Royce's Handwriting:

  Karnella has made sure to keep Evelyn thoroughly busy and locked away from me. When I do catch glimpses of her, my wife is pale-faced and dark circles line her under eyes. She tries to smile at me, but it is a thin mask that cannot deceive her utter exhaustion.

  Karnella assures me that her training is going well, and she shouldn’t have to worry about any more dream visits from the king.

  Had she had another? Did Karnella know something that I did not?

  I really haven’t been able to speak with her since our first night. When I awoke the next morning, Karnella already had her locked away in one of the back rooms, insisting she needed to be left on her own.

  She’s kept my hands full with busywork. Potion-crafting, gathering things from the forest whenever Eunice needed a break from pulling the house, even asked me to dust around her mantlepiece before I snapped at her that I needed to be training, too.

  I shouldn’t have said anything.

  Karnella has a sick sense of humor. Since I wanted to train so badly, she said, I could. Sit with my legs crossed and my palms outstretched and ‘feel the magic around me’, whatever that meant.

  Since Evey had already channeled it before, she said she had a better chance at making progress in a shorter time than trying to coddle the both of us.

  Meditation has never come easily to me. It was something Evelyn wanted me to try when I returned home. Contemplative silence, connecting with yourself and the world around you, she had said.

  I never told her it was all bullshit.

  I never told her that when the world slows down enough, I can still hear them. The screams. The screams of the dying. The screams of those that wished they were dead. When I close my eyes, I can still see their faces. Their eyes. Filled with terror, or pain, or… nothing. Chock-full of emptiness.

  How many lives had I taken with the pull of a trigger? Never flinching?

  They tell you that the enemy are monsters- try to make you forget that the man that you’re fighting is another human being. Like it didn’t come down to where you were lucky enough to be born and how dark your father’s skin was.

  What they didn’t tell us is that we wouldn’t be fighting men. We would be fighting women, children, the elderly, anyone and everyone who could pick up a weapon. They didn’t tell us it was going to be a massacre.

  They didn’t tell you the men that you respected and served alongside would turn into monsters the moment they were given the opportunity. That the crimes they were committing far outweighed the crimes of the frightened people fighting for their homestead.

  How was I to ever even look at my Evelyn- my pure, sweet Evey- again after the things that I had seen? The things that I had done? The things I hadn’t been able to stop the men beside me from doing?

  How was I supposed to return home to a baby girl and my wife, pregnant with our second child? I was deployed before we got to learn the gender. How was I supposed to keep them safe from the savagery of mankind?

  So, no.

  Meditation has not changed for me. I still can hear the ringing of their screams and smell the burning of their flesh. I cannot sit in a silence so heavy I can feel its weight crushing my very soul.

  I will brew more healing potions and craft more poisons while I wait for Karnella to eventually release my wife from her silver-ringed clutches.

  This is all I can do without losing myself to madness.

  How many days had it been now? Three? Four? I did not know. They blurred together in their repetitiveness.

  I want to see my wife. To hear her voice, her laugh. It may be selfish but I can’t find it in myself to care. She has always brought me a comfort I cannot describe, even if she is fast asleep next to me.

  I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe for Evelyn when she returns, though I don’t know that she will want to read it much like I have felt the urge to leave her private thoughts private. Maybe because she has been unable to.

  ***

  Evelyn's Handwriting:

  My head throbbed relentlessly. I don’t know the last time my head didn’t hurt. It had been a few days, at least, but it was crossing the threshold into being present so long you no longer remembered what functioning was like before it made everything more difficult.

  The words on the paper in front of me swam like they were in a language I didn’t understand, vibrating and pulsing on the paper like they were about to take a life of their own. What had they said? Did it matter at this point? The lights, though dim, burned too brightly. I couldn’t even look in the direction of the small lamp in the corner of the room.

  Karnella sat across from me, and I realized she was bleeding.

  How long had she been bleeding? It looked like a self-sustained injury, a single line across the palm of her hand that was stretched out in front of her across the table. But the blood was pooling underneath her like she had let it bleed for a long time.

  How long had she been sitting in front of me?

  How long had I been sitting here? One empty bowl in front of me? What was I even trying to accomplish in the first place?

  “I can’t do it.” My voice was hoarse. My mouth was dry. I wanted something to drink. When was the last time I drank anything?

  Karnella was watching me. She had been watching me. She was always watching me. Her gaze was so heavy. “Yes, you can.” Her voice was firm.

  I shook my head, although the movement hurt. My neck ached like I had been holding it still for a very, very long time. “I can’t.”

  “Evelyn,” her tone was low. “He is going to skin your husband alive and make you watch. Is that what you want? To hear the sounds he makes until he can’t take anymore?”

  I shook my head again, the movement coming easier this time but still sending sharp spikes down my rigid spine. I tried to gather my focus.

  It was difficult to describe. Like forcing yourself to sweat. Like pulling something from your pores with just your mental acuity.

  Karnella’s words rang through my head on repeat. “‘Your magic is directly tied to your emotions. You’ve got to tap into them. Feel it. Visualize it. Harness it.”

  Feel it. Visualize it. Harness it. Feel it. Visualize it. Harness it. Feel it. Visualize it. Harness it.

  I remembered the hollow sound of my own voice, somewhere distant. “The blood? How does that help?” I had asked, like this was all something I could ever begin to understand.

  Karnella had smiled, which in my memory reminded me more of a jackal’s grin. “The pain helps you focus. The blood is something to focus on, a visual of the energy leaving you. It’s not necessary, but it helps you get started.”

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  My hands were clenched around the bowl. How long had they been there? They ached mercilessly like I had been holding it for a very long time. The bowl remained empty.

  Maybe I should bleed more. If I had any more red left in my veins. It didn’t feel like I did.

  Feel it. Visualize it. Harness it.

  I felt lightheaded. Weak.

  Karnella opened her mouth, but it wasn’t her voice that came out. It was Royce’s. A gasping sound, like he was choking on something wet. “Evey, run! We’re not strong enough-”

  “Stop it.” I managed. I couldn’t take any more of her wicked tricks.

  “Evey,” she perfectly mimicked for the hundredth time. “Please, make him stop. Do something. Do anything-”

  “Enough!” I threw the bowl off the table, rising to my feet. My legs ached in protest, almost sending me sprawling forward like a jack-in-the-box toy springing to life. I managed to catch my balance before I spilled forward completely, though. “Enough.” I repeated, much weaker and bracing myself by my elbows on the table.

  “Evelyn-” she started, but I had heard enough.

  “No, I know! I know I don’t have time for this right now!” I exclaimed, finding my sudden outburst incredibly draining. It was all I had heard for… I don’t know how long. But it was enough. I knew the stakes, I knew that I was failing and it would be my fault when anything happened to Royce. “I know that whatever happens is my fault, whatever happens is because I’m not strong enough-”

  “Evelyn, look at the bowl.” Karnella, for the first time in such a long time, was not looking at me. I followed her line of sight.

  The bowl, knocked to the floor and askew, brimmed with water. It did not look like any had fallen or been splashed when I threw it. Just full enough as I stooped to pick it up. As I corrected it, the liquid began rising. It filled perfectly to the brim, then stopped.

  I could see my reflection in the water, pale and shocked. My lips looked bloody, I thought weakly, like they had split at some point.

  Gently, I raised the bowl to my lips. Pure, fresh water quenched my thirst. As much as I gulped, the water remained at full capacity.

  I was breathing hard as I set the bowl back down on the table. I almost collapsed back into the chair I had been sitting in for however long it had been, a crazed laughter forcing itself out of my stomach.

  “You’re bleeding.” Karnella murmured as she hooked one of her fingers around the bowl and dragged it towards her hungrily, raising the bowl to her own mouth as well.

  I realized my nose was trickling blood and wiped it away with the back of my hand.

  She took a deep sip from the water of the bowl, carefully placing it back down. The weight of her eyes settled on me again. “You’ve done well.” Was all she said.

  “It took days for that.” I shook my head. “I’m not doing enough.”

  Her head tilted slightly, quizzically. It was when she had her head cocked to the side like this that she looked the least human. “How long do you think it takes people to learn magic?” She asked.

  I shrugged, a difficult movement as my body screamed in a newer and somehow more intense exhaustion. “I don’t know.”

  “Years.” She sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Even with the help of a certain transaction, magic took me years to master. Battle magic? Longer. Decades. Creatures on the island spend their entire lives here, and most can’t harness the magic that flows through their veins.”

  “Are you saying my only chance of winning is selling my soul?” I half-joked, but I appreciated her trying to make me feel better.

  “No.” Her eyes glinted with humor. “I’m saying even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The magic will come to you when you need it most, just as it did before. It’ll just be up to if you can control it.”

  She let me take a break.

  My legs could barely support me as I stumbled back into the rest of the house. Royce was sitting at the table, an assortment of strange roots, flowers, and berries laid out before him. He was mashing some in a mortar and pestle, looking over to check his recipe when he saw me. It instantly clattered to the table as he stood, crossing the room in a few short stretches of his legs.

  He pulled me to him roughly, embracing me for a moment before pulling away to check me over. His fingers laced behind my ears on either side as he tilted my head up to look at him. I saw his worry increase. I must have missed some blood. Or maybe it was just over how cracked my lips were.

  “Don’t worry, Roycey. Your wife is a real soldier.” Karnella followed after me, passing by where he kept me standing.

  “I’m okay.” I told him, trying to smile but wincing as I stretched my mouth. I leaned into his touch. I almost fully relied on him to keep me upstanding after a moment.

  He turned on Karnella, his hands not leaving my face. “When was the last time you let her eat?”

  Karnella shrugged, tilting her head as if in thought. “She hasn’t asked to.”

  “You-” he started, then growled something I couldn’t catch under his breath before slowly leading me to the table and sitting me down gently. “Karnella, it’s been days! She hasn’t eaten or slept in days?” He did raise his voice slightly after he got me situated.

  I was listening, but just trying to keep up with their conversation was difficult. I felt a thick, hazy fog over my cognition.

  “Every time I asked her if we needed a break, she said no.”

  “And after a certain point, you tell her to take one anyway!” Royce was very animated as he spoke, his eyes wide and his expression colorful. “You don’t just let her work herself to death!”

  Karnella looked at me, and then back at Royce like she was deciding something. When her mind was made up, her mouth opened. “Do you know what she’s scared of?” She asked him.

  I couldn’t object. I was too tired. I tried, but all that left my mouth was a weak whimper.

  “She’s not scared of dying. She’s been pulled to the castle twice now, threatened by the king twice. Do you know what’s kept her locked in that room? Not the threats he’s made to her. The threats he’s made to you.” Karnella snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “If she’s going to work herself to death, it won’t be because of anything I did or did not do. Now, can I feed your wife, or are you going to continue to question me?”

  Royce frowned. He did not look at me. “Do you think that I don’t know that?” His voice shook slightly. His hands were shaking, too, clenched tightly at his side.

  It was hard to even form emotions as this unraveled before me. The exhaustion I felt was so utter and complete, it was taking everything I had just to remain upright.

  “Do you think we both don’t feel the same way? That losing her is the thing that scares me most in the world, too?”

  Karnella sighed tiredly. Her eyes closed for a moment. “I can see that, Royce. You don’t hide it very well.” She tapped a ringed finger against the side of her skull.

  “Stay out of my head.” He growled, more agitated than I had seen him in a long time.

  “Learn how to shut your own thoughts up! You think I want to listen to-” she cut herself off abruptly, casting a quick glance over to me before clearing her throat. “The two of us will work on that tomorrow. I’m sorry I haven’t prioritized it more. We made good progress today. She needs to rest tomorrow.”

  At that, I did find enough strength for a weak protest. A few mumbled sounds fell from my mouth incoherently.

  “No.” Resoundingly came from both of them, almost in perfect unison.

  “Absolutely not.” Royce continued as Karnella tended to her still boiling pot on the stove. I don’t know if there was anything different in it. I didn’t care. “You look like you’re about to keel over. You need to take a day.”

  It was a small gesture, but I managed to shake my head.

  His eyebrows came together worriedly. “What do I not know right now?” He asked Karnella, whose back was still turned to us.

  “Oh, I could write you a book.” She laughed lightly. She turned her head slightly, enough to look at him over her shoulder, and gave a solemn nod at the serious expression on his face. “Alright, fine. But remember that ignorance is bliss.” She turned around fully again, leaning on her countertop. “The king has sent someone to collect you.”

  “A giant.” I supplemented, voice cracking.

  “A half-giant,” she countered. “Believe me, it wouldn’t have fit inside the throne room if it had been a full-blooded giant. But yes. A presumably undead half-giant.”

  “Presumably undead?” Royce repeated.

  “The king is too paranoid for living advisors. Most of them have been resurrected with dark magic to bind them to him. So, that’s just a personal guess.” She said simply, then turned back to finish whatever additions she was still stirring into the stew. “And from what Evelyn said… he’s only been tasked with bringing one of you back alive.”

  “Is there anything else we need to know?” Royce grumbled.

  I felt a pang for not turning to him first with all of this chaos. He was fighting his own wars, though.

  “We’re learning in stride.” Karnella huffed. “I’m trying to not overload your already fragile minds with more than you can take. I can continue hand-feeding you, if you’d like, or you can go out there and find everything out on your own and have a meltdown in the process like plenty of other humans who have wound up here.”

  All I could think about was how dry my mouth was. The feeling of my parched lips. How I should have brought that bowl of water with me, if I could have even found the strength in myself to carry it.

  I didn’t hear whatever Royce muttered under his breath.

  I was focused on Karnella as she ladled spoonfuls of stew into a bowl, bringing it to me. “It’s hot.” She warned, seeing the look on my face. “Let it cool down for a minute. I’ll get you something to drink.” She poured a glass of water and placed her kettle back on the flame. “The tea will be done in no time.”

  As she slid the glass of water in my direction, I reached for it with both hands. It was heavier than it should have been, or more accurately, I was far weaker than I should have been.

  Even the act of raising the spoon to my mouth was taxing, after I impatiently waited for it to cool slightly. The repetitiveness of chewing made my jaw ache. But I was so, so hungry.

  An uncomfortable silence had settled over Karnella and Royce as I struggled to feed myself. The second time I dropped my spoon, Royce took it from me. Gently, he fed me. It was a simple gesture, but it meant more to me than I can describe even now.

  My eyes were heavy-lidded by the time the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. Royce lifted me from the chair much like he had carried me across the threshold what seemed like a hundred years ago. Before he left completely though, Karnella stopped him. She looked into my eyes intently. “I meant what I said earlier, Evelyn. You did good today.”

  And I faded into a dreamless sleep.

  ***