I should be tired. After a training session like that, I should be nothing more than a heap of pain and groans.
I’m not.
I let those soldiers lead me back to my room, and I don’t fight as they close and bolt the door from the outside.
I’m sure to keep my stance strong and my expression stony until they leave. Then I cover my face with my hands and take in a rattling, dramatic breath.
Then another, and another.
I stop, and I start to check my injuries. With careful moves, I brush my hands up my arms, looking for burns and cuts.
Though ostensibly my arms and chest should be little more than burnt, charred lumps of flesh, I’m mostly fine. There are red marks here and there, and I can see bruises peeking up from underneath the soot covering my skin. Yet apart from those minor maladies, I’m fine.
Castor taught me how to take a blow. He also taught me to fight without armor.
And today, that came in handy. Still, I can’t quite believe what I achieved.
Flopping back on my bed and locking my wrist onto my brow, I close my eyes and remember the fight.
Amongst all the details, a few stand out – the look on Mae’s face as she realizes I melted her shoes, and how Captain Yang somersaulted through the air and blocked Mae’s last blow.
I remember precisely how he moved. As he jumped forward, he was strong and quick. As he called upon his magic, I felt the air sing with its presence.
There’s no doubting he’s powerful. And irritating.
Letting my arm drop from my face, I stare glumly at the ceiling.
I want to see Castor. No, I need to see him. I have no idea what I’m meant to be doing. Does he want me to fight? Or should I be cowering in a corner pretending I can’t do anything?
What’s going on here?
Letting out a groan of frustration, I ball up a fist and strike it on the side of my bed. As I do, the smallest crackle escapes along my thumbnail.
I look down at it.
Slowly I smile. It’s more evidence that if I try, I’ll be able to overcome the enchantments preventing me from conjuring magic in this room.
.…
Then what?
Even if I could blast through this place and somehow get away from all the soldiers and guards, what do I do when I’m free?
I have no idea where Castor is. And worse than that, I have no idea whether he’ll flee with me even if I find him. In fact, a horrible twisting feeling in my gut tells me he won’t.
He had multiple chances to get away from those soldiers in the village, then again when they transported us to the city. Yet he didn’t take them.
Something’s going on, and I have no idea what it is.
Groaning, I turn to my side, the soot over my chest and arms and cheeks marking my pillow and covers. Though it’s childish, that makes me smile. The stuffy Mae would be appalled at me tracking muck over my bed. So I’m sure to rub my arms harder against my mattress just to spite her.
Slowly, as I lie there, the adrenaline of the fight abates. My limbs no longer tingle with power, and the ache of slamming my chest into countless magical blasts starts to build.
With the softest of whimpers, I curl up on myself.
If I were at home, I would wander off into the forest to collect some healing herbs. I’m not, though. I’m trapped in a room with no windows, no herbs, and no help.
So it’s just me.
That’s fine.
Because I’ll manage. I’m the Savior, and I have no choice.