‘Now, shall we play a little game? I have just perfected a spell that will make your strong, fearless friend scream like a baby. And I’ve perfected another spell with very different but just as destructive consequences. Which would you like to see first?’ The High Priestess was enjoying herself. She appeared to be getting some form of sick thrill from torturing them.

‘Neither, you beast,’ Alice spat.

‘Now, now, watch your language, Blackwell, or I’ll have you in chains too. Actually, that’s not a bad idea.’ She called the guards over again and Alice found herself face to face with Grace, both on their knees, hands manacled to chains that spread their arms like human sacrifices.

‘I won’t let you do this,’ growled Alice, trying to crane her neck to look the priestess straight in the eye.

‘I’m afraid, my dear girl, that you don’t have much choice. I want to see your power. I want to know how far I can push you, how powerful you really are. Grace here is … useful, but she won’t be a leader; she won’t amount to much. I expect you’ll grow bored of her someday soon; you’ll want a companion who’s a little more … experienced.’

A guttural growl was vibrating at the back of Alice’s throat as her anger began to grow. She risked a glance into Grace’s eyes and saw pain etched there, as clearly as if Alice herself had carved it into her face.

‘Grace,’ Alice whispered, her throat constricted with emotion. ‘Grace, don’t listen to her. It’s not the truth. Don’t listen to her.’ Grace could only nod.

‘It appears,’ the priestess announced, trying to regain the girls’ attention, ‘that I may have to take a more forceful approach to encourage your magic to really break free of the constraints you have placed upon it.’ She came to stand on Alice’s left, staring at them both with fierce intensity. She lifted her hands in front of her, her fingers flexing and shaking with the effort of the spell she was in the process of conjuring.

For a few short seconds, nothing happened. Grace and Alice locked eyes, confusion clear in their faces.

Then thick black smoke started swirling around Grace’s legs. As soon as it made contact with her, she shrieked and began to writhe in pain. The smoke continued to climb up her body, clinging to her limbs, sticking to her bare wrists and throat. Alice could only fight against her chains with helpless abandon as she watched Grace suffer.

Grace’s skin was just about visible through the swirling burning haze and it had turned red raw and bloody. The smoke was ripping into her, peeling the skin from her bones, flaying her alive. Grace screamed and screamed and screamed…

Until the fog made its way into her eyes, through her nostrils, and down her open throat. Grace’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and her entire body started to shake and jolt. Grace had lost all autonomy, she had lost consciousness, and she had lost the ability to cry for help. No, she had not lost it. The High Priestess had taken it from her.