Mara sat on the edge of the steps leading up to the nook that was her new home, knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Staring down into the endless possibilities of the library and its collected knowledge stirred at her mind, but everything felt so heavy. She’d left tears behind years ago, mostly because her damaged dignity refused to give others the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Caliban had announced that Sammael was finishing up his most recent experiment, which Mara assumed meant the demon would approach shortly to line out what he expected from her. It was their second day in his hidden home, most of which had just been spent recovering. The food wasn’t terrible, though Mara knew she could cook better than Caliban and planned on doing so in the future.

Arms slipped around Mara from behind and a warmth pressed against her back. Aallotar had arrived to end the gloom, resting her chin on Mara’s shoulder. “You look sorrowed.”

“Sorrowful,” Mara corrected, a hint of a smile touching her lips. She took a deep breath and sighed, sensing Aallotar’s unspoken question without needing to see the wildling’s face. “I never really thought I would leave Sjaligr. Not forever. Not like this.”

“You are free of a place that was killing your soul,” Aallotar pointed out gently. “And you are not alone.”

“True.” Mara leaned back slightly into the hug with a more comfortable sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You would forever brood,” Aallotar said with soft reproach in her stilted speech, prodding Mara gently in the ribs. “This has much awful to it.”

“I’m not exactly sunshine and rainbows on my best days,” the huntress pointed out.

“You smile for me,” Aallotar countered, giving Mara a squeeze before letting go. “That is enough.” 

Mara smiled despite herself at that, turning to face her friend. “You really aren’t going to let me sulk, are you?”

“Never,” Aallotar said emphatically.

From the depths of the shelving below, Sammael’s harsh, metallic voice called out the summons Mara had been waiting for. “SPELL-BREAKER, I DESIRE YOUR PRESENCE.” 

“We’d better not keep him waiting,” Mara murmured as she stood up. She looked hesitantly at her friend. “Do you want to come? I understand if you’d rather not.”

“I will not leave you to face the demon alone,” Aallotar said staunchly. “Nor do I wish to be the beast.”

As much as Mara wanted to joke about Aallotar taking the opportunity to eat Caliban, she knew not to press. Her friend was still deeply traumatized by what had happened in Sjaligr and the insanity and agony of beast form was not something she ever wanted Aallotar to feel again. “Alright,” she said, linking her arm through Aallotar’s. “Let’s see what the plan is.”

Sammael waited beside a long table covered in tomes and notes written in delicate handwriting. He could retract his claws and write with a sensitive touch, well-suited for more scholarly pursuits. For the first time since they had met, however, he showed his true form without any of the wrappings and Mara almost shrank back in terror at the sight.

The demon's body was a twisted mass of metal, smooth chunks blending with silver tubes that pumped something dark like blood through veins. Now that he walked straighter, he stood six-and-a-half feet tall. His short muzzle was full of needle-like teeth that were hollow and his face was carved to be that of some horrible monster with a rictus grin and three angular obsidian eyes, one at the center of his forehead. His legs were digitigrade, like a wolf’s or a dog’s rather than a human’s, and ended in paw-like feet with long, lethal claws to match those on his hands. Like his teeth, his razor-sharp claws were hollow. Sammael was able to produce agonizing, deadly venom of some kind and all his natural weapons could deliver it.

“I GREET YOU AS MYSELF NOW, SPELL-BREAKER,” Sammael intoned. His voice sounded sonorous and cold at the same time, like the echo of a midwinter wind sweeping through a deep cave. “YOU FACE SAMMAEL THE TORTURER, THE VENOM OF GOD.” 

Mara’s grip on Aallotar became iron as a tsunami of fear crashed down on her. She knew from Aallotar’s stiffness that her friend felt it too. For a long moment, she couldn’t even speak to address the demon she had agreed to learn from. “I thought you were the preserver of knowledge,” she managed to get out.

“AND A SPECIALIST IN ITS ACQUISITION,” Sammael said, his perpetual grin sharp and wicked. “BUT YOU ARE TO LEARN SORCERY, NOT THE DELICATE ARTS.” 

A tiny measure of relief pulsed through Mara at that, but not enough to soothe the dread of the creature in front of her. Mara’s hands shook like leaves in a gale as she faced him, wishing for a moment that she was face-to-face with literally anything else, even the monstrous troll Kalevi. “Are you certain I can even learn to use it?”

“YOU POSSESS THE POTENTIAL,” Sammael said. “WE WILL SEE IF YOU CAN HARNESS IT. SORCERY IS NOT LIKE THE MAGIC OF YOUR PEOPLE. IT DOES NOT REQUIRE STUDY, INCANTATIONS, RITUALS. IT DEMANDS WILL THAT CAN SHAPE REALITY AND ENDURANCE BEYOND THAT WHICH IS MORTAL.”

“But I am mortal,” Mara said, fighting the urge to take a step back.

The demon took a step forward, looming into her space. His presence dominated hers, the darkness of his shadow hitting like a falling ton as it covered her. The only thing that stopped her from fleeing was Aallotar’s presence at her side. This could break the curse, Mara reminded herself. For the sake of her friend and all her friend’s people, this was worth it.

“YES, A FASCINATING ANOMALY, THAT.” Sammael’s obsidian gaze devoured Mara’s, trapping her in place with a stare that was almost hypnotic in its darkness. She felt like a little bird confronted by a serpent. “I BELIEVE YOUR ENDURANCE TO THE POWERS OF VOID CAN BE INCREASED.”

“How?” Aallotar asked, voice hard and sharp. Her fear was barely hidden behind a protective anger.

“HOW DOES ONE STRENGTHEN A BONE? MICROFRACTURES AND HEALING, A CYCLE REPEATED OVER AND OVER AGAIN.” Not once did Sammael’s eyes leave Mara’s. “YOU WILL ENDURE BECAUSE YOU MUST ENDURE. HOW ELSE WILL YOU BREAK THE CURSE YOU DESIRE TO END?”

“Mara, you do not have to,” Aallotar said, squeezing Mara’s bicep with her hand, resting her chin against the huntress’s shoulder. “This is dangerous.”

“It was my fault you reverted to the beast in Sjaligr. It was my fault they locked us away,” Mara said fiercely. “We both know it isn’t right, what the gods did to your people. I owe you this.”

“You owe nothing,” Aallotar said, stressing the last word like her life depended on Mara understanding.

Mara turned to look at her friend. “I’m doing this,” she said with all the courage she could muster. “If you don’t want me to do it for you, then let me do it for myself. If I can’t live a normal life in the Red Mountains, at least this way I can protect myself and the people I care about.”

Aallotar studied her for a long moment, but after scrutinizing Mara’s stubborn expression without finding a glint of hope of the huntress changing her mind, the wildling softened again. “Promise me we will stay together,” Aallotar said softly.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Mara promised.

“THIS WILL BE DIFFICULT FOR YOU,” Sammael said, shifting his gaze to Aallotar. “THE RESILIENCE NEEDED TO HANDLE SORCERY SAFELY WILL REQUIRE A GREAT DEAL OF PAIN AND MODIFICATION. WHILE YOU ARE WITHIN MY ABODE, YOUR CURSE HAS NO POWER. I SUGGEST YOU REFLECT UPON HOW BEST YOU INTEND TO DEFEND YOUR SORCERER WHILE SHE IS IN A FRAGILE STATE. CALIBAN IS A CAPABLE SWORDSMAN, SHOULD YOU REQUIRE INSTRUCTION.”

Before Mara could offer to instruct instead of Caliban, Aallotar nodded, much to the huntress’s surprise. The wildling was no fonder of the demon’s servant than she had been when they first met. Mara had to hope that Caliban would worm his way into better graces, otherwise the combat instruction would be ugly. “This I will do,” the wildling said.

“Are you certain?” Mara asked.

“If you are to endure the unimaginable for me, I can endure Caliban for you,” Aallotar said softly. “Besides, it will give a purpose besides collecting dust.”

“EXCELLENT,” Sammael purred, the darkness in his voice sending a shiver down Mara’s spine. “IDLE HANDS ARE THE INSTRUMENTS OF ENTROPY. I BELIEVE CALIBAN CAN BE FOUND IN HIS KITCHEN. TELL HIM I HAVE COMMANDED THAT HE INSTRUCT YOU IN ALL HE KNOWS OF THE ART OF WAR.”

Aallotar looked at Mara. “Remember,” she pleaded softly.

“I will,” Mara promised again, flashing her friend a smile of gratitude. It was immensely comforting that she wasn’t alone, particularly knowing that whatever Sammael would do to her was going to be painful.

The smile seemed to restore some of Aallotar’s hope. She turned towards the kitchen and started to walk, leaving Mara temporarily alone with her new mentor.

“YOU ARE FORTUNATE,” Sammael observed. “SUCH LOYALTY IS A RARE QUALITY. SUCH A DEFENDER WILL BE INVALUABLE.”

“Let’s get started,” Mara said grimly.

“FOLLOW.” The demon turned smoothly on his heel and loped deeper into the shelves, towards the back chambers where he carried out his experiments. Mara followed, shivering slightly in a combination of cold and dread. 

The room he brought her into was entirely different from the dusty library. Everything was gleaming white, sterile, and smooth. A metal table waist high stood at the center of the room, surrounded by several tables on wheels covered with different implements that looked like they’d come from a torturer’s nightmares. The sight of needles and flensers, scalpels and prods, complemented by a set of manacles at each end, sent ice through Mara’s veins.

Sammael touched the edge of the table and it adjusted, descending on its legs. “SIT.”

Despite everything in her screaming in terror, Mara took a seat. She had endured so much pain over the course of her life, how much worse could this be? The demon could savage her body, surely, but at least her heart would be safe with Aallotar.

Sammael studied her, touching her chin with one needle-like, razor-sharp claw. “REMEMBER, SORCERY IS WILL PERFECTED. TAKE YOUR ENDURANCE WHERE YOU CAN FIND IT. EVERY IOTA OF IT WILL BE REQUIRED.”

Mara sucked in a deep breath. “I’m ready,” she said with every ounce of conviction she had, looking into those obsidian eyes.

“I WILL SECURE YOU SO THAT YOU DO NOT INJURE YOURSELF IN THE THROES OF VOID,” the demon said. “THE INTENSITY WILL INCREASE WITH TIME AND PRACTICE. IN ADDITION, MODIFICATIONS TO YOUR BODY WILL ALLOW YOU TO CHANNEL SORCERY WITH MORE EASE. THOSE WE WILL ADD WHEN WE REACH YOUR CURRENT THRESHOLD.”

“What kind of modifications?” Mara asked as she laid down on the table.

“TO USE VOID WITH PURPOSE, YOU MUST SACRIFICE SOME OF WHAT MAKES YOU HUMAN.” Sammael leaned down, placing his nose almost against her nose, filling her senses with his smell of ash and ozone. “I WILL GIVE YOU A PIECE OF MYSELF INSTEAD. A TASTE OF IMMORTALITY.”

Mara took a deep breath. Memories of Sjaligr flashed unbidden as she felt cold against her wrists and ankles again. She was entirely at Sammael’s mercy now. Whatever the demon willed, he would be able to do. It was an incredible amount of trust, but she fixed her mind on breaking Aallotar’s curse. Another feeling surged through her as the demon’s clawed hands rested on her cheeks.

She wanted her family to be wrong about her worth.

“ARE YOU STILL WILLING, SPELL-BREAKER?”

Mara hadn’t expected the question. Some part of her had assumed, like all powers in her life, the demon would place her where he wanted regardless of her desires. Instead, there was a challenge in his voice. He was daring her to balk, not demanding that she comply.

“Yes,” Mara said fiercely.

“GOOD. YOU WILL NEED THAT COURAGE TO FACE WHAT IS TO COME.” Without waiting for further response, Sammael moved his hands down to her shoulders. “ALLOW ETERNITY TO FLOW THROUGH YOUR VEINS, SPELL-BREAKER. EMBRACE THE SUFFERING FOR THE POWER IT BRINGS.”

Mara’s awareness of the world around her vanished. There was only the agony of Hell itself unleashed inside her, burning outwards from Sammael’s claws. Some part of her knew she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear it over the roar in her ears as demonic lightning crawled inside her body like a thing alive. Fire and ice warred through her nerves, turning her into a nova, wreaking an agony she could have never imagined. Visions flashed beneath her eyelids, images of the darkness between stars.

“FOCUS.”

The word throbbed through her body, an intensity of burning, ripping, tearing torment that sent a fresh wave of tears spilling down from her eyes.

Mara tried to fix her mind on anything except sensation, but her body refused to obey. Instead, she forced her mind to fixate on the cold that dug like needles into her bones. She felt the frost forming in her marrow even as the firestorm raged. The more and more she focused on the cold, however, the more the fire seemed to ebb. The blackness behind her eyes grew deeper and deeper, a devouring cold that sapped away at her life, like she was a fading echo into the darkness of some subterranean abyss.

Her entire body arched as she touched the darkness inside her soul, muscles so rigid that only her heels and the back of her head were still touching the table. Power crackled through her body, leaving fractal burns across the skin of her right arm as she grabbed the table with a scream.

The torment released her in a moment. “YES!” Sammael roared in approval, catching her head as her body collapsed onto the table.

Mara sobbed for breath, face wet with tears as she trembled and quaked. The power still crackled in her right hand, burning her from the inside out. Gripping the table’s edge allowed it to flow out of her body for a few more seconds before the connection died, leaving her a trembling mess.

Claws touched her cheek almost lovingly. “I KNEW YOU WERE CAPABLE OF IT,” the demon said. The cold in Sammael’s voice felt immensely grounding after the tempest she’d just endured. “THE VERY FIRST SINCE THE DAYS WHEN GODS WALKED THE EARTH.”

Mara pulled in a ragged breath, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “It hurts,” she hissed out through her tears, looking down at the blistered burns on her hands, patterned like the lightning that had coursed through her.

“SOMETHING THAT WILL EASE IN TIME. YOU HAVE PROVEN TO BE POSSIBLE WHAT ALL OTHERS SAY IS IMPOSSIBLE: LIFE CHANNELING VOID.” The demon stroked her hair with something that felt like affection, even though she knew the creature could feel nothing of the sort. “YOU HAVE DONE WELL, MY APPRENTICE.”

The longer she looked at her burns, the less they seemed to hurt. A strange feeling welled up in the center of her chest, something so out of place that it took her a long moment to realize what it was.

Pride.