Keegan’s fierce anger at feeling helpless flooded through me as he disappeared. It mingled with the desire to destroy that had been left behind by the Changeling and grew into an uncontrollable rage.

  I twisted away from the man holding me and hit him as hard as I could, the heel of my hand crashing into his nose. His head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground.

  I turned to the woman, an overwhelming desire to kill her flooding through me.

  As I walked towards her, the world went dark. I was still standing, but I was blind. I froze, unsure of what was happening.

  “Incompetent fools,” a voice hissed, making me tremble. I knew it was the Changeling, and, remembering what Emilia had said they could do, I realized that he had taken away my sight.

  The feeling of fear coming from the woman intensified. There was still nothing coming from Donavan or either of the men.

  “Quickly! We will take these two to Cyrus.” The Changeling’s voice was low like a growl, and I shuddered. Still blind, I felt something wrap around me, and knew that the woman was holding me in place. As soon as she secured me, the darkness lifted, and I could see again.

  “You, man, what was your name?” the Changeling asked the man who had fallen on top of Keegan.

  The man was getting shakily to his feet, clutching the back of his head. “It’s Cutler, sir,” he said timidly, his tall frame cowering in front of the Changeling.

  “You will be rewarded for your information,” the Changeling said.

  “Thank you, sir,” the man choked out, and I realized that he was not a Dreamwalker. He was simply a villager who must have seen us disappearing and summoned the others. They could not have been far away; we had only been gone minutes.

  “Go, fetch me some water,” the woman commanded him in a strong, beautiful voice. I could still feel fear coming from her, and regret. She did not want to be here.

  “Yes, miss,” the man said, hurrying away.

  “Check on that one,” the Changeling’s voice hissed, pointing towards Donavan.

  The young woman walked towards Donavan. He was still lying on the ground, unmoving. A feeling of recognition and horror rushed through her, and I knew at that moment that she was Donavan’s cousin.

  She gave no outward sign that she knew him as she bent over him, placing a hand on his chest.

  “He is alive,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

  The man returned with a bucket of water and, at the Changeling’s direction, threw it on the man I had hit.

  He stirred slowly and groaned. When he saw me, he got to his feet and strode towards me.

  My own fear made my stomach tighten, and I thought I might be sick. I could feel that he wanted to hurt me. There was no regret coming from this man, only hate.

  The Changeling let out a low hiss, and the man stopped. He glared at me, but only picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. The force holding me motionless dissipated, but I didn’t move as the man set me down roughly on one of the horses and climbed on behind me, wrapping his arms around me to hold the reins.

  I shrank away from his touch.

  He noticed and laughed, reaching a hand up to brush along my throat. “If Cyrus doesn’t want you, I’ll take you,” he said.

  A hiss filled the air, and the man jerked his hand away from me.

  The relief that flooded through me was so strong that it pushed all of the others’ feelings away from me. I firmly shut out their emotions, knowing that there was not much that I could do with them anyway.

  The man from the village climbed clumsily onto a horse and watched curiously as Donavan’s cousin used her power to lift Donavan gently onto a horse. He hung over the saddle, still unconscious and limp. She climbed onto the horse behind him.

  Within minutes we reached the village we had seen earlier in the distance. As we got closer I saw that the houses were surrounded by a few tents. We approached one of these, and a second Changeling came from inside to stand at the entrance.

  “Is it her?” This Changeling’s voice was little more than a hiss.

  The Changeling with our group nodded. “We will ride straight to the King. See that this man is rewarded.” The Changeling gestured towards the villager.

  “I will send word.” The Changeling turned back into the tent, followed by the man who had reported us, and our little party rode out of the village and onto the road heading south.

  We rode all day, stopping only to sleep for a few hours that night. The land around us was utterly destroyed, houses burnt, fields still smoldering, corpses of animals and people attracting flocks of birds. The first time that Donavan began to stir, the Changeling motioned to the woman, and she tilted a flask into Donavan’s mouth. His eyes flickered, and closed. Every time he stirred, she fed him the drug, and he did not wake up the whole time we were on the road.

  Late in the afternoon on the second day after we had been captured, we came to a large village that was still standing. Hundreds of tents sprawled around the houses, and I realized that we had found Cyrus’ army. Only a few soldiers could be seen in the camp. Without their black armor, they did not seem nearly as terrifying, but I knew that they would show no one any mercy.

  The houses of the village were small, made of wood with thatched roofs. We rode past several of them to an open area. It looked like the village square. Several spikes thrust up from the ground on one side of the clearing. Rotting heads decorated the tops of each, drawing swarms of flies. A wave of nausea swept through me, and I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

  More men milled about here, cleaning swords, fixing pieces of armor. They all looked up with interest when we rode by.

  We stopped at the doorway of a larger building that was made of stone with a shingled roof. A sign hanging on the outside announced that it was the Drunken Man Inn.

  The man who had ridden behind me the last two days dismounted and pulled me from the horse. I stumbled as I landed on the ground, and he pulled me roughly to my feet, keeping a tight grip on my arm as we entered.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the inn, I saw him immediately. He was sitting at a table, a grand meal spread out before him. A faint memory of him tugged at my mind. I was sure I had seen him before. Even sitting down, he looked tall. His shirt, pants, and cloak were black. His skin was tan and smooth. His hair was dark, but graying at the temples. His dark green eyes were interested as he took in my appearance.

  I knew that he was seeing my dream self – long brown hair, darkened skin, brown eyes. I was wearing a dark pair of pants with a red tunic shirt and heavy boots made for walking.

  I was still keeping other people’s emotions at bay, but I could feel his interest.

  He glanced towards a dark corner of a room. “Is this the new friend you were telling me about?” he asked, his voice taunting.

  I followed his gaze and felt a wave of shock. Soren was huddled, like an animal, in a cage. His already thin face was bruised and dirty. When he saw me, he gave a barely perceptible nod.

  The man smiled an evil grin. “Excellent,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “So pleased to meet you, Maria. I am King Cyrus.”

  At that moment, the tattoos on my eyes burned. A darkness seemed to gather around the man and dark lines spread out around him weaving a complex pattern. Several spiders crawled from his chest, scuttling along the lines.

  My vision cleared, and I saw that Cyrus had offered his hand to me, but I shook my head. I wanted nothing to do with this man.

  His eyes narrowed. “So,” he said, his voice hard, “it is just as Soren said. We will have to force you to cooperate.” He shrugged. “It is just as well, the Changelings will enjoy breaking your will.”

  My breathing turned ragged, and I felt my fear rising. I desperately forced it towards Cyrus. I felt satisfaction as I saw his eyes narrow and felt his cruelty and elation at capturing me rush into me.

  “Narul,” he said softly.

  The Changeling stepped towards him. “Yes, Master.”

  “Tell Soren to suppress her powers. We cannot have her using them until she is doing our bidding,” Cyrus said.

  The Changeling nodded. He glided across the floor to the cage where Soren was sitting and rattled it.

  “You heard him,” he hissed at Soren, and at once I could feel no one’s emotions but my own.

  “You remind me of someone,” Cyrus said, his voice growing hard. “She was far more powerful than you. She died trying to stop me. You would do well to remember that.”

  He picked at the food in front of him, seemingly lost in thought. After a few moments, he sighed. “But right now, you have a Tethering to get to. Bring that one too,” he said, pointing to Donavan, who was still unconscious, floating in the air, held there by his cousin.

  Fear washed over me as Cyrus nodded to the Dreamwalker still holding onto my arm. The man steered me towards a staircase. Donavan floated behind me. As I walked past Soren, he lay his head down on his knees that were drawn tightly up against his chest, his arms wrapped around them.

  “Soren,” I whispered, not knowing what to say. I was sure he heard, but he didn’t look at me.

  The man led me up two flights of stairs and into the attic. Donavan floated in behind me and then gently to the floor. He groaned as he lay there and began to stir.

  An ancient woman sat in a rocking chair in the corner. She looked up from her knitting and mumbled as she saw me and Donavan. I knew it must be Marilain.

  “Leave,” she muttered.

  The man holding my arm squeezed it tightly and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You do whatever she tells you, or there will be a price to pay. For you and him, and the little one downstairs.” He let go of my arm and left the room with Donavan’s cousin, closing the door behind them. The only light in the room came from a few places where stones had been removed from the walls and some cracks in the roof, allowing sunlight into the room.

  The woman looked at me, then motioned for me to take a seat on a bed that was pushed against the wall.

  I walked to the bed and lowered myself slowly, dreading what I knew was coming. All I could think about was my family, and Drew and Jessica. What would everyone think when I didn’t wake up?

  But most of all I was worried about Keegan. How would he be able to bear it, not being able to tell them what was happening? He wouldn’t be able to keep away. He would come back, and when he did, they would be waiting for him.

  Marilain looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as she motioned for me to lie down.

  I lay down on the narrow bed and closed my eyes. Marilain’s fingers on my forehead were soft and cold. Gently, her voice sang out. It wavered slightly, but she didn’t stop.

  Just as Soren had described, I could see two sets of myself, one here, one in the real world, curled into a ball, the two connected by thousands of strands of light. I was momentarily relieved to see that it was still dark in my room. No one would realize that anything was wrong for a while yet.

  A cry escaped from my lips as I watched the strands slowly pull away from my sleeping self. As each one wrapped around my dream self, it felt like it was searing into my skin. I clenched my mouth closed, determined not to make a sound, but as each strand wound around me, it grew more and more difficult. The pain felt like the tattoos Story had given to me, magnified a thousand times. I felt like I was on fire, every inch of me burning, before turning to ice.

  I felt a scream building. It was about to rip through my throat. I knew that Soren was blocking my abilities, but still I pushed against the pain with all of my might, shoving it away from me.

  For a split second I felt nothing.

  Then, startled shouts echoed into the room from somewhere outside the door, and instead of pain I felt hungry and a little bit sore, as if I had been riding a horse for days.

  Marilain’s song broke off, surprised, but only for a second. She sang a few last words and the strands of light had all wrapped around me, all but one, connecting my mind here with my sleeping form.

  I opened my eyes and sat up abruptly. Marilain’s eyes were wide with surprise as she glanced at me, then at the door, where we could still hear growls of pain. I could hear a commotion in the room below. I knew what had happened, and despite the terror I felt at being Tethered, I smirked.

  Marilain’s eyes widened even further. “What did you do?” she asked.

  “I traded what I was feeling with him,” I said.

  “A Trader,” Marilain said, awe and reverence in her voice. She touched her fingertips to her forehead. Marilain still spoke in a near-whisper, “You switched your physical feelings with him.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Usually it’s just emotions I can do that with.”

  The door crashed open, and the Dreamer who had brought me upstairs marched towards me.

  “Undo it!” he roared. “I already went through that once!”

  “I…I’m not sure how,” I replied. “I’ve never quite done that before.”

  “It seems,” said Cyrus, who had come to stand in the doorway, “that suppressing your ability to switch emotions has magnified your ability to switch physical feelings.” He stepped outside the door. “Narul, Soren must do a better job than that,” he called to the Changeling below. He stepped back into the room.

  “Nicolai, out!” he ordered the Dreamer, who turned and stalked out of the room. “Now this one, Marilain,” he said, pointing to Donavan. “You,” he said to me, “help him to the bed.”

  I walked to Donavan and knelt down next to him. “Donavan,” I said, softly. “Are you okay?”

  “I have been better,” he said, groaning.

  “Can you get up?”

  “I will try,” he said, rolling onto his face. After a moment, he stood up, staggered to the bed and collapsed onto it.

  Marilain knelt over him, pressed her hand to his forehead and began singing. Donavan’s whole body stiffened, then shuddered once, twice, but he made no sound.

  Marilain finished her song and left the room. I heard a lock click into place on the door. I walked to the bed and stood looking down at Donavan. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was coming in short gasps. His whole body was tense, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

  “Donavan,” I whispered, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Donavan, are you okay?”

  Donavan nodded, but still kept his eyes tightly shut. I wished that I could give his pain to someone else, or even take it myself, but there was nothing that I could do. Soren was holding my ability so strongly in check that I could barely sense my own emotions. I wondered what the Changelings had done to him and felt myself tremble. I knew it would not be long before I would learn firsthand what they could do.