Crier rested on my lap, almost humming with power. Mrs. Jones was still asleep on my bed, she must have stayed up most of the night. My hand barely hurt, although my fingers were stiff and my skin still cracked and bled if I moved it too quickly. It had been over two hours and Calandri still hadn’t come to see me, that had me worried yet happy. It had looked like she was ready to kill me just before the fight. I hadn’t gotten a look at her afterwards, so it was possible she had been mollified.

Not likely.

“I must thank you, Alex,” a deep voice said.

My head snapped up, Crier rose up ready kill whoever thought they could come into my room without permission. Just as quickly the sword was back on my lap. It was Crier. He looked different, he was still tall and very thin, with gleaming eyes that weeped constantly. But he was solid, standing in what counted as reality here. His long fingers were tipped with razor sharp, black nails. Everything about him screamed danger. “What did I do?”

“You defeated my master in battle twice, winning me twice, something that has never been done before. I am now more powerful than I had thought possible. Did you not wonder who was controlling your hand today when I healed you?” He bowed graciously to me.

“Can you defeat Calandri now?”

He raised his eyebrow, eyeing me with his dark pearl like eyes. “That depends on you. I’m simply a tool. A powerful tool, but a tool nonetheless.”

I thought about that. I hated Calandri for capturing me. For everything she had done, the beatings, the threats. But she’d shown me so much, taught me what I needed to survive, shown me bits of kindness. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but at the same time I wanted to cut her head off. One hand ran through my long dark hair, while my other hand stroked my blade. I could feel my hand burning again, but I also remembered her stroking my hair asking me to do well. I had threatened to kill her, I’d tried to. But that had been because she wanted me to train with Paula, not because I hated her. “I don’t know.”

“Then, until you know you cannot kill her.”

“Can I kill Paula? With your protection, will I get hurt hitting her?”

He shook his head. “Even I am not that powerful. I can pass on the wound to others, lessening it. But to kill her, the curse will strike too quickly. You would die of pain within seconds.”

I wasn’t sure what else to ask. It seemed there weren’t any easy answers. Crier waited patiently, his eyes moved constantly, taking everything in. As I watched him, a thought struck me. Slowly I reached out to touched him, to see if he was real. His own hand moved to mine, touching my fingers. His skin was cold, unbending, like metal. He smiled coldly.

“Could you fight someone, like this?”

“No. I will not fight your battles for you. I can only help. Making you faster, stronger, increase your skill. What you do with that, is up to you. You will need to decide these things soon. You are making enemies, and threatening those you do not know yet. I am not sure if you are capable of surviving.” The tears fell a little faster. “If you do not, I will remember you most fondly, possibly more than the other you.”

“Thank you. But I don’t plan on dying.”

He smiled. “Most people do not get the chance on deciding their death. But it will be most interesting to watch.” He looked at the door. “I must go now, but tonight we will train again. Good luck Alex, I’ll be watching.”

The door slammed opened for Calandri. Crier had vanished, leaving me and the sleeping Mrs. Jones to handle the furious fae.

“Hello Calandri,” I said as evenly as possible. My emotions were at war, one part of me wanted to cower, the other was like a rabid dog, snarling and snapping wanting blood.

Smoke rose from her body, her eyes were raging bonfires in miniature. The red skin shifted in the light flickering with yellow, orange and blue. “How stupid can you be?”

“I’m smart enough to know that I didn’t have a chance to succeed with Paula as my teacher.” I cursed silently, my voice was high pitched, whiny, begging. I could feel Criers disgust.

“Pathetic little brat! You couldn’t remember a few simple lines! You almost lost the fight to a dog. And you humiliated the envoy! Is there one, single thing you’re good at?”

The words stung. I wanted to curl up and vanish. My body burned from shame and memories of flesh scorched by her hand. Knees shaking, I felt tears welling up. My nose was itchy, I was sniffling, and ready to piss my pants as she screamed at me. She was right. I should have tried harder, should have done more. I had screwed up so badly. Sure I’d gotten lucky, but it was only luck that had kept me alive.

My hands clenched in shame. The skin on my right hand tore, lances of pain from cramped muscles shot up my arm.

The pain helped. I saw Paula’s faces sneering at me.

I got to my feet. My face twitched, a growl filled my head. “I was given an impossible task. I survived. I couldn’t use my hand. I killed the dog. I was barely able to think. I was smarter than the damn envoy. You want to yell at me. I. Don’t. Care. You can kill me or leave me alone.”

“You insolent animal!” she screeched.

I braced myself as she attacked me. Crier laughed in my mind ready to kill. We were both startled when Mrs. Jones ran in between us, screaming at Calandri to leave me alone. In her frumpy dress, tears pouring down her wet face, it was almost comical, but it was enough to stop the fae with her hands of fire, and myself with Crier ready to kill.

“Amber! Get away! I’ll slow her down,” Mrs. Jones yelled at me. Even if I had wanted to this wasn’t such a good plan as there was only one way out and Calandri was in the way. But there was no way I was going run. There could only be one way this would end, and there was going to be blood on the floor.

Calandri looked confused at this change of events, and stepped forward. “Move woman.” Fire erupted around her.

Mrs. Jones trembled but held her ground. “NO! I won’t let you hurt her again!”

My foot sent the old woman flying to the floor. So my leg was caught in a ball of fire instead of her. The kick was so fast, there wasn’t a chance to really burn me, but it still stung. I used my momentum and swung Crier as hard as I could. The fae turned into a living flame, Crier glowed with heat. I dodged fists of fire, not even bothering to swing, moving backwards from the blistering heat. A fist grazed my face, the scent of burning hair filled the room.

Calandri stopped. A mouth of white hot flame formed. “I grow tired of this slave. You want to defy me, than I take my gifts back. Let us see how long you survive as you once were.”

My body changed shifting. The colour left my skin leaving it lightly tanned. My hips shrank, moving upwards into my waist, stretching and snapping the hem of the skirt. The cloth shoes split apart from suddenly trying to hold feet too large and wide for them. The loose blouse became too small on the shoulders and too large in the chest. My hair tickled my neck as it raced back into my scalp. Limbs became longer, muscle turned into fat. There was an intense pain between my legs, my panties were cutting into my privates.

I took a step forward, stumbling as my center of balance changed completely. Swinging Crier, it was as if I was moving in slow motion. Calandri stepped aside from my feeble blow. “Good bye, Ant. Let us see if this will teach you proper respect.”

She vanished, leaving me in pain, struggling to understand what had happened. Mrs. Jones ran over to me, asking what she could do to help me.

Someone was laughing. It was loud, uncontrolled, wild, deeper than I was used to. The one thing I’d dreamed about for months had happened. I started screaming.

I was weak again.

Helpless.

**

I stared at my body in shock Mrs. Jones rushed to my side, crying. The dress I was wearing looked ludicrous on me now. Too short, too tight, the shoes were split along the seams for my larger male feet.

Clumsily, unsure of myself with the change in my body I walked to the bed. Before I moved like a dancer, a predator, a tiger stalking its prey. Now my feet hit the floor with loud thuds, my chubby stomach shook with every step, the muscles which had rippled under my skin, now moved under a layer of fat. I fell onto the bed, tears streaming down my face.

Staring at my thick, short fingers I tried to stop crying. I'd wanted to be a boy, hadn't I? I dreamed of turning back into a boy. But that was when I thought I could go home. Now someone else was there, living my life. The only thing left for me was here, and here I could only survive by fighting.

I thought about it, boys were stronger than girls. I could do this. I just had to get use to my body again. Still ignoring Mrs. Jones, I stood and picked up Crier. Holding the black blade in front of me, I practiced the moves I'd been taught. I was clumsy, I was slow, but I knew better than to think I'd be able to do everything instantly. It was a matter of persistence, figuring out how to move again now that my body was changed.

Ten minutes later I was sweating, my arms shaking. Putting Crier down, I kicked the bed post. Stumbling, my toes rather the side of my foot, hit the hard wooden post. Falling onto my ass, screaming and clutching my broken toes, I realized it would take months to regain the muscle and even longer to become anywhere close to the agility I once had, if I even could.

Mrs. Jones helped me limp to the infirmary.

**

That night, hungry from skipping dinner, I held Crier in my hands.

“Why didn't you help me?” I asked the sword.

“You failed. You had a chance to kill her but you did not,” the deep voice of the sword filled my head.

I snorted, “When did I have a chance?”

A vision came to my eyes. Rather than kicking Mrs. Jones out of the way, I stabbed her. Blood flew from her stomach, even as she screamed silently. The girl me, pushed the blade hard, stabbing the surprised Calandri in the gut. They fell, sliding off Crier with a sickening, sucking sound. I hacked off Calandri's head, she collapsed into cold, grey ash. Mrs. Jones, writhed in pain for a few seconds before growing still.

I threw the sword away, disgusted. “I was suppose to kill her? That was your big plan? Kill the one person who actually cares about me?!”

“The only thing that matters is victory,” Crier snarled. “The old you knew that. Mercy. Sympathy. Love. What have they given you? You've been beaten, humiliated, robbed, threatened and broken. When you are strong, you can afford to show leniency and mercy. You are weak, and because of your weakness you are about to lose everything you have left.”

“You want me to be a murderer!”

Sam, Paula, and the strange blue me, walked out of the shadows. “You are not a murderer, you are a killer. The sooner you realize that the easier it will be for you. What did you think would happen? That those who only understand the self would care for others?”

I stepped away from the accusing faces of the people I'd kill. “I killed to defend myself. I won't kill people who don't deserve it.”

A wave of contempt washed over me, greater than anything I'd felt before. “Then you are unworthy of me. When you are once more a warrior, come and we may train again. Until then I refuse to be sullied by your hands.” The dead rose up, surrounding the sword. Their dead eyes stared at me, bloody lips curled and twisted.

Feeling sick, I fled my room.

**

No one saw me as I staggered into the garden. I fell to my knees staring into a pool of ebony. The black liquid reflected my face perfectly.

I stared at my pale skin, so different from the fiery red I had grown used to. The blunt features, the baby fat. So different from the girl I had been. Not just the appearance was different, everything about me had changed. Where there had been strength was now weakness. Determination replaced by fear. Sadness changed to terror. I was going to die.

If Paula didn't order my death, I would die the next time they expected me to fight. For the first time since coming here, there was no uncertainty, no doubt, no second chances. Even the dirge in my head had faded away, there was no need for it now. I couldn't defend myself like this. Every breath was just one more stolen moment before the inevitable.

The door opened, heavy footsteps came towards me.

Trembling I saw Omar and his two followers coming towards me. I tried to get away, but big foot took two long strides and grabbed my arm, wrenching me back. It felt like my shoulder was dislocated. They smiled cruelly, pulling out clubs.”

“Well, well. We'd heard from a good source that you had lost your strength, Ant. But to see you like this? They say paybacks a bitch, lets find out,” Omar said, drawing his fist back as I struggled to get away.

I pissed myself as the fist hit my kidneys. Breathing was impossible. Tears of pain watered the soft, silky grass. Clubs of straw, that were as hard as steel and sharp as razors came down. Bones cracked, blood fell. I screamed.

Years later the beating stopped, I couldn't move, I couldn't fall into oblivion, I couldn't stop hurting. Something slimy and wet hit my face. I couldn't see clearly through the blood, everything shifted, spinning, making me want to vomit. I saw first three, then two, then six faces looking down on me.

A voice came to my ears, as loud as thunder against my aching head, yet a million miles away. “You're Paula's bitch. Do exactly what she wants, and we'll let you live. If we have to have this conversation a second time, you won't be able to crawl away.”

The faces vanished.

Rolling to my knees, I crawled away. Sobbing as broken bones ground against each other, I didn't know where I was going, as long as it was away from this hell. There was nothing good here. Nothing worth dying for. Nothing worth living for. Better to crawl away until I died or got somewhere better.

I could hear the blood moving through my veins, my heart pounding in my chest. It hurt. It proved I was still alive. Each pulse burned with energy. The energy was music to my ears.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

The music sang to me, pulling me down. The garden turned dark. Water burning like fire covered my arms and legs. Stone birds flew through the air cawing in laughter. Roses spit on me, freezing my skin, making it crack and break.

Somehow I survived and kept crawling.

The pain built up, growing worse and worse. Every move threatened to kill me. As the fae laughed, the spark of anger grew brighter. They had done this to me. They had brought me here. They had broken me. Now they laughed.

The song in my head, in my blood changed. I heard its true words for the first time.

KILL!

KILL!

KILL!

KILL!

I would see them die.

I'd make them beg for mercy.

All of them would pay.

Every punch. Every kick. Every burn. Every moment of fear I had felt. I would make them pay.

It became brighter. The water turned to crystal. A deathly quiet surrounded me. Cool wind caressed my skin. The song became louder. Footsteps came towards me, falling in time with the music in my head. I blinked my eyes trying to see clearly. Beneath the floor, I saw a memory.

Sam and I, the new me, the better me, were walking down a hallway. I remembered the brilliant red leotard and tights, the matching cloth shoes. Back at the very beginning, my first day in hell. A snarl came from my aching throat. Sam, the person who said he would help me, alive and well. Laughing at weak, little me. Thinking about how he could kill me. And myself, weak, helpless, scared of everything. I'd been given strength and skills to survive, and I'd wasted so much time cowering. If I'd been stronger earlier, I could have survived. She wasted it. She didn't deserve to live.

She saw me looking at her, fear filled her. I wanted to grab my body back. Pounding on the glass, I heard something crack. It took me a few more hits to realize the crack wasn't from the crystal, but my arm.

Crying in rage I gave up, continuing to crawl forwards. Desperately searching for my strength.

**

“What is this?” someone asked.

I had no idea how I'd arrived in the meadow, who was speaking to me, or even how long I'd been crawling for. “Who are you?” I groaned.

“My, my it's the fighter. You lost a fight?” the person asked.

I looked up into the face of Jasper. I smiled. “Y-you want... to make a ma-ster...piece?”

His face lit up, the leaves forming his hair turned greener. “I may turn you into a true work of art?”

Strength filled me. “You ca-can turn me in-to a killer. Make... sure I... can... u-se a sword.”

“Agreed,” he whispered.

That was enough. I passed out before his rough hands could touch me.