Trollhunters: Tales of Baniar

Part Eleven

Pain becomes numb after too many hits. After the blood dries and the head pounding distracts you from the bruises around your body, you stop feeling it. Zach Caster, my dad only by blood, didn't grow tired of beating me.

I wasn't sure how many days I had been in the basement. West's body had been moved, and I had ran out of tears to cry. So, when the basement door slowly opened and Zach made his way down the stairs, I didn't flinch. He hadn't come into the room for a few days, but other people that I hadn't seen before had come in for a gander. Some Changelings, some trolls. There weren't limits.

Zach looked better than when I last saw him, and was dressed in a black suit. The only mark on his face was a scar over his eyebrow, with his hair styled back. He strode over to me, a frown on his face.

"Unfortunately," he grunted, walking over to me with his knife, "Morgana requires a living heir. Meaning, we have to let you go."

I remained silent, and he began sawing at the ropes that had held me. As soon as he finished the ropes, I stayed seated. He probably expected me to leap up, but I couldn't move. My legs were in too much pain.

"Oh," he said, an innocent look on his face, "I suppose that's a problem, isn't it."

He pulled out his phone from the inside of his coat, dialling a few numbers. As he spoke, his voice was deadly calm, if not mocking.

"Yes? Hello, I've found the missing girl, Romera Caster. The address?" Zach rolled his eyes, pointing at the phone and sending me an 'are you kidding me' look, "Can't you just track the call? Look, just come here before she dies."

He hung up the phone, giving me a surprised look and laughing. "The services these days! They assume I want to tell them where you are!"

Even now, I could hear the sirens outside the house. Zach hummed for a second, before shrugging.

"That was quick," he noted, bemused. "Well, I must be off."

It took only a second for Zach to walk up the stairs. A moment later, I heard a knocking at the door, and a gruff voice announced that it was the police. I was too weak to call out, but luckily the basement door was slammed open. An officer, Sheriff Grey, locked eyes with me and leapt over.

I recognised the Sheriff from the last time I had seen him, when I almost told him of my dad and what he did. Westley had nearly convinced me to, but I had chickened out at the last minute. Westley. My heart ached to see my best friend, to let him know that I would never forget him. But I wouldn't be able to. He had died too early, only seventeen. My age.

My mouth moved to tell the Sheriff about West, but no noise left my mouth. Gently, Grey lifted me into his arms, and I winced at every movement.

"How are you not dead?" he muttered, more to himself than to me.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. I shifted in and out of a numb consciousness, with faint words barley reaching my ears. I focused on the roof. Lights every few seconds that rushed past, a gross eggshell colour. Faces briefly flashed over mine, speaking obviously desperate words that I couldn't hear.

I hated hospitals. Too many people died there, and those who weren't dead left family and friends sitting anxiously in the hall. I remembered when my mum had been in here, for what I thought had been lukemia. I guessed some magic had been used to convince the doctors, and her, that it was how she died. Everything I had been raised on was a lie. My dad was a Changeling. My mum knew.

My dad had only raised me to be the heir, yet my mum sacrificed herself so the time would come later. Faintly, I noticed a mask be placed over my face, and darkness was all I could see.