Lotrick kept about three paces ahead of me as we made our way back through the winding streets of Corello. Despite learning that his brother’s body was being controlled, he looked remarkably composed.

  “Remember,” he said over his shoulder, “keep pretending you’re Fern for the rest of the day. If Mother finds out what’s going on in your head, it’s over.”

  “Do you think she won’t understand? This is a world of magic, after all,” I replied. “Or what about your dad? Could he help?”

  Lotrick shook his head. “Mother is bound by the laws the monarchy put on her. Father too . . . but to a much less extent.”

  “What do you mean by that? Like she HAS to follow the laws or something?” I asked.

  “Keep your voice down!” he hissed, looking at the people walking around us. “It’s sort of like that. Look, it doesn’t matter. Do you really want a history lesson, or do you want to get out of here?”

  “Get out of here, obviously,” I groaned. “I just thought it’s weird your parent’s can’t help. Like, aren’t they experienced mages?”

  Lotrick sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, learn this first. One, you are now a voidblood. All normal mortal rights of life? Nope, none. Rule two, magebloods must punish voidbloods.”

  “Yeah, but why?” I asked, more quietly this time.

  “Erik,” Lotrick sighed while shaking his head. He was tired of my questions. “There are many different theories on WHY the monarchy decided to enslave those born without magic, but I do not know. Maybe one day at the Arcanum I will find out, but for now, your guess is as good as mine. We cannot know the true reason behind the monarchy’s intention unless you are on the inside. We follow their rules, and they keep us safe. You just need to know that our parents can’t help you, the law forbids it. And even if they COULD help you, magebloods deal with the external, not the internal. We don’t have magic that works with souls. It’s taboo. Now, Father cares for Fern, but he’s not bound by the laws. Not like Mother. As long as you act normal, he won’t suspect you. And if he doesn’t suspect you, he won’t make Mother suspicious. And if she isn’t suspicious, then you will leave here with one less scar.”

  I nodded my head and we continued walking. The bag filled with Lotrick’s school gear rocked gently on my shoulder. Silently, I wished I could slip away and find out more about that poster of my brother. It was definitely Noah, maybe a little older, but I knew my brother when I saw him. The poster even mentioned he had returned from some sort of expedition.

  Did time really distort that much after I followed him? I asked myself.

  Corello felt surreal. Everywhere I glanced, people weaved little sparks of magic into everyday tasks—flames dancing over cooking stalls, threads of water used to wash the cobblestones, even bursts of colorful dust around a primitive camera device. Anyone with mage power used it casually. I tried not to stare too obviously, but it was hard not to admire the weaving strings of glowing energy.

  ‘You’d love to know exactly how they do all that, huh?’ Fern’s voice echoed in my head.

  Curiosity never hurt anyone, I answered. Well, not usually.

  ‘I can’t say I don’t envy them . . . but every time I think about magic, I get depressed,’ Fern said.

  I gave a nod, deciding not to bombard Fern with questions. Ever since I ended up in his body, the sight of magic commonly being used highlighted just how oppressed voidbloods were. There were not many around; after all, 1 percent of the population wouldn’t make for a huge crowd. However, the ones I did see were huddled in the alleyways, ashamed and homeless, or being bossed around by their owners. They all had their shirts open to reveal the voidblood tattoo on their chest, and they all looked like walking zombies, devoid of life and joy. After all, if you can’t use magic in a world that revolves around it, what chance do you have?

  Lotrick stepped aside to let a lumbering, bull-like beastman pass, pulling a cart of clams. The lingering smell of brine clashed with the dusty canyon air. Finally, the bustling street gave way to a quieter neighborhood. A small bridge crossed into a district filled with tall, blocky homes draped in colored tapestries.

  “We’re almost there,” Lotrick said. “Just keep quiet. Let me handle everything.”

  I nodded. We turned a corner, and Fern’s house came into view—an imposing three-story structure of golden sandstone, edges striped in purple and green. Up on the flat roof, I spotted Zola switching out tapestries. She was hooking a teal one into metal spikes, while, around the neighborhood, other families did the same with different colors.

  Odd custom, I thought.

  ‘They wait until the midday heat hits. Those tarps keep the sun off the top floors.’ Fern’s mental tone sounded weary, but proud of his home. ‘If only Mother—’

  He cut off as we spotted a figure sitting on the front steps of their home. Dario Landaluce—Fern’s father—sat with a dagger in his hands. His coarse, dark blond hair framed his face, which was marked with age lines. He glanced up, eyes creasing in a gentle smile.

  “Welcome back, boys,” he said as he stood. Lotrick gave a curt greeting and hurried inside. Dario’s gaze lingered on me. “You’re looking strong, Fern,” he said warmly. “You did a good job setting up the forge this morning.”

  A surge of emotions rolled through me. Joy and pride tried to break from my chest, and those emotions weren’t even mine. Although Dario couldn’t see the true Fern, there was a kindness in his eyes that nearly caused the teenage boy in my head to weep at his dad’s praise.

  He held up the dagger. “Remember this?” The blade shimmered, etched with rippling patterns in the steel much like Damascus blades did on Earth. “Lightcutter. We forged the blade last year, you, me, and Lotrick. That day, you called it our ‘family blade,’ but Lotty thought it was too soft. That boy always wants everything to sound legendary and ancient.” He laughed.

  “Of course.” My voice came out low. “I . . . still remember.”

  Dario chuckled. “Of course you do! Then take it. I had it enchanted by this old traveling alchemist. He was an odd fellow. The man lived in a barrel or something. Doesn’t matter, but after he enchanted it and I asked what enchant he put on it, he said it’s a fortune charm so that it will bring good luck. The man said he strengthened it so a man could even climb a wall. I’ve done the final polish. Here, take it. Hide it from your mother though.” He offered the blade, then produced a slim leather sheath attached to a cord. He slipped it around my neck so I could tuck the dagger beneath my shirt.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I’ll keep it close.”

  For a moment, Dario looked like he wanted to say more. Then a sharp voice shattered the quiet.

  “Fern! Why are you just standing out there? Get inside!” Zola’s words cut through the air with a familiar edge. When I glanced up, she was standing in the doorway. Even from here, I saw the tension in her jaw. Dario’s warm expression vanished, replaced by something like resignation.

  “Zola, it’s all right,” Dario tried, but she ignored him, drilling her glare into me. She looked around, and a man was walking on the far end of the street.

  “Now!” she snapped, before she slapped the top of my head hard. “We’re having company tonight. Don’t just loiter around for people to see. Go.”

  I rubbed my head and hurried inside, passing by Dario.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  ‘Mother’s temper has gotten worse with Lotrick leaving,’ Fern murmured in my head. ‘I don’t know what she’ll do when he is gone.’

  Hopefully we won’t be around to find out, I thought grimly.

  I slipped down the stairs and to the forge’s back room—Fern’s cramped living space. My shoulders tensed at the memory of Zola’s burning threads used on me. If she found out I wasn’t really her son, how much worse would her retribution be?

  ‘She hates me . . . but I don’t think she used to.’ Fern’s voice sounded small. ‘Something changed when they discovered I was a voidblood. I know the law forces her to put me in chains, but now the monarchy’s hate is in her eyes too. They’d already angered the monarchy once . . . I was never told what they did though.’

  Sound’s like there’s more to her behavior than just the law, I said, but Fern didn’t respond.

  Eventually, the noise of dinner preparations filtered down from above, and I decided to rest while I could. We’d be leaving soon, if all went according to Lotrick’s plan.

  I drifted in and out of sleep, startled by occasional bursts of laughter or raised voices overhead. The dinner for the Celestial Arcanum inductees must’ve started. I heard four or five families come, all parents and kids of the upper class like Lotrick. The fact that they could all use magic and do horrendously violent things like Fern’s mom made me nervous, but the thought of going to a place where it would only be other magicless people like me was something to look forward to. I may have been starting out at the bottom of the society ladder, but I would find a way to Noah . . . somehow.

  Sometime later, long after the families had left and the twin moons had risen high in the sky, an abrupt crash jolted me fully awake. The door to the forge slammed open. Zola kicked open my tiny room and magical threads pulled me out to face her. Her eyes were wild and her face was red. A wave of pungent alcohol stung my nose. My heart pounded.

  “You,” she hissed. “Always causing trouble.” Light threads snapped from her fingertips, lashing around my ankles. I yelped, trying to pull free from the threads, but she dragged me across the stone floor.

  ‘Erik!’ Fern’s panic flooded my mind.

  The threads scorched my wrists as I tried to shield my face. Zola’s eyes blazed with anger, but beneath it, I thought I saw something else—frustration or despair. Her voice shook.

  “Don’t you realize what you’ve done? The Windhorns . . . Carlyle’s mom nearly demanded the forge as compensation. Why can’t you behave? I have to . . .” Her voice trailed off in a choked half sob before it hardened again. “I have to make you understand your place. I have to! Or else they will . . .”

  She yanked me upright, shoved me toward the furnace. The coals inside still glowed from earlier work, filling the air with waves of heat. My whole body broke into cold sweat.

  “No . . . please,” I gasped, fear gripping my chest.

  Zola trembled; her eyes were glossy with tears, but her teeth were clenched in fury. “You can’t cause trouble. Not after what your father and I risked.” She forced my arm close to the coal. The searing heat licked my skin, and a cry tore from my throat. Sparks jumped and singed my forearm, leaving searing pain behind.

  I twisted, trying to pull free. Her threads bit, and I smelled my own skin scorching in spots, but she didn’t push me fully into the coals, thankfully. Through gritted teeth, I saw tears glint in her eyes, but she didn’t stop.

  “Zola, stop!” a shout came from behind. Dario burst into the forge, skidding on the scattered ashes. His gaze flicked from me to Zola. “What are you doing? That’s too far! You’ve done enough!”

  She flinched, her grip loosened, and I gasped for air. Agony pulsed through my burned arm with each breath. Zola pressed her lips together. “Dario, you know what will happen if he steps out of line again. We’ve already defied the monarchy once, we cannot allow things like this to happen. They could come by any minute to check. Hell, we know for sure tomorrow they are going to come by to see him and—”

  “I know,” Dario said, voice thick. “But hurting him like this—it’s too much. We will figure it out. I will figure it out. Go, go lie down.”

  Her golden threads wavered as tension slowly released. With a ragged breath, she released them, and I collapsed onto the floor. Zola took a step back, tears on her cheeks. She looked at Dario with haunted eyes, then at me. She shook her head and mumbled something under her breath before she stumbled out of the room, leaving the strong smell of drink behind.

  My vision started to focus in the dark once the chaos was over. Pain flared at my arm and side, but the burns, though severe, weren’t as life-threatening as they could have been. Dario crouched beside me, gently touching my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop her sooner.”

  I coughed, trying to speak. “Why does . . . she do it?”

  He exhaled. “Some things are too complicated for the young mind to understand.” He helped me to my feet, looking weary and ashamed. “I thought letting you stay with us, protecting you, and doling out your punishments was the lesser evil, but . . . it’s led to this. I failed you. Both you and her.” He trailed off and bowed his head.

  A swirl of Fern’s emotions rose in my mind—longing, heartbreak, a faint flicker of hope.

  ‘Dad,’ Fern murmured.

  Dario cracked a shaky smile, eyes glinting with tears. “Lotrick told me the plan, son. We’re leaving now. Before she has to hurt you more. Before she hurts herself more.” He glanced warily at the door. “She’s drunk, but if we wait till morning, she’ll have to do worse.”

  I stared at him, heart still pounding. “Lotrick told you the plan?”

  “Just a few hours ago when he saw your mother open another bottle of wine,” he said, dabbing his watery eyes. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a folded newspaper—the same ad about shipping voidbloods to Ash. “This might be the only way to protect you. If we keep you here, sooner or later . . .” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “It’s the best I can do now.”

  My arm throbbed, still pulsing from the burn.

  This is it, I said.

  ‘So we really have no choice, then?’ Fern whispered, sounding resigned.

  I nodded and looked up at Dario. “All right. Let’s go.”

  Dario managed a small nod. His jaw set. “Gather what you need. We’re meeting Lotrick out front.”

  Despite the pain, I grabbed the small sack I’d prepared with Fern’s meager belongings, which was just some extra dried meat and a few extra pairs of socks and underwear. Lightcutter dangled at my chest, and we slipped out of the forge into the moonlit street. Zola was nowhere to be seen, but when I turned around and looked up at the windows, I thought I saw movement on the second floor.

  On the street, the twin moons cast a teal glow across the city, revealing a small figure waiting for us. Lotrick stood there, hood pulled up. His eyes locked on my fresh burns, and he drew in a sharp breath. “Mother did that?” He clenched his fists. Then he raised his hands, and water-like magic rippled from his fingers. I flinched, half expecting an attack, but the cool rush of healing energy washed over me instead. The burns dulled, but the marks remained. I let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Lotrick lowered his arms, wiping a small bead of sweat off his forehead. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He turned, gesturing down the empty street. “Come on. The wagon leaves soon. Father, go back inside. Mother was really drunk, please make sure she is okay.”

  Dario’s eyes glistened. He pulled me into a brief, firm hug. “Take care of yourself,” he said, voice shaking. “And come back someday, if you can.”

  ‘Dad . . .’ Fern’s voice cracked within me, overwhelmed by emotion.

  I couldn’t speak. I hugged him back, and I felt one tear roll down my cheek, half mine, half Fern’s. Then Dario stepped back inside.

  Lotrick and I hurried to the wagon station at the far edge of town. The early morning air felt cold. I tried not to think about how only hours ago there was that run-in with Carlyle. Now I was a fugitive of sorts . . . or more like a recruit, about to join a forced program for voidbloods.

  Finally, we reached a small open-sided wagon waiting near Corello’s eastern gate. A hooded driver perched at the front, clutching reins and checking the sky. One other passenger—a teen boy about Fern’s age—sat huddled in the corner. He had a small cloak pulled over his head, and he was tinkering with a small, metallic device.

  “This is it,” Lotrick said softly. “Our . . . Cinders transport.” He gave me a level look. “Remember our deal. Keep my brother safe, and I’ll try to figure out how to separate you two. I’ll be in touch if I can.”

  I frowned. “How will I reach you?”

  Lotrick shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. Just don’t die.” Then he inclined his head toward the wagon. “Go. Oh, and Fern.” He looked into my eyes. “Stay safe, don’t let this old man take over your body.”

  ‘Right!’ Fern said inside me, a little too enthusiastically for someone who can’t be heard by people other than me.

  I climbed in, the wooden boards creaking under my feet as I made my way to a seat. The other teen flinched, barely looking up. I nodded in greeting, but he turned away, clutching the metal device to his chest.

  Lotrick walked over and handed the driver a small pouch, presumably handing over forged documents or bribe money. The driver handed back a small metal disc and then clicked his tongue. The horses started forward with a jolt. I glanced back, glimpsing Dario lingering in the distance. My chest constricted at the sight of him alone, overshadowed by the tall houses and the shimmer of tapestries in the moonlight.

  The wagon clattered over cobblestones, passing the guards at Corello’s gate. They glowered at us, briefly inspected the voidblood brands on our chests, then waved the driver on. We began ascending the road that led out of the canyon.

  As the city lights grew small behind us, I exhaled shakily. Relief washed off me for escaping, guilt sat in my gut for leaving Dario, and anxiety built itself a home in my head for heading into the unknown. Still, it was better than being sold to a new slaver.

  We’re free . . . sort of, I thought, glancing at the twin moons overhead.

  ‘I don’t know if I’d call it freedom,’ Fern answered. ‘But we’re out of there. That’s what matters.’

  The other teen shifted, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He glanced at me once, face partly in shadow, then returned to tinkering with the small object. The driver cracked the reins, and the horses picked up speed as the wagon left the canyon and we got onto a road on flat plains. Words spun in my head as my mind wondered and the world passed by.

  Cinders . . . Ash . . . Noah . . . voidblood.

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