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A Thread of Magic

Page 2

by Crista McHugh


  ***

  Distant and haunting music filled her ears. The chorus of voices lifted in the crescendo of the chant. Then there was a single voice.

  Nyelle strained to understand what they were saying as she opened her eyes. The firelight flickered at odd angles on the ground beside her. She lifted her head and noticed wooden stakes had been driven into the ground around her, creating a crude cage. Her jaw tightened. She never imagined someone like her would be treated like a mere beast. Don’t they know who I am?

  Her entire body ached as if she had been tossed around like a sack of grain. She rubbed her arms and shivered. The voices continued to chant in response to the lone voice, but she couldn’t see who was speaking. The filmy blue curtain draped over the stakes distorted the shadows on the outside. She stretched forward to touch it. A shock of magic greeted her fingers instead of the silky fabric she’d expected. Perhaps the humans were more advanced than she gave them credit for.

  A few feet away, a wolf howled as the chanting rose once again. Then the voice silenced them and began what sounded like an incantation. The magic veil that separated her from the outside world became transparent, and her breathing slowed as she finally glimpsed the world beyond the wooden stakes.

  Nyelle was trapped inside the humans’ fortress. The small structures she’d seen in the courtyard were the cages that held her and the other prisoners. Her eyes narrowed, and she rattled the stakes. She wouldn’t be defeated this easily, but neither would the primitive bars of her cage.

  The old man she’d seen in the forest stood on a raised dais behind an altar like a high priest over his bewitched congregation. “After tonight, my children, we will no longer be ordinary. We will become extraordinary. We will take what is best from our specimens and use it to strengthen us. We will create a new race, a master race, a race that will rule over all the others.”

  A blue light shot forth from his staff to the five crystal orbs placed around the outer edge of the circular courtyard, encompassing everyone inside it. Over one hundred humans and nearly three dozen makeshift cages filled the center of the courtyard. The humans remained fixated on the old man behind the altar like dim-witted cows, but inside the cages, shadows paced frantically from one end of the wooden stakes to the other. A large cat — a panther, perhaps — hissed to her right, and the wolf howled again. Her skin began to crawl, and if she could’ve hissed or howled, she would’ve joined them.

  The blue light grew brighter. Energy pulsated around the circle like a heartbeat, growing faster in time with her own, and Nyelle backed away from the wooden stakes to the center of her cage. The air froze in her lungs. The old man with the staff and the mad light in his eyes had to be Travodus. The orbs were five of the ten legendary Tears of Elios.

  Her bottom lip trembled, and she fell to one knee. The rumors are true.

  The blue light became blinding now, obscuring the moon above her. Then her body shuddered. Her flesh felt as though it was being ripped from her body. Fine brown fur grew over her once smooth ivory skin. Her nails elongated, forming claws. Her canine teeth became exquisitely sensitive as they grew longer and sharper and dug into her bottom lip. She tasted blood and doubled over, falling to the ground in the center of her cage. What is happening to me?

  The human voices around her reached a frenzied pitch, but Nyelle couldn’t see beyond the searing pain that consumed her senses. She closed her eyes and prayed for death.

  The voices changed from an excited chant to screams of terror. A cold wind gusted through the fortress, soothing her burning skin. It quickly intensified, snapping the wooden stakes at half. Bombarded by the splintered wood, she covered her head and wondered if she should feel fear or relief.

  The humans ran screaming. A woman clothed in glowing white light stood on the ramparts of the fortress, hurling the spears of lightning at the panicked crowd. But what Nyelle had thought were humans were actually strange hybrids of humans and animals. Never had she seen such creatures before, and she watched in wonder as their bodies shifted forms while they fled.

  At the altar, two more women robed in bright light stood in front of Travodus, magic pouring from their fingertips as he howled in pain. His flesh burned black and disintegrated into fine dust to be scattered in the gale. After that, the storm ceased.

  The screams gave way to sobbing. The human-animal hybrids were either clutching at each other or running for the exits of the fortress. Nyelle debated following them, fear paralyzing her limbs. She didn’t want to linger here, but she feared attracting the attention of the three ethereal beings.

  The goddess from the ramparts floated down to the altar, her white robes flowing behind her as her fierce face eased into calmness. She joined the other two women and turned to survey the destruction. Without saying a word, she looked at them, and they nodded in consent. The three goddesses raised their hands. The green and white lightning struck the rock walls of the fortress.

  Nyelle’s heart jumped into her throat, and she raised her arms over her head once more, protecting it from the shower of stones that pelted the ground around her. Her new claws dug into her arms as she tried to stifle her own screams. “Please, Elios,” she begged the elven goddess, “be merciful and grant me a painless death.”

  An odd feeling of peace filled her. She remained still on the ground, listening to the sound of her breath as it entered and exited her lungs. The goddess had not taken her life yet. When she opened her eyes, the three women were walking through the courtyard, inspecting the damage. They spoke among themselves in a language she had never heard before. The goddess robed in white from the ramparts walked in front and struck anything that moved with a bolt of lightning. A goddess clad in green spoke quietly, sadness filling her eyes. The third goddess was an elf with flowing white-gold hair and a serene light emanating from her kind face.

  Nyelle gasped when she recognized this was the goddess, Elios.

  The goddess in white moved in her direction. Nyelle braced to be struck by the lightning, expecting another wave of pain before the dark abyss of death. Then she heard in Elvish, “No, do not harm that one!”

  Footsteps approached her, and a warm hand stroked her face. All the pain disappeared as she looked into the face of Elios.

  “You did not choose this fate, yet it has been given to you,” she said as she held Nyelle’s chin. “But all this has happened for a reason. You are the first of your kind, and you will be the last. Do not squander these gifts.” Elios smiled and returned to the other two goddesses.

  Nyelle struggled to her feet and chased the goddesses.  What gifts? What fate? She needed to know the answers.

  But the goddesses faded away as a thick mist filled the ruins of the once mighty fortress. Around her, the human-animal hybrids moaned and sobbed. A sob choked in her own throat as she turned in the direction of her village. She wanted to go home.

  Her feet flew over the forest floor, but she was so focused on her destination that she never noticed that she was running on four legs instead of two.

  The Royal Kitten

 

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