Eye of the Storm

 I still remember the rain. The first droplet sizzling against my burning skin, tired muscles twitching at the almost painfully cold sting that quickly calms to a soothing chill. My heaving breath catches for a moment at the foreign sensation. A soft smile curling the edge of my mouth as my trembling hands slowly rise to catch the falling droplets. A chuckle shakes from my lungs, driven by the exhausted wonder that slowly grows in my heart. I see the dark clouds rolling above me, feel the wind as it whips at my hair. Centuries underground, a lifetime incarcerated, but no longer. 

They are hunting me, I can hear them in the distance. Guards shouting and calling, hounds howling and snarling; at times it is difficult to distinguish which is which. The hounds have caught my scent now. Their snarling breath grows louder as they close in, surrounding me as I press on through the forest. None have ever escaped the pits before, it’s been centuries since anyone even tried. And now, they will search tirelessly to find me, just to drag me back to those pits, or simply kill me for my impudence. “You will die here, one way or another.” The first words I remember hearing, spoken by the warden as he loomed over us, smirking from his perch above the pits. But now I am free, running in glaring defiance to those words, and I will run until I die. 

A fire burns within me. Searing my veins, pulsing through my chest like a tide spurred from each screaming breath of my lungs. Sweat pours from my brow, my blurred vision scanning the forest on either side for danger, my legs growing heavier by the second. But I do not let up the pace. I will not let them drag me back there again, back to those hellish pits, not now, not when I am so close. 

Drop by drop, the blackened skies open, a furious deluge soaking my skin. My bare feet churn the mud beneath me, my legs screaming through the fury of my relentless sprint. The clawing branches tear at my face and tattered clothes, raking across scar-hardened skin as I push them aside: undeterred. I know the lash of the whip well. A mural of crosshatched scars stands testament in my flesh, scrawled across muscles that have never known rest, skin that has never known comfort. Each raised line a grim reminder of their brutish attempts to tame the beast in me, as they did my kin and my ancestors; but in the darkest depths, I still clung to hope.

Within the bowels of that hellish prison, confined in stone walls and iron chains, we had been powerless against our oppressors. Torn and shielded from the natural powers that fueled my people, locked in shackles and put to work, our spirit was devastated. Yet for me, hope was kindled by the smallest of mercies. A single shard of silver light, stemming from a miniscule crack in the pit’s cavern ceiling, cut through the darkness like a pale blade in the inky black. I still remember the first time I felt the moon’s light on my skin. That silver glow, tingling with energy, rippling across my skin and invigorating my aching muscles like a balm: but only at a trickle. New powers came to me with this energy, power over nature: animals, plants, the air around me. And though it was quickly spent, it gave me an idea, and with it, hope. I bathed in that light whenever I could, sleeping there, even fighting my fellow inmates to stay in its glow. For in this light, I saw my chance at freedom. 

Now, looking to the smog-choked sky, a silver glow edges the clouds that block the moon’s light, urging me onwards. Fog clouds my exhaled breath, freezing the air as my skin begins to tingle: the magic growing stronger, as I knew it would. The natural life around me slowly replenishes my strength, I just need to stay out of reach a little longer, until the sky clears.

Bursting from the treeline, the suffocating forest maze opens, giving way to a vast, soaring plane of green grass, shifting like water in the wind. My heart leaps in my chest, urging me to race, to run faster, even as my aching body cries for respite. 

Five other forms burst from the foliage soon after, snarling barks echoing across the plains. Glancing back, I see their red eyes are locked on me, their foaming mouths panting, baring their gleaming fangs.

“Almost there,” I whisper, glancing up at the shifting clouds. “Just a little further.” 

At the sound of a looming snarl, I dive forward, desperately reaching for the moon’s touch. But this moment of hope is quickly marred with agony as claws scrape down my leg, the hound’s jaws clamping to my ankle like an iron trap.

An anguished scream bursts from my lungs as I collapse in the mud. The beast still latched onto my leg, dragging me back with savage shakes of its monstrous head. Blood sprays left and right, spattering across the grass and mixing with the mud below. Howls and snarls echo around me as the rest of the pack catch up. 

My skin tingles with bristling power as I turn, facing the hound with pain-fueled rage. I have little energy to spare, but if I am to die here, I will die fighting. The smell of ozone rises to my nostrils as electricity leaps to my hand. Thrusting forward, a blast of lightning strikes the dog in the eye, my ankle freed as the beast yelps in anguish. 

Scrambling to my feet, I turn to continue running, but the pack blocks my escape. They circle me now, drooling maws hanging open, glowing red eyes locked on me, daring me to move. My eyes dart between them, painfully wary that any of them could strike in an instant, and my mana is too low to fight the whole pack. I steal a glance to the sky, the shifting clouds almost taunting me as they edge ever closer to revealing the moon’s face.

With a roar, a hound lurches forward, fangs bared to rend my flesh. With one swift sweep of my hand, a blast of frozen air sends the beast hurtling across the plain. A second leaps towards me, claws glinting in the dim light. Lightning courses down my arm, releasing in a broad arc as I lash out, striking the hound down mid-flight. A third advances, charging low to take my throat. The last of my power drains as I reach through the earth, dragging forth roots to burst from the damp earth, lashing the mutt by its throat. The beast yelps as it's dragged back and lifted into the air, the vines tightening around its throat and ribs.

My eyes burn in the rain as I glare into the hound’s eyes, hate and anger overwhelming my senses. The malicious desire to tear and rend burns in my mind, reliving every hellish moment I suffered at the hands of these monsters. Everything they had done to me, I would return to them tenfold, it was all I could think of.

Through the haze of anguish and malice, a familiar, tingling sensation creeps over me. Like electricity dancing across my skin, energy engulfs me, permeating my body and pulsing through my limbs with each beat of my pounding heart. As my watery eyes look up, a gap in the clouds reveals the moon and I stand free in its glow, soaking in its power. 

The warm glow washes through me, repairing torn bonds. Tendrils of energy entwine, binding me to the natural powers that surround me. The earth, the grass, the growing storm buzzing in the air. I could grasp them if I wished. Standing in the eye of the storm, they are all within my reach: but my attention is drawn to other matters.

The pack still circles. I can feel their will, like burning strands. Bound by years of training and conditioning, forging an unyielding loyalty to their masters. No, not loyalty, obedience. Easy as it is to confuse the two, they are far from the same, and it would be their downfall.

Turning to the beast I have ensnared, I reach for its tender mind with my own. The hound recoils, flinching at my arcane touch, and a grin twists my lips. Its mind is frail, flayed and twisted. With my new power, I could easily take it by force if I wanted, dominating its will with my own and turning it on its pack, or its masters: a puppet to my whim. But as I reach to take control of the beast, something stops me; a familiar sensation within the creature’s mind, Fear. 

The creature's nerves are raw, tender, pulsing with pure instinct. Fear motivates every decision, every action. Fear of the pain it will endure should it fail its master’s orders, a state of mind I know all too well.

The hounds pack still circles slowly, cautiously, shoulders hunched, teeth bared. But they do not attack, why? Within a breath, my will extends to them, searching their minds for an answer. Each is equally damaged and feeble, and while they too seem focused on me, there is a new sensation there: concern. Concern for their packmate, their comrade I now hold hostage. Their eyes dart from me to the hound sporadically, waiting for their chance to fulfil their masters orders. But a greater fear now keeps them at bay, fear of what I may do to their packmate. 

Shock jolts from my heart as I look back at the hound. No longer seeing a monster, now, I saw the helpless animal constricted and dying at my will. My breath spasms as I look down at my hands. The power that courses through me, how quickly it fueled the hate and anguish in my soul. I couldn’t let it control me, I had to be better than this, better than them. 

 Slowly, I lower myself to a crouch, the roots unwinding from the hounds body, releasing it to stumble forward, hacking and sputtering for air. The hounds pause, within striking distance now, awaiting their packmate. I can feel their minds still, the fear, the aggression. I know its source, and I understand the pain. Pushing a slow breath through my pursed lips, I close my eyes and reach out once more, my magic caressing their trembling minds, brushing the scarred nerves with a gentle soothing energy.

“They won’t touch you again,” My mind utters words I have said to myself a thousand times. “We will not die slaves.”

A tense moment passes in silence, the rain pouring down around me as I wait for an answer, my eyes closed. 

A warm, rough lick gently brushes my cheek, accompanied by a high-pitched whimper. Opening my eyes, the hounds are sitting in a small ring around me, their tongues lolling from their panting mouths.

With a trembling hand, I reach tentatively for the one I had restrained, pausing a few inches from his rain-soaked head. The hound remains still for a moment, as if testing my intentions, then leans in to nuzzle my palm, a happy gurgle emanating from his throat. An odd warmth sparks in my chest. Joy, a feeling I barely recall. An act of empathy and love from one who has known only fear and pain for so long, the feeling washes through me like a coursing river.

A shout from the forest drags me from this tender moment, returning me to the present. The guards are almost upon us, the sound of their voices sparking fear in the minds of the hounds. They cower, their ears tucking back on their drooping heads.

“You are free now,” I say, brushing the hound’s fur with my fingers. “No longer bound by your master’s cruel will. Run, be free.” 

Rising to my feet, power surges through me. The moon’s light coursing in my veins as I turn to face my pursuers. And though I intend to fight alone, I suddenly feel an all too familiar energy: Defiance.

Fur bristles against my fingers, the hounds flanking me on either side, hugging my legs close, their eyes locked on the treeline with bared teeth. The pack leader looks to me with expectant eyes, as if awaiting orders. A warm grin crosses my face, hearing the guard’s voices growing closer. “You are free now,” I say again, my eyes locking with his. “No longer bound by your master’s cruel will, or mine. Be free!”

The hound’s ears twitch, pricking in evident realisation at my words. Throwing its head back, the hound released a long and eerie howl. An action echoed by the pack, and I couldn’t help but join in: Tilting my head to lend my voice to the bestial howl.

Now I had tasted freedom, I would ensure my people tasted it too. I would not run any more, I would return to the pit, not as a slave, but a liberator, a healer. I would destroy the pits' defences and break the iron grip these oppressors had on my people. My people, they will all know this freedom.

With a snarl, the hounds rush forward, disappearing into the underbrush of the forest. My eyes rise to the swirling dark clouds overhead, and the moon beyond. In the eye of the storm, the heart of my power, I would not die a slave.