Larkspur | ONC 2023

Chapter 6

"Well. You don't need to worry. We aren't fairies." Hemlock places one hand on the small of my back—a protective gesture—albeit unnecessary. 

"She definitely is a fairy. I am doing a thesis on the history of the origin of fairy magic and I know a lot of ways to spot the magic users." Ergun waves three fingers in the air and something tugs inside of me. It's like someone has hooked a string to my heart and is pulling it out. He snaps and the pull is gone. "I see. So the magic is dormant, probably from years of disuse."

"I didn't know." I lie.

"Well, I can help you productively channel your inner magic. You just need a bit of guidance and training"—Ergun holds out his hand for me—"that is if your boyfriend has no issues."

"He is not my boyfriend." I snap. "And I'm good without using magic."

Hemlock slightly stiffens beside me. I look up at his face in surprise, but he has relaxed again. It is a strange reaction but I don't push it.

"But don't you want to explore your full potential?"

"And give tax to the state every year for using my own magic?" I hiss. After the massacre at Shimmervale, a lot of laws were rewritten. One among them was the enchante-tax. They said it was to prevent the misuse of magic and uncontrolled exploitation of the fae powers. But I know it was just a way of a greedy state to make more money.

Ergun looks taken aback. "I didn't mean to—"

"Listen here. I don't have a rich daddy to pay for all this." I point at his attire. "I'm here as a part-time state-sponsored ward." 

"I'm so sorry I didn't." There it is, in his eyes, that typical expression of pity I am so used to seeing.

I lean forward and bring my face nearer to him, making sure the threat is clear in my voice. "Don't ever pity me." He flinches.

"Wimp!" I scoff, flipping my hair and striding off towards the steps. I don't even look at Hemlock to see if he is following. My blood is boiling.

No one has any idea how difficult it is for me to not use my magic and declare it proudly. But the last time I really used my powers was a time when I killed two people without meaning to—people that wanted to sell me into magical slavery for money. I am afraid of what would happen if I lose control again. I close my eyes and lean against the pillar, the nightmares from the past gripping my present like a vile serpent. 

The boy and the girl keep running through the forest, without looking back. The commotion from the incident becomes distant slowly as they keep running. Finally, when they stop at a small clearing, they are panting wildly. The girl collapses on the grass, trying to catch her breath. The boy—always alert—looks around themselves while taking in large gasps of hair.

"Where do we go now?" The girl wheezes between sobs. "They will know we did it and we'll be taken to the king's court."

"Don't worry Lark. We'll figure something out—"

The sound of distant voices floats in the air accompanied by heavy boots on the forest floor. They seem to be coming from everywhere—muffled murmurs, barked instructions.

"They'll cordon off the area." The fear in her eyes is legit. They start running again, aimlessly, jumping over brambles and bushes and ducking under low fallen branches. But the voices don't seem to fade. The girl is falling behind repeatedly. The boy slows down to catch up, holding her hand and tugging her along. They stumble through rocky terrains, the forest getting darker and darker. The trees here have thicker girths and long drooping branches with leather-like leaves. They make a crisscross canopy at the top, blocking the sunlight from reaching the floor. The grass is damp underneath their shoes and the wetness is seeping up their flimsy dresses.

"Did we lose them?" the boy gasps.

The girl looks behind, cocking her ear to listen closely.

"I guess we did. I don't hear—"

She screams as her leg catches on a twisted root sticking out of the ground like a rope and her ankle twists at an awkward angle, making her fall flat against her stomach. 

"Lark!" the boy lunges to catch her, but hits an invisible force field and is thrown backwards with the force of an electric shock. He lands on his back on the damp forest floor, his breathing erratic.

"Hemlock!" The girl screams, but she is floating in the air, rising higher up, a strange green light forming a cocoon around her. She tries to move her hands, but strings of emerald luminescence shoot from the sides of the cocoon and wrap themselves like a python around her, pasting her hands to her side and keeping them there.

The boy gathers his composure and tries to get up again, but strong hands grab him from the back. He tries to break free but the gloved hands are stronger. He tries to see the face of his captors, but they are wearing strange black cloth masks, painted with a single silver dragon motif running across their faces.

"Let us go!" he hisses.

"Relax. No one is here to hurt you, boy." A feminine figure materializes from thin air—toned body, chiselled jaws and a sour face. Her hair is white like the snow and there are fine lines of ageing on her face but her eyes are sharp like a hunter's.

"We need her." She points at the girl who is immobilized and suspended mid-air.

"You didn't have to capture me," the girl shouts. "You just had to ask."

"And be crushed to death under the trees of the forest?" the woman smirks. "I know what you're capable of. I'm not taking a risk with you."

"Who are you and why do you need her?" the boy asks.

"You don't need to know who we are. From today, you both work for us." She snaps her fingers in the air and two more men dressed in black appear from nowhere.

"We don't work for anyone. Leave us alone—" but her words are cut short by a guttural scream. The boy has fallen to the floor and is convulsing wildly, his eyes rolling up. "Don't hurt him." She tries to strain against the restraints but a powerful shock jolts through her body. It's like the string of a million bees together. She cries out loud.

"We can do it the easy way Larkspur!" the woman announces. 

"Fine! I'll work for you." The girl breathes.

"That's like a good girl." The woman chuckles, waving her hand in the air. The boy stops seizuring and the girl starts floating downwards till her feet land on solid ground. The shield melts away slowly and the girl is allowed to move her hand. She raises her hand in the air and summons her magic, trying to channel it into the air but nothing happens.

The woman grabs her wrist roughly. "Do you think I am so naive that I'll let you go scot-free with magic as powerful as yours?" 

"No"—the girl looks at her free wrist. Sure enough, there is a tiny silver dragon branded on the inner aspect of her forearm, a symbol of her captivity.

"You can't use your magic unless you're told to and you learn to control it," the woman says. "And you are coming back to the camp with us whether you want it or not."