Connor kicked the weathered door open with a bone-rattling crash, the corroded hinges shrieking like a tortured animal. Nora's limp form hung like a slaughtered deer over his shoulder, her ribs grinding against his collarbone as he carried her inside the foul cottage. He hurled her against the moldy wall—THWACK! Her head cracked the wall before she crumpled to the floor. THAM! The door slammed shut, plunging them into near-darkness save for the light filtered through the worn roof.
"Release," Connor muttered.
At his word, Nora's back arched violently, tendons straining and popping beneath her pale skin. Blood foamed from her mouth as she seized, her fingernails splintering against the floorboard in a desperate scramble. When the air finally tore into her lungs, it erupted as a hoarse, raw scream. Her once-vibrant eyes were now wild, dilated with terror and rage.
"C-Connor! You rotting bastard! What—THWUMP!"
His boot slammed into her ribs before she could finish. She skidded through a puddle of leakage, hacking, spitting blood. "Still think you're a princess?" he snarled, dragging her up by her hair until her feet dangled.
He unsheathed his dagger and curved a thin, red cut across her jawline. "The Dawn won't hear you beg—not here." The dagger trailed downward, splitting her shirt—shrrrk. "You'll learn. Every scream, every tear—they're mine now."
She spat a glob of blood into his face. "I'll carve your throat open before I let you—BAM!"
He hurled and slammed her into the door. The impact shattered her jaw and vision. Yet she coughed a laugh—a ragged, broken sound—as he wiped his face. "I… still… Dawn's… blood," she wheezed.
His fist drove into her stomach. THUD—she buckled. THUD—bile and blood erupting from her lips. THUD—she spasmed. His boot slammed down on her convulsing hand until her joints popped. "Your mother spread her legs for every bandit until she climbed onto Robert's bed," he hissed, leaning close enough for her to smell the rot on his breath. "You think Jareth is going to come save you? Look at yourself. You're worthless."
She did. Her own bile reflected a swollen face, one eye weeping shut, but her remaining glare burned like a trapped star. "And you…" she coughed, "…are…a coward."
He seized her throat, lifting her into the air. She clawed at his wrist and kicked weakly—not for freedom, but to strike, her heel glancing off his groin. He slammed her to the floor; her spine felt broken. "Fear? Coward?" he spat. "You'll beg for it."
The dagger reappeared. He traced it down her chest, splitting flesh in a single line. Her scream died as the blade paused over her pounding heart. "How long will it take?" he whispered, breathing hot against her ear. "I want you to count the days."
When he released her, she fell like a gutted deer, twitching in her own blood. Then, he crouched and yanked her head back. "Tomorrow," he said, "we start disciplining. I will turn you into a good little puppy."
He fisted her hair and dragged her across splintered floorboards, then flung her onto a rusted iron bed—SCREEEEE—its rusted joints screeching as it shifted under her weight. A coarse rope bit into her wrists, bleeding her skin as he lashed her arms overhead. Each loop tightened, cutting deeper until her fingertips turned purple. He leaned into the dangling Nora, teeth grazing her earlobe. "Scream," he hissed. "The rats haven't eaten in weeks."
THAM! The door slammed.
The sky turned dark, swallowing all traces of light. Without her magic, Nora strained against the ropes until warm blood slicked her wrists—unfruitful. Somewhere in the room, water dripped—Plink. Pink. Plink. Hours bled together as her sobs turned to dry heaves, her throat cracked from swallowing screams she refused to give him.
Dawn came as a betrayal.
A sliver of light speared through the shattered window. Nora's swollen eyes adjusted slowly. Black mold streaked the walls, its tendrils spreading toward the sagging ceiling. Rusted nails jutted out like claws. Her bound wrists had turned dark purple, with red cuts where the rope had bitten. The mattress beneath her was covered in brown stains that smelled like rot and rat urine.
Nora's gaze locked onto the ray of light. Her breath hitched.
Somewhere outside the room, a floorboard creaked.
She began condensing light.
Creak-thud...Creak-thud— the floorboard screamed like a war drum announcing Connor's approach. Nora's heart raced, her palms burned, the light swelling in her grasp, its heat warming up dead fingers.
Schreeeee. The door opened—slowly.
Connor's shadow stretched into the room. Nora launched herself through the window. The shattered glass teeth shredded her thighs. The cold air slapped her face. She hit the ground, rolling, dirt gluing itself to her bleeding skin. She ran.
"Run," he rasped, voice dripping with gleeful venom. "It's sweeter this way."
She followed the stream. The cliff loomed ahead. Connor's laughter followed, unhinged and close. Too close.
Now.
She whirled to face him. Dawn's light erupted from her palms. Pain seared her veins as the magic tore free—BOOM! The explosion pushed her over the edge. "LITTLE BITCH!" Connor screamed.
SPLOOSH!
Water stabbed Nora's lungs like knives, burning her wounds. She surfaced, gasping, blood streaming from her nose. Connor stood on the cliff's edge.
"Run—but you can't hide!" he bellowed, hurling a jagged stone that clipped her shoulder. "I'll find you soon enough!"
Nora splashed her way onto the moss-slick bank, vomit and pond water spewing from her lips. The wood loomed ahead. She staggered forward, her bloody feet leaving smears on the ferns.
Birch trunks erupted from the soil like broken ribs, their peeling bark slicing her arms as she careened past. Something moved in the canopy—a chorus of wet clicks and chitters tracking her flight. She dared a glance back. Her blood trail steamed faintly in the gloom. No sight of Connor—or whatever was stirring the branches.
When the trees thinned, she wept.
The field stretched ahead, a riot of harsh colors. Blood-red poppies and deep purple lilacs tangled with moonbell and starfire. A golden haze hung low, clinging to her wounds like honey. She ran through the flowers, petals crumbling to dirt under her feet and filling the air with their tearful perfumes.
Another wood stretched beyond the field's edge. She plunged into its shadowed depths. Five strides in—Plop-Plop-Plop—her heel struck water. At ten, thorny birches carved fresh wounds into her thighs. By twenty, the flower field returned—its poppies crushed where her steps had already fallen.
"Clever girl."
A breeze from behind carried Connor's voice and burst petals into a spiral dance around Nora. She turned. He smiled at her flustered face. Her bleeding hands ignited instinctively—but the light sputtered, choking under pollen thick as swamp gas.
He lapsed onto her shining silver hair and wrenched her head sideways into the soil—THUMP! Petals cried as Connor hauled her backward. "You think this is a forest?" he sneered. "It's a cage. Your cage."
Light flared in her palms—two suns emerging from a fractured glow. He yanked her hair—she twirled into the air. BOOM! The beams detonated, searing her own torso. THUD! She hit the ground, her collarbone popping out of her skin.
Connor crouched, grabbed her ankle, and twisted. Gr-k-k-k—her bone grated. "Nnnngghhh!" she shrieked.
"Your mother was a slut," he hissed, dragging her toward the treeline. "You're no different. No elixir. No Dawn. Just rot. Worthless rot."
Nora gagged, dark blood spilling from her lips, her magic flickering like a dying candle. The golden field faded as the woods loomed ahead. Her fingers encased a near root. Connor laughed. He yanked—THUMP!