The floor is still filthy. It's not a matter of hygiene; the reality is that this place is inherently repulsive. The walls are made of blackened stone, the ceilings dark and caked with grime, but that was what we prepared ourselves to face when we accepted work with the Blackcloaks.
Thris is suffering more than she admits. In the city, I was the one who received the unwanted attention, but here, where the students are young and we are all exposed to the discoveries of their bodies, it is common for her to return exhausted and aching. Night becomes the only time of day when we can truly work: she in the laundry, and I cleaning the most disgusting areas of the dungeons, always searching for Lilith. Why? Because she is our Mistress.
Magic isn't inside our bodies like people believe; we use it without thinking, without being detected. The power we possess is so small that we are never considered to have abilities at all. But we don't need them. With Lilith, I learned to read. Thris could read before we met her, but now she writes. I need to learn to write; I have to be of help. So, the symbols she carves into the foam while washing her battered body are burned into my mind. The next day, I seek out those enormous blue stones in the basements. With my fingernail, I cut my hand as if it were a splinter wound. When a few drops have gathered, without anyone noticing, I pass by and write a line. Later, another. By the time the night is over, one more word has been added to the stone.
I move slowly, I know this. But many words consist of several strokes, and I cannot linger long in front of the stones. Moreover, it's not just writing; I must imbue them with magic—almost all I possess—so they can bind with the magic invoked there. I cannot read their words, but my sister told me it was how they kept our Mistress imprisoned. They sucked the magic out of her. Every night, the students came down before bed; every night they attacked that crystal pillar. Between jokes and blasphemies, they hurled everything they knew or had learned that day against Lilith, who would emit a moan of pain. Having done this, they returned to sleep on pallets that had to be clean by the time they lay down. My sister took care of that. Every night, with red hands, numbed like her loins, she would come and teach me the next rune. There are fewer left every day.
All the crystals have been rewritten. Finally, the day of Lilith's liberation approaches. But to activate it, we need magic—more than my sister and I can emit. We have to think of something. A messenger announced that the Blackcloak leader returns in two days, and he had forbidden us from approaching. However, his students, and especially the second-in-command, were the first to show us their "greatest achievement." They all come and laugh; they don't seem to remember the fear they felt when they saw her in action. I imagine that's why they keep up this charade of mockery. That is exactly what Thris and I will use.
At night, with our savings, we bought supplies for dinner, including plenty of aphrodisiac food purchased directly from the Pink Parlor. It cost us more than one gold coin, but it didn't matter; it was the last night we would be here. If we failed, we would have to flee. I am certain the Blackcloak leader would be able to distinguish the crude writing I did on each stone from that of those who live here.
They dined with great enthusiasm. I served the wine and my sister the food. Fifty students enjoyed it all; it was prepared with all the love in the world. We wanted them to eat everything, to prepare them for what was to come. When eleven o'clock struck, my sister reappeared. She was dressed in a piece of black silk, a gift from a merchant. She suffered much to keep it, but she wore it without shame. She smiled at the "mighty mages of Midnight Crow," insinuating herself. With her eyes, she gave me the signal. Flushed at showing myself this way before her, I walked over and stood by her side. With my hands, I traced her nonexistent curves; she swatted me and laughed vulgarly. I know it's an act, but I loathe myself for not being able to do this alone.
The provocation worked. They were excited by the food and our baiting. As we walked downstairs, we felt it: their uncontrollable desire. By the time we reached the basement, several were already stripping. Upon arriving, I saw that my sister had prepared aphrodisiac incense. A dim blue light illuminated us. In the center, she lay down and cast aside her loincloth. I closed my eyes and imagined we were back in the forest—her, her parents, and mine—before the first human tore into me.
The night moved slowly. The magic they released was puerile: limbs of ice, fire, air—the small imagination of weak minds. Even so, the damage was immense. My sister screamed, faking pleasure, but I could see her in pain. At times, I snapped out of my stupor as the pain became too intense; after two minutes, I would grow accustomed to it and let it be. My nature saved me from madness, from total misery, as the magic accumulated.
The humiliations moved to a more personal level. They tried to suffocate me; twice they used a whip. They gave her piercings, they beat her. They weren't humans; they were savage beasts, so caught up in doing whatever occurred to them that no one saw we were carving the "Mana Leech" rune with our fingernails. It is small; we don't know which part means what, but it must work. When activated, it will strip them of all their energy and revive our Mistress.
But I don't think we will live to see it. It's been a while since my sister has reacted. Her eyes are rolled back, and a line of saliva escapes her mouth, telling me they have gone too far—perhaps beyond the point of recovery. I touch myself, and from my backside, there is a mixture of fluids I prefer not to think about.
All the runes are in place! I only need them to get careless, something to break the concentration of their fields, something to let the runes activate. Something to save my life so I can bury my sister. At that moment, I hear the shouts of the masters. The Blackcloak leader has arrived!
Exhausted, all of us—including me on the floor—hear his steed, his shouts of fury. That was the moment. Terrified, they all forgot to hold their fields, and suddenly, the runes activated. I'm sure of it. I can see a faint light in them. I turn and manage to see Lilith's eyes, my Lady… they just flashed! I'm sure of it! Perhaps I won't be able to hear her thank us, but that doesn't matter. We won! My sister and I defeated a guild of mages. I wish she could hear me.