"Go ahead. Lick it."
His finger hovered before me, a bead of crimson swelling at the tip. "Did you feel the flow of magical energy?"
I'd tried everything—visualizing flames, channeling earth, summoning gusts. All failures. Now smoke curled from the latest charred remains of my efforts.
From the corner, Styras snorted. The eight-year-old prodigy leaned against his study wall, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
In the game, Eleanor could level cities. I could barely spark a match.
Styras extended his palm—a gilded cage disguised as an invitation. With a sigh, I settled onto his hand, my gossamer dress fluttering. Pathetic.
"Something's wrong with me," I muttered.
"Wrong?" He carried me from the study, my wings twitching uselessly. "You're exactly what a captured fairy should be."
"The hell?"
"Helpless. Dependent. Mine ." His grip tightened as we descended spiral stairs. "Now—about those experiments—"
"Experiments?!"
"Standard procedure for villainous overlords, no?" His smile glinted in torchlight. "Captured fairy + mad science = power boost. Basic RPG logic."
Cold stone swallowed us. The lab reeked of ozone and ambition.
——————————————
Trial by Fire
"You thought I'd actually experiment on you?"
Styras's deadpan question hung in the air as another flask dissolved. Purple liquid ate through reinforced glass, hissing like a spiteful serpent.
"Ah." He scribbled notes, unperturbed. "Forgot the reinforcement spells."
I clung to his shoulder, a doll made of dread. This wasn't science—it was alchemical terrorism.
Three weeks of this. Three weeks since he'd upgraded my prison from cage to collar.
"Hungry?"
The question came as my stomach growled. Starvation sharpened senses—I could smell the magic in his blood before he pricked his finger.
"Lick."
Iron sweetness flooded my tongue. Power. Real power. My wings shuddered as warmth spread—
Then fire.
Every vein became a lightning rod. I burned.
Styras's widened eyes reflected my transformation—glowing runes etching themselves across my skin.
"Fascinating," he breathed.
The last thing I saw before darkness took me: a child's smile, sharp as a scalpel.