My vision was still blurry when I opened my eyes. It was dark, so I couldn't immediately tell where I was. I knew I wasn't lying directly on the ground, but I could feel the cold seeping up through the rough material.
I struggled to sit up, but it was difficult. My wrists and ankles were bound with rope. My eyes eventually adjusted and I could see that I was in a tent. It wasn't hard for me to guess the identity of my captors.
I did a quick assessment of my well-being. My body still hurt from the removal of the poison, but that seemed to be the least of my concerns. The cut on my arm from the spear was throbbing. It hadn't been bandaged. I didn't have a mirror, but I imagined that my face was bruised and swollen from my capture. I could also tell that I had a split lip.
I sighed softly. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least I was still alive.
Unlike Wake…
My breath caught in my throat.
Tears immediately began streaming down my cheeks. Tried as I might to control them, I couldn't. My emotions flowed like a river, unchecked.
The tiernan seed nestled against my chest glowed warmer. Her small mind was unusually somber—as if she grieved with me.
I touched my fingers to the lump under my clothing.
"Do you understand, little one?" I whispered.
The emotion grew stronger.
Understanding flooded my thoughts. I was feeling what Wake's daughter was feeling. We were sharing the experience of mourning. For that brief time, our hearts were one.
I bowed my head and allowed myself to sob. I cried for myself and for the tiny orphan that I carried with me.
The tent flap lifted, admitting two human soldiers. One looked to be in his twenties, while the other was older. The older one carried a lantern, casting light on my tear-stained face. He stared at me with open disgust.
"Quiet," he commanded. "You're making a ruckus."
I immediately fell silent. I recognized the expression on his face—I'd seen it plenty of times in the village. That man wouldn't tolerate anything from me. He was a ruthless one and a stranger at that. He wouldn't care about Smitta Farlin or my mother.
The younger soldier looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps he was one of my uncle's friends. His expression was placid enough, but I didn't like the glint in his eye. The way he looked at me made me feel uncomfortable.
I knew that I wouldn't receive pity from either of them.
"So, you're the village demon girl," the older man said, crossing his arms. "I've heard rumors of you."
I shifted as far away from them as I could, leaning against the back fabric of the tent. However, the space was small. There was nowhere to escape.
The senior soldier hung the lantern from the roof of the tent, freeing his hands. He cracked his knuckles slowly. "You don't see many half-breeds in the city, you know."
"Is that so, sir?" the young man replied.
He nodded. "People there have a proper sense of decency."
I ducked my head, hoping that I looked contrite. If I was lucky, that man would leave after spending a few minutes talking about how worthless I was. That was something I could handle without issue.
I just needed to keep him from getting angry…
The older man crouched down in front of me, reaching out to grab my chin. He held it tight in his hand, taking no heed to my injuries.
I fixed my eyes on the ground, careful to keep my face blank. I did nothing to resist him.
"Abomination," the man muttered between his teeth.
I looked up in surprise. I'd never heard that much hatred directed at me before. I'd faced plenty of prejudice and resentment, but that was something else entirely. His loathing was an entirely new level that hadn't ever appeared in the village.
All of my insides turned cold.
I suddenly felt nauseated. The fear in my stomach clawed at all of my organs, spreading outward until it reached the tips of my fingers.
The man's sharp eyes bore into mine without mercy. No one knew where I was. No one would care what happened to me. We both knew it.
"Yellow skin," he mused aloud. "I wonder if your blood's a different color, too."
I choked on my breath.
The answer was already obvious. The spear wound from earlier had bled, as well as the various scrapes from my attempt to escape. I knew he could see the patches of red on my skin.
He slowly drew the knife from his belt, keeping his gaze fixed on mine. I panicked, jerking away, but he grabbed my hair to hold me in place.
My heart pounded against my ribs so loudly that I could feel it in my limbs. I started to cry, but I tried not to struggle. I knew struggling would only make it worse.
The man pressed the blade against my cheek, letting it cut me slowly and deliberately. I sobbed louder as the pain grew, searing through my mind. The soldier's eyes were eager as I suffered. I could feel each layer of skin parting as the knife went deeper into my flesh.
Blood streamed down my chin, mixing with my tears.
"Please," I begged, "please stop!"
"Sir?"
The younger soldier appeared uncomfortable.
The knife reluctantly drew back. The older man sighed as he pushed me to the ground. "I guess your blood is the same color as other animals'."
He sounded disappointed.
I shook my head, feeling a flash of unexpected anger. "I'm not an animal," I whispered.
The older soldier paused while putting his knife away. "What did you say?"
My fear returned, closing my throat from allowing any sound to pass through. I clenched my fists, silently cursing myself for allowing myself to say anything at all.
"Not an animal?" The man asked. He barked a laugh.
The hard heel of his boot made contact with my stomach, forcing the breath from my body. My eyes watered as I struggled to gasp.
"Not an animal?" he repeated, sounding amused. "You know, you're right about that. Animals have a purpose. Animals aren't innately evil."
The soldier spat on me. I didn't move to wipe it off, letting the spittle roll down my cheek.
"You," the man said, pointing at me, "are worse than an animal. You are an abomination born of pure evil."
He kicked at me again, hitting my shins. I did my best to stifle my cry of pain, knowing that making too much noise would only anger him further.
"My father was a Smitta," the soldier went on. "I was raised as a Follower of Purity. You can imagine my shock when I came to this pigsty of a village and saw that a Smitta was raising a demon child in his own home."
He turned to his younger companion, gesturing wildly with his hands. "What kind of a Smitta would allow evil into his home?" the soldier demanded.
The young man shook his head quickly. "I don't know, sir."
He knelt by me swiftly, grabbing my hair and jerking my head back. "Look at this thing," he hissed. "No one in their right mind would confuse such a monster for a human."
The young soldier's eyes were wide as he gripped his belt with both hands. "Uh…"
His cold eyes bore down on me. "Why are you even alive?" the man hissed. "They should've drowned you at birth. Is this whole region nothing but heathens?"
I was thrown to the ground, unable to catch myself. I hit my head on the hard floor, seeing stars explode in my vision. I held still, crying as silently as I could manage.
"Sir…"
The soldier rounded on his junior. "Weak stomach, second?"
He flinched. "I…I just think that the fourth will be angry if she's hurt too badly. He said we're taking her back to the village."
The older man sneered. "The fourth isn't a believer," he said with contempt. "I hate working under them. Their priorities are always wrong."
"Yes, sir," the junior agreed, but his face didn't look convinced.
The soldier looked down at me. I could tell that he was debating whether he would kick me a few more times or not.
"It doesn't matter," he said with a shrug. "They'll deal with you there. I heard they're clearing out all the trash now that the Grand Smitta is there. He'll get rid of you soon enough, along with those refugees."
My eyes widened. There was only one family of refugees in the village.
Tsuki's family.
Did he mean that it had been discovered that they were akagine? Or were they just being discriminated against because they were from another country?
I suddenly thought back to the spring festival. That visiting Smitta who had been giving the speech about evil among us had insisted that he knew who they were. Had he reported it to the Grand Smitta?
What about my mother? She had been suspicious about some of the things I'd said about Tsuki. Had she mentioned that to Smitta Farlin?
The soldier saw my reaction and gave a malicious smile. "Yes, your fate awaits you in the village."
He thought I was scared for myself, but I didn't care about what happened to me. I was worried about my best friend. What had been going on in the village while I was away?
"You can go pay for your sins there," the soldier said with satisfaction. "I'll stay here and continue to purify this mountain of evil."
That caught my attention.
He noticed that as well, so he leaned in to emphasize each word. "I will find every evil creature in this unholy place and kill them myself. I will burn this entire forest to the ground if I have to. I won't rest until this entire mountain flows with the blood of your demonic people."
I thought of Wake, kneeling between the two soldiers who held her captive. I thought of the sword aimed at her throat, falling toward her.
I thought of Budding and Min, running for their lives. Where were they? Had they made it away?
I'd assumed I had no more tears to cry, but my eyes proved me wrong. New streams flowed down my cheeks, causing my shoulders to shake.
The senior soldier aimed a few more kicks at me, just for good measure. I curled into a ball to protect myself, but it only helped so much. I cried out in pain as my ribs cracked and received an additional blow for making noise.
When he finally stopped, I shuddered in relief.
"If I'm not allowed to kill her, then I guess there's no point in being here," he said lazily. "She won't be able to escape anymore."
The young soldier appraised my injuries with a glance. "I suppose not, sir."
"I'm going to bed," he declared, giving me one final kick.
"Yes, sir."
"Tie her to the tent pole and keep her quiet."
"Yes, sir."
The older soldier sauntered away as if nothing unusual had happened. I could hear him joking with the other soldiers on guard as he passed them. I couldn't believe that someone so monstrously callous existed in the world.
The young man lifted me closer to the center of the tent where he could re-tie my wrist bindings around the pole. He did it so I could lie down on my back to get some rest. He even untied the ropes around my ankles.
He knelt beside me, pushing my hair away from my face.
"He hit you pretty hard," the young man murmured.
I flinched away from his touch. Even though he was being gentle, it hurt to have any contact at all.
"You probably won't be able to walk tomorrow," he went on. "The fourth will be angry about that."
The soldier grabbed a blanket from the corner of the room, placing it over my battered form. He stepped away, giving me space.
"Third Jonn won't deny hurting you," the soldier told me. "He's proud of the work that he does. If anyone asks about your injuries, he'll brag about doing it. He's well enough connected that he'll only get scolded for it. That's how the city soldiers are."
I didn't know why he was telling me any of that. Was it to make me accept what had happened? Was it to warn me that it was likely to happen again?
"I mean, I don't like you, either," he said defensively. "I don't want you in the village."
If I hadn't been in so much pain, I would've laughed. Never once had I imagined him to be on my side.
He cleared his throat. "I'm going to bed, too. Don't cause trouble or they'll have even worse soldiers keep guard over you."
I had a hard time imagining anyone worse than that zealot who wanted to beat me to death, but I didn't doubt his words. I knew that there was a dark variety of terrible things that could be done to me, and I wasn't eager to find out what they could be.
I suddenly felt a surge of panic.
"Don't go," I rasped.
What if someone came into my tent during the night?
I'd have no one to protect me. There'd be no way to defend myself.
The soldier's face showed a twinge of guilt. He also knew the danger I was in, but it didn't change his mind. He shrugged off his concern and walked through the tent flap.
Whatever evils the night held, I was on my own.
No one would help me.