Atrasia

She hadn’t moved for hours. Not that Atrasia expected her to. After all, it was his magic keeping her in place. He snorted and turned away from the small window looking into her cell. What could she possibly do in this state? As she was, Twister was no more dangerous than a newborn.

Atrasia patrolled the deepest halls of the clan’s lair, his eyes tracing nonexistent patterns on the darkened walls. He growled to himself. Why should he have to devote precious energy to keeping a helpless hatchling contained? He had heard the stories, sure, but she had been defeated. Her powers were gone. But orders were orders and he didn’t feel like getting used to a new place.

Another Gaoler passed Atrasia in the hall. Sharptooth wasn’t supposed to be back from her patrol yet. Atrasia wondered briefly what she was doing here. Shaking his head, he continued his route. He couldn’t let even her distract him from his job.

Returning to the lone cell, Atrasia checked a schedule on the wall. He huffed, “That time again, huh?” He grabbed the shackle and chain off of its hook and marched into Twister’s cell. It was time for another execution.

The first thing Twister did when Atrasia relaxed his magic was grin at him. “It’s going to be different this time,” she chuckled as he clamped the shackle around her neck. “I might just win.”

“Impossible,” Atrasia grunted. He tugged on the chain and led Twister out into the hall. “Vahid wouldn’t let that happen.”

Twister chuckled, a low, dark sound unfitting for her tiny form. “Things are changing, boy. Don’t you feel it?” she asked, that unsettling grin still on her face. “The day is coming when I will rise again.”

Atrasia shook his head as he dragged Twister off to yet another of those ‘games’. “It will never happen,” he snarled, squinting through the impossibly bright sunlight. He was sure he was right but a tiny flicker of doubt appeared. What if she actually succeeded? Atrasia shook the thought from his mind. The Shade was a strange, twisted thing.