Prison of Supernatural Magic

by Laynie Bynum

  “Yes. Yours will be in a few days, before the Trials—which you don’t have to worry about yet,” she cut me off before I could open my mouth to ask about it.

  “Fair enough, I won’t bother you about the Trials again.” I looked around us, at the various cliques perched around the common area. “Which group do you think I belong to?”

  Mica narrowed her eyes. “You mean, which god or goddess you’re descended from?”

  “Yes! Do you think I’m a descendant of Aphrodite as well?” A shimmer of hope was edged into my voice. “That would make us sisters.”

  “Aiden.” Mica patted my hand. “I love you. Always. You know that. We are sisters, regardless of what happens.”

  “Why do I think there’s a ‘no’ following that sentence?” My good mood vanished instantly.

  “No, I don’t think you’re a daughter of Aphrodite. Your powers have nothing to do with manipulation or charm, and I just… No. No offense.”

  “None taken.” I waved her concerns away. Of course, that would be too good to be true. “But whose descendant am I then?”

  Mica bit her lip. “Honestly, I don’t know. Your powers are related to time, shifting it and bending it to your will. I haven’t encountered anyone here yet who has powers similar to yours.”

  “Wait…” I tilted my head to the left, gazing at her curiously. “Does this mean we can still use our powers inside here?”

  “Sshh.” Mica hissed at me, the sound so sudden it startled me. “Only at the Trials. Never otherwise. The bracer on your wrist makes sure of that.”

  I stared at the iron bracer clinging around my wrist, a metallic color decorated with a purple-glowing stone. I had barely noticed it, in all my excitement at the information Mica had shared with me. “What’s this?”

  “It neutralizes our powers. During the Trials, we get to take it off, and then it’s mayhem time.”

  “You really should tell me more about these Trials. You keep on bringing it up, and you know I’m as curious as a cat looking for milk.”

  “That’s not a real proverb and you know it.” Mica laughed; she was always amused by my ability to come up with my own proverbs that didn’t make sense most of the time. “I’ll tell you about the Trials, I promise, but first I want you to get used to this place a little. It will be your new home after all.”

  A new home. That sounded both comforting and terrifying at the same time. Comforting because I was with Mica again, and because I had a roof above my head, at least. Terrifying because even if we got to walk outside our cells, there were guards stationed at every corner, and a prison remained a prison, no matter how colorful the crafts room was.

  “People from the different factions will try to get to know you,” Mica said. “They will try to figure out if you’re one of them or not.”

  “I get the impression people don’t associate much outside their own faction…” Each word I spoke filled me with dread me, because with it came the thought of Mica and I. Not in the same faction, no longer best friends…

  “Don’t worry about it. Our friendship is strong enough to survive anything.” Mica had read my mind again. “Besides, it’s not because everyone else seems to abide by this unwritten rule that we have to.”

  But even as she spoke, her gaze traveled to Keres, to her own group, her half-siblings, and I wondered how long Mica could keep on telling herself that lie.

  Chapter Three

  “So, the common room doubles as cafeteria.” I gaped at the horde of lunch ladies while they brought in a buffet with delicious-smelling food. More and more food was brought in, looking fancier than haute cuisine in a chef’s restaurant.

  “Isn’t this a little over the top? There are more guards here now than there were the entire morning.” Each lunch lady was flanked by two jailors, as if they expected us to morph into hungry lions and tear the food apart from the get-go.

  Mica was too busy staring at the food, drool dripping from her chin.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

  “Nothing, I’m just hungry.” Mica avoided my gaze, a telltale sign that she was lying or keeping something from me, and I wanted to know which of the options it was.

  The lunch ladies prepared a table fit for a king and his court. Shoving together four of the tables haphazardly placed about the room earlier, covering it with a white tablecloth, and putting plates, forks and knives on top of it. By all accounts, it seemed as if a feast was about to start.

  To my surprise, everyone stayed away from the table. Keres and her followers had moved to the side, staring at the food wistfully. Longing for it.

  “You’re not just hungry,” I said to Mica. “Keres looks like she’s starving. Be honest to me.”

  “It’s nothing.” Mica still avoided my gaze. “It’s just that the winning team gets to eat first.”

  The winning team? “The team that won the Trials?”

  A nod was the only response I got. Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air. “Mica, if you don’t start telling me what these Trials are all about, then…”

  The inmates from the gym came strolling it, Dryas leading them like a wolf leading his pack. He walked with such confidence, such stride, that my eyes were forced toward him, and I couldn’t look away, no matter how hard I tried.

  “Ares’s offspring won the Trials this week. They teamed up with the children of Artemis,” Mica explained. The inmates who had been practicing shooting arrows out in the yard earlier walked in next. “And Amphion and Eris joined their team too. When they’re done feasting, group number two gets to eat: that’s Lycus and his crew, the children of Poseidon, Dionysus and Athena. Group number three is next, the underworld gods, as they call themselves—Charon and his gang.”

  “And you’re last? For an entire week? You don’t get anything but leftovers?” I couldn’t believe my own ears. Why had no one started a rebellion against this? Why did everyone put up with the stupid system that only the groups that won the Trials got to feast, while everyone else practically starved.

  “It’s our own fault.” Mica’s gaze darkened. She pulled my sleeve, urging me backward, away from the children of Ares and Artemis as they found a seat at their table. Still the lunch ladies brought in dish after dish, preparing a feast any emperor would be proud of. “Keres used to date Dryas, but a few weeks ago, she broke up with him, and he said that if she didn’t want to be with him anymore, she might as well team up with someone else entirely.”

  “So, you joined another team. And that’s allowed, just like that?” I asked.

  I stared at the demi-gods while they sat down at the luxurious feast. There was more than enough to share with everyone, so why didn’t they just share it? Be kind?

  Maybe because gods, by their nature, weren’t very kind, I realized.

  “Yes. Alliances change every week.” Mica practically drooled over the food. How long had it been since she hadn’t eaten properly?

  “What happens after the winning team finishes lunch?”

  “Then the second team goes, third one, and finally, the losers. There are only four teams—the groups not teamed up by the time of the Trials, are all added to the fourth team.”

  “I’m guessing there’s not much left to devour by the time it’s your turn.”

  Mica gave a half-hearted smile. “We all stick together, since we’re all children of Aphrodite. I can’t abandon my siblings, but Keres’ choices on what group we should join haven’t always been the wisest. When we were still with Dryas’ team, we made a chance of winning, at least.”

  Amphion and Eris, the descendants of Zeus and Hera, also made their way to the table. Amphion took the chair at the head of the table, opposite from Dryas, who occupied the other head spot. Eris sat down at Amphion’s side, like a loyal wife never leaving her husband.

  “No matter what alliance we make, you can’t beat the powerhouse of Zeus and Ares’ powers combined,” Mica said. “The children of Artemis are just there for show and to be
cannon fodder.”

  “Cannon fodder? That doesn’t exactly inspire me with confidence about these Trials.” A chill passed through me like a frozen spike touching the back of my spine.

  “It’s just a term. No one actually dies during the trials. At least, not often,” Mica added, which made me stare at her wide-eyed.

  Before Mica could say anything else, someone shouted from the main table, the sound disrupting the silence around us. “Hey newbie. Aren’t you hungry?”

  My eyes grew even wider, and I looked at my friend, panic racing through me like a train storming off the rails. Was he shouting at me?

  I slowly turned from Mica to the center of the room, a hot blush creeping up my cheeks.

  All the other inmates were gathered around the table: those not seated at it, hovering near it like wolves stalking prey. All those eyes now focused on me, a mix of curiosity and contempt.

  “What should I do?” I mouthed to Mica.

  “Go,” she said, gesturing for me to walk toward the table.

  “Come on, newbie. Medusa didn’t turn you to stone, didn’t she?” Dryas chuckled at his own joke, promptly followed by the others seating at the table.

  Was he taunting me, or genuinely inviting me to sit with them? I had no idea, but with each step I took to the center of the room, my legs felt like lead. Perhaps Medusa or her Gorgon sisters had cursed me after all, because it for sure felt like it.

  “Don’t look so spooked,” Dryas said as I approached the table. “We don’t bite. Well, not all of us do.”

  Another laugh erupted from his friends, and I still wasn’t sure if he was trying to be friendly or if he was trying to taunt me.

  I gazed around the room, at all the eyes on my back, feeling like a freak in a circus.

  “Sit down,” Dryas said, snapping his fingers at one of his fellow teammates. The girl promptly got up and walked away to an empty seat at the other end of the table.

  Oh god. My knees trembled just from the effort to keep standing up. The sheer confidence, the amount of arrogance, to just tell someone else to get up and give up their seat…

  This was still prison, though. Even with the bracers on our arms locking down our powers, I had no doubt that in a one-to-one fight, Dryas would kick my butt. Part of me wanted to stand up to him, but the other, saner part, knew that I better keep my head down and worry about my own survival first and foremost.

  “Go on, take a seat.” Dryas gestured at the chair.

  Reluctantly, I pulled the chair back and sat down.

  The eyes of all members of the losing teams were still boring into my back. I had no doubt my cheeks were the color of tomatoes by now.

  Dryas waved his hand at his teammates, and like puppets on a string, they all started eating at the same time.

  A puppet master. A sergeant ordering his troops. That’s what he was, Dryas, and I shivered involuntarily.

  Don’t let him see that you’re afraid. Don’t show fear.

  “What’s your name?” Dryas asked.

  Despite the noises of people eating, no one said a word, so his question rang loud and clear through the room. I wanted the earth to tear open and swallow me up; I rather make a solo tour through the underworld that be interrogated like this.

  “Aiden,” I replied.

  “Aiden.” Dryas said the name like he was trying to taste it, see if it was to his liking or not. “And what brings you here?”

  “I got caught stealing art. Your turn now.” My fake bravado nearly made me erupt in a volcano of sweat, similar to Mount Vesuvius throwing ashes all over Pompeii two millennia ago.

  My back was turned toward Mica, but I was pretty sure she was shaking her head at me right now. When I felt trapped, I always lashed out. Like with the MMCA agents. Like with Mica, whenever she asked a question that was hitting too close to home.

  To my surprise, Dryas chuckled, not taken aback at all. “I see. You’re one of those. You want information in exchange for information. Very well. I got into a fight, and it didn’t end well. Officers took me to the police station, but then the MMCA turned up, and they transferred me here instead.”

  A fight. I had the feeling Dryas wasn’t telling me everything there was to know about this fight, and that the truth was a lot worse than he was sharing.

  “What powers do you have?” Dryas asked while he started nibbling from a chicken’s leg.

  I couldn’t touch the food. Even the thought of it, while being interrogated like this, a dozen eyes drilling holes into my back, made my stomach brim with acid.

  Should I tell him? Tell all of them, since practically every inmate in the prison was eavesdropping on our conversation?

  “I…” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him. Because if those powers didn’t match with what he had in mind, I had the feeling he could toss me on the ground as easily as he had invited me to this table. He might be loyal to his clan, his brethren, but that’s where his loyalties ended.

  Maybe I was completely misjudging him, but going by my intuition, I wanted to share as little personal information as possible with this man.

  “Leave the girl alone, Dryas.”

  The voice belonged to Amphion, the descendant of Zeus. Despite that he was seated at the opposite end of the table, his voice was clear and unmistakable, it promised power, its owner someone who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

  Dryas turned his attention from me to Amphion, and something shifted in his gaze. Towards me, he had a look of mild amusement, but now a darkness clouded his eyes, something wicked, dangerous.

  “Is that an order, Amphion?” Dryas’s voice sounded as lethal as the hiss of a rattlesnake.

  I held my breath, afraid of what was going to come next. A storm was brewing, and I could already imagine the clash of Ares’ heir against Zeus’ heir. I could easily become cannon fodder in that death match, to use Mica’s choice of words.

  “It’s a kind suggestion, Dryas.” Amphion’s expression lingered between a benign smile and a smirk, taunting Dryas even more.

  “You don’t get to order me around.” Dryas’s gaze darkened like the sky before a storm. “Don’t presume to think that just because you’re Zeus’s bastard son, you get to pretend you have any authority over any of us.”

  “I don’t pretend to have any authority over anyone. I just think you’re making the girl uncomfortable, Dryas.”

  Before I could open my mouth to speak, Dryas’ hand was on mine, pinning my fingers to the table with an iron grip. The bones in my hand cracked.

  “Tell me, Aiden,” Dryas said while he kept pinching my hand, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  The threat was thinly veiled, and I gritted my teeth trying to disregard the pain spreading through my hand.

  “Let go of me,” I growled at him.

  “Why? Am I hurting you?” Dryas removed his hand from mine. “Sometimes I don’t know the limits of my own strength, I’m afraid.”

  I rubbed my hand. It didn’t ache that badly, but I had understood his message. Dryas was king here, and if anyone tried to undermine that, even Amphion, someone would suffer.

  “I don’t like bullies,” I said while I pushed my chair back. “And it looks to me as if you are one.”

  “Oh, come on now, Aiden.” Dryas grinned. “Don’t be melodramatic. I was joking around and trying to get to know you better.” He switched from threat to charm in a millisecond. “And Amphion here was riling me up for no good reason.”

  I scrutinized Dryas, wondering if I should give him a second chance. I still felt all those curious gazes boring into my back, and for that reason more than anything else, I remained in my seat.

  “Has anyone explained to you yet how the Trials work?” Dryas asked while he broke a piece of bread in half.

  “No,” I said.

  “Come on, eat,” he encouraged me.

  Reluctantly, encouraged by the rumbling of my stomach, I reached for a piece of bread.

  “At the end of each week, the T
rials are hosted in an underground antechamber, deep below the prison,” Dryas said. “For the Trials, we are divided into four groups. Everyone can choose the group they want to join, but people mostly stick to their families. It’s unlikely that a child of Ares, like myself, for example, would ditch their kin and join another group. We’re loyal like that.”

  The saying ‘loyalty amongst thieves’ came to mind. Dryas might be loyal to his siblings, but I had no doubt in my mind that if he could plunge a dagger into Amphion’s heart without getting caught, he would do so without hesitation.

  “The winner gets to feast first. We earned this magnificent feast here, and for seven days in a row, we’ll be the first to eat, and the others only get leftovers.”

  I stared at the table, covered with delicious foods: fish, meat, vegetables, fruit, desserts… But what would be left by the time Mica and her friends got to eat? Judging by Mica’s expression earlier, I guessed it wasn’t much.

  “So, you see, Aiden, it’s really important that you pick a good team to join,” Dryas said while he took an apple from a tray spilling over with fruit.

  “A team like yours, you mean?” I didn’t know where I got the audacity from, maybe I had a secret death wish, but I wasn’t about to be bullied by this guy, especially not on my first day here.

  “Yes. Like mine.” Dryas took a bite from the apple. “But of course, you don’t just get to join our team. If you want to join the best team, you’ve got to be one of the best.”

  “And what does that mean?” I gave him a dead stare. “What skills do I need to join your team?”

  “Depends on what skills you’ve got,” Dryas fired right back at me. “But if you want to have a try-out, there’s always the Arena.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “The Arena?”

  “Where we can fight. Without these.” Dryas gestured at the bracer circling his wrist, identical to the one on mine.

  He wanted to fight me. The thought alone of this man, this warrior, unleashing his true strength upon me, scared me to the core. But I had my own powers, my ability to jump through time, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to beat him.