After Empire of Storms

Chapter 7

Hey guys! I'm having some trouble figuring out how I want the story to go-if you have any suggestions please feel free to comment! 

Aelin lived and breathed pain. She was pain. 

She could barely remember to breathe when the whip came down on her flesh, over and over. Or the knife. Or Maeve's dark power. And using whatever powers Maeve or one of the fae had, Aelin had stayed awake for all of it. Every torturous second. She was only allowed to sleep when her injuries were near-irreversible. 

The first day in the throne room, Aelin had screamed, a roar of unfathomable agony as Maeve's whip had buried itself in her back. 

Aelin could feel her consciousness slipping, and reached for the peaceful darkness, almost smiling as it enveloped her. But the darkness had quickly been replaced with one of more sinister intentions. The pain had slammed back into her with the force of a horse, along with the chaos of the throne room. 

Her body was limp, but that did nothing to prevent Aelin from feeling the excruciating pain in her back as she felt a sharp line wind through her back. Like a snake under her skin, looking to cause as much damage and pain as possible. 

Aelin had still been secured to the table, which was jerking as Maeve's power filled the room, a dark, roiling sea that lapped at Aelin's feet. Slowly, the dark power began to rise, a sphere forming around the two queens. Maeve ran a sharp fingernail down Aelin's back, and dug her finger into an open wound near Aelin's spine. 

Aelin screamed as the dark power rose higher, circling the table. Aelin's powers were growing steadily stronger, but slowly. Even Maeve had misjudged her powers. The lack of iron in the room besides the table proved it. At the very bottom of her magic, a small, insignificant kernel was begging to be released. And so she did. 

A pulse radiated from Aelin as Maeve removed her finger from Aelin's back. The water gathered at the base of the table began to steam, but the victory was short-lived. The power had dissipated and had done nothing rather than startle Maeve. She had retreated slightly, and her dark powers had gone. Aelin, still pressed to the iron table, began working her way out of the hand shackles. 

Maeve sneered. "Pathetic." She spat at Aelin. "You are nothing." As Maeve approached, her dark power coiling again like a spring, Aelin jerked her hands from their restraints, grunting as she cracked her dislocated thumbs into their normal position. Aelin's hands had melted the iron where they had lay, and two hand-like molds replaced where Aelin's had been. 

Aelin swung her fists, clumsily, as she was still connected to the table by her neck, legs, and ankles. Maeve stopped and laughed at Aelin's weak attempts to fight. Suddenly, an idea formed in Aelin's weak, fear-addled mind. 

She reached for her back, nearly screaming as she plunged her right fingers into the same wound Maeve had just vacated. Maeve's eyes narrowed as Aelin placed her fingers to the iron table and began to draw. "Cairn, restrain the prisoner." 

The ancient power protested as Aelin drew two quick symbols on the iron. Time seemed to slow as Aelin chanted, the words otherworldly and burning her throat. She didn't even know if the spell would work. She had only used it on doors before this. Maeve screamed to Stop her! but the guards were pushed back with another pulse of Aelin's power. Her energy was quickly depleting, but as Aelin reached the end of the chant, she heard a satisfying click as her restraints opened. 

Aelin slid off the table, knees buckling she tried to stand. Days or weeks of disuse had weakened her muscles, but Aelin felt a burst of adrenaline as she spun to the nearest guard, hardly feeling the wounds in her back, as they were already closing, thanks to her quick-healing fae form.