Iris didn't wait until nightfall that day. As soon as the tears dissipated, she took hold of the amulet and launched herself into the sky, refusing to allow herself to look west, directing herself eastward. The landscape below flew by, the whispers trailing behind, struggling to keep up with her. She had to find it. Somehow, that would end this torment - for her, for Char, for the world crying and groaning in agony from everything going wrong. Flashes of light lit up the sky ahead of her. She stopped, feeling the telltale snapping and crackling, and redirected herself toward the battle. That's what it had to be: Micah using the magic he'd stolen from others to tear everything apart.

She was higher than the dragons wheeling in the sky above the archers on the ground. Five dragons, none of whom she recognized. But there was Micah, far down below, seated on his horse and launching magic in all directions. He was shielding the archers, deflecting the dragons' fire, sending flames of his own into the sky, all at the same time. The dragons couldn't get close. They were struggling to dodge his attacks and the arrows flying in all directions, empowered by magic to travel higher than any normal arrows could. This was a losing battle. Iris dove past them, just as a streak of white left Micah's hand and traveled at impossible speed straight for one of the dragons. Anger rose in Iris' chest.

No.

Just one word, spoken firmly, not even shouted, and the white exploded into nothingness a few feet from its intended target. She looked down at the ground, straight into Micah's venomous glare, and her heart quailed within her. But she couldn't back down now. She took a deep breath and held her hand out, palm up.

Come back.

White streaked from the blue barriers toward her hand, touching her skin and traveling up her arm, spiraling and wrapping her arm in a sleeve as it crawled up and across to her chest. The first tongue of white touched the amulet and vanished, sucked back into the crystal, the rest following with ever-increasing speed. Micah was livid, his barriers shrinking and withering without Iris' magic to bolster them. The dragons saw their opportunity and moved in. A single, thin line of red left Micah's hand, striking Iris' right hand with sickening force. She squeezed her eyes shut and held it off until the last drop of her magic returned, but the red was thin enough to snake around the tail end of the white and pierce her chest. She cried out as it wrapped around the amulet, wrapping around her heart, constricting and burning. The whispers finally caught up to her, crowding around her, yanking her back. The red line snapped, and they carried her away, west to the tower.

"Oh, no," she gasped, sitting upright as soon as she plunged back into her body. She was breathing hard, covered in a thin layer of perspiration. The fairies were already dabbing at her forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

"You have to go," she said quickly. "Now."

They didn't bother to give her the signal for 'no,' just kept up their work with no interruption. She brushed them away and climbed out of bed.

"I just interfered with Micah's magic on the battlefield. He's angry - very angry - and when he comes back, he's going to kill you all," she said insistently, going to the window and fumbling with its latch. "You have to go. He can't kill me yet." The rusted latch finally gave way with a grunt of effort from Iris, and she threw the window open. "Go!"

They hovered in front of her, little golden orbs of light, unsure which way to go. She stared at them in desperation, the cold wind whipping her hair across her face. Finally, one darted in to touch her lips, and then zipped out the window. The rest followed, one by one, until they were all gone. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled the window closed, wiping a tear from her eye. A deep exhaustion flooded her core. Her private training sessions were helping, but she still didn't have much stamina when it came to magic use, and it didn't seem like the magic she took back was providing her with any energy. She curled up on the sofa and closed her eyes. If she couldn't recover before Micah came back, she was in for a world of pain.

This wasn't part of the plan.

She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, holding the amulet in her right hand as an insurance policy. It wasn't enough. The slamming of a door woke her up many hours later, after the wall sconces burned down to nothing and the sun gave way to the pitch black of a cloudy night. Iris opened her eyes, caught in that moment of confusion between sleeping and waking, and a pair of hands grabbed her by the collar of her dress and yanked her to her feet.

"You will regret that, Iris," Micah growled, his breath hot on her face.

Her hand had fallen away from the amulet in her sleep. She reached for it frantically, but he got to it first, and she cried out as the red thread tightened around her heart again.

"I'm taking it all back, and then some. You're about to find out how much I've been sparing you."

He released her collar and dragged her to the door by the amulet, the chain cutting into her neck but not breaking. It couldn't break. The amulet chose her, and it wouldn't leave her, not unless she were dead. She stumbled after him up the stairs, struggling to breathe from the cords thickening and tightening around her chest. He didn't slow his pace, nor did he speak. He yanked the door to his study open and threw her inside. She sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. The cords constricted further, even without him holding the amulet. Spots formed on the edges of her vision. He yanked her hair back and forced her mouth open, pouring the potion down as she choked and spluttered. Glass smashed against the ground, and he was dragging her up again, throwing her down on the stone table. She was coughing, her lungs burning. The straps tightened down, more restrictive than ever before, cutting off circulation in her limbs and pressing down on her neck so her breath came in only short, painful bursts. He left her right hand free, seizing it by the wrist and slashing it open with a shard of glass. The sharp pain was nothing compared to what was coming, and she knew it. He wrapped her hand around the scalding hot amulet and held it in place with his own.

It began.

The darkness was blacker than black, the flames hotter than the sun. She was screaming, bursting into flames, too far gone to have any hope of reaching the whispers. Knives bit into her flesh, cutting her open, cutting her apart. There was no relief. It went on and on, the pain never ending and increasing with every passing second, and somehow she was still alive. She was being torn apart from the inside out, screaming until she couldn't scream anymore. Consciousness wouldn't let her go. She felt everything, heard everything, heard her own screams die off into pathetic whimpers, felt her own writhing body fall limp aside from involuntary twitches. When the whimpers faded, when the twitches stopped, then he released the amulet.

"You did this to yourself," he said coolly, undoing the straps. The constriction around her chest was gone, and with the release of the pressure on her neck, air flooded into her burning lungs. "I can assure you that your precious fairies aren't safe," he continued, lifting her into his arms. "I can track them the same way I track you. They'll be right back here tomorrow, and I'm going to kill them all in front of you, one by one." He chuckled. "And then I'm going to rape you. When you're in that wonderful state where you can't move or fight and everything hurts. You're mine, Iris. Your magic, your body, your very soul are all mine."

She was struggling to hold on to consciousness. Hopelessness weighed down on her again. She had failed. The fairies were going to die, he was going to continue his reign of terror unchecked, and she couldn't do anything about it.

"I hope you don't still believe in God, because if you do, I have news for you. I am your god. I hold the power of life and death over you, and I'm keeping you alive for a long, long time. You're going to wish I would just let you die, but I won't. And I'll keep finding new ways to make you suffer. This is what you get for crossing me, Iris."

He lay her on her bed and sat down beside her, as he always did. His fingers brushed her hair back from her face with false tenderness.

"Go to sleep, Iris. In the morning, I'll make you wish you'd never been born."