Crown of Thorns, Chapter 1

AN: I'm not sure if there will be a Don't label me! chapter today, but to make sure my Dragon-Patreons don't suffer from withdrawal, you can snack on the first chapter of Crown of Thorns, the story I write when I'm feeling author's block. I posted the prologue a couple of days ago and here is chapter 1. Enjoy ;)

I never claimed to be a morning person. But something was not as it should be. Something was definitely not as it should be. My mind was incredibly foggy, but even in such an addled state, I knew that my bed was not so hard. And something was holding my arms down.

Groaning, I tried to remember what was going on. Or anything that might tip me of to my current situation.

I had been at Uncle Kenji’s, working out with Grandpa and him giving me another lesson in aikido. I was getting quite adept at it, having trained with the two of them for six years, ever since I had been eight. Grandfather was a fount of knowledge when it came to various martial arts, something he had passed on to Uncle Kenji and now to me. Not only aikido and the more mainstream forms of judo and karate, but also various weapon-forms, even if I was not allowed to touch the real weapons. Thanks to their guidance, it had turned into my hobby, my passion and my escape. 

Luckily, they were obliging my desire to train with them. Not that it helped a great deal with my biggest problem, but it abated it at least a little. My problem? Well to understand that, I need to give some background. I was born to a first generation japanese immigrant mother and an american soldier. My Grandfather had moved to the US in search of a better life. In the US, he started his family with another japanese immigrant, my Grandmother. Together, they had three children, my mother, my uncle Kenji and my Aunt Kyoko. Later, once she was an adult, my mother had, against his wishes, taken up with an american soldier and after she got pregnant with my big sister, the two of them got married and two years later, I came along.

Calvin Taiyo Sage.

In a way, I was a mix between my two parents. From my mother, I got the fine and slender bone-structure, sharp facial features, black, silky smooth hair, long eyelashes and wide, slanted eyes. In a lot of ways, I was almost my mother’s mirror-image. 

But from my father, I got the height, even at fourteen I was a long beanpole, standing six feet tall, but only weighing ninety pounds, making me look as if a strong breeze would blow me away.

Sadly, my sister felt early that having a brother who was incredibly pretty was great and she coaxed me into playing dress-up with her, even going so far to put makeup on me. At first, I thought it funny, but as time went on, I got more than a small complex about my pretty face and girly features. 

As a result, I wanted to look manly, even if it was almost impossible. Uncle Kenji took me under his wing and tried to help me, as my father was unable to do so. My father had his own share of problems after his time in the military and sadly, he was unable to deal with them. So, he took the only way out that he could see, leaving the world when I was eight. My mother’s family did everything they could to help, taking us in, so we lived with Grandfather and Grandmother, next door to Uncle Kenji.

Uncle Kenji helped me train my body in an attempt to add some muscle and he talked my mother into letting me decide my haircut, even if both of them thought my buzz-cut was ill-suited for me. And it was, but at least I did not look as girly as before.

But back to my current situation.

I had been at Uncle Kenji’s and afterwards, I had showered and packed a bag to go swimming. Summer was winding down and there were only a few more days during which we could swim in the local lake.

I could clearly remember getting there on my bike, I could remember changing and I could remember meeting a girl about my age and hitting it of with her. But at that point, my memory grew fuzzy, indistinct.

Finally, I managed to crack my eyes open and I realised that things were more wrong than I had believed. Above me, high up in the sky, a myriad of stars was shining. I had never been a great outdoor-buff, so voluntarily sleeping outside would be highly unusual for me.

So, why was I lying on some cold, hard surface, looking into the night sky? Now, with more of my neurons firing, I realised that not only was the surface below me seriously cold, I was feeling that cold directly against my skin. And the air around me as well. The realisation that I was stripped bare, down to my birthday suit, was not aiding my mental condition. 

I heard some murmured voices around me and a groan nearby. After a second, I realised that I was the one groaning. Trying to move showed me that my arms would not do so, they were tied down by something, it felt like rope.

“We are almost ready. Say, sister, why did you pick that one?” a nearby voice asked.

“He pissed me off. That stupid pretty face. And he was so easy, too. Eager like a stupid puppy, eager to run into his own demise.” another voice answered. My mind conjured up the image of the girl I had talked to earlier, at the lake. It was her voice, but where it previously had been all sugar and sweetness, it was now laced with venom. 

I groaned again, trying to call for help.

“Oh, he’s awake. Well, doesn't matter. Nobody will find us out here.” I heard the first voice say.

Trying to move my head, I succeeded in looking to my left and right, seeing two dark-robed figures, standing in the dim, flickering light, as if illuminated by torch-light. A bit more shifting allowed me to see more and I realised that it was indeed torch-light, from a couple of tiki-torches stuck into the earth a couple of steps away from me. Those head-movements also allowed me a glimpse off the surface I was lying on, it was a dark, polished stone, and the bindings that held me, simple but sturdy rope. Not that I was able to put strain on the rope, not from my position. 

An insane part of me wanted to giggle at the incongruity, dark-robed figures, looking so very much like extras out of a bad horror-movie waiting to perform their ritual, having their ritual-site illuminated by tiki-torches.

But a bigger part of me was scared, truly and seriously scared. Because, if this was a ritual, I had been given the unenviable position of the virgin sacrifice.

“...Help….” I finally managed to groan out. Not that I expected a lot of help. No, tying me to this rock had not been just for fun, they had something in mind, of that I was sure. And I wanted no part of it. But trying to pull at my bindings had not shown any results at all, I was stuck, immovable on this stupid rock and my calls for help had not produced more than a snort.

Finally, I heard movement closer to me, and saw the girl that had talked to me earlier step towards me. Part of me really wanted to strange knife in her hand to be supposed to cut me lose, allowing me to go free. Another part was marvelling at her beautiful body, on full display as she was, just like me, completely bare. A tiny part even wondered if I was in some strange sex-magic ritual, or even some bizarre dream.

But I was unable to wish any of those ideas into reality, no, my reality was not that rosy. The girl stepped towards me, knife in hand and a cruel smile on her face.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a steady and rock-solid voice, interrogating her despite my situation. Well, not really, my voice was breaking, squeaky and scared.

“What do you think we are doing? We are reaching for power. And to make an omelette, you need to break some eggs. I’m afraid you and your pretty face are an egg.”

Apparently annoyed by my questions, as she stuck something in my mouth and in my precarious position, I was unable to spit it out.

Her next step positioned her next to my head and looking up gave me a great view of her chest, not that I had time to admire it. Or a real desire to do so, incredible how such things take a backseat when one of the arms attached to the chest is wielding a strange, black knife.

The next moment, the knife slashed twice, once into each of my arms. And not some small, gentle cut, those were deep cuts and I felt my blood spurt out, splashing to the ground. There was a groan of pain, muffled by whatever cloth she had stuck into my mouth. The girl quickly stepped away and the area was filled with a strange, murmured chanting. I had no idea what language they were using, maybe latin, maybe geek, hell, for all I knew it could be swahili. I simply had not the slightest idea. But the linguistics were not important. The fact that I was feeling the cold seep into me, as the all-important warm blood was slowly draining from my body, that was a far more immediate concern to me. I was one of those strange people, who liked their blood inside their bodies, thank-you-very-much. 

At the same time, I felt something different pour into me, something scalding hot, burning me from the inside, something that was clawing at my mind. It was not just pain, not just fear. It was a despair, the knowledge that I was dying. Somewhere, deep inside me, I rebelled. I would not die! But just because there was a will, a rejection of reality, did not mean that there was a way. Then, I felt something inside me break, somewhere in the primal corners of my being, something shattered. . 

Feeling my body burn, I tried to retreat into the deepest reaches of my mind, keeping the small flame that was I burning deep inside me. I would not surrender. Never. Even if they burned my body and crushed my heart into embers, I would not surrender. I would reignite.

Time was passing around me. How much time, I could not say. Not that it mattered. There were only I and the burning pain. Maybe, we could be friends.

Finally, something changed. The burning had reached my mind and there, the flame that was I and the flame that burned my body, they met for the first time. Not in a clash of violent explosion. Just two flames, burning next to each other. Entwining. Feeding off each other. And I felt myself strengthen. And I felt anger, like I had never felt before. Rage, all-consuming, burning.

Breaking free.

With a roar, I flexed my muscles, feeling the ropes that bound me, weakened by the burning fire, give way.

Rolling off the rock, I stood, looking around me and taking in the surroundings. There are five people, the girl I had already seen, another girl I and three guys. All naked. Below me, there was a pentagram. On each point of the star stood one of them.

Something was filling the air around me. Not that it mattered. I wanted them to burn, as I had burned. Another roar, but this time, there was some meaning in my roar and as I pointed towards one of them, a purple flame burst from my hand, arching through the air, towards the guy that had stood at my right arm. Part of me was looking forward to the moment the flame was burning the flesh from his bones.

But it was not to be, the fire splashed against something. Kept in. Bound.

They were still binding me?

My rage grew, to an incandescent wrath, and another roar broke free, rumbling like a volcano. And like a volcano, the air was filled with fire. It did not burn me. It caressed me, like an old friend. But it could not get to them. There was something standing in my way.

I raged, slamming against the barrier, trying to get to the girl that had tricked me. My hands, curled into claws, tried to get at her throat, to rip it out. To let her bleed out, just as she had tried with me. But not even that was granted to me. 

But there was fear on her face. Fear, fear of me. Fear of the flame. Fear of my wrath.

“Something went wrong. We gotta get out of here!” one of the guys blurted out.

As I tried to break free, they started to run.

Above the horizon, illuminated a little by the light shining up into the sky from the nearby city, I saw a glowing figure approaching. A gentle, white glow.

My gaze followed the five fleeing kidnappers, seeing them jump into two cars and gun the engines.

The white glow was now close enough to allow me to identify it as a glowing, female form. Shining Star. One of the heroes protecting our city. Clad in her costume, consisting of a white bodysuit, a white aviator cap with built-in mask and a baby-blue cape, it left little to imagination, while concealing her identity. The realisation who I was facing allowed me to pull myself together. The wrath was still burning inside me, but I would not be seen as a deranged lunatic.

She landed, close by, but not too close.

“Can you please catch the two cars leaving? They have kidnapped me and done… this.” I asked, trying to sound polite. Somehow, my voice was strange.

I was able to see her eyes widen in surprise. But she did not move. She just looked me over for a moment, before asking, “Are you alright, miss?”

Part of me wanted to rip her to shreds for the inane question. I had just told her I had been kidnapped. I was still standing in a strange, glowing circle. I was buck-ass naked. Who would be alright in that situation?!

But far more important was the other part. That one word. Miss? Not as in miss something. As the appropriate title applied to females before they were married. But there were only the two of us here.

My mind slowly, ever so slowly accepted input from my senses, even looking down my front, not quite accepting the information I was getting back from reality.

Miss… seemed to be appropriate for me.

Another scream of rage ripped from my throat, accompanied by an eruption of fire. Not that it mattered. But I could not lose myself. Denying reality would not help. Using the exercises my Grandfather had taught me, I regained my center, calming down.

“I apologize. More happened than I had been previously aware of. And no, I’m not alright.” I told the frowning heroine. Looking around, I saw what was left of my clothes, it seemed they had simply cut them off my body.

“Why don’t you look into those clothes. They should give you some answers.” I suggested. She walked over, picking up the rags and went through them, finding my wallet and inside it, my public transport card. With my picture.

As she did so, I tried to find out how much I had changed. My hair was the easiest to determine. While the feel and volume was the same as before, it had grown. Previously, I had sported a buzz-cut, now, it was halfway down my back. My arms, still looked similar, still well toned and muscled. Maybe a little slimmer. But not by much. Trying to find out the changes on my face was a fool’s errand. Sure, I could feel it. But without some sort of comparison, I had no idea how it had changed. It had still the same basic features. But other than that, I could not say.

Shining Star returned to the circle, my wallet in hand.

“That’s yours?” she asked, her voice now gentle.

“Yes.” I managed to squeeze out. Part of me wanted to break down and cry. But I would not. So, I bit my tongue and waited what she would do next. But before she did anything, I heard engine-sounds coming closer. A few moments later, a large SUV came into view, driving towards Shining Star but stopping well away from us and four other people disembark.

“So, Star, what do we have here?” One of them asked. I had seen him before, at least on television. He was called Powerhouse. Not the most creative name, but he was senior member of the local Heroes. His garb was quite similar to that of Shining Star, but I refused to look too closely. Some things should not be on such a display.

“Don’t know, it’s more in Cassie's wheelhouse.” Shining Star answered, gesturing to one of the others. It was the only other remotely female form, even if her clothes made it difficult to assertain. Her robe was similar to the robes worn by the five idiots who had started this mess but I kept calm. Her hair was hidden by the hood of her robe, but I managed to catch a glimpse of her face as she stepped closer. But, sadly, the only thing I could see was a small butterfly-mask covering it. 

Finally, she stepped forward, sniffing the air and looking at the circle. Seeing her sniff the air, I did so as well, but other than a whiff of rotten eggs and the overpowering stench something burning, I was not able to identify anything. 

“A summoning? But it seems they screwed up. Badly. She is not bound, if she even could be bound.” the female form, apparently called Cassie explained.

Part of me wanted to ask them to let me out. But I doubted that it would be so easy.

“Can you either let me out or at least let my mother know... something?” I asked. At first, I wanted to ask them to tell my mother I was alright. But was I really? No. So, what could they let my mother know, that she would not be driven insane with worry? Maybe the heroes had an idea. 

“Your mother?” Cassie asked in a surprised voice.

“She said that the rags over there were hers. But the wallet belongs to some guy.” Shining Star interjected.

“The wallet belongs to me, Calvin Taiyo Sage. Or at least, that was my name until this evening.” I explained, trying to keep my voice level. It was not easy, standing there, without a stitch on me and not show weakness.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Cassie asked. I noticed that the other three had retreated quite a bit, giving us privacy.

I told her my tale, from the beach and the fuzzy memories, to waking up on the rock behind me, which, I realised now, had been half molten, to the cuts into my arms, the singing or chanting or whatever and breaking free afterwards. She listened without interrupting, allowing me to get it out.

“I’m afraid, Calvin, we can’t just let you go home. Not after what happened to you. But don’t worry, we will sort everything out.”

Somehow, I was only half-convinced that she was speaking the truth.