Second Chance - FR Story about Min

[Medesha]

A few quick notes before we get into the story: Min was originally an NPC in a game of mine, a single-PC game (the PC in question was Martek, who is introduced in this story). The events below happened midway through the campaign, if it seems like there is more going on than I've typed.

For those of you who have read "A Nice Night", yes, this is the same Min. Because this story was written for the player of Martek and not for publication, it isn't in the same setting as ANN, it's in the Forgotten Realms. And there are some discontinuities between the two pieces. Ignore them!

The format of this story is a bit off, since I wrote it for someone who already knew what was going to happen. If it seems confusing, just bear with it. It'll all make sense at the end, sort of like Pulp Fiction.

There is a tradition in high fantasy that even the worst, most vile villain can be saved by the love of the right woman. It's a theme that has been repeated over and over again through history, with different variations, from the time Scherezade convinced Shahrayar to stop killing innocent girls right up until Vader threw the Emperor into the warp core (or whatever it was). Min is most certainly a villain, and most certainly vile, but she is not without her charms. Does the love of the right man save her? This is my take on the subject.

This story is rated R for excessive violence and some language.

Enjoy!

Also, I am going to try and find a way to get rid of my sig for this thread...

[Medesha]

ETERNITY

"Wilhelmina."

The voice is whispering and weak. The girl stares in fear at the bed. She doesn't want to approach it but she has no choice. She walks towards it now because she walked towards it then, all those years ago. And now, as then, the same horrifying sight awaits her.

Even in the dingy, cheap room with its faded chintz curtains, badly hemmed, and the grimy smears on the bare plank floor and the warped mirror above the cracked washstand, the woman glows. She shines like a bright jewel in a flawed brass setting. Her hair is spun sunshine, a corona around her pale, gaunt face. She seems almost transparent. The girl can see the blood moving in the woman's hands, beneath the paper-thin skin. The blood pulses slowly through her veins, crawling like ants. Her eyes seem bigger than normal in her wasted face, too big and too round, like overripe berries ready to burst.

Fear blossoms in Min's stomach, a warm, heavy weight pressing on her organs and bowels, moving up to fill her throat with bile. Her fear is a hot, solid thing. Nothing can prepare her for this sight, the sight of strength made weak, of the hands that combed her hair turned too brittle to hold a brush, the skin that always smelled of violets now papery and crumbling, bruising under the weight of the child's gaze.

"Wilhelmina," the woman whispers, "I'm dying."

The girl cannot speak. The fear has clawed its way into her mouth and lies on her tongue like a stone.

"I am dying, and when I'm gone, you'll be alone."

She wants to speak - she wants to protest - but the girl can say nothing.

"You will be alone. Utterly, utterly alone." The woman's face is serene, peaceful, her eyes blue as the open sky. "You will have no one, and nothing, and never will. No one will ever enter your heart. You will never have a place in the world. You'll have had nothing but me and now I am slipping away, slipping away from you..."

Each word seems to echo in her mind, reverberating, tolling like a terrible bell. A scream builds in her lungs, builds forever, because she is too still to release it. The room is close around her, the door only a few feet away, but she cannot even turn her head to look at it. She is frozen there, staring at the dying body of her mother, forever, forever.

And forever, her mother will speak those horrible words. "And you'll die alone, Wilhelmina. My passing frightens you, but yours is far, far worse. You die without even the gaze of one loving soul, like I did. You die at the hands of the one person you wished would value your life. And all because of this moment, because you've lost me."

While the child has her mother's looks, she is her father's daughter. She takes the fear inside, the hot, hot fear, and turns it to cool fury. She spits the stone of terror off her tongue. "But I have you now!" she shrieks.

Her mother smiles and closes her eyes. The silence is more awful than the words. No matter how terrible the truths, it was another living voice. "No!" Min screams, "Don't die! Don't leave me alone!"

The room is getting darker. Everything fades before her. She blinks furiously but the haze does not lift. When she realizes it is inevitable she opens her eyes wide, staring hard at the woman's body, looking and looking with every second she has left. Remembering the golden hair, the blue eyes, the soft skin. The haze deepens, descends, blackens. She is blind.

"Mother!" Her own voice brings no comfort to her ears. With a tremendous effort she stumbles forward, arms outstretched, reaching for the bed, the body. Sightless, soundless, she longs for the touch of the cool flesh, the silk of the hair. Her hands find nothing, nothing but emptiness and a chill deeper than the hot fear, the chill of isolation. She runs forward in the blackness, finding nothing, screaming, but there is nothing, forever, forever.

[Medesha]

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Min sat perched on the barstool in the Black Tankard. Her curls were arranged prettily as always. She wore a white silk blouse and her skirt was a dark blue, to match her cloak. She slid one leg over the other and bobbed her foot, displaying her slim ankle above the frivolous heeled shoe. The bartender walked over to her and she smiled her pretty, vacant smile at him.

"Evenin', Min. The usual?"

"Yes, please."

He poured her an ital in a cleaner glass than most got, and slid it towards her. She took it graciously from him, allowed him to wedge the slip of paper between her fingers, and took a drink. The ital was sweet as always, like drinking distilled roses. Torman hovered behind her, an imposing figure in his steel breastplate, his glaring gaze darting from one potential threat to another. Min set the glass down and unwrapped the note, scanned its contents, and slipped it into the pocket of her cloak.

She drained her glass, the syrupy liquor coating her throat. Torman grumbled, "Trouble?"

"Nothing Irik can't handle," she said. "We have other instructions." She stood gracefully and shook down her skirts, knowing full well the number of men watching. She gave Torman a nod and they walked outside.

Her danger sense started screaming at her a second before the arrow hit. There was just a feeling in the street, the smell of sweat and anticipation. She opened her mouth to say something and Torman yelled in pain, the feathered shaft burying itself in his side. A crossbow bolt missed her by inches and she leaped backwards, the words already buzzing up through her stomach, her throat, into her mouth, sweet and heady as the ital had been.

She didn't quite know what she was saying but a moment later she felt a tingle spread over her skin and knew she'd gone invisible. Torman was charging the inn, and she saw two young fools on the roof, one with a bow and the other with a crossbow. Idiots! How can they not know who they're mugging? While Torman tried to scale the wall she chanted again, protecting herself with an invisible shield of force.

The idiots were doing surprisingly well. They'd glued Torman to the ground somehow and had abandoned their missile weapons, tumbling to the ground with the grace of trained acrobats and going at him with rapiers. Min grudgingly admired their footwork even as she let the words come and crackling energy built in her left hand. She pointed at the youth on the left, a handsome, dark-haired boy. Magical bolts streaked towards him, pummeling him brutally, and he gasped in pain.

The other one looked familiar, but she couldn't place him at the moment. Torman had his longsword out and Min was sure the idiot muggers would be dead any minute now. She was still more annoyed than angered as she sent another lazy arc of missiles towards the attackers.

The youth staggered again but he was holding his own. Torman was bleeding badly. Min felt the first thread of fear as she readied another barrage. They're just kids. He can handle them. But even as she thought it blood gouted from Torman's mouth as the dark boy slid his rapier into the big man's chest. As her guard sank to his knees, Min realized with belated horror that this was no random mugging.

It's a hit.

She turned and bolted. She was a quick, graceful sprinter but the youths were strong and fast. One was behind her almost immediately and she pushed herself, lungs straining, as she dashed down the street. A cry for help was on her lips but she knew it was a futile thing in the Dark Quarter.

His weight slammed into her and she threw up her arms with a cry as she crashed to the ground. She tried to roll on her back, kicking wildly, screaming now, but the man pinning her down had his knee in the small of her back and was twisting her arms behind her. He's not trying to kill me she thought, and the thought was enough to bring hot fear boiling in her stomach. Min was intimately acquainted with things worse than death.

"Let me go!" she hollered, because there was nothing else to do. She felt a blade against her throat, a sharp pain as it tore her skin and she yelped with shock. She suddenly felt like she was falling, a lurch of vertigo though she lay flat on the ground. Her eyes slipped closed.

[Medesha]

She didn't know she'd been out until she awoke. For a moment she thought she was home in bed, cool sheets against her naked skin. Then she realized it was cool air and that the rough wood against her back was not a bed. Ropes bit snugly into her wrists and ankles. Her head was pounding, her mouth dry. She kept her eyes closed and her limbs relaxed as she frantically tried to figure out what was going on. She stretched her arms just slightly, testing the ropes.

"Be a good girl and open your eyes, or I start cutting things off."

Cursing mentally she opened her eyes. It was the assassin-boy, the dark one. A good-looking youth, a generous mouth, bone structure that spoke of years of careful breeding. His eyes were fever-bright, excited and sick all at once.

Min felt no shame at her nudity. She'd long ago resigned herself to the fact that her body was a bargaining chip.

The boy held a dagger, a sharp one. He waved it at her face. "You have pretty eyes," he said, "If you do anything that even vaguely resembles spellcasting, I'll cut out the left one."

Min swallowed hard. What the hell is going on? "Who are you?" she asked. She couldn't know how to play this unless she knew something about her captor.

The boy touched her face with the dagger, tracing the contour of her cheek and chin. He didn't break the skin. "You don't know who I am? You've been so...active in my life. I thought you'd recognize me."

Gods be damned...someone with a grudge. What - a gambling debt we broke a leg to reclaim? She stayed silent, trying to place the boy. There was something familiar about him.

"Come on," he coaxed, "Give a guess."

"I don't know," she said.

He smiled grimly. "My name is Martek Cardron. You and your friends killed my family."

"Martek...Cardron."

Oh, shit.

The boy nodded, his flippant grin vanishing, face going almost solemn. "Yes. I know that you can't even begin to imagine what you did to me...what you turned me into. You're going to find out. You're going to see a little bit more of the monster you put in my skin unless you tell me everything I want to know."

Min's mind spun frantically. She tried to piece together all she knew of the massacre, of the boy who'd escaped, what he'd gone through and what he was likely to do now. The patriarch was a Sembian noble, Min vaguely remembered visiting him. And he had refused to cooperate with the Blades and they'd killed him and his family because of it. Save for the one boy who was supposed to have been there that night and wasn't. When the Blades had learned of his escape, they framed him for the murders and left him for the guards to catch. Apparently the guards had been lax in their duties.

And beneath it all, a small voice wanted to say, "Oh, but I do, Martek. I know exactly what it's like to lose a little bit of yourself every day. I know what it's like to let the monster in."

Instead, she laughed a little. The boy was a noble brat, she remembered. "From what I heard, Martek Cardron was a shiftless, spoiled little boy who liked to play at being tough. I don't think you have the guts to hurt me."

It was deliberate, meant to provoke. To see if he could take the first step. He closed his eyes slowly and, for a moment, she thought she had him.

Then he whispered, "I understand. I understand that you can't see how I've changed. You will." He walked away, moving out of her range of vision, and a second later she felt a sharp, ripping pain in her foot, a quick pain that moved from heel to toes. Her scream was more of surprise than pain and she reflexively tried to jerk her foot away, but the ropes held her in place.

Martek said, "Diero, do you have any salt in the kitchen?" There were footsteps and the other man came into view. She recognized him now, had heard the stories. "Diero," she said, her voice almost a chuckle.

The laugh was a mistake. Martek strode up and grabbed her head by the hair, pulling. "That's right, Giggles. The other person whose life you tried to destroy is here, too. He's feeling much better now and he might want to have a few words with you when I'm done."

She couldn't help but arch up, trying to relieve the tension on her scalp. Divide them, pit them against each other! "I'd rather take my chances with you," she said, trying to put a breathy, seductive note in her voice. "This must be torture for you, Diero. I've heard how much you like to hit women and here's one all tied up for you and you have to wait and let Martek have the first crack at me."

She saw the angry clench of Diero's jaw and felt a flicker of triumph. "She's a lying bitch, Martek."

But Martek didn't take the bait. He just smiled as Diero left the room. "I don't care if Diero is Orcus in human form. He didn't kill my family."

"Neither did I," she said truthfully. "Maybe I know who did. But the most you can do is hurt me - kill me and you'll never know."

Martek shrugged. She revised her initial assessment - this was a man, not a boy. And a talented one at that. He moved with a grace and efficiency that Diero must have envied. "I've heard that priests can do astounding things with fresh corpses, even make them talk. Why, I hear the corpses can't even lie. Fortunately, I have a fair amount of money left over from the night I killed Hazor."

So Hazor was dead, too. "Then why don't you kill me?"

She felt him run the tip of the dagger over her stomach, the steel tip denting the soft, little-touched flesh. "Because this is so much more fun. I've developed a rather ghoulish sense of humor lately. And it's cheap! It just gets better and better!"

She heard Diero enter the room again and she fixed Martek with an earnest stare. Might as well get this out of the way. "You know, Martek, we didn't know how...dedicated...you were. We thought you were a mere wastrel with no real talent. But you're not bad with a sword, and seem quite willing to do what it takes to get the job done. Perhaps if you thought about it for a while you'd see we'd make much better allies than enemies."

She hadn't expected it to work and was unsurprised when he said, "Let me tell you what I think of your proposal." She braced herself for the sting as he ground a handful of salt into the wound on her foot. It burned like acid and she bit back a whimper, closing her eyes.

Make him hurt you. See how long he can stomach it. Make him understand how long and ugly this will be. She forced her eyes open. "This is hardly the first time I've been under interrogation, Martek. I can last a long time. I wonder if you can see it through to the end?"

His eyes gleamed angrily and he grabbed her face. His hand was sticky and grainy and he left smears of blood on her skin. "Do you think I have something better to do? Hrm? Like what? Have a long talk with my mother? Fence with my brothers? Talk business with my father? Have a drink in a public place?" His fury shone on his face.

"If you'd been home like you were supposed to be," she whispered, "you'd be with them right now. But don't fret, poor Martek - something tells me you'll be joining them before long."

Rich noble bastard.

He let go of her face. "Diero, do you have a pair of pliers around here?"

The blonde man grumbled. "You could have asked me these things before we started. Hang on, I'll go look."

His absence seemed to make the room bigger, emptier. Just her and Martek. She watched him, watching her. The line of his jaw unsettled her. For the briefest moment she remembered what she had done to avenge her mother. If someone had stood in the way of her vengeance, if torture was the only way forward, how far would she have gone?

He is not me. He's a spoiled noble brat - exactly the sort of person I want to destroy. That's why I joined the Blades. He's weak - he'll break before I will.

Martek seemed to be turning her last statement over in his mind. Finally he smiled. "Who's going to send me off to the next life, dear Min? Your big, bad bodyguard? Hazor? Rone, perhaps? Have you talked to Rone lately?"

She fought down a shudder of disgust at the thought of Rone's fate as Irik's undead guardian. "Not lately."

"What's the last you heard from old Rone, eh?"

"I heard you cut him down in the street. We thought it was Diero."

"No, that was me. Diero hadn't regained use of his arm yet. Rone was very cocky. He even had a friend with him. But they both lacked heartbeats by the time I was done with them."

"That's what I heard," she said.

"Perhaps you think Irik will do a better job?"

She couldn't help but smile grimly. "You think you can take down Irik? Now who's being cocky?"

Diero came back in. "No pliers...I found some kitchen tongs, will they do?"

Martek looked at them critically. "Eh...I'll find a use for them."

He moved down out of her field of vision again, and she was shocked when he sheared the little toe off her good foot. The pain was sudden and sharp, like someone jamming a needle into the fresh stump, and she screamed and twisted her head to the side. "My foot! You son of a bitch!" she gasped, slipping unconsciously between Elven and Chondathan.

[Medesha]

I won't break, she thought again, but this time there was uncertainty in the thought. Vengeance. "You know, Martek," she gasped through gritted teeth, "you forgot the part where you promise me my life and freedom if I talk. That's rather important."

But he was done with game playing and double-talk. "I assumed I could skip the formalities with a professional like yourself," he said, and then he was forcing the tongs into her mouth, coppery blood dripping onto her tongue, and she realized he was trying to feed her her severed digit. Even Min had limits, and this made her twist and shriek as Martek coaxed her with baby talk. Despite her bravado, torture was not something she dealt with on a regular basis.

"Minny's being a bad girl," Martek said, and she flinched at the appellation. "Diero, hold her head."

There was nothing she could do when Diero's long fingers clamped down on either side of her head. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, but one she particularly loathed - the utter helplessness of a woman at the hands of strong men. The humiliation of being too weak to fight back. Martek jammed the tongs into her mouth until she was forced to swallow, gagging. The taste of bile and blood and sweet itar mixed in her throat, making her choke.

Martek's face was blank, hard as stone. "Are we done playing games, Min? I really hope we're not."

She kept coughing, trying to wrench her head out of Diero's hands. Martek's eyes were cold on hers but she could see a guarded astonishment as well, a revulsion. He was learning, and even through her hatred she wanted to sympathize. "That's how it gets in, Martek. You get what you think you need but the monster takes the price in space. A little more monster in your soul for everything you want."

But all she said was, "You'll just kill me anyway."

There was the briefest of moments when she thought he'd give in. He'd done something he probably thought he could never do and she hadn't bent. His shoulders sagged the tiniest bit. Then he straightened, and his eyes were like walls. Min felt her heart pound hard in her chest. Vengeance is a bitch, isn't it, Martek? It keeps you going, and at the same time it destroys you.

"Don't fear death, little Min," Martek said calmly. "Fear me. Diero, I want you to find the drunkest, smelliest, dirtiest vagabond that you can pull out of a puddle of his own urine and help him fulfill his fantasy of making love to a beautiful half-elf."

"I suppose I'm too sober and clean to qualify?"

Martek shrugged. "I can't smell you from here, and you don't seem noticeably diseased."

"Alright, I'll be right back."

She twisted her hands uselessly in the ropes. "Hardly original, Martek," she said, clinging to her boldness, the only weapon she had left.

"Are you excited, Min?" he asked, eyes darkening. "Are you writhing with anticipation of the pleasures that await you on Diero's return?"

She wanted to scream, to claw his eyes out. She wanted to challenge him, spit at him, deride his masculinity. Why don't you do it yourself Martek, you brave, wounded, indignant man? Why don't you fuck me yourself if you think that'll get you your vengeance?

But she knew the answer to that already, and so did he: because she'd be able to stand that, and he wouldn't.

"Bastard," she said sullenly, capitulating. "You haven't even asked me any questions."

"Tell me everything you know about Irik."

And she did, listing all she knew about the man, betraying the organization that had allowed her to murder the kind of scum that ruled Sembia; the big, untouchable men in their money houses who used and discarded the lower class with casual ruthlessness.

She tried to lie, once, and he broke her pinky finger. She corrected herself.

Finally he said, "Who killed my family?"

She hesitated, wanting to keep this from him, wanting to thwart his vengeance as punishment. "Torman did - my bodyguard. Sorry you didn't have time to savor your victory over him."

He broke her other pinky.

"Dammit, Martek!" she cried. "Don't you ever give up? You're never going to win!"

He broke her ring finger.

Her arm jerked helplessly. "The Krait. The best assassin in the city. The Blade makes use of him now and then."

He backed away from her and she lost sight of him, but she caught the briefest flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He had a name - a dangerous name, but a name.

Diero poked his head through the door. "You still need that drunk in here?"

She could hear Martek's voice. "Tell him to wait a second. Give him some booze or something."

She jerked at the ropes again; she couldn't help it. "I told you what I know!"

Martek walked back over, standing right by her head, and looked down at her. She stared back up at him, blue eyes sparking with fear and hatred.

"I'm giving you a choice," he said, "live or die. Pick."

And beneath it all, in her eyes, compassion. Understanding. "I was once there, Martek, at that very spot you are now. And you are bringing me back there. I hate you, hate you for reminding me of myself, hate you because of your strength. And you should kill me right now, because the monster is whispering in my ear again. And that comfortable old vengeance is curling up where my heart used to be. If you had any sense at all you'd kill me."

Instead, she just said: "Live."

His fist came down on her head and the world went black again.

[Medesha]

ETERNITY

The most torturous part is that the words are there. She can feel them in the back of her throat, tickling it like a cough. She wants to release them, to let the power help her, and instinctively she moves her fingers, the key that unlocks the words.

Pain rips through her hand and she tries to scream. It feels like shards of glass digging into her joints, sending pulses of agony up her arms with each twitch of a finger. Her spine bows, her head snaps back, and she tries to scream again. Her mouth is full of blood, and it feels hollow. Empty. The words reach the stump of her tongue and stall.

She cannot seem to see anything, and wonders if Martek took her eyes along with her fingers and her tongue. But no - she is certain her eyes are open, just that there is nothing but blackness before them. She cannot see the rough walls of the alley she knows are there or the piles of trash she lies against, the stench of the garbage overpowered by the stench of the man forcing himself on her.

She tries to kick but has no momentum, and her bloody feet do no damage to the beggar. She can feel his rough clothes scraping against her skin, the weight of his body pressing down on hers, something sharp digging into the small of her back. Something soft pressing against her eyebrows and cheekbones and she realizes that she cannot see because he is covering her eyes.

His other arm is pushing down across her shoulders, pinning her. He's forced her legs apart too wide, the sockets of her hips aching. She tries to squirm away from the sharp, relentless, ripping pain of penetration, of violation. Instinctively, again, she calls the power and it dams in her throat, it forces her splintered fingers to move and she weeps not with the pain but with frustration.

The words are right there.

She twists her head to the side and gets a mouthful of dirty shirt. The smell of sour ale is overpowering and it makes her retch. Not with its foulness, but with memories. Barin was always drunk or getting drunk and the smell of ale turns her stomach.

And because all things happen at once now, it is not the foul wretch in the alley she lies with but her old master. She remembers leaving the tavern she grew up in, the owner explaining that while an exotic, beautiful elf-woman made a fine waitress, her half-breed, half-grown daughter did not. Barin's bar was the third place she tried and the potbellied man with the braided beard had smiled his gold-toothed smile at her and said of course he could find her a place to work. And he slid his meaty hand onto her thigh, and while young Min didn't know as much as she thought, she knew enough to understand.

She'd left, indignant, vowing never to return, but days later she was sleeping in the gutters and her stomach felt like it had grown fangs and was gnawing on her own innards for sustenance. The suspicious eyes of the Sembians held no compassion for the child - she was foreign - she was inhuman - and the heads of businessmen hold too many numbers to have room for pity.

She went to Barin because she had nowhere else to go and he had smiled knowingly at seeing the skinny, humbled figure in his doorway. He'd given her food and showed her to a bathing room, and when she was rinsing off her long hair he'd come for her. She'd cowered in the tub, covering herself with shame, and begged his gentleness.

She remembers his eyes widening. "You've honestly never been with a man?" he'd demanded and she'd nodded hopefully, daring to think he might have mercy.

"Dry off and get dressed," he'd said, but her flush of elation was only momentary. He leered at her and continued, "I'll take my pleasure after I've made my coin off you. There's a man who pays well for virgins."

Barin had to call his men for help taking her to her buyer because she fought so hard. They gagged her to muffle her screams of outrage. There was a difference between selling yourself and being sold. Finally they threw her to the floor and Barin kicked her in the ribs until she lay still, clutching her sides and moaning through the gag. They dragged her to a man she remembers little about, save that he appreciated her beauty and her innocence and had no desire to show her either gentleness or mercy.

[Medesha]

But for all the pain and blood and shame of that day, it was still only one day. Her nights with Barin were long and many and it is those she lives through now, and forever. The beggar in the alley becomes the fleshy, grunting man who stank of ale and liked to pull hard on her hair and leave bruises on her skin. And in this awful place the two times blend together and while Barin forces her down she tries to fight. And her body forgets it cannot do what its always done, she tries to call the power and her fingers spasm, the splinters of bone shredding her flesh, her mutilated tongue choking out garbled, meaningless syllables. It's an exquisite torture, something she's never experienced before. It's like needing to vomit but having nothing in your stomach, the worst case of helpless dry heaves ever. It's like thrashing on the edge of release but being unable to fall.

Time bends for Min, doubles back on itself, and stretches. In this place everything goes on forever, and yet happens in order. She remembers each torture as if it had already happened - and yet it still happens - and there is more to come, which is happening in this moment as well. It's as if her mind cannot process the enormity of all that is happening to her all at once and so her perspective bounces from one experience to the next.

The bum becomes Barin, who becomes the bum again, who drags her through the alleys by her hair, rocks and detritus bruising her back, until he gets to a circle of eager men and then rapes her again and becomes all the men who have hurt her and used her through her life.

Perhaps the controller of this place has some plan, some reason for making her experience first one thing, then another. Or perhaps her mind simply cannot comprehend infinity and chooses to experience the torment in segments in the most painful way possible. The rape is awful but it is something she has lived through - in reality, it was never this bad. Everything is exaggerated here. She is almost getting used to the pain when it goes away.

There are strong arms around her, smooth sheets covering a soft bed below. She flexes her fingers, reveling in their wholeness, and sighs, letting her breath slip out over her tongue. The man's skin is warm, it smells clean, her body relaxes.

"Min," he whispers, and she starts.

"Martek?"

He pulls back, and his dark gaze meets her own. This has never happened. It is not a memory. She tries to get away, panicking. She's not sure where this fear comes from. Her limbs feel sluggish, she has trouble pushing the covers away.

Martek nuzzles her hair. "Wilhelmina. Stay."

She gasps at the sound of her name. It's not the first time she's felt desire, or pleasure at a man's touch; not all her experiences were terrible. But she doesn't know what this gentleness inside her is, or why it scares her so badly, and she trembles. "What's going on?" she demands.

"It's alright," Martek whispers, "you want this."

"No!"

"I understand," he soothes, touching her in a way that makes her moan with shame and pleasure. "I know what it's like to hate that much. I know what it's like to want vengeance and how it feels when you get it. I understand. You can tell me anything you want, everything you've done, and I won't despise you for it." He strokes her hair. "You're a good girl, Min."

"Don't!" she screams, trying to pull back, but she can't. She can't escape this bed or his arms or his terrible understanding. She tries to deny the things she says but the words stick in her throat.

"You don't want to be alone anymore," he smiles, "You want someone who knows how you feel. I know how you feel."

She weeps, knowing he can see right through to her soul, knowing she cannot deny that her vengeance tires her. Knowing that he's right; that she wanted him to understand, that she hungered for another soul that knew what she went through. Her weakness terrifies and shames her, that she might want a man to love her.

"Martek," she whimpers.

He nuzzles her ear. "But I'm not real," he whispers back. "I'm just a figment of your imagination. You want me so badly that I'm here but you never really touched me. I never looked at you with anything but loathing. You never found someone who understood by the time I killed you."

She cries out a denial but she can't move, can't escape his pity or his cruelty. He holds her and mocks her and she lies there and listens to his brutal truths, reliving her thwarted desires and failures forever.

[Medesha]

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

She would have bled to death in minutes but the boy crept back after the men had left. Min lay on her back, blue eyes open and dazed, staring at the black canopy of sky above her. The dying fire the beggars had built in the alley sent dancing golden shadows over her skin and she was exquisite in her beauty if no close attention was paid to her hands or her throat.

The bum's knife had been dull and he hadn't cut deep enough to kill her instantly. But blood still ran from the slit in her neck, dribbling onto the ground and spreading in a slow pool around her head. She didn't look as the boy crept forward, his eyes big. He slowed, seemingly uncertain, as if he were trying to decide if she was dead or not. Certainly she lay very still but the faintest rise and fall of her breast showed she still lived.

The boy unbuttoned his shirt. Min could no longer feel any physical sensations, as if in ironic defiance her body had shut itself off. Pity it didn't do that earlier, she thought dreamily. Her eyelids felt heavy and she had to fight to stay awake. Could have saved me a lot of trouble.

She became aware of the boy removing his shirt and wondered if he'd come back for another go at her. I hope he does. I'm kind of cold. Some part of her mind knew that she was in shock, that she was dying, but she couldn't seem to muster up the energy to be frightened.

The boy walked up to her and knelt down by her head. She watched him calmly. He reached out and gently lay his shirt across her slashed throat, pressing the fabric down firmly into the wound.

Min's whole body jerked as if she'd been hit by lightning. Her hand slapped down on the boy's like a striking snake. Martek. Martek did this to me.

Her eyes were terrible, the angry blue of a stormy ocean. The boy cried out in fear and tried to pull his arm away. Fury made Min's grip like iron but she lacked the strength to maintain it. A moment later her arm relaxed and the boy wrenched his arm back, stumbled to his feet, and ran off.

Min pushed the shirt hard against her neck and gagged at the sensation. The fabric was already damp against her hand. She forced herself to sit up. She was oddly reluctant to move, especially her fingers. Though she still felt no pain, her mind was registering the fact that she was injured and that moving was making it worse.

If I stay here I'll die. With exaggerated motions she lifted her other hand and pressed it next to the first, then slid both hands around to the back of her neck. She lifted one end of the shirt, crossed it over the other, slid the free end under the loop with painstaking care and slowly, deliberately pulled tight until she felt she could barely breathe.

It took some time for her to get on her feet. Crawling was more painful than walking; walking made her step on her sliced foot and stagger off-balance thanks to her missing toe but crawling meant using her hands and that was far, far worse. Sensation was returning and she made little yelps of pain all the way down the alley.

By the time she reached the mouth of the alley she was sure she was dead. She was dizzy, sick to her stomach with her numerous, brutal injuries, and she felt she might faint at any moment.

Just get home. She looked down the street and tried to figure out where she was. She knew the Dark Quarter well and it took only a moment to place herself. Ursula is closer.

She hobbled back into the alley, hand pressed to the shirt around her neck, desperately hoping the twisted fabric would keep her from bleeding to death by the time she got help. She had a dozen blocks to go and she despaired of making it in her condition.

But she did. She kept to the shadows. She rested when she got too dizzy - just for a moment. She picked her steps carefully. Black spots were dancing before her eyes and she was numb from the cold by the time she stumbled up to the clapboard house with the peeling paint. She banged on the door with the heel of her hand before collapsing. Be home.

A very long time seemed to pass while Min lay in a heap on the doorstep and contemplated her imminent demise. She heard the door open as if it were very far away, or in a dream. A voice said, "Min?"

She tried to say something but nothing would come out of her ruined mouth and slashed throat but a raspy, animalistic noise. Strong hands gripped her and lifted her up and she dimly heard, "Lovvy's whip, girl, what happened to you?" Then she passed out.

[Medesha]

Min wasn't used to fainting and she didn't know how long she'd been out when she awoke. She was in a bed, her wounds cleaned and dressed, but dirt still marred her skin and blood matted her hair. She blinked her eyes open and sat up, looking around. She was alone. She reached for the pile of clothes with difficulty. Her fingers had been splinted and she grimaced as she tried to dress.

She was half-dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when the door opened and a half-orc walked in. She had greyish skin with darker blue-grey patches mottling one side of her face. Her eyes were black, set deep in her face, and her hair was thick and dark, reaching in loose waves almost down to her waist. She was just over six feet tall and heavily muscled.

"Need a hand?" Ursula asked, and Min made a snarling face. "Don't snap at me, I'm just trying to help," Ursula said mildly, and Min stood up and turned around. She felt Ursula button up the back of the voluminous cotton dress and tie the sash around her waist. Min felt slightly ridiculous, but grateful to be dressed.

"Turn around," Ursula ordered, and Min complied. "Damn it, Min, I told you not to take that incompetent human with you for protection. Next time I come with you. Open your mouth, let me look at you."

Min heard the words but they barely registered in her fevered brain. Overlapping everything that was happening was a litany that kept running through her mind: Martek. Martek did this to me. She opened her mouth and though the half-orc kept her face blank, Min saw the barest wince, the look of pity in her eyes. "That's nasty. I was out while you were sleeping, I got something to help you. It'll take me a while to fix that, though. Come into the kitchen."

They walked down the hallway together, Min limping slightly, and Ursula sat her down at the kitchen table. A few scrolls lay curled on the table and Ursula picked one up. "I'll have you whole in no time."

Min shook her head angrily and splayed her fingers. Ursula frowned. "Yeah, it'll fix your hands. Your tongue will have to wait, though."

Min shook her head again and tried to gesture, but it was too hard with the splints. She made an impatient writing motion and Ursula shrugged and went to get a quill.

Writing was almost impossible, so Min just gripped the quill in her fist and traced large, shaking letters. "S E T."

Ursula frowned. "A set of what?"

Min snarled again and wiggled her fingers.

"Girl, the magic will take care of that. It'll heal them."

Min slammed her palm onto the word set again and began tearing the splints off with her teeth.

"Alright, alright! Here, let me do that."

Ursula peeled the wooden splints off, revealing the mangled remains of Min's fingers. She sighed and started with the pinky on her left hand. The first one Martek broke. Oh Martek, Martek, you should have killed me.

The fingers had been splinted to keep them from breaking more badly but Ursula hadn't taken the time to set them properly. Now she did, aligning the pieces of bone that remained. Min was white to the lips, sitting rigidly as the half-orc deftly manipulated the bits of bone into alignment, one finger after another. By the time she reached her right hand Min was sweating and shaking, biting her lip so hard blood trickled down to her chin. Ursula worked in silence.

Finally it was done. "Now can I read the scroll?"

Min nodded, slumping back in her chair. Ursula picked up the scroll and read a string of meaningless words in a lilting cadence. She laid a hand on Min's arm and the half-elf felt a soothing warmth rush through her limbs, closing the abrasions on her skin, knitting the bones in her hands, relieving the bruising ache in her sex. Her bitten lip clotted.

Ursula read a second scroll, to make sure she was fully healed, and Min smiled softly to herself as she stretched out her fingers. She picked up the quill and neatly wrote, "Thank you."

"The magic would have fixed them, you know."

"No chances," Min wrote. "I need them."

Ursula shrugged. "Who did this to you, Min?"

Martek. Min paused over her writing, knuckles whitening. There was a buzzing in her brain she couldn't push aside. It made it hard to focus, hard to think of anything but putting her hands around Martek's neck and squeezing. She wrote, "Someone I'm going to kill."

"You gonna need help?"

"I need my tongue."

Ursula frowned and moved over to the stove. She lit a burner and put the kettle on it. "It'll take at least till tomorrow. And there's no guarantee. I've got the money, but a healing scroll is one thing. Regeneration is a whole different story. There's every reason in the world to think it'll just burn up in my hand, and I don't know a priest powerful enough in the city to heal you." She reflected. "I mean, one who would."

Min tapped the quill thoughtfully against her chin, then wrote, "I have faith in you."

Ursula walked over to read and snorted. "That's very touching, but your faith didn't seem to do much good tonight. The Mistress of Misfortune sure had it in for you."

"On the contrary," Min wrote, "He didn't kill me. That's good luck."

"Who didn't kill you?"

Min stared into space. The buzzing in her brain grew louder and she snapped the quill between her fingers.

Martek.

[Medesha]

TWO DAYS AFTER

There was a sparkle in Min's eye and a bounce in her gait as she stepped daintily over a pile of smashed bottles in the alley. Her foolishly heeled shoes clicked smartly on the cobblestones, the slender curve of her stockinged calves visible below the hem of her dress. Her hair was washed, combed, curled, and pulled back in an elegant cascade. She was humming softly to herself.

The moon shone brightly above, illuminating the dark alley. Up ahead was the flickering of firelight. Min strode purposefully towards the light, a warmth in her belly, a tightness in her throat. She touched her neck gently with one hand. Despite Ursula's healing, there was a faint, white line across her throat now that she suspected she'd always bear.

Three alleys met here in a strange, lopsided little plaza away from the main roads. It was only about ten feet across, roughly circular, and ringed with piles of trash that had been pushed away from the center, where a fire had been built. Four men and a boy sat or crouched around the fire, chatting in friendly tones. One drank deeply from a dirty bottle; another was gesturing and laughing as he told a story.

They fell dead silent as Min stepped into the glow of their fire. She was lovely as a picture from a book, pink-cheeked, her stylish dress showing off her curvy figure. She smiled a slow, broad smile.

"Hello, boys."

Logically, Min knew it probably wasn't the same group. Between the pain of her injuries, the frustration of trying to summon her magic, and the general darkness and disorientation of that night, she hadn't gotten a good look at her attackers. But she remembered the first man; he'd been forced to uncover her eyes when he'd dragged her back to his friends. She'd focused on him particularly, committing his face to memory. If these were friends of his they deserved to die.

And of course she remembered the boy.

There was a long moment of stunned silence while the men stared at her with wide eyes. The drinker froze with the bottle in his mouth and his brow furrowed as if trying to place her. The one she remembered, her initial rapist, was crouched facing her, blinking stupidly. He tried to stand up, opening his mouth to say something.

Min trilled out a syllable, stretching one hand forward, and the power churned in her belly and rushed up her throat and flowed out like a song. She felt a surge of incredible satisfaction as the man stiffened and fell over, still frozen in a crouch, unable to do more than blink.

As if on cue the other three men jumped to their feet, shouting. The drinker smashed his bottle on the ground and brandished the jagged edge towards her. The other two drew knives and, after an uncertain glance at each other, charged towards her.

She took a step back as they neared. She whispered another string of syllables, rolling the words around in her mouth, and launched a string of magical bolts towards the man on the right. They struck him squarely in the chest and he fell dead at her feet. These were not fighters, just street trash.

The boy was still sitting on the ground, staring at her in frightened fascination. The man with the broken bottle came towards her slowly, slashing at her. "Crazy bitch!" he shouted as she stood there unmoving, eyes twinkling. He lashed at her face.

The bottle bounced off the shield of invisible force before her and the bum gaped in shock. His friend stabbed at her and fared no better.

Min sent another barrage of magic bolts into the bottle-wielder, knocking him flat on his back. He gasped and lay still, the wind knocked out of him. His friend looked at the two bodies on the ground, back at Min, dropped his knife and started running.

The dim light of the alley was as good as full sunlight to the half-elf. Instead of magic bolts she sent a glowing green arrow after the man, the words hissing this time, burning in her mouth. It struck the bum in the back and he screamed, dropped to the ground, and reached over his shoulders, fingers scrabbling at his back, trying to gouge the acid out. He flopped like a fish for a few seconds before expiring.

Min slid a hand up her skirt with a coy blink of her lashes at the half-dead man at her feet, who was weakly trying to crawl away. She drew her dagger out of her garter sheath and walked over to the him. She leaned down and cut his throat with one quick, fluid motion.

It had taken less than half a minute. She walked slowly over to the paralyzed man, hips swaying gracefully as her heels clicked on the ground. She knelt down beside him and spoke the same words again, renewing the magic that kept him helpless. Helpless like I was.

The boy was still sitting nearby, watching her. She turned her head and looked at him through her lashes. "What is your name, boy?" she asked in her low, sweet voice.

The boy swallowed twice before whispering, "Daniel."

"Would you like to help me kill him, Daniel?"

She was pleased when he nodded. He helped her tie the bum up and held the man's head while Min cut out his tongue. It took a long time for him to die, and at the end of it Min was bloody to the elbows and Daniel was looking at her with frightened adoration in his eyes. She stood up and beckoned for him to follow, and he did.

[Medesha]

ETERNITY

She experiences it like it is happening again. She walks down the dirty street only a few blocks from Barin's. He lets her go out when she wants because he knows she'll come back. He knows she has nowhere else to go - and, perhaps, he knows he's not asking of her anything she's not willing to sacrifice.

"Milady," a voice whispers from the left. Min turns her head, searching the dusky shadows piled at the alley mouth. "Spare a few coins?"

The girl is thin, young, bare arms and bony elbows, a drawn face and choppy brown hair. Her eyes are pleading. "A single copper, lady?"

Min passes beggars every day without a second glance but something about this girl's youth, her desperate politeness, catches at her. She stops, digs a few small coins from her pocket, and slows to toss them to the girl.

With the speed and grace of a cat the girl is on her feet and lunging for Min. The quickness of the attack shocks Min and she stands stupidly while the other girl grabs her arm and yanks her into the alley. By the time she thinks to go for her dagger, her attacker already has a knife out.

"Let's have all your money then, lady," the girl hisses, and slams Min into the wall. For all her youth, she's strong. Min herself is barely older than her ambitious attacker and has much less strength. She struggles anyway, trying to reach the dagger hidden in a pocket, but the feral girl she fights knees her in the stomach and holds the knife menacingly to Min's face. "No heroics, milady, just your coin."

Fear churns in her stomach and flushes her skin, anger stirs in her chest and makes her pulse hammer in her throat. She's felt this before, but never this strongly, never with an intensity that makes her shake, makes her blood pound in her temples. And then a feeling wells up like never before, a fullness that must be released, and she throws her head back and words pour out exhilaratingly for the first time.

It is instinctive, automatic, nothing more than a reaction. The magic pounds into the girl's body, weak this first time but enough to knock her back. The girl yells in pain and stares at Min. They look equally shocked.

And before the girl can stab her, or run, Min suddenly knows that she can do that again. And she does, lifting a hand and letting loose another magic bolt that slams into her attacker and drops her. Min stands still, looking at the unmoving body of the girl, the knife lying where it fell from her hand.

"I killed her," she whispers. She has never killed another person before. The girl is still and silent, eyes open, a look of surprise frozen on her face. "She was attacking me, I had to defend myself..."

And as she speaks the milieu shifts again and she enters the strange, slippery time where everything happens at once and singly. With Rush's offer of employment standing, she realizes Barin is no use to her anymore, and she cuts his throat that night after he falls asleep. "He never would have let me leave," she whispers in the darkness as his blood pools beside her.

She leans over her father's form, sleeping in the dark bed, and feels the dark joy again as she rips the dagger through his chest. "He deserved it," she snarls, "he killed my mother."

And then his wife dies and as Min feels the body jerk beneath her, she mutters, "She would have woken the whole household, I had to do it."

One of the men discovers she's been stealing from Rush. She hoarded the coins to pay for her eventual flight from Selegaunt. He demands her favors in exchange for his silence; she agrees. He makes sure she's not armed but he forgets the scarf tying her hair back. When he's got her against the wall, her legs around his waist, she slips the scarf around his neck and strangles him. "He was going to rat on me, I had to stop him."

Ezari spent too much time and money on his woman. Min poisons the doxy’s drink and stays to make sure the girl dies, thrashing on the ground, skin turning a mottled grey. "You were distracting him," she tells the corpse. "It was for the good of the organization."

"Wilhelmina."

One of the Saerloon watchmen is asking too many questions for his own good. Min catches his eye in a bar, he buys her a drink, she lets him take her home and then stabs him in his sleep. "Preemptive measures," she says. "I'm just protecting my own interests."

"Wilhelmina."

The tide of memories slows - or keeps going on, at the same time this is happening - and Min turns away from another corpse to face the only person who has ever called her by her real name.

"Mother." She flinches at the sight of those eyes, so like her own, watching her unhappily. She doesn't want this but the rules of this place don't allow her a choice.

"Why are you doing this?"

Min begins to recite a litany of justifications. "She was attacking me; he was threatening me; he deserved it..."

Her mother shakes her head sadly. "No, dear. Why are you telling me this? Who are you excusing yourself to?"

The half-elf blinks, taken aback. "You," she whispers, "or Martek, I don't know." He obediently manifests beside her mother. "I'm sorry...forgive me..."

"Forgive you for what?" Martek asks.

Min looks down at her bloody hands. "For the killing. So much killing."

Her mother looks at her with compassion and gently says. "But you're not sorry."

"Yes I am! I-"

"You didn't care about them then, and you don't now. You don't need a reason to kill. You do so at a whim, because you like it, because you think you have to, but it's never bothered you. Even that first girl in the alley. You slept fine that night, and every night since."

Min's skin crawls with the revulsion that her mother's words are making her feel. "I did care. I couldn't kill that much and not feel it. Otherwise I'd be - I'd be a -"

"Monster," Martek supplies. "Now you're getting it."

The parade of murder continues, now and forever, and Min weeps in horror at the fact that she does not care.

[Medesha]

ONE WEEK EARLIER

Nothing had ever seemed to go right for Min. Her life was a series of unfortunate events, from her mother's death to her ambush by Martek. But through it all she'd persevered, and she took the rather optimistic view that her trials made her stronger. And while she'd willingly pledged her life and service to Gifre, demon-lord and founder of the Broken Blades, she still paid occasional homage to Beshaba, thanking the Mistress of Misfortune for sparing her the unbearable trials and leaving her with the ones she could manage. And, on occasion, throwing an undeserved piece of incredible good fortune her way.

She was standing in the middle of the road, mouth open, shaking at such good fortune. She'd come to watch the wizardess; Daniel had found out for her that Martek counted the woman among his friends. Her and the blonde serving wench from the Northern Road. Min's goal for the day had been to judge the wizardess' proficiency, perhaps kill her if she thought she could.

And here was Martek, walking out of the tent like he hadn't a care in the world. The sight of him hit her like a slap in the face. She hadn't seen him since that night and she felt the world spin around her crazily. For a moment she thought she might faint. Get to cover! Don't let him see you! But she couldn't seem to move, gaping like an idiot at him as he straightened his cloak.

And then, against all odds, against everything that should have happened, he turned away without looking up and seeing her standing there, and strode blithely away.

Min gasped and motion returned to her limbs. That buzzing in her brain that had never completely gone away since the day she'd been broken intensified, drowning out all thoughts but killing Martek. But first...hurting him.

Beshaba had thrown this opportunity in her face. There was no time to go for Daniel, or Ursula, or even the Blades. She hadn't contacted the Blades since that day, consumed with plotting her revenge. She hurried down the street and took a chance that he was going to see his girlfriend at the tavern. She mentally plotted his path, ducked down an alley, and ran like the wind, hoping against hope she'd get ahead of him. Today is my day for luck. I'll get him.

She found an empty stretch of street close to her hideout and cast a spell almost without meaning to. The familiar, tingling cloak of invisibility settled around her. She drew out her dagger hurriedly and slopped some poison on it.

The waiting was almost unbearable. Her head ached and she wished she could lie down. It seemed so quiet in this area, few people venturing out in this halfway area between the Merchant Quarter and Old Dathma.

And then - footsteps. Her heart jumped, then dropped into her stomach. It was Martek, striding along, eyes on the ground. He looked up just as he passed, gaze sliding over her concealed form, and he frowned.

Immediately the words came boiling out with all the fury of a woman behind them and Martek froze stiff as a statue. Min smiled coldly, sweetly, and stepped out of the alley. She knew she was visible now and while she wanted to make this last, she had to work fast.

She came up behind him so he couldn't turn and see her. "Hello again, Martek," she whispered in his ear. "Nice day for a walk, isn't it?"

She jabbed him in the neck and came around to look at his face. Blood trickled down his throat but his eyes remained alert and there was no sign of dilation. She dribbled a little more poison on the dagger and pricked him again, hands shaking. She could hear footsteps. This had to work.

His pupils grew wide and his lids drooped shut. Min almost screamed, crowing her elation for the world to hear. He was hers.

He was heavy but she dragged him to the alley without too much trouble. The spell ended in seconds and he collapsed, limp and pliant, on the ground. Min crouched in the shadows with him, waiting for the people to pass by, and then looped her arms under his and began dragging him down the alley. She'd been staying in little more than a hole in the ground, afraid to return to her house in case Martek knew its location. It took almost half an hour to drag him there with the occasional redosing of paralysis poison, and several times she was forced to dump him in a pile of trash and crouch nearby, waiting for street trash or honest citizens to move on and leave her to her task. She wanted to hurry but forced herself to move slowly, cautiously. She dared not risk ruining her incredible good fortune.

Finally she was there and she pulled him down the flight of mossy stone steps and into the rubble-strewn hallway. In the one room was a table - she'd made sure of that - and she pulled his body into the room and heaved him up onto the table with a great effort. She rested her head on his chest for a few minutes afterwards, struggling to catch her breath. His skin was cool and it made her head feel better when she pressed her brow against his neck. She straightened, pushed back his eyelids and looked at his eyes, and began to undress him.

She had to work to get him out of his armor. It was very awkward. But it came off eventually, followed by his boots. His breathing was deep and even and Min liked the idea that he she could do anything to him right now and he'd never know. He looked so helpless, lying there in only shirt and breeches, and she amused herself by thinking of all the ways she could hurt him. She removed his shirt and hesitated at his trousers. "No," she finally whispered, "I'll do that later. When he knows what I'm doing." She smiled to herself as she began tying his limbs to the table. "Maybe I won't make it all hurt, Martek," she told his unconscious form as she worked. "Men's bodies are so easy to manipulate. You might be able to forgive yourself for breaking but I doubt you could forgive yourself for feeling pleasure at my touch."

He didn't respond, of course, and as Min looked at his bound form she felt a wash of tiredness sweep over her. She threw his gear into a box and slid it under the table, then left him for a moment. In the other room she washed her face in a bucket of cool water. She unpinned her hair, combed it till it shone, and pinned it back up. Her dress felt too hot; she changed it for a lighter one. Her favorite one, blue silk, just the shade of her eyes. She slipped her shoes back on and went to check on her captive.

He was still asleep but his eyes showed he was waking. Min climbed onto the table and straddled his chest, looking down into his face. She leaned forward and whispered, "Marrrtek. Wakey wakey."

[Medesha]

He blinked and looked around the room as best he could. "Yuck. That stuff is really foul, isn't it?" He focused on her. "Min. Is it your turn already?"

"Martek," she said again. She liked the sound of his given name, liked the intimacy of using it. "I'm so glad you're awake."

"Well, I'm glad one of us is."

She touched his face gently, tracing the curve of his jaw. "It's been far, far too long. Don't you think?"

"I'm a little surprised, actually," he said. His tone was light, even casual. "I figured since you'd gone through all the trouble of having me followed that you'd try to kill one of my associates before capturing me. I mean, that's how it worked before."

"Oh, no, no," she whispered, swelling with pride at the beauty of her plan. "That would take all the fun out of it. I'm going to let you lie here, helpless, and know that I'm off killing your little girlfriend."

She saw the brief flash of pain in his eyes as he absorbed that and felt a surge of triumph. She'd scored already. She'd known he would find the inability to protect his loved ones most painful. "Oh," Martek said quietly. "Well, that's pretty good, actually."

"Thank you," she purred. "I thought about it a long time." She slid off his chest and walked slowly around the table, enjoying the way he tensed every time she left his field of vision.

"So," Martek asked, "how'd you get your tongue back?"

She flinched before she could help it. Trust him to jab at such a painful memory. "I went - to a priest I knew," she lied, "Eventually. He was able to heal me."

"Quite a powerful friend. You should've gotten a job working for him instead of Irik."

Min didn't feel like talking about Irik. Now that he was here, she wanted to talk about Martek. She lowered her eyelashes coyly. "Why don't you say you understand, Martek? That you know why I'm doing this, that it's fair?"

He made an approximation of a shrug. "Well, they say turnabout is fair play. You already know that I'm quite familiar with the concept of vengeance."

"Exactly," she said with triumph. "I thought that was particularly appropriate. I knew you would understand that part." She moved closer and leaned down until her lips were almost touching his ear, and her hair fell in his face. "Only you don't understand. It's not the same thing. You see, I understand you Martek."

"I must confess, I really don't know much about you. I'm utterly fascinated to know what your understanding of me is."

She drew back a bit. "I know you tell yourself, tell everyone, that you're doing this for vengeance. Because it's the right thing - it's just. But that's not why you do it at all, is it?"

"I guess you'll have to enlighten me, then. I'm doing a fairly good job of convincing myself it's the vengeance thing."

Min looked him in the eye. "Nothing so simple as that. I've made a career out of knowing men, Martek."

"I'd make a snide comment but that one was too easy."

"Yes, we were working our way through the Council," she continued, ignoring him. "We would have gotten to them eventually. But if you hadn't slummed so frequently with that wretch Diero, if you hadn't earned Hazor's emnity, we wouldn't have gotten to your family so fast. We wouldn't have had an incentive to kill them without exhausting all other options first. And even if we had, it would have been a different place, a different time. You might have been there. You're good with a blade, you could have made it come out differently."

She took a deep breath. "You do this out of guilt."

He met her gaze steadily. "I'd rather convinced myself that it wasn't my fault when I learned that you were working your way through the Council. I thought for sure that the opinion of a thug like Hazor wouldn't be enough to cause what you did."

"But can you be sure?" Min pressed. "Can you meet your end with no burden of guilt in your mind?"

"I fought one of the Krait's men at Emblys' party. He nearly won, despite the fact that I was prepared for him. I wouldn't have made a difference if I'd been there. I do feel guilt. Guilt that I wasn't a better son. Guilt that it took their deaths to make me appreciate them. But I couldn't have prevented what happened."

Min drew back, eyes downcast. She was disappointed, upset that she couldn't hurt him this way. But underneath it she was pleased. So, Martek, you do understand me after all.

Martek said, "But at least we can all agree that me being here is strictly a matter of payback, yes?"

"Oh yes," Min said. She sat down on the edge of the table, feet dangling, and began trailing her fingers down his chest. "When I come back, I'm going to make you hurt as much as possible before I kill you. It galls me that I can't make you hurt like I did." She paused briefly. But I'll try my best. "What do you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? Do you tell yourself that I was unconscious through it all, or that I died quickly?"

"I tell myself that you're one of the people who killed my family and I didn't know what else to do."

She leaned over him. "Do you want to hear what they did to me, Martek? So you can decide if you did the right thing after all?"

"Well, to be honest, the fact that I'm here has pretty much convinced me that I should've killed you when I was done with you."

"Oh yes, yes you should have," she agreed. "I'm not sure why you let me live. Some belated sense of chivalry perhaps?" Her hand stilled as the memories came back unbidden. "I don't know if you can imagine, Martek, what it's like to be completely helpless. Not like you are now. But to have every weapon you could ever use stripped away from you." She trembled for a moment. "You could have left me my hands."

"Well, then you could have written something...without as much difficulty, as it were. I let you live because I told you I'd let you live."

His flippancy infuriated her now. "Don't play games," she snapped. "You took my hands and my tongue so I couldn't cast. So I couldn't defend myself at all. You left me nothing."

He gritted his teeth. "Not to sound cold, but that was the point. I'd have killed your family instead but I don't even know if you have one."

She thought back to Sein and her father and laughed. "You'll be happy to know I handled that angle for you, then." After a moment, she continued dreamily, "When he was done with me he dragged me back to his friends, you know. There was a boy there too, quite young. I think I was his first."

"Was that all it took to win his servitude? Or did you put a spell on him, too? I've never seen a boy throw himself throat first on a sword rather than say where a woman was."

That shook her, and she frowned unhappily. "Is that what happened? He was always rather...intense. But very sweet. Afterwards they cut my throat and left me to die. He came back and wrapped his shirt around my neck. It saved my life, I'm sure. After I was better I went back and killed them all. But I let him live, for that kindness."

"I had my sword against his throat," Martek said, a tightness around his eyes that made him look older than he was, "and was asking him where to find you. He threw himself forward, cutting his own throat. I couldn't do anything to save him."

Min shook her head sadly. "That does sound like him, poor thing."

"I figured you had some spell on him. I blamed you for his death. I suppose he chose his own fate after all."

Min slid off the table. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that men do the most foolish things for women. And speaking of women." She ran a hand through his hair, anticipation beginning to tingle inside her. "I'll be back fairly soon. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so. Of course, time goes so slowly when you have nothing to do but lie and think, doesn't it?"

He smiled at her. "Sophie's a good girl. She'll go to a better place than you and I."

Min felt the buzzing in her head return. Sophie, yes. That was the one girl's name. She smiled back at Martek. "I'm going to take her to the alley. Where you left me. I think that's the best way. Are you sure you won't be bored while I'm gone?"

"Well, I've got some laundry back at my inn. If you could swing by and pick that up, that'd be great. Don't worry about me, I'm great at keeping myself company."

She pouted prettily. "I wouldn't want to leave you with nothing to do. Perhaps I should give you something else to think about." She fluttered her lashes and her smile broadened. "While you're busy picturing what I'm doing to her, you can also amuse yourself with which one."

There was a silence as that penetrated. Then Martek said, "I'd rather enjoy hearing that my wizard friend had blown you to bits."

"I'm sure you would. From what I hear you like the pretty one better, but as you say, the darker one is a wizardess. It would be so satisfying to break her fingers."

"You know, you're pretty when you're crazy."

Min wrapped a hand around his neck before she could stop herself and closed her eyes, fighting for control. "Now, Martek, that's not nice. Don't go anywhere, I'll be back soon." She made herself let go and laughed trillingly before slipping out the door.

[Medesha]

Sophie. She'd made her choice already, of course. The little blonde girl would be an easier kill than the dark wizardess and Min didn't want to risk spoiling this. She went into her room, humming, and got a small coil of rope. She could hear Martek struggling against his bonds as she walked by the door to his room and smiled to herself. She hurried up onto the streets and towards the inn.

It was full dark by now, the moon hidden behind the thick, snowy clouds blanketing the sky. Min's eyes caught the least little bit of light and let her see clearly and she found the wench's house with no trouble at all. Daniel had told her where it was. The house was dark and shuttered and Min quickly spotted a guard standing watch in an alley close by. Martek had taken precautions.

But Min was more than able to handle a single guard. She didn't want to risk him screaming and alerting anyone so she walked up behind him silently and struck him hard with a rock. She caught him as he crumpled to the ground and laid him down gently. There was no need to kill him - she'd hit him hard enough that he'd be out for hours - and so she left him there and continued her vigil. She decided to wait a while for the girl to return before seeking her out at her tavern. Martek was well-tied and locked up. She amused herself by planning what to do to him first when she returned.

Twenty minutes passed, twenty-five, and Min started to think it was time to move to the tavern when she heard footsteps coming down the street. Small, light steps. Beshaba is looking out for me. Thank you, Mistress. This is the luckiest night of my life.

The girl was curvy and pretty in a simple, peasantish way. Her hair was lighter than Min's, a pale, straw blonde. She walked quickly, keys already in hand, and stepped up to unlock her front door.

Min called on her power and once again it came to her aid, freezing the girl in her tracks. Min hurried out of the alley, breathing fast with excitement, and pushed the girl's stiff form into the house. She kicked the door shut behind them and it didn't quite close all the way but she didn't care. She pulled the girl further into the dark living room and laid her down on the floor, on her face.

The spell wore off quickly but by then Min had her knee between the girl's shoulder blades. The wench started crying and Min slapped her in the back of the head. "None of that, now. There's no one to hear you anyway."

The girl struggled weakly but Min had her firmly pinned. She pulled the girl's arms behind her back roughly and began binding them together at the elbow and the wrist. "Now be quiet," she said sweetly, "and it will hurt less."

She was tightening the last knot when she felt, more than heard, a movement behind her. She tried to turn but was too slow. A sharp pain blossomed in her back and she felt a slim blade pierce her skin and drive down through her muscle and bone, deep into her chest. Then the sword was yanked out and she screamed.

It was Martek, of course, it had to be. She dropped the ropes and wheeled around on her knees to face him, staring up at him. "Martek!" she howled, trying to struggle to her feet. "You won't deny me this!"

He drew back and then stabbed her through the heart. She felt the steel slide in, penetrating easily, and her body jerked, helpless, impaled.

She tried to say his name one more time but her mouth was filling with blood. She slid back slowly, dropping onto the floor, and closed her eyes.

[Medesha]

ETERNITY

Min floated in nothing; sightless, tongueless, helpless. She was wracked with pain both mental and physical,as she lived through her various torments over and over again, all at once and one by one. And in such a flexible time and place as this she was also conscious of Something watching her, Something very close by, that radiated a cold so intense she felt her flesh (if she could have flesh in a place such as this) wither at its nearness.

And then another presence, one she recognized. Edouras! She didn't know how he was there but she sensed him, in the same way she sensed the Something. She tried to call out to the priest, screaming for him to help her, but she had no tongue to speak with. She thrashed wildly in her infinite prison, trying to get his attention.

She heard his words as if he were standing next to her, speaking calmly and pleasantly. "My Great Lord, I am sorry to disturb you. We have need of her-"

"She failed me," the reply came, and Min shuddered. The voice was like claws in her spine. She knew now who the Something was. "She failed in her task, and now her torments amuse me."

"I understand, Great One," Edouras said deferentially. "Certainly we were all saddened by her failure, and she deserves to suffer your eternal wrath for that."

You bastard! Min wanted to shriek. Don't leave me here like this! She understood suddenly that this was part of her torture - to know she had a chance to escape but was denied it.

Edouras was still speaking. "But we are experiencing...problems. The boy is turning out to be quite a pain and her assistance would be most valuable. She knows things and has certain...talents that would tip the scales in our favor. If you would show mercy and return her to us..."

"I am not pleased with the operations in Sembia," Gifre grumbled. "Take her, but beware lest you fail me as well. I do not tolerate incompetence."

"No, Master," Edouras said humbly, "We will not fail you. Thank you for the return of your servant."

Min felt a sense of motion, as if Edouras was trying to pick up her broken body. She knew she could resist if she wanted to but she clung to him the moment he touched her, trying to climb into his arms, wondering in agony if this was all designed to bring her hopes up just to crush them again.

And then there was the feeling she was falling...the nothingness became blackness...something slammed into her from all sides, knocking the wind into her, and it was cold...

[Medesha]

NOW

In Gifre's realm Min could stand to comprehend infinity and could bear torments greater than what a sane mind should be able to bear, because he willed it so. In the moment when her cold, dead corpse opened its eyes and breathed deep as her soul flowed back in, she felt the constraints of her living body while simultaneously remembering her time in the afterlife. Her mind snapped instantly, crumbling under the weight of her experiences, and she screamed a sound of pure fear and pure madness that caused the priests around her step back quickly with pale faces.

She was on a slab, a stone slab underground somewhere. She arched her back, hands curling into fists and screamed again, the horrible, desperate sound of a woman in Hell. Then it left her, the memories fading away like snow melting, leaving only their chill behind. Min turned on her side, drew her knees to her chest and whimpered as blood began to flow in her veins again, her heart began to pound, and her mind carefully rebuilt itself.

"Min," Edouras said. "Welcome back. You'll be a bit disoriented for a moment, it's only natural."

Min's throat felt ragged and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak. "Get away from me," she said hoarsely, shivering violently. It was deathly cold down here, wherever she was. She realized with horror that she was wearing a shroud.

"We'll just give you a minute, shall we?" Edouras said in his smooth voice. The priests moved away and Min closed her eyes and shook.

The memories had gone but the fear remained. She felt as if she'd seen something she shouldn't have been able to forget. She knew with a certainty that went down to the bone, deeper than the bone, right into her spirit, that something was terribly wrong.

Gradually she pieced together her memories. Martek. Anger, yes, but that overwhelming fear again - and a strange tenderness. He killed me. And Edouras had brought her back, but in the interim...

"What happened to me?" she cried, and felt tears pouring down her face. She couldn't remember but the feeling was there.

"You died," Edouras said simply from across the room, "and I brought you back, with the blessing of Gifre. You should be quite grateful to me, Min. Now get up and we'll get you some clothes."

She forced herself to sit up but, try as she might, she couldn't muster her old coldness, the distance she placed between herself and others. She felt vulnerable as a child with no defenses at all to rely on. She shivered as Edouras approached her again, a pair of boots and some clothes in his arms. He laid them on the slab beside her.

"You'll be fine in a moment," he said cheerfully as she pulled the boots on. The shroud was little more than a rough sack with holes for her head and arms that hung to her knees. She grabbed her blouse and put it on over the shroud. Edouras eyed her speculatively as she tried to do up the buttons with shaking fingers. "Perhaps we should get you a drink?"

"No, thank you," Min said automatically. Her fingers wouldn't seem to work. She gave up on the buttons and covered her face with her hands.

When she looked up again, Edouras wore a look of grave concern. "You're alright now, Min. Gifre and I brought you back. Your faith served you well."

Bile rushed into her throat and for a moment Min thought she was going to vomit. She breathed deep for a moment, and then looked Edouras in the eye. "I renounce my faith."

The priest's jaw dropped. "What?"

"I renounce my faith," she repeated, her voice shaking. "My devotion won me nothing. I...I can almost remember..." She gripped her head in her hands and whimpered.

"Min, you're confused right now. You don't really mean-"

"Yes I do!" she screamed, digging her nails into her scalp. "Gifre, and you, and the Blades can all just go to Hell! "

Edouras' face was cold. He made a sign with his hand and the two acolytes behind her grabbed her arms. Min tried to fight but her newly reanimated body had little strength, and before she could speak or cast one of the priests clapped a hand over her mouth. "You're disturbed, Min," Edouras said stiffly. "You need some time to think about things. This is for your own good."

She gave up fighting when they dragged her away. She knew she was too weak to flee. She watched dully as they unlocked the heavy wooden door, behind which was an iron grate they also unlocked and opened. A small, irregularly-shaped stone room with a bucket in it lay beyond. They walked her in and set her down, then backed out and shut the grate quickly, locking it. Edouras watched from behind them.

Min felt a strange sensation on her skin - a fuzziness. She'd never felt anything like it before. She understood when Edouras said, "This is a dead-magic zone, Min. You'll be safe here."

She nodded tiredly. It was only when Edouras went to shut the wooden door that some spark of animation returned to her. "Wait!" she cried. "Don't leave me in the dark!"

The door slammed shut. Min felt tears come again as she crawled blindly towards the door. Her fingers found the iron grate and the wood beyond it, and she clawed at it with her fingers. She'd never been afraid of the dark before - she'd rather preferred it - but now the combination of darkness, blindness, and the chill of underground terrified her. She screamed, banging on the door, clawing at it, begging for them to let her out, but no one came.

Eventually she calmed because she had to. Time passed slowly in the black room. She had no way of knowing how long she was in there for. She thought, because there was nothing else to do.

"Something happened," she whispered to herself at one point. "Something happened while I was dead." Another paroxysm of fear gripped her. "Something about cold - and black - and, oh, I don't want to go back there!" Her voice turned into a scream, then fell back to a whisper. "But where - where don't I want to go back?"

Later, she suddenly said, "Barin." She paused for a time, to think that through. "Something about Barin. Damn, I haven't thought about him in years. Why should that scare me? He was a bastard, but he helped me along...and anyway, that was a long time ago." But the fear persisted.

She was silent for another stretch. Eventually she said quietly, "He helped me along, but he still shouldn't have done what he did." She shivered. "No use thinking like that, Min. You have to put aside this weakness...I'm not myself anymore."

"Then who am I?" She hadn't finished puzzling that out by the time the door opened again. A day, two days later, she didn't know. She was starving and climbed quickly to her feet when the door opened.

Edouras stood there. An acolyte was beside him, with a bowl of water and some dark bread. He shoved both through an open section at the bottom of the grate and Min dived for the food hungrily, tearing into the bread. Edouras watched her with a blank expression. "Have you rethought your rash declaration, Min?"

Min swallowed a half-chewed lump of bread and stared up at Edouras. "I can't worship Gifre anymore," she said slowly. "I don't know why, but I can't. There's something - I can't quite remember." She shook her head. "I can't worship him. I won't."

"Then you will serve him another way," Edouras said stiffly. "I'm rather annoyed with you, Min. Making me bring you back from the dead only to kill you again. Still, Gifre should appreciate you all the more as a sacrifice."

"You're a son of a bitch, you know that, Edouras?"

He smiled at her and began to shut the door. Min tried to cling to her dignity but the terror of the dark was too great. "No - no please - don't! Don't leave me in the dark!" she wailed, gripping the grate until her knuckles were white, and Edouras slammed the door shut in her face.

She screamed until her voice gave out, beating on the grate, and then slumped back, exhausted. She slept at times in the interminable blackness and waited for Edouras to come for her. Eventually she returned to the question of who she was.

"I'm not myself anymore," she repeated, to see how it sounded. "I'm...someone else. Someone who is afraid." She shivered. "When Martek killed me-" There was that strange twist of emotion in her heart. "Martek - he was there too. Where? He had something to do with it." She waved her hands in the blackness, trying to see something. "I hated him so much. Why don't I hate him anymore?"

Later, after she'd slept again, she whispered to herself. "Whatever happened after death, it wasn't pleasant. I can't go back there." She thought about her life, the things she'd done, and felt tears well up in her eyes. "Atonement - what a sick fantasy. Who would ever forgive someone like me?"

She sat up when the tumblers turned in the lock. Edouras was coming for her. She wiped her face. Please don't let me go back there.

[Medesha]

The door swung open, and she blinked painfully against the light. Two people were there, neither of them Edouras. She squinted, and felt her heart suddenly drop into her stomach. "Martek?"

He was silent, probably from shock. It was unmistakably him, staring at her like she was a ghost. Which I am, to him. She scrambled to her feet and ran forward, wrapping her hands around the bars of the grate. "Martek! Get me out of here!"

"Min?" he said incredulously. "I killed you myself."

"Yes," she rasped, trembling, "I remember. And they brought me back, please, please let me out..."

"And why should I release someone who was intent on killing me and anyone I was particularly fond of?"

She wanted to weep at her inability to explain to him what had happened. I can't even explain it to myself. "I'll do anything you ask," she said desperately. "I swear, Martek. It's all different now, it's all changed."

Martek took a step back and glanced behind him, down the hallway. "Diero. Close the door."

"No!" she shrieked. "Please, listen, I can help you! Please don't leave me here!"

The door swung closed, plunging her into blackness again. Min fell to her knees and wept helplessly, shoulders shaking, pounding the floor with her fists. She'd had a chance, and she'd lost it.

Eventually she cried herself out and lay exhausted on the floor, weak from hunger and despair. Why should he believe me, anyway? He only knows who I was. She thought she might sleep, but then the door rattled again.

She sat up quickly, shading her eyes. Torchlight flooded her room again. Her heart leapt at the sight of Martek standing there once more. She was dimly aware of his friends behind him, Diero and the dark wizardess and a man she didn't recognize. But she kept her gaze on him. "Martek?"

"Yes. Edouras and the others are dead."

Min felt a great wash of relief break over her. "I thought you would kill them," she said, drawing her knees up to her chin. "I could have warned them, if they'd listened to me."

Martek smirked. "Every Blade I encounter seems supremely convinced in their ability to best me."

"Well, you bested me..." Min said. Her voice cracked, and she scrambled suddenly towards the bars, grabbing them again. "What are you going to do to me?"

She saw his jaw clench. "I'm going to let you out of there."

For a moment, she was stricken dumb. She groped for words. "Really?" was all she managed to come up with.

Martek leaned against the grate. "But first you're going to tell me what you intend to do with your freedom."

She wrestled with that for a moment. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "I haven't gotten that far yet. Whatever you want me to do, Martek, that's what I'll do."

He rubbed his forehead. "I want you to leave Sembia."

"Alright," she said eagerly, "alright, I can do that. I'll leave Sembia and never come back, I swear." She tried to laugh, but it came out rather strangled. "I suppose I should thank you. I owe you a great deal."

"I'd settle for thinking us even."

Min slowly got to her feet, afraid even now that he was merely toying with her and had no intention of letting her go. "When the time comes...we may find I owe you more than you know. They told us we'd be rewarded, of course. That's typical deity dogma, right? You serve faithfully, and get your reward in the hereafter." She shivered suddenly, wondering why she was telling him this.

So he'll understand. "But all I remember, waking up on that slab, was the fear, the terror, Martek - you can't imagine it. I wanted to come back."

He turned around slowly and walked away from her. "Diero, let her out."

She let out a trembling sigh. The blonde rake unlocked the grate and swung it open for her. She edged slowly out of the cell, keeping her eyes on Martek. He looked over at her as she moved and she thought she saw pity in his eyes. It was enough for her. She held it to her heart and turned and ran.

She stumbled up through a series of stairs and tunnels, coming out eventually in the storeroom of an inn. Someone had left a cloak lying across a barrel, and Min grabbed it and wrapped it around herself. She crept out of the storeroom and into a kitchen, snuck past the lone cook working at the stove, grabbed a hunk of cheese from the counter and let herself into the main room.

The patrons and barmaid stared at her but Min ignored them and ran. The cold air outside felt good, clean, as it rushed into her lungs. She found a dark alley and crouched in the shadows, devouring the cheese. Afterwards she thought, I should get moving. I need proper clothes, a weapon...I can find a caravan going to Cormyr...

But she sat still for a moment, looking up at the sky, and thinking beyond that. "Afterwards," she whispered to herself, "maybe I can do something with my life after all. If Martek could forgive me..."

She trailed off and sat lost in thought for a time. Then she roused herself. She stood, gathered her stolen cloak more tightly around her, and moved off to see what she could do with her second chance.


The End

[Zarni]

wow, great! your style is superbly well-crafted. the piece has obviously been carefully planned, mapped, and repeatedly reread. throughout it though i'm not sure which of the two main characters, min or martek, was meant to be the villain? or was that the point? or was neither supposed to be a villain? they were good characters, impressive in their depth. it was very dark, and not the sort of thing that i'm used to reading, which makes the fact that i enjoyed it even better as a compliment.

the ideas ranged far and wide, and you continued throughout to maintain a style which kept me reading it, it was easily comparable to any professional type narrative i've read in a book. the ending was interesting, liked the rebirth idea, it was certainly unexpected. are you actually published? or still hopeful?

small things: 'She smiled to himself as she began tying his limbs to the table.' self-explanatory.
and 'gotten' should have read 'got' throughout, i believe.

when can we read more?

[Medesha]

Zarni said:

wow, great! your style is superbly well-crafted. the piece has obviously been carefully planned, mapped, and repeatedly reread.

Thanks!

throughout it though i'm not sure which of the two main characters, min or martek, was meant to be the villain? or was that the point? or was neither supposed to be a villain?

Min and Martek are both people. They both have their reasons for doing what they did. I like to think they're more organic than just being "the hero" and "the villain". Min was definitely the more evil of the two, though; despite her justifications, she is a bad girl.

they were good characters, impressive in their depth.

Yay!

it was very dark, and not the sort of thing that i'm used to reading, which makes the fact that i enjoyed it even better as a compliment.

Yes, I think it's the darkest thing I've ever written.

the ideas ranged far and wide, and you continued throughout to maintain a style which kept me reading it, it was easily comparable to any professional type narrative i've read in a book. the ending was interesting, liked the rebirth idea, it was certainly unexpected.

Thank you! I was very happy with the ending.

are you actually published? or still hopeful?

I haven't had any fiction published, though I am hopeful. I have had D&D articles published in Dragon magazine.

small things: 'She smiled to himself as she began tying his limbs to the table.' self-explanatory.
and 'gotten' should have read 'got' throughout, i believe.

Fixed the first one, will work on the second.

when can we read more?

When I write more. ;D Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for your kind words!