The Fae's presence was near constant after that.

  His master lingered at the back of his mind, watching as he did his best to teach Corabelle what she would need to assist him. While they seldom directly interfered, they were always watching save for a few blissful moments.

  They made certain there were no more distractions.

  While their presence was a constant pressure at the back of his skull, he hid this pain from Corabelle.

  He intended to keep his word, that he wouldn’t lie to her, he wouldn’t volunteer that information unprompted. She didn’t need to know how little freedom they really had.

  Only once thus far did they make their presence known to her, tearing control away from Zaramir.

  It was not long after he’d placed the new Runebinds on Corabelle. They assumed if she had the power to overload, she had the power to work.

  They took his mind to tell her such.

  While he could tell she knew the harsh orders weren’t his own, her fearful complacent agreement still stung.

  Though, more than once they’d spoken solely to him.

  It had taken Zaramir centuries to master Chronomancy and it was not a condoned nor taught discipline among humans so there were few texts to learn from.

  These facts were irrelevant to the Fae.

  While Corabelle was learning this intricate discipline far faster than Zaramir himself had, she was not learning fast enough for the Fae, using only his ntoes to guide her.

  Their impatience grew as days turned into weeks, into months.

  At first their punishments for his ‘ineptitude’ at teaching her were subtle, quiet, invisible. At first solely confined to his mind, but as her common mistakes stacked up and his research slowed, they grew more obvious.

  Their intent seared into his brain, “Complete your work.”

  His progress thus far had taken centuries, millennia, but his recent infraction had spurred them to light a fire. They were pushing for results relatively overnight.

  Despite their constant pressure, he refused to expose how close he really was to his final goal. His experiments with the Elemental and Roses was hardly a step away from being functional. As soon as he built a housing for this temporal stasis, the Fae would be able to safely exist in this world.

  When that happened, the people of this world would no longer be able to live in their limited safety. This world would face a worse fate than himself. So he kept the thought from his mind, hidden, while they lurked in his grey matter.

  Though he knew as their punishments became increasingly harsh, it would only be so long before they’d break him as their creativity with pain grew and they resorted to true curses..

  “What happened?” Corabelle asked darkly, a particularly brutal attempt catching her attention.

  Zaramir followed her line of sight to the deep purple bruises across the side of his stomach. He’d done his best not to react as they placed this new curse, but he had failed, flinching into himself as the crushing pain coiled around his organs.

  This wasn’t a curse they’d used before and he wasn’t exactly sure what the nature of it was, but his healing was fighting a near losing battle. He would have preferred being spellbound to blood he tasted at the back of his throat and the concerningly unfamiliar pain in his abdomen, but he suspected they didn’t want to waste more time by taking away his ability to use magic.

  “They’re upset,” Despite his efforts, his voice was more strained than he would have liked. As he turned his face from her to hide the blood he felt spill from his lips, he gripped the edge of the work table. He didn’t like to worry her, but whatever they had done this time was hard to conceal.

  He knew they wouldn’t kill him, but they seemed to begin to care less about what state he was left to work in. Their criteria seem to have devolved to “conscious”.

  “What about this time?” Her voice was ice.

  While her tone and demeanor had been colder since her near evisceration, he felt her hand rest atop his, and the pain subsided. She used her new Runebind to alleviate what she could of the curse. Though the taste of blood, the pressure in his gut, and the nausea that had developed remained.

  He’d thought he’d been keeping their punishments well hidden, but her tone suggested he’d failed this too.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “They are t--” His explanation was interrupted as a torrent of blood pushed its way up. His hand ripped away from hers as he doubled over.

  The pain resumed the moment the contact broke.

  One hand gripped his tender abdomen while the other gripped the edge of the table, keeping him upright as the room spun in the wake of the blood’s escape.

  The room suddenly felt dry as moisture was pulled from the air, washing the blood down the drain of the lab. Corabelle’s spell was gone as quickly as it came, leaving no sign of the blood.

  She didn’t say a word about it as she pressed her hand against the nape of his neck, the most accessible bare skin, removing the pain once again.

  She crouched next to him, hand still pressed to his neck as her eyes fixated on his abdomen so intently if he didn’t know better he would think she could see inside.

  Her voice was gentle as she finally spoke, “I know they’re still angry about me.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know it’s not.” Her voice had rehardened as she gently pulled his hand away from the bruise to get a better look. She didn’t continue her thought, but the rage on her face spoke volumes.

  She wouldn’t dare to say what she wanted to say about the Fae out loud, but he knew what she was thinking.

  “The bruising is healing,” she switched to the more pressing matter, the rage in her voice quelled.

  She slowly pulled her hand away from his neck, but kept it hovering close, “Are you feeling better?”

  The pain had come back, but it was duller and slowly fading. Not further blood seemed to be spilling into his stomach. The nausea had mostly vanished with the blood.

  He stood upright, taking her hand and pulling her up with him, “The curse appeared to have been a short one.”

  They were merciless but they weren’t stupid. If they’d made this curse more long lasting, they likely would have killed him. The amount of blood he’d lost from just the few minutes it was in effect left him lightheaded, his Runebind working aggressively to repair the internal damage.

  Her eyes returned to his stomach where the last of the yellowed bruising was vanishing, that same dark look returned to her eyes, her jaw setting like she was about to speak despite herself.

  He swiped one of his more recent journals from the top shelf of the nearby bookcase, “Review this.” He spoke before she could. Neither of them could afford to have the Fae hear what was surely running through her brain at this moment. Though their presence had vanished after placing the curse, they could return in an instant.

  Corabelle’s gaze returned to his. She released a calming, measured breath as she took the journal from him, digging her nails into the leather for a moment before her grip loosened and she began flipping through the pages.

  Her eyes barely glanced at the words and diagrams as she leafed through his work; he doubted she was comprehending a single word.

  He refocused his attention on the cluttered array of alchemical ingredients on the table beside him.

  The enchanted glass jar of Firerose blossoms glowed brightly in the far corner.

  It would be so easy to end the pain, the curses.

  If he’d had this opportunity three years ago he would have taken it without a second thought. Complete his mission, be disposed of, that was the deal. It would have been easy and only at the cost of this world. And what did it matter? He wouldn’t have been here to watch it all burn.

  Now it was different. Now, there was more to his mission. Now, there was no freedom promised. Now, if he finished this work, he’d be forced to build new Faedemons. Submit more to the same fate he suffered. Create more slaves.

  And worse, he’d dragged the only person who ever seemed to care about him down with him.

  It was only a matter of time before the Fae decided the resources to bring him back would be worth the punishment. His threats would no longer be effective. They’d have no reason to keep one headstrong pseudo-Faedemon alive when they could just bring Zaramir back to create fresh, obedient ones.

  How long was he really protecting the world for? Days? Weeks? By the grace of the gods maybe years? How impatient the Fae had grown, the world’s safety wouldn’t last another generation.

  Once dead, they could easily root through his freed memories and uncover this secret. His efforts would be in vain soon enough…

  At least he could hopefully spare her, “Miss Cora?”

  Her eyes snapped up from the page she was staring at.

  The Fae’s presence crept back into his brain, swirling through his present thoughts. There was no going back now.

  “Do you remember the Elemental we captured?”

  “How could I not?” There was a shutter to her voice, an almost imperceptible flinch as he said it.

  “It was more useful than I hoped,” Her expression changed as he said it, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or worse. She didn’t say anything, letting him continue, “I believe my work may be near done.”

  There was an angry buzz in his mind, searing stings as a cacophony of voices screamed at him. No individual words could be heard, but the overall message was blindly clear.

  He squeezed his eyes shut tight, wanting to cover his ears, but it would do nothing against the innumerable voices shrieking in his mind about the secret he’d hidden from them.

  Blood dripped from his nose as he barely heard Corabelle’s concerned voice, “What are they doing?”

  “They’re ju--just screaming,” He pressed the words out, barely able to form them over the noise. “I’ll be--fine.”

  “Traitor! Again you forsake us!” His primary master’s voice rose in a wrathful hiss above the rest which seemed to have become more agitated at their words, growing the stingers into daggers. “You will complete your work immediately. We have been kind thus far but another mistake or delay and you will know what a true punishment is. Our grace has run out, Least. we are sneding you a subject. You have until it dies to find a way to save it or you and your monster shall join it.”