At the apex of the circle, something began taking shape. A chair. Each fiber of its wooden effigy stitching into one another as the thing as a whole took shape from nothing. No, not from nothing.
As it took shape, she could tell it was an exact replica of the one she'd sat on in the dining room. Was it the same one? Being moved from one point to another? Teleportation perhaps?
SIlf had only ever heard of such a powerful spell. To see it in person. So few mages could even fathom performing such a spell. Even with her limited understanding of magic, and an inability to perform it herself. Teleportation was a well-known spell, usable by only a fraction of mages with exceptional skills.
Silf instantly realized Magnius was unlike anyone she'd ever met before.
She swallowed hard as the man approached once the chair had taken its truest shape. He motioned for her to sit, so she obeyed. What else could she do? Run? Scream? Plead for her life? Would it do her any good?
If he wanted to hurt her, that performance of magic made clear it would be a fruitless effort.
Tentatively she touched the chair's high framed back to be sure it was real before sitting. She watched as he knelt and set a gentle hand on her knee.
This was it. Either she was going to be set free or she learned the true nature of the man before her. A twinge of panic set in but she pushed it down.
"I need you to listen up." Magnius began bluntly. "I'm going to slip this blade under the collar so I need you to sit perfectly still." She nodded. "No matter what happens you can't move. The edge is going to be very close to your throat. If you flinch or pull away~" He trailed off.
She swallowed again, closing her eyes. "I understand sir,"
Was this for real? Was he really going to actually grant her freedom or was he going to slit her throat? Was all this a cruel joke played by another sick depraved man? She thought back to all the beatings she'd suffered through. To the night before when she'd cursed Akramon and asked Phylgrum to take her. She regretted that now.
She felt the cold touch of the blade as it slipped under the collar. Pulling it taught against her neck. A pair of hands held her shoulders. Pinning her to the chair.
Perhaps if he intended to kill her this was the best way to die? Clean, feed, warm ... Happy?
She felt the blade pull, a warmth, then something cold. Like sand tumbling down her chest.
Magnius didn't need to give further instructions. Either by fear or simply knowing, she shifted her head to the side. Aryzath pulled what little hair may have been in the way aside before bracing the elven girl for what was to come next. How easy it was to steal away these final moments.
To rob the weak of everything they had ever known. To sever the final link in the chain of servitude. Her eyes had seemed to lose their vigor moments before. That bright edging of yellow had seemed almost orange. That deep dark gray, lightened. The brightness of freedom to come.
Of hope.
Sliding the blade beneath the collar he pulled it tight against its edge. He dared not be quick for risk of cutting into flesh. Instead, he worked slow, sliding the blade firmly against the leather.
His hand warmed as the magic of the collar and blade worked against one another. Struggling for ground against the other but the results came as quick as before.
No sparks this time. The metal of the blade shattered. Like glass. Folding away against itself like it had been made of sand. He watched in stunned awe as the grains of metal fell against her neck and down into her robs.
"Impossible" He muttered, opening his hand watching as what had once been the handle fell away too. All that remained now was the cloth hand grip. "How's that possible?" Aryzath asked.
"It's not," Magnius replied. "Or … it shouldn't be"He looked up. Confusion marking every aspect of his face.
Silf opened her eyes looking to her chest to see metallic fragments scattered across her chest and lap. Each one glittering in the light that poured in through the window. Fear gave way to confusion. She wasn't dead? Was she free?
Feeling at her throat. The collar remained. A hand gently lifted her chin to see the man's face looking upon her once more. Did he look... concerned?
Locking eyes with the man before her she wasn't sure what was going on. Was he going to free her, was the joke not her death but the lie of freedom? Lowering her eyes she felt ashamed she'd ever given into the delusion of freedom. Even the tiniest bit.
Of course, he wasn't going to free her. Why would he? A tear ran down her cheek as the hand-pulled away.
"Call Zyom," Magnius commanded. "We need to talk." His voice was stern, commanding, powerful. "As yah wish sir," Aryzath replied calmly, rushing away. Silf kept her eyes locked on the glittering metal on her chest. It glittered in the light as she breathed, rolling further down.
Magnius stood. He was at a loss for words. He'd failed. Again. It wasn't as important as his promise to the girl before him. He'd failed her. Scared her, and for what? She wasn't free. Her hopes, if any had taken root, were now in ruins. He hated failure!
Rushing back to his desk Magnius began frantically moving books and paper. "Where is it!" This was the first time he'd truly felt his temper rise in days. Rushing about until he found a small glass container.
With a flick of his finger, the metal fragments lifted into the air, off her shoulders, her lap, out from under the robes, and it all collected into the container across the room.
Silf caught a glimpse of his anger. His expression. His scowl. "That Chain Breaker was damn near indestructible." He yelled, "I made sure of it!" Magnius looked to Silf. His wrath calmed as he saw her fear. "Forgive me i~" Her eyes. He set the glass container aside.
The yellow was clearly bright and more pronounced now and the gray was gone. In its place now rested a deep vibrant mixture of purple and orange. They were so bright they almost glowed.
Magnius froze. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking at. Then it clicked.
In a room full of magical artifacts this was something ... "Yo-Your eyes," Setting aside a book he's grabbed in his frantic search. "You have In-born magic?"
In-born magic was rare, though often benign. Most in-born magic was connected to the hands, lungs, vocal box, or legs. Being connected to the eyes made Silf perhaps one of the rarest creatures to ever grace his home.
Silf cringed with anticipation of a beating. Her hands curling into fists as she readied herself. Eyes closed tight. She could feel her teeth clamping into her lip. Her short pointed fangs, drawing blood.
She always got a beating when her eyes shifted. She couldn't exactly control it but no matter how much she'd try to explain it, it never mattered.
She blocked everything out. She heard nothing. The voice of the man was silent in her mind. She was ready ... but the beating never came. No, instead it was a hand. Resting calmly on her lap.