***
The long line of men tripped over the thick vines and roots hidden beneath the thick forest underbrush on their way to the shore. Bruises covered her arms and shins, sweat dripped down her cheeks, and matted hair stuck to her forehead. By the time they cleared the treeline and saw the ship swaying with the waves, Elonia was ready to give up. She cupped the moon charm in her palm. If she thought there was any chance of it working through the chains, she would have used it.
“Keep her coming,” the man in charge boomed.
A mainlander yanked on her chains, pulling her down onto the hot sand.
“Get up and walk,” he ordered.
“Or what?” she asked, flipping over to her back, raising her arms in surrender. “Are you going to kill an old, battered woman here on the beach?”
The man holding her chain looked around, uncertain.
“No, we’re going to do no such thing. We’re civilized,” a voice rang out from further down the shore.
“Civilized,” she spat, watching their leader swagger toward her. “That remains to be seen. Civility’s more than a symbol sewn into your sleeve.”
“And what would you know, child-killer. Tell me, which do you prefer? Witch, murderer, or old hag,” he laughed.
“Person,” she mumbled, standing back up.
“That as well remains to be seen. Tell me, do you know what awaits you where we’re going?”
“A hero’s welcome?” she asked, meeting his gaze with a sneer.
He threw his head back and laughed. “For one of us, yes.” He leaned over and curled his finger for her to come closer. “I’ll let you in on a secret. You see, we came here to hunt. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would catch a witch. Let alone one who killed one of ours. It’s almost too easy.” He tsked and stood back up, gripping his sword.
“I did not kill her, it was the Marblooms,” she said.
“The Marblooms? A fairytale? That’s your excuse? I don’t believe it and neither will they. Only one type of magic killed that girl, and it was yours.”
She bit her tongue.
“Men, load the ship, put the bigger spoils below. She’ll stay on top with me.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why not lock me up with your other trophies?”
She frowned as the other men scurried past, carrying arm full of hides and wild carcasses, staining the water and sand red.
He sneered and approached her, taking hold of her shackles. “Because I want to see your face as I present you to my father, General Leon.”
Elonia paled. She hadn’t heard that name since her youth, yet she could still see his image in her mind. “Your father? General Leon?”
“You’ve heard of him, that’s good. This way you won’t be surprised when he orders your death. The only question is will he hang you or use the stake.”
“And you spoke of civility,” she said.
“We are,” he said, pulling her toward the boat. “And the civil world, we’re doing a service to by ridding them of your kind. In fact, after the massacre thirty years ago, I’m surprised there are any of your kind left.”
“Not nearly enough. You can’t do this to me. My magic is good. Give me a chance, I’ll prove it,” she begged. Water inched up over toes and then her shins the closer they got to the ship.
“You proved it enough with that girl. Her father, the ship’s first mate, has been mourning since word got back. Your magic’s no good, I doubt it ever was.” He climbed up the ladder, pulling her harshly behind him. “You’re shady, just like your color.”
The men that had helped him with the capture intermixed with the sailors, readjusting ropes and riggings along the outer edge of the ship, while furtively glancing between the two.
“There’s only one thing shady here, and it’s not me. You say you’re civil, but you’re nothing more than a rotten child, following in your father’s tainted footsteps,” Elonia fumed.
“Some would call it being dutiful. I prefer to think of it as adhering to the purity of my blood, and skin,” he said smugly, tightening her chains around the main mast of the ship.
“Devoid, not pure,” she muttered.
“Nothing a muddled creature says holds any value. We’re done.” He turned to walk away.
She tightened her fists. Power surged, fighting the binding strength of the shackles. Her skin singed where her magic touched the restrictive chains; blisters popped, coating the metal restraints in acid.
She released her fists and inhaled slowly. Patience was never her strong suit, but she knew she wouldn’t have to wait long. They always made a mistake. They had thirty years ago, and they would again.
Elonia shook her arms, the metal clashed together, breaking the soft ebb and flow of the crashing waves.
“General’s son,” she called.
He turned around slowly. “It’s General Leonard,” he said stiffly, taking a step closer to her. “What do you need now?”
“General Leonard, it seems we’ve had a misunderstanding. We can change that. We’ve lived together for thousands of years. If not in the same communities, then within the same kingdom, the same generation. Don’t tell me you can’t see beyond our differences. We’re the same—”
“We’re not the same!” He spat beside her and walked away.
She stared at the puddle of spittle by her foot, trying to keep the edges off of her lips from grinning too widely. Kneeling down, she reached forward and pressed one of her charms into the liquid.
“Storum keeptos infinium,” she muttered, and closed her eyes.
The chains might bind her magic for now, but when she was free, she had a plan.