. As such, these bridges belong to them now.

And that's exactly where Roane is leading us.

Thank you so much for reading! Please remember to vote and comment. 

Question: I've been debating making this story 3rd POV. Thoughts?

Look for an update next Friday. Hints for the next chapter: Roane. Fighting. Tattoos.

That is all ;)

Abrazos!