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Note from the Author:
There is predatory aggression. Dominance. Forced sex acts. Animal aggression and violence which can be triggering for some.
Please read with caution.
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Like most of the Mages in King Detry's Guild, I'd come to be here because Warlord, his Commanding Mage, had spotted me and seen me for what I was.
For the magic I was capable of.
King Detry, as was his practice, had slaughtered my family and brought me back to the castle to serve under Warlord and, more importantly, his Second in Command who trained us.
Hawk.
Damn, dreadful, cocky, despicable Hawk. I hated everything about the man.
But it just so happened he was the best mage in the country, other than Warlord who had some strange accentuated power no one could explain.
I'd heard whisperings he was less than human though.
He could be a demon.
Hawk certainly acted like a demonic minion. I made it a point to always go out of my way to avoid the striking man.
The other mage's fawned over him.
But I just want him to go the hell away.
But Hawk was Hawk. And he did whatever the bloody hell he wanted. Which obviously meant torturing me at every opportunity.
And the more I disregarded him the more awful he got.
He was a ruthless trainer and I was having a hard time mastering the techniques though my magic was incredibly strong, I had problems focusing.
Even I know that.
But it seemed instead of helping me, Hawk enjoyed distracting me even further and making me increasingly terrible.
Which boded ill for me.
If mages couldn't perfect their craft they were sent to the dungeons to refocus and if that didn't work then they were slaughtered as useless.
I was petrified of both options. I'd heard tales of the torment that awaited mages in those dungeons.
So I studied harder.
But stayed awful at all the physical training.
Which drew Warlord's eye. I'd seen the Master Mage come out several times and watch me with a disparaging look. Clearly not impressed by my lack of skill.
"Fix her!" He'd yell at Hawk.
"I'm trying." Hawk would call up the balcony overlooking the training yard.
"Do more!" Then Warlord, in his usual quiet fashion, would turn and walk away.
Terrifying and quiet and barely touching the ground.