"Wait here" said the armored guard, pushing Miha inside the cell. The metallic noise of the bars closing behind her felt like a strike in the chest.
She did as she was told. She simply stood there, surrounded by almost total darkness, for what felt like hours - her eyes down and her previously nervous fingers now resting unmoving, just like the rest of her body. She was so worn out by the anxiety and terror that had been rampaging inside of her since that morning that she could no longer move a muscle.
When at a certain point her calves finally gave in to a spasm that forced her to crunch down, Miha let herself sit on the filthy floor, very careful to not let her hands touch any dirty surface, as per usual - a kind of professional bias, one could say.
"Don't even bother to call yourself a baker if you ever let your hands get dirty" her big sister's voice reminded in a solemn tone inside her head.
Just thinking of her sister sent a shiver down her spine, and for a couple of seconds breathing became even more difficult. Miha bit her own dry lips and brought her chin and her eyes up, just because people say it's almost impossible to start crying if you look upwards. Today she discovered that, in some cases, that trick could barely be said to actually work.
Positioned just below the little window, her back against the outer wall of the cell, she realized that she could now see a little bit better, thanks to the dim light coming from outside. It was a mistake, however, to look back down on her kitchen apron. The linen fabric - which on normal work days would be covered in all the bright colors from the sweet fillings she would always carelessly spill while baking her famous pastries - today was disgustingly dirty, enough to make her feel nauseous just by looking at it: the whole cloth was indeed covered in stains, but the red ones vastly outnumbered all others.
She teared up without even noticing, and made a pitiful sound as the part of her mind still in denial suddenly faced the simple knowledge that today she hadn't come in contact with any grape juice or cherry syrup at all. With her whole being shaking, Miha next gathered up a little courage and forced herself to look down on her own two hands, her most cherished work tools... only to see that rusty red residues had found their way on there as well, and deposited themselves even under her nails and cuticles.
"No, no, no... No!" Miha thought in a hiccup. She found herself cracking up again as she desperately tried to scratch the dry blood off herself.
"Please, tell me this is just a nightmare! Please..."
Just at the same time as she began to sob loudly, letting out all of her internalized shock with a loud shriek, a deafening thunder noise suddenly startled her.
Her heart missed a beat as she sprang on her feet, backing away from the window as fast as she could. For some reason, her mind was strangely blank all of a sudden, as if all of her crippling fear was now no longer prompted by the awareness of the terrible deed that she had just committed and of the obvious fate that awaited her, but instead by the dark clouded sky that she was barely able to see from the tiny opening in the wall.
Her tears dried up quickly, while her hands dropped down again, going back to hang motionless on her sides. Only her red and puffy eyes were now still alert and full of horror, fixed on the almighty storm that seemed to be approaching the Capital from the open sea.
"I am going to die" whispered Miha to nobody but herself, with a weird sense of certainty for this seemingly random thought that had just now popped up in her mind with surprising clarity. Then she closed her eyes, and passed out on the dirty floor a moment later.
***
When the knocking on the door finally came, Master Nin was no longer sitting at the wooden desk where his few traveling belongings had been left neatly positioned.
He was instead standing in front of the high window, with his hands intertwined behind his back and his brow contracted in a severe expression. Circling around his head, many little purple leaves were floating mid-air, giving off the magical impression of an ethereal crown. His piercing yellow eyes were intently gazing at the horizon, where the agitated waves of the sea met and merged into the grim grey color of the sky. One of the many things that his fast and calculating mind was currently observing was that this was probably the first time in a while that a natural disaster threatened to hit that small land of Mantlas, and certainly the first time in about fifty years that a storm as furious as that appeared anywhere at all in the world.
"Come on in" he eventually said in a firm tone, talking to the closed door on the other side of the little square room. It opened with only a faint screeching noise, barely audible against that of the powerful thunders roaring outside.
The door opened and three pairs of footsteps made their way in. Nin didn't have to tell the guards to leave him alone with the prisoner - even security came well educated in a royal palace, after all. He patiently waited for them to stomp their feet in obedience and to silently take their leave, and only then he turned around his much too sharp jawbone to send a barely noticeable side look at his guest.
She was young, possibly even too young to roam the city alone past curfew. Her short red hair - a couple of locks here and there obviously colored blonde by means of magical alteration, maybe produced by some cheap enchanted cream - was in a total disarray. Every part of her face was small, except for her dark eyes and her full lips, which contributed to her looking overall like some kind of exotic bird. This rare specimen and her work attire were covered in blood, though, and this little detail quickly reminded the Master of the reason why he was there in the first place.
"What's your name, girl?" he asked in a monotonous voice. His finger was tracing the path of little rain drops splattered on the other side of the trembling window glass.
The girl bowed, avoiding the reflection of his gaze on the window.
"Miha, your Excellence" she uttered twice, the second time putting a little more effort into trying to raise her whispering voice a little.
"You don't have to call me that" Nin said in a matter-of-fact way. "I am not the royal druid. The man was simply kind enough to let me use his laboratory for a little while. He's got a perfect view of everything from up here in the tower, you see."
Miha started torturing her fingers in nervousness again, her eyes still fixed on the floor. "I... I see. How should I address you, then?"
"My name is Nin" he said, turining around with a swift of his long robe and taking a couple of steps towards her. When she noticed him approaching it was already too late: his face was now studying hers from upclose - a little too much to be comfortable, actually.
"Nice to meet you" Nin said in a soothing voice, even though his eyes were still just as emotionless as before.
The girl forced herself to close her mouth, which had opened in surprise at the sight of him. She couldn't help but stare his incredibly long and silky black hair and the tiny jewels braided in it, nor his expensive-looking clothes dyed in actual black, not some dark blue or green imitation; and she abaolutely couldn't lift her eyes off the levitation spell he kept around his head, for all Heavens'! Miha had never seen magic so up close! But what immediately took away all chances for doubt was the long silver locket that was hanging loosely around his neck: four circles and a seven point star were engraved on it.
"You are... a Mage?" she murmured in astonishment.
"I am a Master Mage, to be exact" Nin simply replied, sitting down at the desk in an elegant motion. "While you... I heard that you got yourself into quite a predicament."
"I..." Miha pathetically tried to say, trembling a little, before being promptly cut off.
"Yeah, yeah. We'll get into that right away, don't you worry. But first, sit down and listen to me carefully for a moment. Because, you see..."
With a deadpan expression on his impeccable face and his chin resting on the palm of one hand, Nin pointed the thumb of the other over his shoulder, back towards the creaking window behind him. It was now visibly accusing the force of the wind hitting ever so furiously against its old grating.
"Hell is coming for you, Miha."