Kallisté has stuck to her word, bringing me bread and cheese and fresh water every morning and night – or so I must believe. At least I know when a day has passed, and so far I've gone through one, now chewing on a piece of still-warm bread. The rations are small, but I would've only eaten as much to keep myself from getting sick anyway.

Kallisté keeps me company while I'm stuck in my cell, sealing the door in ice every time and thawing it before the guard outside opens it. I'll ask her questions here and there, seeing what kind of information I can pry from her. Sadly, she doesn't give anything of real importance away. I got mad at first, but then I realized that she was likely doing so in case someone decided to question me. The less I know the better. Still, the silence does little to settle my curiosity.

"How many of you are there?"

As many as are needed

"Where do you come from?"

A body of water

"Wow, really. I thought you just popped out of thin air," I spit sarcastically. She still somehow manages to give me that 'really' look. "How do you get in here?"

The same way that you can leave

"I'd think the guards would notice if you just waltzed on out of here."

There's always another way

I careen forward, twisting at the waist to look fully at her. "Wait a minute. You're telling me there's another way out of this cell?" She doesn't answer. Instead, she settles her head between her two front paws. "I don't suppose you'll show me where this secret passageway is."

Still no answer.

"Is it the only secret way in or out down here?"

Shouldn't you be getting rest
brave one

She's been calling me that. Brave one. I'm not so sure about the first word, but the second surely encompasses my situation well. "You know I can't sleep."

If her heart shall cease so shall I

"That's not the only reason and you know that. But what is he doing to her-"

She growls her annoyance, something I hadn't realized she could do until just now.

"What you're not the least bit curious?"

One need not be curious when one knows the answers

"You know what he's doing to her? Well, tell me. I can help – isn't that what you asked me to do? Help."

If you were to help you'd end up helpless

"Ugh, enough with the poems!" I wince at my screech and glance over at the door. The ice still holds firmly and there's no sign of a guard having heard me. She's already assured me that I could scream as loud as I want and they wouldn't hear me, but I still get nervous about it and keep my voice down anyway. "Tell me what he's doing to her."

What every woman would wish to be rid of

I let out a loud sigh, already giving up on trying to get it out of her. She'll just keep spewing riddles that are too frustrating and vague to unravel, and I'll just keep pulling out my hair until I'm bald. There's no use with this one, and I know that I need sleep, but it'd help me sleep if I knew what to feel for and heal.

Don't worry your head
rest it
You'll need the strength soon enough

Then there's that. She keeps mentioning that something is going to happen that I'll need to be ready for, and yet I can't help this feeling that no one's coming. It's been far too long – from what I can tell – and no one has come yet. So why now? Why, after all this time, would they just now come for her? She was perfectly defiant and lively during the first few days, and though she broke not long after without having been touched, there was still someone worth saving then too. There is now, it's just...less of her.

The Eternal has yet to show again, which means she has to be remembering things from her past. If only she'd speak to me. If only she'd answered when I asked her about her family and friends. If only, if only, if only...it's all I'm saying now. Things are making it harder and harder to hold onto hope, and every time I think that some of it filling me up, something else takes it away.

Now I really am tired of all these thoughts in my head.

I stuff the last piece of cheese in my mouth and crawl over to Kallisté's side. The nice thing about having the water wolf around is that she provides comfort to keep me in a deep sleep. I curl up against her ribs, tucking my legs close to my own, and close my eyes to try and force myself asleep.

Everyone always thinks of water as cold or room temperature but settled against her, she somehow warms her body, making it feel like I'm laying before a hearth. I can never tell if it's the warmth I've been missing since being locked up in here, or if it's just her comforting presence, but sleep comes easier and without the nightmares of the girl's screams echoing into a void I can't find a way out of.

*****

I wake to the feeling of something cold nudging my legs. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I find Kallisté staring back at me with soft lavender eyes. I'm not sure how long I've slept, only that I wish I could curl back up and sleep another day. My body sure as Saints wants to fall back into peaceful oblivion. Waking up has become the new challenge in my days, followed shortly by bad things.

The ice on the door cracks and melts and I take that as my cue to stand and prepare to be dragged downstairs to watch yet another session of the girl getting beat. I do try and watch where Kallisté walks to so that I can later try and find that secret entrance she was talking about, but she mutes whatever bioluminescent she carries before taking a step, once again leaving me to blink through the blackness.

There are the sounds of the locks turning and then light floods in, making me blink rapidly again. I pick up my small bag, causing the contents to clink and clank against one another like a bell ringing the time, though I tend to think of it as the reaper's summoning call.

The guard silently leads me down the stairs and into the girl's cell. He follows closely behind only in case I trip and fall or my own legs finally give out. It's happened a few times in the mixed hours of the passing days. My body is weak and it's only just begun its slow start into recovery with a few pieces of food. I know the recovery time alone that it'll take me to get back onto my feet with a full tank of energy, and I so desperately want the several cycles long time to just sleep and eat and be sentenced to bed rest. Imagining it alone has my knees shaking, but I lock them when I walk, refusing to give up first when she's still very much fighting.

She's already hanging from her chains and I try not to grimace at the blood leaking from her wrists. I've healed them countless times, both skin and bone, and with every passing day they're growing weaker. Her body doesn't have the nutrients to keep her bone health up, which makes it easier to snap her like a twig. He could slap her and a few of her ribs would fracture. I used to be able to give her the nutrients and necessities by putting them into her bloodstream, but I ran out of them long ago.

Perhaps that's what I'll ask Kallisté for next instead of a ration. More supplies for her Omega, and it's not like I haven't gone a day without eating. Heathens, for all I know, I've probably gone a cycle without eating since being here.

Arkyn's in his normal spot, looking over all his tools and deciding which one to use, but he's not the one I notice first. There's a woman here. One with long, sharp nails, straight death-black hair with red highlights and two strands at the front colored white, and eyes as red as a ripe apple. She walks around the girl, trailing one of her nails over the Ebony Nightingale's exposed stomach. A small stream of blood drips down and I fight the urge to run over and mend the torn skin. The little ember left of my magic jumps to life as it senses blood. I have to stop it and shove it down before it drains the last of itself to heal the single cut. The raven-haired witch seems to have no such qualms and licks the blood right off her nail. It churns my stomach.

"She tastes like a ripe peach," the witch muses almost admiringly, making more cuts and licking her nails.

"She's not yours to taste, Visha," Arkyn snides, not bothering to look up from his work. "Leave her be."

The witch rolls her eyes, but her hand drops and so does my rising fear. "She's not mine, she's not Eleanor's, she's not Charles's, or The Eternal's...is she yours then?"

He looks at her at that and though I can't see his face, his still body says enough. "She is nobody's."

The witch he called Visha gives him a rather alarming smile, tracing her tongue over one of two elongated canine teeth she has. A hitch of her jaw and they retract like Kallisté's claws. "Such flat words filled with deeper emotions are dangerous."

She notices me then, standing in the same corner as always, keeping as quiet and still as I was told to do from day one lest I want another punishment. My hands are still broken and discolored from the last time I didn't listen. "And who's this?"

"That's the healer. One would think you'd know that, Visha."

"I know what she is." She glares at his back. "What I want to know is who she is. What's your name?"

I don't answer, knowing all too well what speaking will cost me. Instead, I keep my eyes downcast and my hands folded before me, that way they can see that I'm not going to chuck anything at them.

"Has he cut out your tongue then?"

"She knows better than to do anything besides what she is doing now," Arkyn states. I look to his feet, wanting entirely too badly to look at his face if only to see the annoyance that coats his voice. He's always so monotone or low-voiced with an evil satisfied undertone that I almost feel satisfied myself when he suddenly gets irritated. It's the least of what he deserves - annoyance. He deserves a lot worse, but this is as good as it gets down here, so I savor it, if only for the few seconds that it lasts.

"How proud you must be to have such a well-trained mutt at your disposal," Visha croons. "Tell me, what is it you give her for such obedient behavior?"

"Nothing more than I give you."

"Ah, so shit words and plenty of screaming to rock her to sleep. How gracious of you." She walks over to me, stopping so close that I can smell her stench. I could say she smelled like lavender and peppermint, but that was far from what my nose was picking up. I've only just begun to fill my stomach once more, and now it's threatening to empty all over again.

"Look at me." I don't move. "Are you really more frightened of him than me?"

"I've given her plenty to be scared of."

She opens her mouth to say something else, but someone else walks in before she can. She turns to face them and I take the chance to look up through my lashes. It's another woman and a man I recognize as the Prince's cousin following on her heel. Gods, the complete and utter shock that overcame me when Charles came in here on the second day - the Prince's Cousin - nearly had me taking my chances and lunging at him.

He walks in with that oh-so-punchable smirk he always seems to have. "Has the show not started yet, then?"

Show? Show!

"Elly, come here, darling," Visha calls, waving the Lady over. I'd rather sleep in a pile of shit than ever curtsy before the fucking traitor ever again. Or ever.

I've never met the Lady nor the relative of the royal family before, but considering that they're here roaming as freely as they please, I hate them both. They've betrayed their kingdom, their family, and worst of all, they've betrayed the Nightingale. I pray that this day Kallisté speaks of has them both drowning or bleeding to death by thorns being shoved into their lungs - slowly. It takes everything in me to keep still and not snatch the Lady's wrist to stop her pulse as she approaches. I'm rather glad that I can't, and won't, look at them. I may or may not end up getting a punch to the gut – or worse – because I glared furiously.

Or maybe they just don't want me to do anything because they have sensitive egos. Wouldn't be much of a surprise.

"Look at Will's pet."
I mentally cringe at the name. I still like Arkyn, but I'll keep that little nickname to myself.

"Is she supposed to do some kind of trick?" the Lady questions, already sounding bored.

"Maybe we should try giving her a treat." I see the two give each other suggestive looks at the edge of my vision. Whatever treat they're thinking about, I have a feeling it's not any kind of food. Too bad for them, I'd do anything for a piece of chocolate right about now.

"Charles, what do say to playing with Will's pet?" Eleanor asks over her shoulder.

"Oh, do invite me. I like watching such things," Visha says eagerly.

Please don't.

I don't like the idea of anyone but the girl or Kallisté touching me. Healers don't often have time for such things as discovering if the books about reproduction are true. We spend years dedicating our lives to the ancient art of healing, especially those gracious enough to have the gift. I was twelve when I was first taken under the wing of the Anevay, and such things as having sex haven't been of much priority.

"What's wrong with her?" The two women turn around to find what Charles is talking about, and I take their quick distraction to glance up at what he's doing. He's just standing in front of the girl, his hands in his pockets as if it's of no real issue that she's several pounds lighter, weaker than a newborn kitten, near pale as his cream-colored tunic, and several cycles past starving.

I don't know...what could be wrong with her?

"What is it you think I've been doing to her this entire time, exactly?" Will asks.

Charles shrugs his shoulder carelessly. "Honestly, I thought you've been fucking her shitless."

"Watch your mouth, Charles." Arkyn's practically simmering now. I've seen the near full black look in his eyes before, and nothing good ever comes after they bleed into the whites of his eyes. "You may be a prized stallion up above, but down here you're just another thing for me to break."

"Idle threats from an idle man – or have you not noticed that your precious toy is far past broken."

"She's still alive, isn't she? I'd say there's plenty more to break – and before you go trying to tell me how to do my job, why don't you tell me the last – or in this case, the first time in which you've tortured someone."

"Shut the fuck up – the both of you," Visha yells, pointing one of her sharp-tipped fingers at them. I look down before any of them can catch me watching, schooling my face into boredom. "What makes you think there's something wrong with her?"

"The Clarice Rheasydia I knew always had some snarky comment to make. She would've never kept so quiet while listening to us fight without joining in herself or making a quick quip to further us along into tearing each other to pieces for nothing more than her entertainment."

"She's been down here for – a long time," Eleanor says, casting a sideways glance my way. They're just like Kallisté, making sure I know nothing aside from who they are and why they're here. "It only makes sense that she's quiet. Will probably trained her into silence like he did his pet."

"She's not my pet."

"No? Then why is she so quiet," Visha prompts.

"Probably because she knows that if she does speak or look at you, you'll stick your long nails into her chest."

"Oh please, like I'd do that to the only living thing that could possibly provide me with some fun. Good fun," she adds when Charles opens his mouth. Honestly, all of them are rather repulsive.

"Speaking of fun," Eleanor chimes, walking over to the metal table that they'll sometimes lay the girl on. She sits on the only clean edge that's left. "Are you going to start, or what?"

"If you're here to hear her scream, she won't. She hasn't screamed in a while." Will's more used to keeping time and place hidden from me, so it's easy for him to be as vague as possible. It's infuriating how smart he is.

"It's still a show either way. I just want to see her bleed for all the times she hogged Darius for herself."

I can see Charles walk over to her, sliding one arm around her while the other does something I'd rather not be able to see in my peripheral. She starts moaning and I think I roll my eyes several times before Visha turns back to me.

"Come now, my dear. You can keep me company." She takes my hand in hers, those long nails she used to drink the girl's blood now gone somewhere beneath her skin. It does nothing to stop my guts from curling in on themselves and threatening to explode.

My power bucks against her, curling in on itself. The sensation runs goosebumps down my spine.

I don't want to follow. I don't want to do anything but stay in my corner and be Will's "obedient pet," but I don't really have a choice. So I let her pull me along to a chair by the wall that I hadn't noticed before, and sit on her lap when she tugs me into it. Thankfully she doesn't do more than trace small circles on my arm, but it's still enough of a touch to make me want to scrub my skin until it's red and aching.

I stop breathing entirely when she leans into my ear, her breath running down my neck and sending chills down my spine. "You're running low on power, little one. How much longer before you're mine to play with?" She nips the bottom of my ear and I have to dig my own fingernails into my palm to keep myself from reacting.

I am no ones to play with, and it won't be me who will end up too weak to save herself. It'll be everyone else in this room, and everyone who's on the Nightingale's hit list. I don't know her well, don't call her more than Nightingale or girl or Omega, but I do know that there's something within her too powerful and strong for me to touch, and I do know that when she erupts, it won't be me she sucks the life out of.

The sound of a bone cracking has the three mentally disturbed mutts smiling, but I don't. That sound will follow me into my next nightmare along with the thousands of screams she's already given and the last shred of hope in her eyes. In all my years of studying to be a healer and further life within someone, never have I found myself whispering the prayers that I do now. Never have I begged the Gods or their Saints to end someone's life, but as the session goes on and the three of them snicker and laugh and crack jokes while he's cracking her bones and tearing her skin, I close my eyes and I beg them with everything that I have to swing a merciful sword and end not their lives - but hers.

Kallisté still holds onto hope that someone's going to come, but I can't find it in me to believe her.