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Miraveh had read about unicorns. Magnificent creatures with powerful, inherent magic. Even before magic left the world, there were few unicorns and those were only seen on the most rare occasions that, even when magic once touched the lives of everyone, they were mostly considered a myth. A legend. Their beauty was, the books had stated, beyond compare, suffusing anyone that saw one of the creatures with the deepest, most profound sense of awe.

Not this one, however. This unicorn looked old, emaciated to a point where it had little flesh to its bones. The once brilliant white coat now a dull, dirty grey. Eyes equally as dull and filled with pain and sadness. Sadness, no doubt due to its state and its captivity. Pain due to the thing that trapped it, here, down below the remains of the stronghold of the Order of Velaurian Warriors. Miraveh could not believe anyone would treat a creature this way.

A bush broke through the stone floor of this chamber. Hagethorn, if Miraveh chanced a guess. It had grown around the unicorn, keeping it bound within the confines of the bush, needles a foot long and more pierced the stretched thin skin of the unicorn, burrowing into the creature, never-ending trickles of blood flowing from each spot where a Hagethorn needle pricked and drove into the creature.

It stirred as Miraveh moved around the room, holding back from thorns that appeared to reach for her as she neared, lifting its tired head, whinnying in fear, eyes widening and, as it tried to pull away, the thorns dug deeper within the unicorn's skin. The unicorn snorted, tossing its head, and Miraveh saw the twisted remains of the creature's horn.

The horn would once have stood out from the unicorn's brow, spiralling out for at least three feet, perhaps more, straight and proud, declaring to anyone that saw it how magnificent the unicorn was. Now, the horn had growths and nubs along its length, causing the horn to veer one way and then the other. Miraveh reached out to touch the unicorn's nose, but it pulled back, screaming as the thorns ripped into it.

"This is the source of the relics." It wasn't a question. She knew very well that it was. The nubs and growths where Hunters O' The Dark had sawed away parts of the horn. "Stolen power from a majestic creature that has no business being imprisoned."

"Yes. Now take a piece of the horn and you will have that power." Brothimir looked eager to approach the unicorn, but a look from Miraveh had him jumping back. "It doesn't hurt the thing. The horn has no nerves, no blood. It's just like trimming the hooves of a horse."

"And the bush?" The unicorn had steadied, but their presence still held it in fear. Miraveh stepped back, hoping the creature would not injure itself any more. "Does it feel that pain? Does it feel the thorns piercing its body? It certainly looks like it does to me."

Holding up her hand, Miraveh tried to summon her magic. If she could grow roots and vines, as she had seen Sialira and others do, then she could manipulate the branches and thorns of the Hagethorn bush. The magic did not flow. She could not even feel it and nor could she feel the presence of any other magic. Something within this chamber had deadened her magic as effectively as though she had suppressed it herself.

The Hagethorn bush, however, did not act like any normal bush. It moved. As the unicorn had reared and shied away, more thorns had grown, piercing deep within the unicorn, causing more blood to dapple the once white fur. There was magic here, somewhere, but that magic did not suffer other magic. Miraveh could not accept that. If there was magic, of any kind here, then she could use her own. She only needed to work out how.

"Perhaps if we cut away the bush?" The hiss of a sword drawing from its leather sheath made Miraveh turn toward Turotara. "An animal is just an animal, but I could never stand to see one harmed in this way. It is cruel beyond belief."

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