Brand released a long-drawn-out exhalation, one of several over the last few minutes. Each breath gave him resolve, and he’d need as much as he could muster to confront Magna.

He preferred some thug with a sword and a murderous disposition bar his path. That would have been easier to deal with and probably less painful. No, far less painful.

Magna wasn’t his matron that night, or the only mother he’d ever known. She was just an obstacle, nothing more than a warden hellbent on keeping him under lock and key.

Not for the first time, Brand wondered if this was what having a real parent felt like. He also wondered if he was a piece of shit son for never listening. Magna was only trying to help him. She didn’t see keeping him from leaving as getting in his way.

Hopping out of bed, Brand eyed the door across the room. The place was cluttered with children practically sleeping on top of each other, most more than willing to wake their matron in petty revenge for one slight or another.

Brand grabbed hold of one of the many wooden beams built into the roof. He pulled himself off the floor and with slow, deliberate motions, grasped the next beam closer to the door. It was hard work, and keeping his breath quiet came difficult, but he made his way just behind the exit when something bumped into him.

Brand went rigid, the surprise almost causing him to fall, then a hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“Brandy,” a girl mumbled sleepily as she floated above the pile of slumbering bodies.

“Astrid, go back to bed,” Brand whispered, wishing he could just swim through the air like the half-asleep fey kin.

Carrying himself the last few feet, Brand let himself down with Astrid still clinging to him. Careful not to wake her, he peeled her off and pushed her down the hallway, into the open door of the girl’s room. She probably wouldn’t stay there, but with no open windows in the house, it really didn’t matter where she woke up in the morning.

With Astrid taken care of, Brand made his way downstairs. If there was a time Magna would catch him, that would most likely be it.

Each step came with an echoing groan. If not for the trouble he’d arranged that evening, the matron would definitely have been awoken. It was the mistake he’d made the last time, so he’d given some extra sugary snacks to some of the younger kids to keep Magna busy long into the night.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Brand came to a stop, remembered pain holding him in place. Overcoming Magna was no small thing, and not for the first time he faltered, but only for a moment.

Only a few steps from freedom, he broke into a sprint. Magna would know he’d left. How was still a mystery. It could be the pair of wings marking his and every other orphan’s arm, or it could be another aspect if her power, but she’d know. She always knew. But this time, she’d be too late to get in his way.

Brand burst through the front door and landed face first in the dirt, tripped by an outstretched foot.

“Now, what might you be doing up so late, Brandy?” Magna asked.

Hearing his hated nickname, Brand knew he had most likely lost his chance to make his escape painless.

Magna leaned on a wall right next to the door with bags under her eyes and a smile on her face. She wore her usual day clothes, a loose-fitting gray robe. It was the kind of outfit an old woman would wear and looked out of place on someone at most in her early thirties.

Brand eyed her boots, worn and covered in mud. She’d left for the night and come back, waiting just for him. It was almost flattering, if what came next wouldn’t hurt so gods damned much.

Brand glowered as he got to his feet and dusted himself off. His voice came out tired, worn down just a bit more every time Magna stood in his way. “We do this every month, Magna. Just give up and let me go,” he said.

“That’s Miss Magna, young man,” the matron retorted in a playful tone. “And I won’t let you get yourself hurt without at least trying to stop you. It is my duty to protect all the children in my care, even ones as violently stubborn as you.”

Brand braved a sneering grin, but all the while he knew what she said to be the truth. The woman was fearless when it came to her children. She wouldn’t hesitate in the least if some thug made trouble for them on their rare visits into The Null Road. Despite the harsh nature of Vellia’s most poverty-stricken district, all it took was a few harsh words and a stomp of her foot and, to Brand’s amazement, she’d get her way.

“Besides,” Magna continued with a tired breath, far more exhausted than Brand’s., “Iif I let you do this, I might as well let you do whatever you want.”

“I already do whatever I want,” Brand declared while using his height to stare her down, as if she were the child.

“And I’ll punish you every time you do. Your punishments keep the other kids behaved. If I stop, they’ll think being like you is ok when it is not.”

“Ok, Magna,” Brand said, wielding her name like a weapon. “Let’s get this done.”

A long moment passed, then Brand was off, sprinting towards freedom as fast as his legs could take him. He could only hope to get far enough away before she used her focus.

He might not know how it worked, but like all focuses, the matron would need to gather her mana, her power that fueled whatever magic her focus used.

The near unseeable energy existed in all living things, but for most who didn’t live in the city proper, controlling it was a rare skill. Brand also had a firm grasp on his mana, but Magna’s put him to shame.

She could reach out with her power, making a ripple in the air that snaked away from her body to constrict around her target. It took time and lots of concentration, so Brand’s last chance for an easy escape was getting out of range of that damned magic before it was ready.

Not ten feet from the matron, Brand knew he’d failed. A sudden force tugged on him, while a steady pain blossomed throughout his body, increasing with every step he took. The magic had been cast so quickly she must have prepared it long before he’d tried to leave.

Every part of Brand’s body erupted in indescribable agony. Not a burning or a piercing or like a blow to the head, but something deeper, stranger, and all-encompassing. His very soul cried out, and his body followed.

Sweat poured from him as he trembled under the torment. If it wasn’t that particular night, if it wasn’t for any other reason, he would give in and head back inside. But Brand didn’t have time to be coddled like a child, so he put one foot in front of the other and staggered forward, the pain growing worse the further away he got.

Through gritted teeth, he shouted over his shoulder, “Just you wait until I get my focus!”

He kept running, swaying side to side, pain stealing his balance, all the while never letting it take his footing.

It only hurts. It only hurts, he repeated in his mind, the mantra somehow keeping him moving.

And suddenly it was over. The pain disappeared, and he was free of the matron’s clutches.

Turning around, he smiled and said, “See you in the morning.”

“Don’t you dare get yourself hurt!” Magna shouted in return.

Brand paused at seeing the look of concern on her face. He hated it almost as much as Magna’s focus. That look told him without a doubt that she cared. Regardless of his disobedience, she wanted him home, not out getting hurt. But he would leave anyway, prophesying that tears would be wetting her face come the morning.

The thought made him feel dirty, but only for a moment. He wouldn’t have Magna forever, so what she wanted couldn’t sway him. What mattered now was money, and he’d make none sleeping the night away.

I’ll try not to get hit in the face, he thought, knowing that upon his return, the only mother he knew would break down and cry while rubbing his face clean if he had wounds she could see.

****

“Fucking hells!” Magna shouted, watching Brand stride down the road. “That stupid pig-headed little shit!”

She continued to curse until he was out of sight, then stomped her way back into the orphanage. Magna had had enough of seeing him come home in a bloody mess, but there would be no convincing him to stop.

It started with bruises. Well, more bruises than usual. Brand always had a few but Magna usually knew how he got them. The occasional bout of violence didn’t worry her, but then he began coming home with knife wounds.

Some nights were better than others, but it was clear he’d been fighting for his life. Magna already knew why he was doing it, despite him trying to be secretive. Only the truth would convince Brand to stop, and revealing the truth wasn’t an option. So, she consigned herself to treat him every time he came home, sewing together torn skin and trying not to cry.

“If only I still had my magic,” she growled to herself. The house seemed to echo her frustration, releasing a high-pitched whine of grinding wood in response.

The goddess Vara’s blessing of Magna was a boon, but it was of the hearth, one for taking care of children. Always knowing when they left the safety of the orphanage paled compared to what she could accomplish with true spells.

As floorboards shifted and the building swayed just the slightest bit, Magna only grew more furious, causing her place of power to come alive. All the spells she could have used to control her home were lost to her. She was mundane now, and had to rely on emotional triggers that were famously unreliable.

If anyone but one of her children walked through the front door right then, they’d probably be ripped to pieces or burned to ash or frozen, disintegrated, electrocuted, melted, Magna wasn’t sure. All of her defenses would activate and one of them would work. But what she really missed was healing magic. She wasn’t that adept at the practice, but it was far better than a sewing kit and healing herbs.

“Fuck!” she shouted, feeling the need to curse again.

The act gave her a small rush of excitement, like she was breaking a rule. She never let her children use such words and wouldn’t dare speak that way in their presence, but sound didn’t carry in the house unless she wanted it to.

Magna chuckled to herself. “Wow,” she said, “I’ve gotten boring in my old age.” But boring was good in her opinion.

Boring meant she wasn’t killing anyone. She’d take crying babes, whining toddlers, foolish teenagers, and an unrepentant Brand over who she’d been before. But strangely enough, that life of violence might be the key to keeping him alive.

Coming to a decision, Magna found the bag she carried during the evening and emptied its contents. A handful of silver coins, a small fortune for this part of the city, fell to the ground. The risk of having such valuables on her person was small, but she never took a risk when she didn’t have to.

After the floor opened, swallowing the bag’s contents, Magna turned and left the orphanage. She’d already made a trip to her masters that night, but this time it wouldn’t be for her monthly stipend. This time, she’d go on Brand’s behalf to make sure this would be the last night he’d risk his life for something as worthless as money.