Vaunn lay on the ground, his body completely lacerated. The creak of a door pulled him from his half-sleep. He managed to crack open his left eye; the right was so swollen it remained shut, and his vision blurred.
A silhouette moved toward him. Thumbs brushed his battered cheeks, then helped part his lips. Water flowed in slowly. He tried to swallow, but choked and spat some of it back out; the liquid ran down his chin before sliding along his skin.
“I’m here to help you,” she said.
“Who are you…?” Vaunn managed to ask.
“I’m Cléa’s sister. And I want revenge,” she replied.
“Revenge for what…?”
“The monks. They killed my sister,” she said, her voice hard.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need apologies. I want them to pay,” she shot back, her fists clenched.
“You can see I’m chained,” Vaunn said with a short, joyless laugh.
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“I saw you stand up to the monks,” she replied.
The young woman reached into her pocket and pulled out four glass vials filled with a dark violet liquid.
“Where did you find that…?” Vaunn asked.
“That doesn’t matter. They’ll realize soon enough. Drink them. And kill them all.”
He shook his head.
“My body is too weak. Even if I drank them… I wouldn’t be able to kill them.”
His jaw tightened. She clenched the vials in her palm until they clinked together, then straightened abruptly.
“Then die here,” she snapped.
She turned on her heel and walked toward the exit.
“But… I might have a solution.”
She spun around sharply.
“Speak. We don’t have much time.”
“Come closer.”
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping forward. Vaunn reached out and grabbed her hand. His fingers slid across her palm, leaving a dark smear. His hand was covered in blood. The slap cracked sharply.
“Don’t touch me again.”
“A friend is waiting for me in the forest. His sense of smell is very keen. He’ll find you. Leave tonight.”
She turned on her heel and left the room.
