Molly de Olivar was the youngest daughter of a baronet, a minor noble considered outside of the peerage. Her mother and father had loved and doted on their only daughter, despite having two sons older than her. In truth, even her brothers were kind to her. The twins were good lads who shared everything, and despite the conflict such things would normally cause in the house of a noble, they seemed to have no issue with the idea of ruling their domain jointly when the time came. Everyone got along well with everyone in her household.

She wasn't spoiled, she felt, but she grew up in a household full of love. There were arguments, at times, but no one was cruel or spiteful to anyone else. The commonfolk within their domain were well-treated and both loved and respected their liege lord. Hate was practically a foreign concept to the young girl.

Perhaps that was why her treatment at the academy had hurt so terribly.

Molly was a small thing, a mousy little girl who, even after having an early growth spurt, was still petite to the point that even a height of five feet tall seemed an impossible dream even if she wore high heels or platform shoes. She looked, and was, harmless. Unfortunately, she was also the child of a lesser noble who was attending an academy normally reserved for the children of the peerage and was only able to attend due to her father being old friends with Archduke de Alvorin, a camaraderie born from when the lesser noble had come riding to the rescue when the Archduke's carriage was attacked by bandits in their youth.

Unfortunately, even Molly herself would admit that the school was a bad match for her talents. Molly's gift was with song magic, spells that were interwoven with lyric, tone, and cadence, not the complex finger weaving that often accompanied the use of most forms of magic. Worse, Molly had neither the talent nor the disposition to be able to use combat magic effectively. The young lady would have been better served attending a bardic school, or perhaps traveling to the kingdom of the elves, where they had a school that specialized in the field.

Unfortunately, Molly was not only mousy and tiny, but she was also very timid. Redheads are often portrayed in bardic stories as being strong-willed and having a fiery temper, but Molly, despite having the pale skin, freckles, green eyes, and fiery mane that screamed she should be the embodiment of the stereotype, was in truth so meek and non-confrontational that the idea of standing up for herself often scared her more than her bullies did.

Unfortunately, it is the nature of bullies to pick on people who are weak, defenseless, and powerless. While they may sometimes select their prey due to differences in gender, class, race, religion, or creed, the main reason why one person will terrorize another is that the person that they're bullying is weaker than they are and no one will stop them from doing so.

Molly learned that the hard way when, after reporting to her teacher that three of her classmates, Heather de Edelmire, Rachel de Middlescor, and Jessica de Litelfel, had been picking on her. The teacher had done little more than giving the trio a small lecture with no further punishments since the bullying in question had not occurred where anyone could witness it. The young lady had hoped that would be the end of things.

Instead, things had escalated greatly. While passing a washroom the next day, the trio had grabbed her in the hallway and dragged her in. For several minutes, they'd struck her, verbally abused her, and then forced her face into a used chamberpot, before Heather pulled a dagger out, and threatened that if Molly ever ratted them out again to anyone, she'd be cut in a way that wouldn't show, but would make sure no man would ever want her for a bride. Then, they'd waited for the halls to clear, then dragged her, bound and gagged, to one of the Academy's bell towers.

There, they left her... on a Friday night. No one found her until the following Monday when the caretaker came while making his rounds. She'd been left there alone to suffer and had been close to dying from thirst or exposure. She was nearly a week in recovering, and fear had kept her from telling anyone anything.

Since then, Molly tried her best to avoid the trio, making sure she never approached any place where she could be ambushed, isolated, and abused. She never used the washrooms the school provided and made sure to stick to the middle of crowded hallways. She never left her dorm on the weekends, barring to get meals from the kitchens, and promptly returning. That worked, mostly, for a few weeks. Then, one day she'd returned to her room, locked the door, and relaxed... only for the trio to unlock the door and come inside. They'd managed to get a copy of the key to her dorm.

From that point on, there was no escape for her. For nearly six months, the trio had made her life a living hell.

But Molly endured it. Then, on Friday, the weekend before the tournament, she went into the headmaster's office and informed Headmaster de Ironford of her intent to drop out at the end of the semester. He was surprisingly understanding about it, stating that he'd had an eye on her, and agreed that the academy was not the right fit for someone with her talents. Someone with a talent for song magic hardly fit in a school that focused on combat magic, and with her excellent grades in everything beyond spellcraft, she could certainly do better elsewhere. He stated that he was friends with the headmaster of a bardic school, and if she wished, he would be happy to send a recommendation so that she could transfer out on good terms, as well as a letter to her parents that indicated that he felt that her talents were wasted here. She immediately agreed.

Molly was practically overjoyed when she left the headmaster's office, so much so that she didn't see Rachel as she made her way down the halls towards her dorm.

And then that evening, after she'd gone to sleep, her door opened, and the trio was upon her before she could make a sound.

An hour later, she was bound, gagged, and blindfolded, and in a sack. From what she felt and heard, she was in a carriage with the trio making conversation as they approached their destination.

Jessica: Are you sure that no one will find her there?

Heather: Quite certain. I've paid the driver well, so he won't tell anyone about this. As to the body, no one goes near the 'Whore's Hole' anymore. Everyone considers it cursed.

Rachel: Why do they even call it that?

Heather: Because it's full of dead whores, obviously.

A brief pause...

Heather: Don't look at me like that. Well, it wasn't always, I guess. Back in the age of barbarism, it was apparently where some warlord or other built a special palace just for his favored concubines. Then, one day a sinkhole opened and swallowed them all up. No one knows how deep it really goes. It got its name when, fifty years ago, some rut-transferred foreign pox was spreading through the whores in Academy City's red-light district, so the criminal gangs running the brothels gathered up all the sick prostitutes and threw them in. They got caught that time, but when the guard questioned them about it, it turns out they'd been throwing sick and dead whores down there for as long as the city has been around, if not longer.

Jessica: That's kinda sad.

Heather: Who cares? It's a bunch of dead common whores, not people. Now get ready, we're almost there.

Molly tried to struggle and get herself free, but the ropes were tight, and even at the best of times, she was pitiably weak compared even to other young noblewomen of her age. Her gag consisted of a thick rod of metal, impossible to chew through. All her attempts to break free or cry out for help gained her were a few vicious kicks from her captors. Finally, she was hefted up and carried roughly an unknown distance. Then, she could feel she was being swung back and forth. As they did, she heard Heather speak.

"We warned you about blabbering, trash. You get what you deserve."

And then, she was flying through the air, and then all too soon, falling down and down.

As she descended, she heard one of the trio say, "Let's have a picnic before we head back. I'm starved."

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She fell and fell for a very long time. As she did, a single sentence kept running through her head.

"You get what you deserve."

Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit. She'd done nothing to deserve this. She'd done nothing wrong, nothing that warranted her being mistreated this way. All she'd done was attend classes at the academy, and this trinity of bitches had decided that alone was enough to justify their bullying and that her daring to speak to the teachers was enough to threaten to maim her. They'd even assumed that the only thing she could have going on in her life was them, so her speaking with the headmaster could only ever have been about reporting them.

She was weaker than they were, so she deserved to be treated this way. That was what they used to justify everything they did to her.

If only she had the power instead...

She finally landed, but... softly. But how? Some kind of mud, or detritus that had gathered at the bottom of this centuries-old sinkhole? She had no idea. However, that was hardly a good thing: She was bound, gagged, and trapped in a sack. All her soft landing had ensured was that she'd die a slow death from dehydration.

Then, strangely, she felt hands tugging at the sack. After a few moments, it was opened, and she found herself staring up at a reptilian visage, its black and white scales given an odd appearance due to a floating ball of blue fire that hung suspended in the air. Despite its odd appearance, the creature looked down at her almost compassionately as it and its companion began severing her bonds and removing her gag, then pulled her to her feet. They immediately grabbed her by the hands and tugged on them, seeming intent on guiding her somewhere. She followed, having nowhere else to go, and the blue flame followed.

Molly had heard of kobolds, the small, subterranean humanoid reptiles which sometimes populated caves across the world. They were largely harmless creatures, keeping to themselves and avoiding the surface. They tended to be surprisingly social, however and were known to aid people who found themselves lost underground.

The creatures led her to a tunnel, then through it into a small alcove. Within, she saw a dozen of the creatures gathered around a small shrine which contained what was clearly a human corpse, albeit an extremely old and withered one. The remains were dressed in what must have once been fine silks, but the years had not been kind to the fabric. The gold rings and necklaces which still adorned the body were of an archaic style that even Molly's inexpert eye could tell predated anything remotely resembling a fashion from within the last five hundred years. However, the main focus of Molly's attention was on the instrument in the corpse's lap.

It was a small lyre harp, shaped like a crescent moon, wrought in gold with silver strings. Her hands ached to reach out and touch it, despite her having no idea how to play it. Somehow, despite the impracticality of its design, some internal instinct told the young noblewoman that if she were to put her clumsy fingers to its strings, the instrument would emit sounds more beautiful than an expertly crafted instrument could manage in the hands of a master of songcraft. Molly, with the sense honed by her training in wizardry, could acutely feel the power that seemed to crackle off of the thing. This thing was magical. Deeply, extremely, absurdly magical.

But why had the kobolds brought her here?

:They brought you here because I asked them to.:

Molly looked wildly about, trying to find the source of the voice. It was a beautiful voice, but one that seemed to radiate an intense sorrow, like a grieving widow desperately trying to speak without bursting into tears. After a minute or two of searching, she realized that it had originated from the lyre harp itself.

:Indeed,: the instrument confirmed. :I had them bring you here because I want someone to play me. The kobolds are wonderful people, but they have no gift for music. But you! I can hear the music within you. I could feel it from miles away. Please, place your hands upon me, and play me with all your heart. Take me out to where others can hear my song. Do so, and I will grant you whatever you desire.:

An evil, evil smile came to Molly's lips as she asked, "Anything?"

:Anything,: the lyre harp echoed.

Molly reached her hand out to grasp the instrument, and said, "Bargain struck."

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Heather de Edelmire, Rachel de Middlescor, and Jessica de Litelfel were sitting upon a picnic blanket on the grass, not far from the sinkhole, chatting as they ate and enjoying the song of the crickets around them. A respectable distance away, the coach driver smoked on his pipe while he waited for his passengers to finish.

As is sometimes the case with a group of teenage girls talking in private, the topic of the discussion had turned to the subject of boys.

"I rather fancy Crassus," Heather admitted, nibbling on a muffin.

"I can't say I'd want to have anything to do with him," Rachel replied, shivering slightly. "I mean, the way he had no problem with striking that common girl, I'd be too scared that he might one day get drunk and use those fists on me.

Jessica nodded in agreement, reaching for a sweet roll.

Heather laughed derisively, and retorted, "That's like a peasant girl saying that they'd be scared to wed a hog farmer because he might use his tools to dismember his wife instead of swine. He's striking a common wench, not an actual person."

Jessica countered, "But asides from magic, he's not really good at anything, at least from what I've heard. So, other than a pretty face, his wizardry, and inheriting the estate, there's not much to him. His younger brother, meanwhile, is only a year junior, but he's skilled at just about anything he turns his hands to. He'll definitely go far, even if he doesn't inherit anything."

Heather snorted in disgust, "He's far too liberal. It turns my stomach, thinking about it."

Jessica shrugged, then stated, "I really don't care about politics. Wealth and position are much more important. I'd wed a commoner if it meant I might go from a baroness to a duchess."

Heather chewed on that as she finished her muffin, then conceded, "I suppose we all have different ideas of what is acceptable. I guess if some common women would screw a donkey for money, there must be women like you, too."

Jessica turned a bright shade of red as Heather and Rachel laughed out loud. As the giggles died down, Rachel suddenly looked about, and asked, "Why did the crickets stop?

Then, a single, musical note rang out, and the three fell to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. Jessica could see that the coach driver and his horses had likewise collapsed. The three girls struggled to move, but could suddenly no longer find the strength to do so. They could not even find the strength to open their mouths to speak.

Heather was the first one to see Molly rising out of the 'Whore's Hole', floating in the air while playing a melancholy tune on a lyre harp. Calmly, without saying anything, she touched down on the ground and walked over to the picnic basket, pulled out a muffin, and began eating it, looking down at the trio who lay twitching weakly at her feet. After a few minutes, she finished her meal and her song, then stepped away. She then played a single note on the harp, and the trio rose up into a sitting position, their bodies seeming to be moved by an invisible hand. They sat there, powerless to move.

Finally, Molly said, "You may speak."

Immediately, before anyone could say anything else, Heather blurted out, "I am so sorry!"

Instantly, the trio found themselves silent as Molly slapped Heather across the face with almost inhuman strength. With one hand, the angry young lady then lifted Heather up b the front of her dress... and smiled. It was not a sane smile. "Gosh, golly, and gee-willikers," Molly said, "you didn't sound sorry when you threw me in, and you sure didn't sound sorry when you were sitting here eating with your friends. I wonder what has happened to make you change the way you feel about what you did to me just now?"

Molly then dropped Heather to the ground, and answered her own question, stating, "You're not sorry. You're scared. And you should be." She paused, and then said, "I don't think you even know how to be sorry. But that's okay..."

Molly tilted her head to the side, her grin growing wider, as she announced, "I shall teach you how to be sorry."

She began to strum her lyre harp and sing. As she did, emotions, memories, and pain filled the trio. The memories of thousands of women, used, abused, and tossed away, flooded their minds, as real and as terrible as if they were their own. They experienced every heartbreak, every betrayal, every sorrow, as the lives of every 'common whore' who'd ever been tossed into the sinkhole filled them. They felt the pain of being sold or abandoned by their parents to rough, cruel men who treated them like chattel. They felt the joy of giving birth to a child, only to have it cruelly ripped from their arms to be sold into slavery, if not to have its head dashed upon the stones by those who decided that the children of whores had no value, even as slaves. They felt every misery ever visited upon these women, these mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives who had been treated as livestock and then thrown away when they no longer had value. They felt it all.

And then they felt what they did to Molly, and how they'd unjustly tried to murder her when all she'd done was try to leave the academy.

Finally, after perhaps an hour, the song ended.

Heather watched Molly turned her head to look intently upon Rachel, asking, "So, what did we learn today?" After a moment, Rachel seemed to work her mouth oddly, spit something out, and then tilted her head to look up as blood started coming from her lips and tears streamed down her face. It took Heather a moment to realize what had happened: Rachel had bitten through her tongue, and was now drowning herself in her own blood. After a minute or two, she fell to the ground, lifeless.

Molly's mad grin remained on her face, and her only response to this horrible death was, "Well, she's a fast learner."

She turned her gaze to Jessica, and said, "Your turn."

Without hesitation, Jessica grabbed a butterknife and began working to saw open her own throat, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed, her face the picture of anguish. As the dull knife began to break the skin, she wept, "Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry..."

She continued to do so until she finally cut deep enough to go through an artery and blood began to spray outward. Undeterred, she dropped the butter knife and put her hands to the wound, trying to force it further open. Finally, she fell over, as lifeless as Rachel.

Heather couldn't understand. Those things that she'd seen, they were just the feelings of commoners, not actual people. It was like becoming sad about learning that beef came from cattle. Why shed tears over the fate of a bunch of filthy, rutting animals?

Sure, Heather would admit that she did Molly a bit wrong and should apologize for it, but really, a lesser noble should know their place...

And Molly was staring down at Heather, her grin so wide it should not have been possible. "Well, two for two, so far. Maybe I should be a teacher if I can get through to you so well. But let's see how well you've learned your lesson, Heather."

Suddenly, she felt strength return to her limbs. Immediately, she was on her feet and trying to run away in a blind panic. Unfortunately, she only managed three steps before she crumpled again, powerless.

As Molly walked into view, she chided the fallen noblewoman, saying, "So sad. I've tested you, and you failed. It seems that there's nothing inside of you. You're empty of empathy or compassion. And you know that? Those two qualities are what separates us from the beasts... and we can't have beasts walking around looking like people, can we?"

Her fingers strumming the lyre harp, Molly began to sing. Almost immediately, Heather felt indescribable pain fill her body as her limbs began to shift and twist, so intense that she blacked out.

When she finally came to, she could immediately tell that something was wrong. Something was taking up a significant part of her vision. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was a snout. She raised up her hands, only to find that they'd been replaced with trotters.

Horror came as realization dawned upon her: Heather had been transformed into a small pig.

Before she could do anything with this new knowledge, she was lifted up roughly by the back of her neck and turned to face Molly. The grin was still there upon her face, inhumanly wide as she said, "Well, now I think it wouldn't be right to leave you wandering about up here. After all, you might find someone who could break the curse I put upon you someday. No, that won't do: I can't have someone make the mistake of putting you back in human skin. But don't worry, I have a solution to that problem."

With that, Molly turned the pig to see the sinkhole. Heather began squealing in panic as she was carried closer, step by step. Finally, they reached the edge, and Molly asked, "Now what was it you said? Ah yes, now I remember: 'You get what you deserve.' How right you are. Happy landings!"

And with nothing more than that, she chucked the squealing pig into the pit.

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Heather's landing was not so fortunate as Molly's, and she landed hard upon her back. The pain she felt was so intense that she nearly blacked out again, but managed to retain consciousness. However, she found that she was not so fortunate. Her body would not move the way she wanted it to. Further horror rose within her as she realized that her spine must have broken by the fall. She was paralyzed from the neck down.

She did not have time to dwell on this as a blue flame appeared overhead, followed by a reptilian visage. After a few seconds, it picked her up and drew a knife. Heather tried to protest this treatment, knowing what was coming. 'You can't do this to me,' she tried to screech, 'I'm a human being!' However, it only came out as a porcine squeal.

The kobold looked at the crippled swine with a look of compassion, and drew the knife across the pig's throat in a single, clean cut, taking care to make sure that the blood quickly emptied from the animal. As the animal finally died, the reptile could not help running a tongue across its teeth, relishing the thought of a good, hot meal. Its people would eat well tonight. Pork was a rarity down here.

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Molly continued her mad grin as she advanced towards the carriage driver, who lay powerless upon the ground. She reached down, and grabbed the coin purse at his waist, bulging with the gold coins he'd been paid to remain silent for his crimes. Without hesitation, she reached down and forced his mouth open, and began pushing gold coins down his throat until he choked to death on them. Then, she tossed the lifeless bodies of the carriage driver and the two young women down into the pit.

Taking care of the rest was easier. She released the horses from the carriage, and with a single note from the lyre harp, set them running off into the distance. Then she gathered up the remnants of the picnic and threw them into the carriage before setting it ablaze. As it burned, the grin never once left her face, although she winced briefly once as the lyre harp continued to scream inside of her mind.

It did not want to be a tool of violence, pain, and revenge. However, it was bound by the contract: Molly had brought it to the surface and played it with all her heart before an audience. The instrument was hers now and with it all of its power.

As she began the long walk back to the academy, the young noblewoman's grin slowly became a calmer smile as she thought of the possibilities. All of this power, in her hands. That trinity of bitchs was just the start. She couldn't start culling the academy right away, or it might look suspicious. However, after the tournament, she could tell the headmaster that she'd changed her mind about leaving the academy, and then Molly could spend an entire semester wiping out her bullies, one by one.

Now that she had the power to make her enemies miserable, Molly could understand the appeal of what Heather and her cohorts had done to her. It felt so good to hurt someone who couldn't fight back... and Molly could do it all she wanted. After all, she wasn't the bad guy here. She was the agent of justice, bringing rightful retribution to those who deserved it. Once the academy was purged of those who had used their power to abuse others, Molly would go in search of other targets to bring to 'justice'. She felt a shiver of pleasure at the thought of it.

And the lyre harp screamed on and on as the song within Molly's heart turned darker and more terrible still.