0 - 0 - 1 - 15:42 - Ileana

“Worms can’t chant. Worms can’t chant…”

The human woman seemed delirious. Her voice was hoarse like she had been repeating the same phrase over and over for hours. “Worms can’t chant.”

“What are you going on about?” Ileana asked as she slid up alongside the human woman.

The woman stopped chanting. “Shh!” she said and then lay very still, not even breathing. “I can’t hear them anymore. You must have scared them away,” she said after a moment.

“Scared who away?” Ileana asked.

The woman sucked in a breath, her eyes wavered from side to side for a moment, then closed. She started crying. “Nothing! No one! It’s just that…” Her body began to shake with sobs.

Ileana had seen this behavior before in humans under her care. The human brain is too feeble to accept the absence of input. The lack of light, the lack of sound… these were the things that her ward would need to learn to endure. When a human brain did not have enough input, it seems that the brain would make up its own input.

“Worms,” the woman whispered.

“You could feel worms?” Ileana asked looking around the darkness. There was no other heat signature within the sarcophagus other than herself and the human.

“No. They were talking... singing... chanting...”

“You are in an air-tight sarcophagus made of stone and steel,” Ileana explained. “Nothing will get in here, except through the portal, and that will only be me. The worms are just your imagination.”

“I know,” the human woman sobbed.

“You must tell yourself that,” Ileana continued. “There are no voices.”

“I know,” she whispered again. “But…”

Ileana sighed audibly. She shifted her body down in order to be able to relieve the woman of her wastes. Already the woman knew the routine and had seemed to come to accept it. Ileana would seal her mouth around the woman’s sex and tap her lightly on the stomach when ready. Ileana could feel the woman trembling as she was attending to her. She could taste her fear.

It also seemed to Ileana that the human brain could sometimes fall into a rut. With no distractions, the human would fixate on a particular idea and be unable to disengage from it. Those that could not disengage from these thoughts would spiral into insanity much more quickly it seemed.

Ileana did not really care about the mental state of the humans that she had to attend. They were only humans after all - stupid victims of their own biology. Still, it was ugly to have to deal with an insane ward. They stopped adhering to the protocol set up to keep themselves clean and healthy. And as their discomfort increased, they tended to become destructive, unpredictable, and violent.

Ileana knew of a few tricks that she could use to shock her ward out of her mental spiral. She had to use them sparingly. The longer she could hold on to her tricks, the longer her ward might maintain lucidity.

After the human woman finished urinating into Ileana’s mouth, Ileana waited for a moment, then opened her mouth a little wider, pressing more deeply against the woman. She flattened her tongue and drew it up slowly along the woman’s sex. Almost immediately, Ileana noticed blood flush into the sensitive lips of her ward’s labia. She heard the woman inhale a short breath and freeze. Her heard the squeak of metal links of chain grinding against one another as the human pulled uselessly against her restraints.

When her tongue reached the top, Ileana pointed the tip and teased the woman’s clitoral hood. She then pressed against the swelling bud of her clitoris. The woman let out a short audible gasp - one sounding of surprise, and also pleasure. Ileana pushed a bit with her tongue and then slowly withdrew, pulling her mouth away from the human who let out a soft moan that almost ended before it even began.

Ileana looked through the darkness to the human’s face. Her eyes were open, staring straight ahead. Her mouth slightly parted, though she seemed to be holding her breath. Ileana crawled forward up along the human’s body, purposely allowing her breasts and thighs to slide along the woman’s trembling flesh as she moved.

The woman had begun to breathe again - short, shallow inhalations, but her face no longer registered fear or anxiety. Ileana bent so her lips were near the woman’s right ear and she whispered, “I will feed you now.”

“OK,” the woman whispered. Ileana continued to adjust her position, gently turning the woman’s face to the side, lining up her nipple with the woman’s lips. The scent of arousal blossomed through the space. Ileana sniffed long and slow somewhat amused despite her surprise. She noticed that the woman’s face glowed more than normal, her hair sparkling as heat dispersed along the strands.

“Could you…” The woman paused to clear her throat. “Could you sing me a song?”

Ileana did not answer. Instead she pressed her nipple to the woman’s lips and quietly shushed her.

A song? Ileana could not remember the last time she sang a song. She thought for a long moment as the human latched on and began to nurse. As relief began to settle within her body, Ileana remembered an ancient tune which she tried to hum. After a few bars, she became more confident that she could remember the melody… and words too. Not human words, but those of her own species. And when she sang it sounded like a gentle spring falling over a series of rocks pouring into a clear, cool pool on a warm sunny day.

Ileana’s song did not have verses or choruses or any semblance of structure when compared to standard human songs. It was compelling yet relaxing, pulling the listener into some hypnotic state. Even Ileana, herself, was not immune to the nature of the song. She almost remembered how it felt to be happy for a moment, though she would never admit it to herself.

By the time the human slave woman had nursed from both sides, she was fast asleep. Ileana ended her song and bent down to kiss the woman’s cheek.

“Stupid human,” she whispered as she slipped back out of the grave through the portal.


0 - 0 - 1 - 18:49 - Aife

Aife returned from her run. She had a sheen of sweat coating her skin despite the chill in the morning air. When she stepped into her kitchen she found Slave Zeigh kneeling naked on the floor eating from a small container. It was not the nudity, nor the way Zeigh had wrapped the leash from her collar around her left forearm, nor the fact that she was kneeling on the floor next to a small, yet perfectly comfortable table, that shocked Aife.

“You’re eating the compost!” Aife yelped.

Zeigh looked up with fear in her eyes - she held a brown, wilted piece of lettuce and half an egg shell in her hand. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Have I displeased you?” She scraped the contents of her hand back into the container then quickly lay back with her knees out, the soles of her feet pressed together. She raised her hands with fingers spread wide turning them front to back several times as though to prove that they were empty. After presenting her hands like this, she arched her back and, with her hands open palm-up to the side, she pressed her elbows underneath her torso as best as she could. Throughout this activity, she was chewing as fast as she could. Aife could hear something hard crunching in her mouth - presumably the other half of the egg shell. After she swallowed her mouthful with an audible gulp, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

Aife stared at the slave girl on display for a moment, shocked - her mouth hanging half open. Her eyes swept across the naked woman’s body with her sex on display and her breasts pressed up due to the arch in her back. She felt an uncomfortable sense of guilt ripple through her as she noted Zeigh’s nipples, taut and defined - her chest trembling with each ragged breath.

“Zeigh! No! Please… Don’t be afraid,” Aife said. “I’m sorry. Sit up please.”

Zeigh opened her eyes and propped herself on her elbows. “I’m so sorry, Mistress!”

“Not Mistress,” Aife corrected with as calm a voice as possible.

“Aife! I mean Miss Aife! I’m so sorry!” Zeigh sat up and slowly tucked her feet under herself in a kneeling position. She looked at the container. “I just thought that you said I could eat anything that I found…”

“I’m sorry, Zeigh, but it’s just that you are eating… you’re eating the compost.”

“Oh,” Zeigh continued to look at the container on the floor, pulling her shoulders higher, obviously struggling with something internally.

“Are you OK?” Aife asked. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No,” Zeigh said still squirming a little. “It’s just… What is compost? I thought it was a salad.”

“Compost?” Aife asked. “Didn’t you ever work in the kitchens at the castle? It’s food waste. It’s organic material that is not fit to eat. When the organic material decomposes you can use it to return nutrients to the soil. It helps plants grow. I have a garden on the roof where I grow fresh vegetables which I sometimes store here in the ice box. Would you like a fresh salad? Or maybe an egg for breakfast?”

Zeigh looked between Aife and the container several times, then she smiled. “I’m going to be a tree. Maybe you could plant me in your garden and then it will be ok for me to eat the compost.”

Aife smirked and looked down at Zeigh, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you say stuff like that just as a act, Zeigh?”

“Say stuff like what?” Zeigh pulled her arms in close to her chest, folding her hands in a ball close to her mouth. Aife watched as she opened her mouth and bit down nervously on the skin of her forefinger.

“You can not just turn into a tree, Zeigh. You can’t grow roots or leaves. You are an animal, not a plant.”

Zeigh looked up at Aife. She seemed to be afraid or sad. Aife started to feel bad, like she had broken a child’s dream. “Slave Karma said that we could be whatever we wanted to be. She always told me that.” Zeigh looked up at Aife, her face suddenly lightening once again. “She said I could be a tree if I wanted. Sometimes we would practice. We would stand in our cell with our limbs stretched out towards the sun and we’d pretend that the wind was blowing and we’d sway back and forth. And once, a bluebird flew threw the bars of the window and landed on my limb and I stood very still. And it stood on my limb for a long time looking at Slave Karma - it’s head twisting from side to side - watching Karma. She was already so beautifully adorned with a full array of body jewelry by that point. I think that the bird liked the way that Karma sparkled in the light. And she just smiled her most beautiful smile as she sat quietly down on her bed. It was a magical moment.”

“OK,” Aife said.

“And after a while the bluebird flew out the window. I didn’t want to move, hoping the bird would come back, maybe it was looking for a place to make a nest. But, I was getting tired of holding my arm out like a limb. And then Karma stood and pulled my arms down and hugged me. ‘See?’ she said, ‘That just goes to show that you would make a wonderful tree.’” Zeigh’s eyes were closed and a big smile was plastered on her face as she soaked in the memory.

Aife considered that perhaps the innocent slave simply confused the distinction between a symbolic act and the real thing. Perhaps in her head, when she held her arm out for the bird, she believed that she was actually a tree. “I’m so sorry,” Aife said. “I guess that I have just never met someone who has actually been a tree before.”

“That’s OK. The world is a big and mysterious place.”


0 - 0 - 1 - 18:54 - Evanescent

Evanescent, the Princess’ Witch, sat over the detailed drawings of Pet carefully updating the depiction of her hands to show that they were now encased in hard metal shells. Evanescent took extreme pride in her artistry - always seeking the utmost accuracy with scale and detail. She knew that her representations would enhance her sorcery and then, too, affect the very essence of Pet.

The previous evening she had drawn in a thick ring piercing Pet’s clitoris. After completing the enhancement, recording measurements, and marking runes, she went to the tip of the southwest tower of the castle to a hidden garret above the Rapunzel room where she had to work with two young Wyrists, warlocks with expertise in the magical use of light and electricity. Together they cast the spell using details from the drawings that would supposedly subdue the virus that was by now beginning to stir in Pet’s blood.

She decided that she would need to study the Wyrists’ techniques, because the warlocks were complete condescending assholes. She’d rather continue her job without them in the future. By the time they had completed the spells she felt wretched and she was certain that it was simply due to being in their presence.

Usually, drawing helped to calm Evanescent’s nerves, but something still bothered her. She sat looking at a replica of the metal casings that had been applied to Pet’s hands. She picked it up and tentatively slipped her hand through the opened wrist cuff. The inside was soft, yet firm. It forced her hand into a fist with her thumb isolated to the side.

She felt a shiver shake her for a moment thinking that if she were to slip and the wrist cuff were to lock, she would be robbed of one of the things that supposedly separated humans from other lesser animals - opposable thumbs. For Pet, the locks had been magically secured. She would not see her thumbs again. Not in this life, Evanescent thought. The Princess’ Witch quickly withdrew her hand.

The Queen’s Witch, Morgana, shuffled into the lab where Evanescent was working. She bowed for a moment before the statue of Ivankara. Then she struggled to her feet and tapped her lips with two fingers three times - a salute to the Gag of Complicities.

“Your work is beautiful, Evanescent,” Morgana croaked as she looked over the recent changes to Pet’s image. “I have never had any doubt about your skill at magic since the moment I chose you to be the Princess’ Witch.”

“Thank you,” Evanescent replied. “I have always tried to be as precise as possible.”

“Come with me. I have something that I want you to witness,” the older witch stated, turning back towards the door.

“Yes. You are the most skilled witch of your generation in the castle,” Morgana said as they made their way through the dark stone corridors of the Sorceress’ Wing. “After a year of courtship, the Princess will be granted to the Prince of Joppa and you shall no longer be under my tutelage.”

“Let’s pray the the Prince and Princess find a bond during that time,” Evanescent said.

“Hmpff.” Morgana clearly had doubts that the nuptials would be anything more than political. “As soon as the Prince inherits her power, I fear that her head will end up in a basket. Many of the advances that we have made as women - as women of magic and power - here in Cowen under the Queen’s rule may be lost. I’m afraid that the Princess will not be able to stand up to the Prince and the Kingdom of Joppa. It will be up to you, Evanescent, to protect the gains that we have made.”

Evanescent nodded solemnly. “Oh, I vow to work hard to maintain what few rights women have here in Cowen and spread them to Joppa as well. With freedom and a level playing field, both men and women can thrive. People of all castes. This will make our society stronger. I have more faith in the Princess than you perhaps.”

“I corrected myself,” Morgana stopped before a heavy wooden door and pushed a large key into the lock. “I said, ‘women of magic and power’... There’s a difference.”

Morgana opened a door to a room lined with burning torches. At the far end of the room a slave woman knelt before a heavy wooden post. She was naked, her arms raised to metal cuffs, each with a chain looped over hooks embedded in sides of the post above her head. At the opposite side of the room was a table with a ribbed spanking baton and a heavy leather tawse.

Evanescent looked back toward the slave. Her posture was rigid. She sat unmoving.

“While I am confident in your magical skills, Evanescent,” Morgana continued. “I am less assured of your disposition as a leader. Can you make difficult decisions that may cause one party to suffer to the benefit of another? I saw you flinch when I made Pet the other night. Sometimes cruel things must be done for the greater good. You must be able to sacrifice a pawn in order to capture a King.”

Morgana walked to the table and picked up the ribbed spanking baton, then turned towards the kneeling slave woman.

“Most people accept that they are no more than pawns. They accept that they play a role that is important to the existence of our society. They accept that the sacrifices that they make will help their peers continue to advance society and make the world a better place. They know that sometimes those sacrifices are cruel. It is just one of life’s risks.”

Morgana gently collected the slave woman’s long brown wavy locks, which hung down to her waist. She twisted the hair and tucked it over the woman’s shoulder revealing a pleasantly statuesque and muscled back - curving inward from her proudly held shoulders, past her waist, then swelling again into shapely hips. Evanescent’s heart stuttered as she scanned the slave’s curves. She knew Morgana was watching her closely and so forced herself to look up to the slave’s face. Her head was turned slightly to the side giving Evanescent a clear view of her face which seemed to be bereft of any sign of emotion.

“Kapitolina, here,” Morgana said indicating the slave woman, “has worked many years as one of the castle’s pleasure slaves. More specifically, she is a pain slut. Look at the scars on her skin.” Morgana waved the wooden baton like a pointer. “Badges of honor.”

Indeed, it was not difficult to see a lattice of imperfections lining her back from top to bottom. “She has served an important role in entertaining foreign dignitaries and wealthy businessmen. Likely, deals beneficial to Cowan have been made in part due to Kapitolina’s contributions - her blood, her sex.”

Morgana gently placed the tip of the baton at Kapitolina’s neck and let it gently slide down her back. “She knows her role. She is tough and proud… She should be! She knows that when she is beaten with a baton like this one, the pain she endures will improve our Kingdom and our way of life.”

Evanescent eyes became locked on the baton. She felt her heart rate start to climb. She noticed that her breathing hitched and she struggled to contain herself. The slave woman, meanwhile, remained still and perfectly erect.

Morgana was watching every move Evanescent made, no doubt searching for weakness. A cruel smile stretched across her face, and with a flourish, she raised the baton high and began striking the slave woman’s upper back repeatedly.

Evanescent flinched and gritted her teeth, but forced herself to watch as Morgana rained a volley of vicious impacts down upon Kapitolina. The room filled with the dull thud of blows, but amazingly, the slave woman endured the attack with little reaction or emotion. Each strike pushed her a bit forward, perhaps - made her bend a little. Her face remained set, but for a slight clenching of her jaw. Already, angry red lines began to form on her skin.

After perhaps ten blows, Morgana stopped. She lowered the baton and bent somewhat, wheezing. The beating seemed to have been more physically demanding for the sorceress than the slave, who already was straightening her back again, sitting tall and proud once more.

“So, you see,” Morgana whispered between breaths. “The pain slut knows her role.” She raised the spanking baton in order to point back at the table on the other side of the room. “Go fetch the tawse.”

Evanescent turned to the table and wrapped her trembling fingers around the handle of the tawse. Unlike the light flexible baton, the tawse was a heavy, fat strip of textured leather. Evanescent turned and presented it to Morgana, who simply shook her head and pointed at Evanescent.

“Just as Kapitolina has a role, so do you, as the future Queen’s Witch,” Morgana said, slowly regaining her breath, “you must know how to use your pawns and you must be unafraid to do so.” Morgana turned to look at the kneeling slave woman. “Beat her.”

Evanescent took a step towards Kapitolina and began to raise her arm, but then stopped. “I understand your point, Sorceress, and my intuition suggests that to inflict further injury upon this slave is not…”

“I said to beat her!!” Morgana screamed, her voice ragged.

Evanescent flinched. She glared at the older witch, thinking of an appropriate response.

“There is still a year before you become the Queen’s Witch. And if you cannot pass these simple tests, then I can guarantee you that you will never become the Queen’s Witch,” Morgan spoke, her eyes cold and narrow. “Beat her! You need to make her cry!”

Evanescent set her jaw and looked back at Kapitolina, who remained perfectly still.

“Beat her!” Morgana said again, grinning as she watched Evanescent steel herself.

“Sorry, Kapitolina,” Evanescent mumbled under her breath as she stepped up to the kneeling slave and raised her arm. Her first strike slapped loudly across the woman’s shoulder blades over the red welts that Morgana had left behind. The momentum of the tawse was such that Kapitolina was pushed forward against the post where her wrists were secured. The tawse was not designed to cut the skin as something thinner might. As Evanescent pulled her arm back for a second blow the area of impact began to bloom red. Regardless, Kapitolina endured the blow and quickly sat up straight once again, preparing for another stroke.

Such was the nature of society, that a woman of Evanescent’s position and power would be trained during the course of her life to deliver a corporal punishment to an errant slave efficiently and with skill. That, and the slave woman’s successful resistance of any show of emotion only spurred Evanescent on striking blow after blow strategically and with growing cruelty. All the while, Morgana cackled with glee.

Slowly, over the course of the beating, Evanescent’s face began to redden. It was not just from the exertion to beat the woman, but also from anger. Evanescent did not like to lose even in a battle of wills between a Domme and a Sub.

Finally, a blow landed before Kapitolina had sufficiently regained her firm stance and she collapsed against the post - her knees sliding out from beneath her, sprawling slightly to her side.

“Enough!” Morgana screamed, a cruel smile painting her face.

Evanescent stood breathing heavily, her arm trembling from the effort. She watched as Kapitolina pushed herself back off the post and reclaimed her proper position. Her upper back was bright red, sweat dripping from her hair and running down her sides, still, her face was as even as always.

Morgana continued to laugh as Evanescent dropped the tawse to the floor. “That you have failed, Evanescent, is no surprise. But it is not for your lack of skill. Unchain the pain slut!”

Evanescent paused a moment, working hard to regain her breath, then stepped around the slave woman to pull the manacle chains off the hooks. As she moved Kapitolina’s face was tracking Evanescent’s steps. Her mouth was turned up in a smirk, and even though her face was downcast as her training required, the slave was watching Evanescent’s eyes, seemingly basking in some sort of sick victory.

“Kapitolina won’t cry for you,” Morgana croaked. “She’s tough. She’s trained for this type of treatment. Smell her! She reeks of cunt juice. She is a tool to be used in this very manner. And as I said, as the Queen’s Witch, you must be prepared to use all of the tools available to you. Sometimes you must even break your tools.”

There was a clatter at the door of the room and a hooded slave woman rolled in a cart carrying some heavy looking metal devices.

Evanescent opened the cuffs, freeing Kapitolina’s wrists. The slave pulled them into her lap, rubbing fresh compression marks, flexing her fingers. Evanescent could not look the slave in the eyes. She had just beaten this woman to satisfy Morgana’s requirements and she felt a bit sick to her stomach. It was not so much the act of wielding the tawse that disturbed her, but rather the jolt of power that she had felt using it. With every stroke applied, she felt that she found the desire to continue grew.

“Slave, would you consider yourself a horny slut?” Morgana asked.

Kapitolina seemed to shift a bit, perched as she was, turning an eye to the new cart rolling up next to her. “Yes, Mistress Sorceress. I’m am trained to be ready and willing at all times for any client who may wish to engage with my talents,” the slave woman said in a breathy voice that seemed to exude sex.

“Do you like to cum?” Morgana asked.

“Yes, Mistress Sorceress,” the kneeling slave woman breathed. “That is my purpose in life. Would you like for me to cum for you now?” Evanescent noticed that Kapitolina’s hands slid down between her legs, slowly stroking the flesh there.

From her perspective, across the slave’s lap, Evanescent could see the cart more clearly and the devices laying on top. The slave’s head seemed to have turned to look at the cart as well. Kapitolina elicited a moan so sincere as she stroked herself that she sounded as though she were balancing on the edge of ecstacy. The moan felt as though it could eclipse all thought other than the beautiful slave’s writhing body. However, Evanescent noticed that Kapitolina’s eyes had focused in on the cart, and from them there was a flicker of fear.

“Rona, please set up the gauntlets on the hooks,” Morgana said to the robed slave pushing the cart.

“Yes, Mistress Sorceress,” Rona said. She stepped around and picked the first object off the cart. The light from the torches flashed off its cruel metallic surface dappling Kapitolina’s abdomen with small, tortured points of illumination. The object was a silver metal cylinder with three rows of narrow, finger-long sharp spikes spaced evenly around the curved surface. The top of the cylinder was rounded off with a sturdy, steel eyelet at the apex.

‘Gauntlets’? Evanescent thought. Were those meant to hold Kapitolina’s hands?

Rona lifted the gauntlet to the hook on the side of the whipping post. She slipped the hook through the steel eyelet. Evanescent noticed that Kapitolina had stopped petting herself. She too was transfixed by the object now hanging above her.

Rona stepped around the post with the second gauntlet and proceeded to hang it on the opposing hook. Evanescent noticed Morgana flick her wrist out of the corner of her eye. The gauntlet wobbled slightly in Rona’s hands causing one of the spikes to graze the tender flesh on Rona’s forearm where her robe had slid back.

Rona yelped and a thin pink slash decorated her arm. Quickly, a drop of blood coalesced and began to run down into her sleeve.

“Clumsy slut!” Morgana cursed. “The points are sharp, aren’t they?”

“Sorry, Mistress Sorceress,” Rona said quickly, making sure the gauntly was properly hung, then pressing her finger to the cut. “Yes, Mistress Sorceress, very sharp.”

Evanescent looked more closely at the gauntlets. In particular, she looked at the bottoms near where Kapitolina was destined to insert her hands. She was relieved to see that there were no cuffs included to tighten about her wrists. Particularly, nothing like the cuffs that Pet had installed which were destined to house her hands forever.

Kapitolina was examining the gauntlets as well. They dangled ominously before her eyes. Eyes which had lost all of their confidence - all of their conceit. Her gentle self-stimulation had completely stopped.

“How often do you masturbate each day, Kapitolina?” Morgana asked as she began to step around behind the slave.

“I spend most of my day aroused.” Kapitolina twisted to try and see what Morgana was doing. “As prescribed by the Rites of Arritus that you administered…” Evanescent thought she detected an accusatory tone in Kapitolina’s voice.

“Place your hands in the gauntlets, Kapitolina,” Morgana said in a calm voice.

Kapitolina had started to breathe in short bursts. She slowly turned back to face the spikey cylinders. Her face cast in a frown. She ducked a little to try to see inside the openings, then began to raise her hands up towards the dark bases. Evanescent could see her hands shaking.

“Reach inside the gauntlets, slave. You will feel a cross bar. Wrap the bar tightly in your fist.” Evanescent felt the blood drain from her face when she saw Morgana began to quietly spin her own wrists. Ethereal dark threads began to coalesce with each turn. This was not going to end well.

“Do you feel the crossbars?” Morgana asked, a smile spreading across her face. Evanescent could tell she already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Kapitolina whimpered. “Yes… please, Mistress Sorceress…”

Morgana mumbled something under her breath. Evanescent heard a sound of metal twisting and quickly looked back towards the kneeling slave woman. Kapitolina attempted to jerk her hands out of the gauntlets, but it was already too late. They just rattled from the hooks they hung from.

“No!!” Kapitolina screamed staring in horror as the steel cylinders seemed to shrink around her captured fists. “No!” Her pleas quickly turned into screams of terror.

Evanescent raised a hand to her forehead in horror, certain that at any moment she would hear the crushing of bone as the cylinders continued to shrink, or perhaps a sudden burst of blood as the slave woman’s hands were ruined. Morgana continued her chanting - the dark filaments of magic swirling about her own oscillating hands.

There was no blood and no crunching of bone, but still the gauntlets squeezed more and more tightly. Kapitolina’s forearms seemed to be pulled further into the cylinders. Her screams grew louder and tears streamed down her face. It was soon quite clear that there was no longer room in the cylinders to house her hands. In fact, the spikey cylinders seemed no more than cruel caps to the stumps of Kapitolina’s forearms.

Morgana stopped weaving the spell. Her shoulders slumped a bit, winded. Kapitolina was jerking her arms in an apparently useless attempt to reclaim her hands from within the metal gauntlets, screaming and cursing. Rona had taken a few steps back from the whipping post - a look of horror on her face, still holding the bloody gash on her arm. Evanescent felt sick. Her knees felt weak.

“Silence, slave!” Morgana croaked. “All your screaming is giving me a headache. I spent a lot of effort ensuring that the spell would cause you no pain. So, shut up!”

Kapitolina turned to look at Morgana for a second, fear clearly coloring her face. “Please! Please take them off. I need my hands to do my job!” She looked at Evanescent hoping for some sort of sympathy.

“Those are your hands now, slave!” Morgana said with a toothy smile. “Dangerous. Lethal. That metal is your skin. Those spikes are your fingers. So sturdy, so durable! So heavy! You will not want to touch yourself anymore!”

“No, please!” Kapitolina cried.

“Don’t worry, sweet slave. I’ve had a special room set up for you down in the dungeon. Chains from the ceiling will hold your hands up and away from your body so you don’t injure yourself. Sorry about the lack of windows, but you will be well taken care of.” Morgana glanced at Evanescent who stood frozen, trembling. “It can be like a coffin down there. Wouldn’t want to leave her without a little human interaction to keep her mind in an acceptable state.”

Morgana hobbled over to where Kapitolina knelt. The slave flinched when Morgana reached up to touch her cheek, but she had little room to move.

Morgana then presented her finger to Evanescent. “Do you see her tears? I was able to make her cry.” Kapitolina’s back was now hunched over and her shoulders bounced with silent sobs. Morgana turned to Evanescent. “Next it will be your turn!”

Kapitolina was mumbling, begging the Queen’s Witch to reverse the spell. Evanescent knew though that spells for destruction were vastly more simple than spells for creation. Kapitolina’s hands were gone. She felt bile beginning to rise in her throat and placed a hand over her mouth for fear that she might throw up.

Morgana simply laughed. “Rona! Show the Princess’ Witch the metal hood!”

Evanescent almost choked when she tried to swallow, her mouth was so dry. Still she was unable to form any words.

“I wrote that little spell that shrank the gauntlets and fused them to Kapitolina’s flesh and bones,” Morgana explained. “I’m going to give that spell to you, Evanescent. In fact, this is your assignment.”

Rona had pulled a heavy, metal object from the cart - a large sphere of some sort. With a bit of a struggle she managed to locate a seam, allowing her to open the sphere like a book to reveal the smooth inner surface hollowed out to hold an unfortunate individual’s head.

“I want you to improve on my spell to perform a similar type of task. In two week’s time, your spell should be able to shrink this metal hood and fuse it to Kapitolina’s head.”

Rona had closed the halves back together. Evanescent now noticed a small circular valve at about the location where the victim’s mouth would be. A smattering of holes and two horizontal slots higher up seemed appropriate for the victim’s nose and eyes, although the slots, with the lower edge bent in and flowing under the upper, were not oriented in a way to allow the victim to be able to see.

“If your spell works, and the slave survives the experience, and we see tears drain through the eye slots, I will be convinced that you are sufficiently skilled in both magic and disposition to succeed as the future Queen’s Witch,” Morgana paused, looking over at Kapitolina who now drooped slack hanging from her bound “hands”, completely unconscious. “If you fail, then I will have to declare you unfit for the position.”

Evanescent opened her mouth, but continued to cover it with her hand. For it was true. Morgana could strip Evanescent of her position of power as the Princess’ Witch. But the threat had even darker implications. Evanescent knew too much about the regime - its structure, the way it worked, its secrets. The regime could not afford to allow someone with Evanescent’s skills and knowledge to exist outside the walls of the castle. To be stripped of her position as the Princess’ Witch carried a serious sentence. She would be put to death.

0 - 0 - 1 - 19:30 - Divinica

Divinica, the Holy Mother of the Kingdom of Joppa, stood before her congregation of the Holy Women of the Sacred Hand delivering the morning call to worship.

“We have received word that Princess Merkeza of Cowen, the West Virgin, is now making the journey to Joppa-by-the-Sea. As you know, upon her arrival and by law, she and the Prince will spend a year of mandatory courtship ensuring that they are compatible for marriage. If the Prince accepts her after a year, the Princess will deliver her dowry and they will be wed.

“As a part of the lead up to the wedding celebration and in honor of our future Queen, I would like to announce the restoration of our very own glorious and historical clock tower!”

No voices were heard, of course, but a ripple of robes could be heard throughout the hall and Divinica could see many of her flock breaking position. She was feeling generous, today. She would not require penance for these indiscretions. This news was really exciting!

“The clock tower was built long before peak oil, relying on that antiquated fuel source, unfortunately it had to be unplugged. For the past 80 years it has stood literally frozen in time. In about nine months, after a number of renovations that will change the way it is powered - one hundred percent biofuel - the hands will once again sweep across the minutes and hours of the day.” Divinica looked across the crowd of faces with a large smile on her face. “And you are really going to love the beautiful tones issued by the clock reporting the current time every quarter hour.”