The spell that turned land to darkness - Part 2

Blake.

His name, a whisper in my mind. A single word that seemed to rattle the very essence of my beating heart. My bones turned fluid, and I could barely stand, could barely breathe. The air felt drier somehow. I needed to escape this place, but the rope bit into my skin, marring my wrists and making me bleed. I could almost taste the iron on my tongue.

I was stuck.

“Please,” I whimpered but regretted the word instantly. I sounded so pathetic. Blake’s gaze turned to the ropes holding me hostage and darkened. They became black and solid, like iron and night had been forged into one.

“Who tied those?” Anger flared up and painted his face a stark shade of red, the color of blood. That didn’t make any sense. I didn’t know this man and had never seen him before today. I didn’t even know he existed.

When no words escaped me, his voice lowered and turned deep and husky. “I said…Who did this to you?”

I would do anything to be able to cross my arms, but no matter how hard I strained against the ropes, they wouldn’t budge. All I could do was pout and look away, so I did.

“Lyra.” His voice sounded like pleading, and surprise made me turn back to him.

Why was his tone so careful, so tender? Why did he care?

“I don’t know,” I muttered.

He pulled out a knife that looked sharp enough to slice through bone and muscle as easily as flesh. I tried to draw back, but before I had time to react, he swiped the knife from under the rope and split it into two. One of my hands was free.

“Hey! You can’t do that!” A man shouted from behind him, one of the men who had tied the ropes around my wrist. Not kindly. He hadn’t cared that he hurt me. I meant nothing to him. I was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

Blake turned his back to me, knife in hand, and strode right for him. Every fiber of my being seized at that moment.

“Blake,” I said, and he stopped at the sound of my voice but didn’t turn around.

“Don’t kill him.” I didn’t know why I protected him. He certainly didn’t deserve my protection.

“Please,” I added, with confidence this time.

He cast a side-eyed look at me. “I’m sorry, love, but I never claimed to be a good man.” He then went straight for the man and drove the knife into his heart.

No remorse. No doubt.

He then turned back to me, and I noticed how a streak of blood stained his clothes. “You will forgive me in time.”

“No.” I trembled. “I won’t.”

He smiled then, showing off his dimples, and cocked his head. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

He then took out a sheet of clean paper from his pocket, his eyes never leaving mine, and wiped his knife clean. The movements were slow and steady, as if this wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. Like he had expected the outcome.

What had I gotten myself into? Or rather with… who?