No Escape, No Future

"Gaahhh!" Oleandra woke up with a start, breathing in and out deeply. Her head and her hands were killing her, but at least the pain reminded her that she was still alive. "Where… where am I?"

She looked around; she was in a dimly lit room, with only a single candle to illuminate the place. Through the light emitted by the flickering flame, Oleandra was starting to get a handle on her situation. She tried to move her arms and legs, only to find that she had been bound quite tightly to a chair. For some reason, she couldn't even wriggle her fingers.

"Far from your home, little Asgardian," said a man spitefully as he stepped out of the darkness.

Oleandra could immediately tell what her mystery captor was; a Dusk Elf! Contrarily to their Light-Elf, or rather, House-Elf brethren, they were of human height, had jade-like pure white skin and possessed otherworldly beauty. And of course, the trademarked pointy ears.

Svartalfheim was a world plunged in eternal darkness, so Dusk Elves didn't need melanin to protect themselves from the sun. This also explained why they wore hooded cloaks when they left the darkness of their world, it was instant skin cancer for them if they were hit with the light of the sun!

"Don't even think about using your runes against us," the Elf warned her. "We know all about your magic, Asgardian. It has no potency without your hand signs and stances, doesn't it? Your hands' and fingers' tendons have all been cut, so don't even try it."

What the hell had they done to her? So that's why she couldn't move her fingers, she'd been crippled! She was well and truly trapped, and this time, there was no way out.

"Please," she implored her captor. "I'm not an Asgardian or anything, I'm only a human! A human! Not a god! Why are you doing this to me?"

"We know that all too well, Asgardian," the man sneered. "Pretending to be gods when you're just humans, as mortal as the rest of us. Now, you will truthfully answer all of my questions."

Oleandra nodded. And then, she saw it. Her wand and her pouch, they were on the table on the other side of the room, right underneath the candlestick! There were some Wiggenweld Potions in her pouch, too. If only she could get a drink, then her wounds would begin healing!

"They might not know what a wand is," Oleandra realized. If she could only get back her wand, then she'd at least have a fighting chance; Dusk Elves had likely never encountered Wizard's magic before! But then again, she couldn't pick it up even if she wanted to, her hands were unusable. Even so, it was something that gave her hope.

"The location of the key," the man demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Oleandra truthfully. This wasn't what the man had hoped to hear, and Oleandra earned herself a sharp backhanded slap for her answer.

"I won't ask again," he snarled. "The key to Asgard's Bifrost. Where. Is. It?"

"I don't know anything about any keys," Oleandra whimpered. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know."

The man turned around and sighed, then swiftly did an about-face and tried to plant a dagger in her quadriceps without warning. Fortunately, that area was shielded in Basilisk skin, causing the blow to glance off. Unfortunately, he changed targets and buried his dagger in her shoulder, causing Oleandra to howl in pain.

"WHERE IS THE KEY!?" the Elf shouted. "ANSWER ME, OR THE NEXT ONE GOES IN YOUR EYE!"

But that had been too much for poor Oleandra; she had already fainted. 

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When Oleandra next awoke, she was still bound to her chair. She still had both her eyes, thankfully, and the wound in her shoulder had been bandaged. From what she could tell, her torturer had left and been replaced by a different Dusk Elf.

"Thirsty," she whispered through her cracked lips. "Please, water…"

"I'm sorry, I'm just a trainee," said her new guard. "I don't have the authority to leave my post to get you a drink."

This Dusk Elf sounded a lot younger than the first one. Maybe Oleandra could use his inexperience to her advantage?

"I've got some Gatoraide in my pouch," Oleandra said. "Bottle."

"I don't know…" he said, sounding unsure.

"Please, I can't answer… any… questions like this," she said. "Throat… parched."

"That's true," nodded the Elf. He fumbled through her pouch and fished out a bottle filled with green liquid. How suspicious. "Hey, this wouldn't happen to be a potion, right?" he said, frowning.

"Look… ingredients," Oleandra bluffed. "Water, sugar, salt, food colouring. Not… potion. Just twist cap to open…"

Oleandra had taken up jogging after she realized being going on adventures required a lot of stamina. She knew water was the best way to hydrate, but the Gatoraide bottle design was just so convenient, so she used it to carry her healing potions!

The Dusk Elf put on a monocle and read the label. She seemed to be telling the truth, so he did as he was asked and poured the green liquid down Oleandra's throat. As soon as the potion hit her stomach, she began feeling a prickling sensation in her fingers as her cut tendons started reattaching and her other wounds healing slightly. 

The Wiggenweld potion hadn't been designed for such wounds; it was only a stopgap solution and it wouldn't completely heal the damage, but at least she'd be able to pick up her wand! 

"Thank you, really," Oleandra said gratefully. "You don't seem to hate me, unlike your boss. Could you tell me why you've captured me?"

"Oh, well, I don't really know you well enough to hate you," said the young Elf. "We captured you because we thought you were an Asgardian, but it looks as though you're just a little human girl. It's just a shame we can't let you go. You're completely innocent, not like those monsters who call themselves gods—"

"Wait, hold on a minute," Oleandra interrupted him. "You know I'm just a regular human who has nothing to do with them, so why can't you just let me go?"

A strange expression briefly flickered across the young Elf's face. Was he looking at her… with pity?

"We can't let you live," he started explaining. "Your soul is filled with stars like theirs, so they can—"

"Aethel!" a voice shouted from outside the room. "I don't care how important your parents are, no talking to the prisoner!"

The Elf named Aethel immediately shut up and went back to guard the door.