The Captive
1500 Words
“You, Aria Everhat, cannot be my Luna!” Gideon’s voice booms through the room, slicing the silence in two.
“No.” I try to speak, but it comes out as a whisper.
“And what about what she has done?” Sarafina’s voice cuts through the air. “Are we going to pretend she didn’t bewitch the Mate Ceremony?”
What? “No!” I try to shout, but the crowd swallows my voice.
“I say we kill the witch!” Sarafina cries. “Let her blood cleanse the clan of the curse her sins have brought upon us!”
“No!” My hands clutch my belly. “I—I can’t even do that!” I turn to Gideon, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Please,” I beg. “This is not true!”
“Kill her!” Sarafina screams.
I fall to my knees, shaking my head, hands clasped together, begging. “Please, that’s not true!”
“Kill her!” The room erupts, voices pounding like war drums.
Scarface shouts above the noise. “Think about it! This disease, the Bluebane—it is her fault! The gods are angry because we defiled a sacred ritual, and now we are plagued by a deadly curse!”
The crowd roars their agreement, the frenzy building.
That is not even true. The Bluebane has been here for years.
“I am not a witch!” My voice trembles but rises above the mob. “I am a healer—and even that I barely manage. How then can I bewitch a sacred ritual?”
“You dare speak back to me?” Scarface’s face reddens. He raises his hand to strike me.
“Enough!” Gideon’s command slices the air. Silence slams down. Even Scarface freezes, his hand still lifted.
Gideon walks closer, his eyes cold, as if the night we shared never happened, as if he never promised me he was different from his father. How could I have been so blind? A Voss will always remain a Voss.
“You.” Gideon glares at me. “You shall leave this clan and never return. The day you return, you will die.”
“Why don’t we just kill her now?” Scarface mutters.
“I have made my decision,” Gideon snaps. “And you will know your place to follow it. She shall leave this clan and never return. The day she steps foot here again, bring me her head.”
“Please!” My voice cracks, but he doesn’t hear me.
“Guards!” Gideon orders. “Get her out!”
At once, they seize me, yanking me to my feet.
“No! Please! I can’t leave now, the Rebels will kill me! Please, I have your—” My hands drift to my belly.
“Let her speak,” Gideon commands.
The guards release me, and I fall back to my knees.
I should tell him. But why? So he can let me stay? Would that mean I matter?
“You have what?”
“Nothing!” I choke. “I only beg to stay tonight and leave in the morning.”
“She has nothing to say!” Scarface shouts. “Take her out!”
The guards grab me again. Gideon only watches. I stop begging.
“Bye, Luna.” Sarafina smirks as they drag me away. “Good luck with the Rebels.”
…
They give me ten minutes to get out of town before the hunt begins. I run as fast as I can, even with a child in my belly.
I know I should not go past the Silo. That building marks the edge of safety. Beyond it lies the dark forest, crawling with Rebels.
Gasping for breath, I stop, legs trembling. I must have run a mile.
But what now? Even if I survive this night, what about tomorrow? Where do I go? My whole life has been here. Slave or not, it was the only home I knew.
I collapse onto my back, hands on my belly. One thing I know for certain: Gideon will never see this child, nor will my child ever call him father. One day, he will regret this. I swear it by the gods.
An explosion rips through the night.
My heart leaps. I shoot upright. Who—
Before I can think, they surround me.
“What is this?” one sneers.
“A girl, you dummy!” the other snaps. “She dresses like them!”
“She doesn’t dress like a girl?” the first frowns.
“You’re right. She looks important.”
This cursed robe. “I am not!” I cry, falling to my knees. “I am not one of them!”
“She says she isn’t one of them,” the first mutters.
“Yes! I am… I am a healer!”
“A healer in a robe? Do you think we are fools?” the second snarls.
“I swear it! I was banished. I am not a part of the clan!”
“She said she was—”
“I am not deaf!” the second cuts him off.
“Sorry,” the first mumbles.
“The boss said no witnesses,” the second growls, pointing at me. “But if you are not one of them, and you say you are a healer, then prove it. Or you die.”
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. I am a healer, true, but I have not used my powers in years.
The second kneels, tilts his head, and asks slowly, “Do you understand me?”
With trembling lips, I nod.
“Tell the rest to come in. We have a healer to take home.”
…
My eyes are shut, my hands bound. I do not know how long we travel, but at last the cart halts.
“You what?” a voice snaps outside.
“You better be right!” the voice presses.
I’d better be right about myself. If I fail, banishment will be the least of my problems. Rebels are known to show no mercy. I just hope this is something simple.
“Okay,” the second rebel says.
He cuts my bonds, tears the robe, and pulls the blindfold from my eyes. “For your sake, get this done.” His voice carries fear.
He drags me down from the cart. The camp spreads before me, vast as a hidden village. Gideon would give half his army to find this place. Too bad for him.
“Move!” The rebel shoves me toward a tent.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to remember what little I know of healing. My father used to say it comes from within. He is the reason I never practiced—he always swore it was for my own good. Whatever that means.
“Take her inside!” an older man commands, his voice the same one that warned the rebels to be sure.
The second rebel pulls me into the tent.
“What is this?” The voice inside is so deep it rattles my bones.
It comes from a bed sealed beneath a translucent white dome. I cannot see clearly, but I know who it is. Alpha Garen Grimwolf. The Alpha of a Million Faces.
“Great one, we found her at the Silo!” the second rebel says, his voice shaking now.
Fear grips me too.
“I said no survivors!” the deep voice growls.
“Yes, but she is a healer!” the second protests. “She was banished when we found her. We thought she could help!”
“You thought?”
“She said she could!”
Silence stretches before the deep voice speaks again. “Come closer.”
Me? I glance at the second rebel. He nods for me to move forward.
I step closer to the dome. One step. Two. Three. I stop.
“Hmm.” The growl rumbles as the figure sits up.
It is him. Alpha Garen, the shapeshifter who can take the form of any beast, even a dragon. The one they call the Dragon Wolf.
“Healer.” His voice rumbles deeper still. He is older than I imagined. “You will heal me, or you will die.”
My head spins. I have not healed anyone in so long. That is why they mock me as Jelly Fingers. I am not cut out for this.
“You may begin.”
The second rebel pushes me forward. “Speak.”
I nod weakly and inch closer. His height towers over me, his eyes sharp, waiting for me to fail.
“What is it you want me to heal?” My voice shakes.
“Bluebane.”
Bluebane. The curse of the gods. Not even the greatest healers could cure it.
He does not want me to heal him. He wants me to fail. Then die.
- Writer
