My lungs ache from the run, but as my eyes catch on the exit of the forest, my thoughts drift away from the pain. Don’t you dare look back, I warn myself, keeping my eyes on the etrance to the mortal world. Legs stinging, heart throbbing, I urge myself onward with the thought of freedom ringing in my ears. The warm, sunny light filters through the leaves, dappling across the path. Reaching foward, the light draws me forward.
Freedom! It cries to me, pursuing my run. “Freedom,” I repeat, my feet bouncing to a slow stop as I once again steady my breathing. I’m finally warmed by the sun’s delicate touch on my pale skin, and my eyes light up for the first time in years. “I’m free!” I can’t help but shout happily, finally exiting the forest.
As the blinding light finally hits me, my mind seems to fog. The years behind seem to cloud away, being caught in the wind and pulled into the sky, father from my grasp.
---
The dimly lit office is occupied by a group of four. The tallest, leaning against the desk beside a slender female, has a set look on his face as he glares regretfully at the other two men in the room. They do not seem at all afraid of the man, but one seems rather livid. “If the guards were doing what they were supposed to be doing, she would have never gotten away,” the one fumes. “They deserve to be punished for letting my slave escape.”
“She would not have escaped if you had not been looking after her,” the man retorts.
“So now you are blaming me for her disappearance?” He exclaims, glaring daggers at him as he rants on in pure furry. “I request you bring her back immediately! She may give away our existence to the mortal world!”
“She will not remember any of this the moment she exits the forests. Besides, it is not my job to go after your slave girl. You must bring her back yourself.”
“What?!” The man shouts.
“Now leave, I cannot do anything more for you,” he waves his hand, signaling their dismissal. The one continues to glower at the man as the other ushers him out the door.
“This is not my fault, Devlin!” He shouts on his way out, and the man tightens his grip on the edge of the desk by the sound of his first name. The woman reaches for his hand, stroking it gently, allowing him to calm slightly.
TWO YEARS LATER:
The same man is seated behind his desk, still presenting himself with the same appearance. His slick, graying hair is swished back and his tinted red eyes scroll over the pages of papers cluttering the desktop where the blonde female has seated herself on the corner looking quite content. A knock sounds on the door followed by the abrupt arrival of a messenger boy entering the room. He rushes to the front of the desk, demanding the man’s attention. “Sir, your presence is requested at the foyer,” he reports. The man by the name of Devlin rises from his seat, followed by the female appearing twenty years younger than him.
The young boy leads the way, his expression slightly concerned as he wrings his hands. The man has his arm linked with the woman’s as they walk side by side after the boy. The trio descends the staircase, and follows the carpeted halls of the palace. Placed against the walls are candles, which light the corridors eerily, casting shadows whenever one passes. Soon the halls become crowded with not only Gifted, but also slaves as their worried and bewildered features turn to the victorious Damien and his capture of the young girl, appearing the same age as the messenger: sixteen.
“This is what happens when you attempt to escape our presence!” He announces, glaring at each of the slaves individually, inflicting fear in each of their souls.
“Damien! What is this?” Devlin demands, pulling away from the woman and storming through the crowd and looking between the beaten girl and the man. “What is the meaning of this?!”
“You did state that I could bring her back if I wanted to,” he smirks at the man, who looks surprisingly down at the girl, who lies limply on the ground, obviously unconscious from her previous beating.
“This is your slave, Nicole?” He questions, voice clearly shocked.
