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It was the next piece of parchment that carried all of his curiosity. What on earth was Project Empire? What could it possibly have to do with a mage? He took to reading it slowly to absorb every detail, but the more he read, the quicker his eyes roved.
Remis had stopped breathing. He couldn’t so much as blink as he read through the entire thing. Eventually, his arm began to ache from holding the document up to read. He ignored the feeling, reading it again and again trying to decipher some sort of meaning or gain a sliver of understanding.
This bid for business would be with the emperor himself. Elton Hamza had mages under his employ that he loaned out to the emperor. For what exactly, the details weren’t quite clear. The reasons listed ranged from simple tasks within the empire all the way up to military defense, but the Empire wasn’t at war currently and there were no reasons to build upon their already established defenses that Remis could think of. And to use mages? What history he remembered, wars had only used mages as cannon fodder, bodies to be thrown at the enemy and then trampled upon.
The emperor wanted someone to manage his mages, to continue funneling them from the school into contracts that bound them to service, and he’d pay a hefty amount to do so. More importantly, he wanted a mage to handle it.
Was this what his father intended for him then? To give him this new branch of business, to manage other mages on behalf of the emperor? It would be a great honor upon his family, and Remis would have furthered his family's position, not to mention his proximity to the emperor and the chance to gain his favor.
Remis was both thrilled and appalled by the idea. He’d get to be a mage and build a life he dreamed of, but it would be in partnership with his father.
He placed the parchments in the space next to him. Letting his head hit the back of the couch, he sighed and glared up at the ceiling. What was life if not a series of choices between hard and even harder? He’d scream out of frustration if Meira wasn’t so peacefully asleep. When she woke perhaps they could have another good cry but this time together. Everything he’d done suddenly felt so…pointless. There was no escaping his father’s cruelty. The man owned him and he knew it. He’d give Remis a taste of what he wanted only because he could turn it into profit.
The silence was abruptly ended by a pounding on the home’s door. Remis swore he heard even the hinges rattling with the force of it. He lifted his head. As far as he was aware, no one knew he was here and he wasn’t expecting any visitors.
Meira opened her eyes and sat up. “What was tha—”
Another bang. A muffled voice. “Open up.”
“I—I am not expecting someone.”
“Don’t answer it.” She took his hand and pulled him up from the couch. “We have to run.”
“Run?”
Wood splintered and then exploded into the home.
32
Meira
An adrenaline spike was usually her high. It was the swing of her sword meeting another’s. It was the dizzy toll of taking a hit square to her jaw. It was motion and it was living. This was different. This wasn’t her legion against another but rather her against the world.
Meira was already running when the door came crashing down with an echoing boom. She didn't look to see if Remis was behind her but she felt his nearness in almost the same way she could feel Mrithun landing behind the home. A roar drowned out the noise of men pouring inside. She and Remis had already turned the corner and were sprinting down the hall toward the door waiting to let them out the other side.
“Stop! Witch!” deep baritone voices shouted, getting lost to the screams that erupted outside.
Fear ate away at everything inside of her, hollowing her out completely, as she rushed into the yard leading to the back alleyway. Her heels dug into the grass as she forced her momentum to a stop. There was the blood-curdling, ear-splitting scream of a war cry and it took her several seconds to realize that the sound was coming from her.
Ropes had been tossed across her dragon’s back, pinning her wings, and holding her down with men gripping the binds on either side, weights tied at their ends. Smoke rose from several crumpled forms who’d gotten too close to Mrithun’s flames and suffered the consequence. Then there was the man with the syringe. He’d darted between the ropes and snuck close enough to shove a needle between the Bold Wings spread claws to the sensitive unprotected skin between each appendage.
That’s when Meira had lost all of her control. She’d cut through four city guards before someone was able to grab her and force her to let her weapon go. A needle had found its way into the curve of her neck and everything had turned black.
That was how Meira ended up in the bleak cell in the lowest levels of the city's jail.
Alone.
Remis had been with her. Sometimes she thought she remembered him pulling his own sword, cutting down a few guards on his own. Sometimes she swore she’d heard the bark of his voice as he’d shouted at the men charging her and her Bold Wing.
She thought she’d already cried as much as she possibly could that morning, but apparently there were more tears to be had. Tears released like a flood the moment the cell door had shut, the lock twisted, and the only light available disappeared with the guards.
Cold metal propped her up. She breathed the damp scent of molding hay and the salt of her tears. Though she bore no clear marks, her skin stung, the sensation worsening with every cry Mrithun let out. Somewhere in this dark damned place her dragon was being cut up, tortured to the sound of guards' wicked laughs. Mrithun’s cries shook the walls, rattling the very bars Meira sat against.
It took hours for the men to stop playing their games with her Bold Wing. Hours for the prickled discomfort of her skin and the burning stripes of pain as though they’d cut into her to lessen. Eventually silence descended. It could have been minutes, hours, or days that she sat in that cell with no light or sound. Nothing but the steady flow of her own thoughts.
Was this it then? Was this the moment that had driven her to jump back to the beginning of the timeline? Remis wasn’t here. She was acutely aware of that fact. Could he have betrayed her? Somehow gotten word out about who and what she was? Pain twisted like a knife in her chest. She didn’t want to believe that. Lonely ideas kept circling around and kept growing her doubt.
Bram couldn’t be counted out either. Or someone else in Crimson Legion. No one turned witches into villains like scale riders did. She’d always thought it was because they longed for someone to be more hated in this country than them.
