Magic and Wolves: Book 1 of West Mountain

Not Much of a Talker

"What a waste for so much power to be in the worthless body of a traitor to their kind." Francis was ranting working himself into a rage as he picked up a whip.

Steffan tried to focus inward as the whip cut through the air and connected to his skin. He focused on the new feeling inside of himself, it was faint, the potion sill affecting him. It was different from his wolf, but it felt familiar at the same time. As he focused on it, he could feel the air around himself growing colder, and ice starting to form beneath his hands.

He wasn't sure how long Francis continued to beat him, but it wasn't as bad as it normally was. Steffan wasn't sure if it was because he was distracted or because he had access to his abilities again.

When he finally left, Francis had left Steffan chained to the ceiling, and Steffan knew that they were done with him for the night. They always forced him to spend the nights alone, chained to the ceiling.

"I was starting to think he'd never shut up." Steffan jerked his head over to the chained-up Mage, his words coming out in a groan. "Tell me what's a worse torture, the pain or his talking?"

Steffan's lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile for the first time in an exceedingly long time.

"Not much of a talker huh?" Steffan shook his head, "Alright, are you from West Mountain?"

Steffan nodded, and he could see the wheels in the Mages head clearly turning.

"One of us needs to get back to them and warn the town. If we don't, they could kill nearly everyone." Hammer mumbled, trying to work through the problem out loud, "There's not much I can do to get free. They've cut me off from my magic. The ruins on these chains look like magical bindings."

Steffan looked at the cuffs binding his hands above his head, if he could get loose, he would be able to return to the town and warn them. If he ran most of the way, he could get there by dawn, his wolf would be faster, but he wasn't sure he could get the prong collar off, not without wasting more energy. Luckily, he ran in his human form, the struggle would be how weak his body was, with no food for he didn't know how long and barely any water, he would have to use up every ounce of strength he had and that he could get from his wolf.

He could feel something pushing on his mind, like his wolf would if it wanted to shift or have control. Steffan took a deep breath, he wasn't sure what was going on with himself or what letting into this new side of himself would do but he was sure things couldn't get much worse. He let whatever instinct was pushing into his mind take over.

Hammer watched fascinated as the other man's pale blue eyes began to glow. They glowed and shimmered like a glacier being hit with the rays of the sun. Hammer had only seen this once, right before Alistar set his lab on fire, but instead of flames and heat, the air suddenly turned cold, and ice began to form under Steffan's hands coating the chains underneath. His breath misted in the air as the metal groaned and creaked in his grip.

"You're a Half Blood?" Hammer gasped only to meet with a withering and unsettling icy glare. The dark-haired man glanced down quickly at a fresh, red scar on his pectoral. The Mage had noticed all the fresh scars and cuts over the other man's body, clearly his torture had been in-depth and extreme and with his powers repressed Steffan's wolf was not able to heal as well. Now Hammer focused on one scar, seeing it clearly for the first-time, Half-Breed Mutt.

"My best friend is too," Hammer rambled, partially to soften the look he was now getting, partially to help wait out whatever Steffan's next move would be. It wasn't like he was explaining anything. "His eyes would glow like yours are right now. I hate that those monsters are my species. No one should be judged for something they have no control over. We can't help what kind of Fae we are or who our Mates are. It is disgusting to believe you know what the Goddess intends, what Fate has destined for the world. Such small minded, bigoted, genocidal psychopaths. I will never help them, no....."

The sound of the metal chain shattering snapped Hammer out of his ranting. Tiny, frigid shards of metal flew about the room. Steffan panted, fog coming out of his mouth with each exhale. He looked around the room silently, his glowing eyes wide and taking in each detail. Finally, his gaze settled on a pile of clothes pushed under a table. He strode over and began to dig through it.

Hammer watched, a myriad of questions storming through his mind, and he wasn't sure if he should ask any of them. He also wasn't sure if he bothered to ask if the man would answer him. As Steffan was pulling on a pair of loose shorts he had found, Hammer opened his mouth.

"I'm going to assume I'm not coming with, probably for faster and I don't think you would be able to get these chains off me without a key. Do you have a plan?"

Steffan looked over at him, nodding curtly. He gestured to his glowing eyes and then spun his finger in a wide circle.

"You're going to look around the camp?" He nodded, "be careful, it's not worth knowing how many there are if you get caught again. Then will you go back?"

Another nod and he held up one finger, then a second finger.

"One day? Two at most?"

Steffan's lips twitched in a slight upward motion. Hammer watched him in fascination as he sighed softly, rolling his shoulders and walking toward the window, clearly mentally preparing himself. He opened it and threw one leg over the ledge, before he fully exited the tiny shack, he looked over at Hammer one last time, his glowing eyes intense in the darkening room. Just before he left and disappeared into the outside he winked at Hammer with the briefest of smirks.