Dreadlords Graduation

[Sable Pembroke]

Violence began to erupt all around Sable, and Proctor Innes, the one that had put him on his knees, rushed to quell the unfolding, venomous chaos that Everleigh was unleashing. Angry, vengeful tears streamed from Sable's eyes unbidden. Never had he felt so much desire to stop what was happening around him and been unable to do something, to do anything. Not since--

Sable's ears rung like an explosion had just gone off next to him and he doubled over. The flood of memories hit him like a brick. Sable's teeth grit hard around the gag in his mouth as he watched initiate and proctor alike kill each other. Henk and Zael fighting for dear life against those who had forced them into this. Kalix brought just as low as him and offered like a sacrificial lamb to his classmates. Sieglilly charred to cinder. Noel begging for mercy. Charon unleashing his vile magic. Still others finding their resolve to rebel.

And Sable could do nothing. He roared, muffled. He roared against his fate. He pulled at his bonds until he began to feel his wrists bleed. He forced himself to stand. What good was all his physical strength if he could do nothing with it? The cuffs were meant to suppress magic, but the chains that bound them together were mundane metal. That would be enough.

Sable screamed himself hoarse as he pulled at his bonds. He watched those around him dying. He felt the chains begin to fail. He felt the cuffs cut into his flesh, the warmth of blood pouring past and dribbling onto the ground in pools. He could hear the metal straining to keep him in place. He saw the eyes of a little girl, terrified, pleading with him for help that he was too weak to provide. Fury and mourning and clarity.

Ping!

And suddenly all the pressure on his wrists went slack, chain links bursting from his wrists like shrapnel. A bloody hand immediately grabbed hold of the gag in his mouth and tore it loudly from its place, while the other snatched up his nearby maul, left abandoned. Power, weight, and momentum carried Sable and the maul forward as one.

"ENOOOUUGGHH!"

Proctor Innes attention had been on the wrong student. He didn't turn in time before Sable's maul had buried itself in his skull, pulping it in an instant and dropping the man like a sack of offal. Knowing the proctor's regenerative magic, that wouldn't keep him down for long, but it would be enough to grab his key, which Sable immediately used to remove what was left of his cuffs. Noel was the first person that sprang to mind. With her magic, they wouldn't need to go about unlocking everyone.

Sable rushed to her with all the urgency of a charging rhinoceros.
"NOEL!" He bellowed as he ran up astride her, immediately deploying barriers around her and slamming the key into her cuffs as well. "HELP US! GET EVERYONE FREE, NOW!"

 

[Edric]

A brief smile played over Edric’s lips as he watched Henk and Zael break from the path set before them. The expression disappearing almost as soon as it had come when he watched what came next. A cruel twisting pit formed in his stomach, and to the left of him he heard Noel shout in objection. Chaos erupting as Everleigh sprang forward, her voice bellowing as her magics lashed out at the Proctors.

Within the little ring in front of them chaos broke out.

He saw a few of the others moving, shifting and adding their weight to battling those who had taught them to fight. Edric’s eyes flickered, left, right, watching as some of the other groups glanced over. Proctors scowled, peeling away from dictated fights while others planted themselves firmly in the ground and bellowed against the rebelling students.

Proctor Sikerus whirled away from Jaxan and Liliana, his attention turning with a deep scowl of dissatisfaction. Something within his eyes seemed to flicker, black veins drawing beneath his skin.

Beneath the wayward students a pool of black ooze suddenly sprang into being, drawing from the earth itself as though pulled from a well. Thousands upon thousands of hands drew up from the black sludge. Grabbing, clawing, scratching. Reaching out for the Three revolting Initiates, doing their best to pull them down as the air became colder and colder around them.

Edric took a slow step back, hearing Alistair’s whisper in his ear.

Fingers tightened, arms flexed ever so slightly against the chains that bound him.

A thousand different thoughts ran through his mind. Memories flickering. Conversations with Henk, Noel, Ralene, even Kristen. They were all there, flashing before his eyes as he came closer and closer to a fork in the road. Goosebumps drew over his skin, and he could feel the reserve within his core straining and pushing against the runic symbols which kept it contained.

Edric never shouted. Never yelled. His expression never changed as he stared at the tar pit which had formed beneath his fellow Initiates. He would not have called any of them friend, not Zael, Everleigh, nor even Henk.

But they were the closest thing he had to family. ”Get me out.”

He growled at Alistair.

Everleigh Ebersol | Henk | Zael Castomir

 

[Liliana]

Sikerus turned, looked away, and didn’t remove the collar from around her throat. In an instant Liliana Lorel felt a pit form within her stomach. Fear and a desperation for survival kicking into every part of her body. Fingers immediately reach up, grasping at the metal which dug into her throat. Eyes following Sikerus as the bastard walked away!

Blood pooled half in her mouth from the mongrel’s kick, but her attention was suddenly drawn to her former lackey as her spoke to her. She felt goosebumps run down her spine as his words fell onto her ears. Her breath began to quicken, and her hands shook and quivered. ”Jaxan, listen.”

She began, her voice surprising even her with it’s calm. Fingers dug and clawed at the collar around her throat. Desperately they searched for a latch, a hook, anything that would set her free and allow her to use her magic. She looked up at Jaxan her face a marble mask hiding the very real panic and rage which bubbled up within her.

”You don’t have to do this!” She was no fool. She knew exactly what he could do to her. Knew exactly how powerful his magic was. ”Look! Look at Henk and Zael, look at Everleigh!”

Liliana hissed.

Her eyes flickered to the circle just a few dozen meters away. The bursts of flame there, the cuts of light, the form of Everleigh’s magic taking hold. ”We can beat them, kill them!”

The lies flowed from her tongue without even a second thought.

Liliana had no idea if they could fight the Proctors, had no idea if they could win. In that moment she didn’t care. She would do whatever the hell she had to in order to survive, say whatever she had to in order to survive. ”Come on. You know you don’t want to kill me. You know you’re nothing without me.”

The words slipped from her mouth without thinking, tinged by her rage, painted by the indignation she felt as she pulled at the collar around her neck.

Jaxan

 

[Henk]

One proctor fell before him, a searing beam of light embedded in their head, the sheer intensity of the heat burning the wound shut before even a drop of blood could be spilled as the light dissipated. Under his breath, a quiet whimper left his lips. The line had been crossed; He would never be welcomed at the only place he'd ever called home after this. With one throw of a spear, Henk had cut ties with the pacifism he'd held so close for years. Oh well... Perhaps he'd make that move to Maraan after all, he thought bitterly. Granted, it was a generous assumption that he'd be leaving alive.

In the fallen Proctor's place, two more quickly rushed forward, Ehmert and Ylliad. There was no element of surprise this time. The two broad-bodied former teachers of Henk readied themselves. One with a blade, the other with an ominous violet glow that began to crackle between the tips of his fingers. Of course, they had no reason to fight fairly, but--

A blast of heat behind him, followed by banshee-like screams and the sound of a blade hitting the ground. To turn around meant looking away from the approaching foes, but... he couldn't resist taking the briefest of glances.

That look only lasted a fraction of a second, but Henk could have sworn that he watched the scene before him for hours. The charred, skeletal remains of what he had to assume had been an Initiate were strewn across the ground like forgotten toys. And Zael... The man who'd put his faith in Henk in this desperate strike against the people who threatened their friends was little more than a limping pincushion, large beams of ice skewering his body.

"NO!"

Henk could feel his teeth throbbing, threatening to crack under the pressure as he clenched his jaw, tearing his eyes away and back to the approaching proctors. No more. No more no more no more no more. Zael had put his life on the line for Henk. For all of them. Not just today, but again and again. Every time they needed just an ounce more, he was there to provide it. And through his whole time has an Initiate, what had Henk done? He'd extolled the virtues of respecting the enemy. Of avoiding needless violence. Of working around confrontation.

A coward. Henk was a coward.

Afraid to become a killing machine, afraid of losing his humanity.

He wasn't afraid anymore. If the snickering and sneering faces in front of Henk wanted him to be a monster so badly that they would slaughter everybody he cared about to make it happen, he'd be the biggest nightmare of their lives until he hit the ground and drew his last.

"Just stand down and make this easy, Henk..."

Through the miasma of rage that coursed through every vein of his body, the throbbing anger that beat behind his eardrums in time with his heart, he could have sworn he heard Noel's voice in his head. It could have been in his mind; it wouldn't be the first time he'd thought of her in moments when things seemed bad. Imaginary or not, it served as a good reminder of what he fought for.

Gods, he really was in love with that stubborn Schwarz, wasn't he?

Ylliad, The Proctor with magic in his palms attacked bringing his hands forward and firing sharp purple blades of shadow aimed at Henk's neck. It was telegraphed enough to give him time to turn his body so that it slashed across his arm, hitting the thick material of the arm sleeve that Ralene had crafted for him. Pushing light out through the special material of the armor, the shining glimmer of Henk's energy batted at the shadow, weakening the attack considerably enough that it didn't do much more than jam his shoulder out of place. Hurt like hell, but it wasn't dangerous.

Now it was his turn. While Ylliad shielded his eyes from the sudden flash of light, Henk sprang forward, spinning around his enemy and grasping his head from behind, pulling him back and raising his knee to meet the back of his neck. Whether it was luck or a lack of practice on the Proctor's part, he'd been made short work of, and now laid at Henk's feet with a shattered neck.

But it was two-on-one.

Henk heard it before he felt it, the sound of a blade's tip ripping through his jacket and breaking the skin of his back. Henk lurched forward, falling onto his stomach and avoiding a fatal impaling from the sword. As he rolled onto his back with eyes teared with pain, however, he suddenly remembered what Ehmert, who glared down at him with fire in his eyes, specialized in. More accurately, he remembered why Ehmert used swords.

The dripping poison that coated the tip, mixed with Henk's blood, was all the reminder he needed.

Ehmert grinned like a lion about to tear its prey to bloody sheds. "If I don't getcha, that wound will make you wish I had, Initiate."

That look The Proctor was giving him. It rather reminded him of a look Ralene had given him a few times. The last time she'd looked at him like that, it'd pushed him to reach out and take what he wanted.

This would be the same. Even as Ehmert dropped a knee into his gut, Henk began to glow. Bright. Brighter than he ever had before, bright and hot enough to cause steam to rise from the crackling material of the clothes he wore.

"Fuck you."

And gathering all that he could im his mouth, Henk spat in the Proctor's face before reaching out quickly with both hands to grip his sword tightly as it came down in retaliation. This would not be his end. He would burn so hot he could melt it in his hands.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"A please never hurt anyone...Although, I suppose that doesn't really help with the whole death-incarnate thing you have going."

Alistair chiseled in one more line that disrupted the rune before sending a sharp spike of magic into another part of the rune. The rune lit up, but only a portion. The light became more intense as it tried to active the rest of the structure, but it would not be able to.

With a quick pop, and maybe a little bit of burning, the cuffs would break apart. Edric was free and unbound.

Now, let's begin.

He offered a bat on the back of the initiate and some words of encouragement. "Good luck."

That was all that needed to be said. Alistair would not be charging into battle with him, though, not yet. He needed to free the other heavy hitters. The initiates would need to be fighting at full strength to win this, so...Who was next?

His eyes tried to ignore him, but they slowly fell onto Kalix...still trapped within his cuffs.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me."

Edric Ralene Kalix

 

[Meredith]

This is wrong. Meredith's first thoughts were echoed by her classmates, and she glanced at each in turn. Where is Sable? Her next thought bringing her to panic. It seemed she had been thrust into a group of those deemed weak, useless. Though it seemed they had been set up to fail from the start, one classmate was among her group that would absolutely shred everyone else.

Meredith gritted her teeth silently, this would not stand. She scanned her group, notici none of them were bound. This would be in her favor, she hoped. She barely paid attention to the proctor, she was focused and grim. She would probably die here, but not before she got to Sable.

The proctor finished his sadistic speech, and with little hesitation, she stepped into the ring. Her book was strapped to her side, her gloves were off. She was ready for her consequences. Another classmate was forced before her, but she stared past them, to the move she was about to make.

Meredith began to circle, stopping only when she had her classmate right where she wanted him. She lunged, fingers outstretched, her opponent's eyes widened in shock. She prayed they would move, they needed to move. At last, her opponent dodged and relief washed over her. Red curls covering the wicked look in her eyes.

Meredith latched onto the proctor, who had been directly behind her classmate. Her palms were against his face, draining every ounce of power from him. He was pinned to the ground as she glared above him, strength pouring through her veins. "How does it feel, to be the weak one?" She stared down at him in contempt, before sliding a dagger from her boot. Malice and anger filled her, and she rammed the blade into the squirmed beneath her. Blood covered her hands, but she was grateful it wasn't a friend's.

Mer stood finally, turning to face her classmates. "I'm leaving, I suggest you do the same." With that, she sprinted into the trees. She needed to find Sable, she needed to know he was alive. She ran towards the loudest of the fighting, her heart pounding. She burst through a patch of trees, and paused.

Meredith couldn't quite understand what was happening, her eyes taking in the scene before her. Blood coated the ground, it was chaotic and dangerous. As her eyes roamed the scene, they fell upon him. Sable. Her first shout fell short, but it didn't matter, her legs were already bringing her across to meet him.

 

[Jaxan]

”Aw c’mon Lil don’t be like that,” Jax’s voice was remarkably soft. He actually kinda sorta liked Lil so hearin’ her beg like a scared pup wasn’t what he had in mind for today.

Worst still even without her magic she was tryin’ to trick him. What would lookin’ at firebug or lighthouse junior or that weirdo poison girl serve? Just pathetic from Lil.

Jaxan shook his head in disbelief. ”You crazy Lil? I don’t do this and they’ll put both of us down.” So what if a couple of morons were runnin’ around cousin’ a panic? They’d all be dead in a few minutes.

Either way Jax’s best shot here was clear. Kill Lil, then head on back to the academy. Alive and in one piece.

”I don’t want to Lil, but I ain’t got much choice.” He shook his head and sighed, ”you aren’t gonna feel any pain, it’ll be real quick like.”

Jaxan held up a hand as bone and blood elongated and sharpened. He could feel Lil’s poor little heart poundin’ in terror. It actually did feel kinda bad. But hey, it gave him a real easy target to hit as he took in a breath and prepared to end her.

 

[Noel]

Pandemonium had erupted in the Blackwood. Proctors and initiates lie dead or gravely injured. Magic flew wildly as trees were felled, screams were shouted, and what Noel had assumed would be a duel that would conclude in two dead initiates was suddenly an all-out revolt.

It seemed like a foolish endeavor, if she were being honest. Had they engaged in the traditional graduation ceremony only half of them would have perished.

Now? They’d be lucky if every single student wasn’t slain by the Proctors.

Her focus was ruptured by the mighty grasp of Sable. Shackles slid off her wrist and barriers of arcane energy were erected all around her. She looked at the panic in Sable’s eyes and slowly shook her head in defeat.

”It’s hopeless,” she said softly as she rubbed at her wrists.

Noel had already accepted that she’d die today. Maybe the others had too. Concluded that it was better to go out fighting than to be slaughtered. As hopeless as it was if the least she could do was free the others she’d do it. ”I’ll try.”

Her eyes closed, there was no telling how long Sable’s barriers would hold so she’d need to be quick, needed to zone in on the metal shackles that bound much of their class still. She could feel it now that the runes had been discarded. They’d used steel.

Had it been platinum they’d all have been freed immediately. If it were iron it would’ve taken her a bit but she could've gotten the job done. But steel? Steel was mostly iron which allowed her to ‘feel’ the stuff but the metallic alloy had always given her trouble when it came to controlling it. Her magic was simply too finicky for those slight differences in makeup and steel could contain any number of other metals to strengthen the base iron in it.

No, she had to do it. Her eyes stayed shut, her focus intense, just a bit of a push and she could probably at least warp the hinge on the shackles, causing the whole thing to snap.

Breath in. Focus. Exhale.

Concentrate.

Sweat pooled on her brow, hair sticking to her forehead, her body shuddered from the exertion of trying to push her magic past their normal limits. Slowly she could feel it, each and every binding on wrists, around necks, all around them in the forest. She could feel Edric’s come loose and fall upon the forest floor, she could feel the cuff that Talea tried to wrench off her arm, the collar that Lillian clawed at fruitlessly.

Then the dam broke.
Every ferrous atom fell apart. Steel shackles slid loose, iron blades turned to liquid, armors disintegrated. Every single piece of iron became a desiccated husk of itself, and every piece of steel in the immediate area became a limp half-metal. In an instant the entire battlefield shifted as both weapons and bindings became a thing of the past.

She’d never pushed herself that far. Not even when Edric had amped her up had she been able to simply invalidate metal in an area like that. The surge of power and explosion of arcane energy would’ve been exhilarating if not for the pain. It felt like she was being burned alive as her breaths quickened and limbs went weak.

Noel let loose a blood curdling scream in agony. And then Noel blacked out into a heap atop the pine needles.

 

[Liliana]

"Listen, Jaxan, no." Liliana's voice croaked with desperation. A tone that had never once found its way to her throat before. A sound that was utterly foreign to her tongue.

She could feel the vile disgust rise within her throat. The agony of having to beg almost staining her very soul permanently. Fingers grasped and ripped at the steel around her neck, nails digging into her skin as she desperately tugged at the collar.

"We can-" She continued, tongue flicking faster than she could think. "We could kill them. Take them. We could run! I'm rich. My cousin would help me."

Liliana continued to speak, desperate, hounding. "You-you could have it all, everything. You can have a manor, two. Women, men, whatever you want. Please."

She pleaded, tears spilling down her face, eyes red.

"Please. You don't have to do this." She tore, ripped, digging the steel into her throat. "Please. Please Plea-"

The Desperation in her voice grew and grew, her muscles flexed, she tugged, tore, ripped at the collar...and then suddenly she felt it.

Like a snapping reed the steel around her throat suddenly gave way. It slipped through her fingers, dragged through her palms. The cage that had surrounded her magic suddenly fell away, and in an instant the expression on her face changed.

A wicked grin spread over her lips, and her fingers scrunched into a fist.

All at once a thousand weaves sprang from Liliana's hands. Cast forward not to catch a single fish, but spread out like a great net. She threw herself, every little bit of herself into them. Dragging towards Jaxan's mind, ensnaring, pulling, tearing desperately as she tried to save her own life.

Jaxan

 

[Samantha Black]

Normally she would have relished in such an advent. This was the climate she'd been honed to thrive in with the clangor of battle as her herald and the conflict her home. Somehow the sudden conflagration of Initiate versus Initiate felt like a bittersweet curtain call to the only life she'd known. Despite her ever fiber now set to boil for the treachery of the Proctors, Ralene took a moment to let the atmosphere surrounding her sink in to her skin one last time.

It was the defining moment of her understanding that what was happening here at the Academy needed to come to an end. The chapter on this era of the Dreadlords of Vel Anir had to close in order for a new one to be written. Which meant it was time to set fire to the old foundations that had raised them, including the Proctors who would see it continue for another hundred years more.

"Banick," Proctor Ilverstine's keen gaze of molten steel leveled with the Initiate as she slowly, silently stalked her way between fighting circles, "have you selected your opponent?"

It struck her as ironic that she would have that option when it appeared everyone else had been left to the fate of chance or the whim of the other Proctors. She nodded once as she came to a standstill to watch the others alongside him.

"Let me guess," Ilverstine lightly folded his hands at his back, "Edric."

A rivalry of power that had persisted for years between the two of them was not so easily forgotten. Ralene had considered Edric to be her greatest adversary in her class, back before the Revolution. She exchanged a look with Ilverstine and said nothing more.

The Proctor smirked faintly, his hooked nose turning up at the current affair of conflict happening before them, "Bold. It will be a pity to lose either one of you - the Commander of the Knights will be furious if it is you."

"Permission to speak freely," Ralene asked.

Ilverstine lofted a brow, "Go on..."

"That's your fucking problem, Sir, not mine."

Ilverstine's lip curled slightly in disapproval of her tone, but found the inkling of a sneer to settle into.

Amazing how quickly things could unravel. In what only felt like a manner of moments, chaos had broken loose among the trees of Blackwood. Grounds that had seen untold decades, perhaps centuries, of wanton and savage brutalizing of the uninitiated youth of Vel Anir. The taste and tension of conflict on the air had grown so heavy that Ralene swore it left a haze filtering between the bodies.

But it wasn't that simple.

The first dominos to fall were Zael and Henk.

Tumbling into Noel.

Followed by Liliana and Jaxan.

Trix.

Gaage and Delaney.

Everleigh.

Alistair.

Sable.

Everything began to fall apart right before their very eyes.

Ralene waited for the right moment to get the jump on Ilverstine, her impassive gaze calmly watching the bedlam unfold around them. The Proctor had shared a glance with her, uncertain now of her own intentions after seeing that of several grade students succumb to this tidal wave of rebellion. She meant to make her move, but what happened next took Ral completely off-guard.

The weight of her armor and weapons melted off her figure and dropped to the ground like glistening puddles. She was left in her leather liners and layers of padding and linen beneath. Ral's expression shifted from stone to curious shock before curling a smirk of amusement.

Atta girl Noel.

"Banick-" Ilverstine hissed at her, "get your classmates under control! We will have ORDER!"

Ralene didn't look up, she was too invested in the curling of her gloved fist and the murmurations of runic spells under her breath. A wash of red light flared over her figure followed by a blue scattering of arcane energy. She looked over at Ilverstine finally, eyes flaring with the boiling rage within, and grabbed the man before he could blink.

"No. I don't think you will."

In one swift motion she heaved the man's body forward and threw him through the crowds, the speed and force at which he traveled toppled bodies like bowling pins as he traveled.

 

[Jaxan]

She kept on beggin’ and pleadin’. Was almost unbearable to listen to.

He’d killed plenty of folks, bashed the head’s in of rivals, tormented a few people too. Hell, half the time it’d been at the beck and call of Lil herself. But now it just didn’t seem right. Lil was cryin’, actual tears were rushin’ down her cheeks like a bucket with a mighty leak. It was damn heart breakin.

Maybe that was why he hesitated. Coulda just ended the whole thing, one flick of his wrist, single tug at his magic, and he’d have sent a projectile right through her chest. A ribbon o’ blood woulda came gushin’ out that pretty little face of hers and it’d all be over.

”Look, Lil, calm down. You know we can’t run, no, seriously, stop cryin’ that ain’t even fair,” he'd never seen nothin' as sad as this. Briefly he thought back on their time at the academy, he liked Lil. He liked the whole crew, even that weirdo ChaCha. ”Look, maybe we can work somethin' out or," he shut up as she broke into a string of “please’s” and then as if to punctuate her words the collar ‘round her neck snapped apart.

Jax considered endin’ it there. Plungin’ a sharp projectile of blood through her cause he knew things were ‘bout to get much harder with her magic at her disposal. But he couldn’t, seein’ his pal reduced to a teary-eyed mess of a gal actually tugged at his heart strings.

What a mistake delayin’ would prove to be.

You don’t want to kill Liliana. You have to protect her.

Stop. No, this wasn’t happenin’, Jax had come too far to let…

Keep her safe. Kill anyone that means her harm.

Jaxan looked up at her with eyes wide and full of terror. ”Lil. Stop. This ain’t funny.”

Anyone. That. Means. Her. Harm.

The voice was poundin’ in his head. Just repeatin’ those words o’er and o’er again. It was impossible to think about anything else. The sharpened bone and blood he’d been focusin’ on re-centered. Pointin’ away from Lil and towards a new target. ”Lil. I mean it. Get outta my head.” Jaxan pressed both hands up towards his temples as he fell to both knees.

Jaxan is a threat. Must. Kill. Jaxan.

No. Ain’t no way he was gonna off himself. No way he was gonna listen to the voi-

Kill. Jaxan. KILL. JAXAN.

”Get the fuck outta my head!” Jaxan roared at the top o’ his lungs, his voice carryin’ through the woods and echoin’ off the trees.

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

It had been some time since the mission to Tyre. Time since Drast was believed to be killed with his pack being the only thing for the others to find. Time since he had heard the voices of friends, felt the presence of Rupert, had seen her.

He had learned to rely on himself as a result, his power growing more than it ever did while at the Academy. The escape from Tyre and the journey since had been long, tiring, and despite all the hardships, he had never once let his mood dour. Determination was the cloak he had wrapped himself with, fortitude, the armor he shielded himself with.

He had finally made it home to the Academy. Only to find the grounds sparse. It would be the form of one Proctor carrying a student over his shoulder that caught his attention. He didn't know it was graduation, he hadn't the slightest idea. All he knew was that a Proctor was carrying a student to.. slaughter? To some other wicked deed? Nobody could help her, but maybe he could.

So close to home, yet the need to intervene drove him to once more turn away. And so, he tracked his quarry. From the Academy grounds to forest, biding his time to strike. The purpose in the Proctor's step gave way to the fact that there was something bigger at play.

Finally, he would see it. The battle circles, the shackled students, and the student (who turned out to be someone he had yet to meet) was unceremoniously dropped. Graduation. The realization hit him like a carriage. Then too, did the feeling of death, fresh kills. Zael and Henk would begin to square up before all hell broke loose.

He wasn't sure how much energy he had left to spend, but he was going to help. He needed to. Still unseen, he dropped to a knee, his dagger sliding free of its scabbard to open the scar along his palm as his eyes began to glow their ethereal blue.

The glow would claw its way along the ground, seeping first into the most recently slain. It felt good to be home.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Proctor Kimble surveyed most everything that was going on with disdain. This was why the old way was the only way. These children, with all their power, lacked the one thing that could possibly make them useful to anyone: discipline. The Republic had granted them a scrap of leeway, and look what it had wrought. Disorder. Chaos. Impudence and impetuousness. This time-honored test of graduation was not only a trial of strength, as one of Kimble's colleagues declared after Initiate Fermin (now properly Dreadlord Fermin) completed it. It was also a trial of obedience, and a necessary one at that: see here what happens when insubordination reigns.

Most of these Initiates would have to be killed.

But Proctor Kimble would try to take some alive. To break them, to utterly crush their rebellious spirits, before he allowed them to die. He couldn't get all of them, of course, but perhaps some. Zael, of course, the impertinent whelp and perennial thorn in his side; Everleigh, with her second-rate magic making her almost as deficient as Sieglilly, for standing with him; Henk for his own defiance as well, and because the boy always maintained an attitude Kimble found utterly detestable. If he could get those three, that would be good.

The uprising was spreading.

Proctors Ylliad and Ehmert were battling Henk (though it would become just Ehmert soon). Proctor Malaneaux, though mortally wounded, simply rose to his feet, crackling bursts of infernal electricity lifting him so, soon to re-enter the fight.

A mask of ice manifested over Proctor Kimble's mouth and nose. He was aware of Everleigh's paltry poisons (but not the acid which constituted her summoned snake).

As Proctor Sikerus's pools of black ooze occupied Zael, Everleigh, and Henk's attentions for a time, Proctor Kimble had the opportunity to look past them. To perhaps nullify a significant threat. His eyes found Sable. The boy's shields were peerless, and, if not for possessing a similarly defective trait as Initiate Henk did, he would have gone far. Initiate Noel, close to him, had the drive to improve and constantly pursue power: admirable, but now, with her poor judgment in joining the rebellion, it would make her a nuisance to his fellow Proctors. A bonus, as well, as Initiate Meredith ran in close; the girl was smart, but not as smart as she thought herself to be.

Proctor Kimble raised up his hands, wintry auras surrounding both. Around Sable's shield an incredibly thick dome of ice manifested with frightening rapidity, forming from the ground up and once it was done effectively sealing him, Noel, and Meredith within Sable's own barrier.

And Kimble smirked.

Sable Pembroke Noel Meredith

* * * * *​

Zael managed another step, and in that effort alone it felt as though all the demons of hell were resisting him, such were the protests of his wracked body. He could feel the slithering cold of Proctor Kimble's icicles leeching into his muscles, creeping out from each point of impalement.

He gave no thought to his own mortality. He only wanted to take yet another step. To get closer to Proctor Kimble so that he could finally end him.

He tried, his left leg moving forward this time. It shook terribly as his weight shifted to it, and Zael could feel that this was the beginning of the end. That his body was starting to give out on him.

So be it. And let no one say that Zael Castomir's spirit broke first.

You're not finished yet, you're—we're just getting started.

Zael's sole eye widened. He didn't even know that he had stumbled, that Everleigh had caught him under his arm and held him up, that she had said something prior to that. And now with her here, in such beautiful clarity as this, he became suddenly and all too acutely aware of his own mortality. He had been impulsive in acting without forethought in his rebellion, too rash, even if it was in the right spirit. And now he was dying, and upon his mind was a realization far too terrible to endure in such a moment: his life was not just his own to live. Yet for how terrible it was, it was equally reinvigorating.

Despite the scarring impression left by the old Academy all those years, people cared about him. Ever cared about him. Life really did have a present for him. For her. For everybody. And it was this. All along it was this.

As Ever's summoned snake whipped and writhed around them, as Proctor Malaneaux fought savagely against it, Zael raised his beleaguered gaze to meet Ever's own. His struggling lips parted, wisps of flame from his Fireblood leaping out here and there, to show a grin. They were just getting started.

"Ever...I..."

And then the ooze, the oily hands, summoned forth by Proctor Sikerus at the feet of Zael, Everleigh, and Henk, came to be. Grasping hands clawed into Zael's legs (his armor, on the part of Noel, was no more). He grimaced as he began to sink, as the ambient cold worked in tandem with Kimble's icicles to further stiffen and weaken him.

In defiance, Zael aimed his one functioning hand down at the ooze...

Everleigh Ebersol Edric Henk

 

[Liliana]

Liliana's smile widened, malice and delight reaching her eyes as she watched Jaxan fall. Her fingers slowly flickered at her side, drawing slow weaves that dug deeper and deeper into the other Initiate's mind.

Slowly she pulled herself up to her feet. Ribs aching, bruises already forming on her face, eyes tinged with red from the tears that had fallen just a few seconds ago. Her chest heaved, breath flowing in and out of her lungs as she struggled to contain the roil of emotion which flowed freely through her. "No no no."

The daughter of House Lorel said, her gaze entirely focused on her former companion.

Her legs shook, wobbling beneath her as she slowly made her way towards Jaxan.

Everyone, everything else was forgotten. The Proctors, her fellow students, the forest around her, none of them existed in her minds eye. All Liliana saw was Jaxan, the panic in his eyes, the fear and terror that was streaming from him in droves.

The smile on her face only grew as she finally reached him.

Her fingers twitched as she reached out, knuckles softly dragging against Jaxan's cheek.

"It's like you said, my sweet little halfwit." Her smile widened into a cheshire grin. "You aren't gonna feel any pain."

Liliana echoed. "It'll be real quick like."

As she finished speaking her fingers crunched into a fist, the weaves around Jaxan's mind fully taking hold.

 

[Davi]

Whilst Trix and the others attempted to use their magic as quickly as they could, Davi watched the chaos. Of course the initiates would revolt; what had the Proctors really been thinking in bringing them all here? But he did not think that his fellows were winning out of strength alone. Their teachers were seasoned, hardened Dreadlords built entirely under the old regime. It had been their stories the initiates had been taught in order to teach them the ways of a emotionless, powerful pawn. Emotion alone did not make the students strong, so where was the catch?

Laughter tinged with the tell-tale sounds of insanity pricked his ears and made him look up. Charon rubbed at his wrists but he saw no signs of Trix's magic being behind his release. However he had managed to get himself free did not matter. What mattered was that he was still bound, and Charon was not. Davi rose to his feet slowly as though a hungry bear were before him that might run for him at any second, his adams apple bobbling as he swallowed.

"Nobody needs to graduate this way, look around," he replied in a soft and slow tone, the type he used to comfort his horse when it panicked. "We can-" his next sentence was interrupted by the sudden shattering of one of his manacles.

 

[Trix]

The delicate, careful vines Trix had been directing to manacles with the aid of Delayne and other students who had noticed what it was she had been doing, exploded with Noel's ill-conceived blunt force of magic. Where vines had been touching the manacles and carefully undoing the layers of complicated magic that held students prisoners shirked back with inaudible screams of agony as bits of metal sliced through them. The young initiate had been so deep at the centre of the spell, weaving the different threads of magic from students together into the tool it needed, that each strike felt like a physical blow to her own body. With a cry she released her magic and with it the other students who had linked to her. Usually such a process was slow and controlled as there was a threat to each linked students magic, but Noel afforded them no such luxury.

From her crouch Trix fell to her knees, one hand out in front of her to stop herself from falling into the grass. It didn't stop her from wrenching though. Her mind and body still echoed with the pain of a thousand cuts even though she tried to tell herself it was not real.

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Everybody worth their salt was stepping up to put boots to the pompous asses that sought to turn them against one another. People that Eberwhit had always begged as suck-ups or bootlickers turned around and swung at the Proctors who controlled them. The roars of battle filled the air, the cries of both Proctor and Initiate alike ringing in his ears.

He was hesitating.

Why was he hesitating?

Even as Delaney prepared her shadows, and Trix gave everything she had in an attempt to free the remaining shackled, Gaage, the one who reveled in the slaughter and openly flaunted his love for violence, could only look around with a pained expression of reluctance on his features. Yeah, this was fucked but... Shit, if Delaney stepped in, they might kill her! She was really all he had going for his garbage fire of a life right now; Her, and the Dreadlords... there wasn't anything else he was good at.

As Eberwhit watched his Laney offer her power to Trix's efforts, he felt his teeth press against each other, and his fists ball up. "Fucking hell, Laney, this wasn't the plan..."

From the corner of his eye, he spotted another Proctor, approaching his girlfriend from her blind spot with magic crackling between her fingers. Delaney was far too focused on her shadows... If Gaage didn't do something she'd be a sitting duck.

Biting down on his tongue, the red-haired initiate stepped around Delaney to block the Proctor's path. There wasn't a thing about any of this that he enjoyed, but if anybody tried to touch his girl, he'd rip em' apart regardless.

 

[Henk]

Murder glimmered in the eye of Proctor Ehmert as he put all of his weight down on Henk, digging into flesh with both the knee to his stomach and the steel blade that was tightly clasped in the shimmering Initiate's hands. In a matter of minutes, it was a forgone conclusion that eventually, Henk's strength would fade, and the poisoned blade would bury itself between his eyes and end the rebellious ember that had been kindled into a roaring flame on this day.

Yet Ehmert was the one shouting out in pain the entire time, scalded by the rising heat that baked his skin to his flesh as what had once been a spark of light underneath him had crescendoed into what felt like the sun itself, a vaguely human-shaped light that gripped his sword and held him in place as he struggled to breathe through the thickening air.

The Proctor's sword was already beginning to give way when a burst of raw magic sent shockwaves through the Wood, turning it to naught but a molten glob.

Henk swore from behind the sheen of light that surrounded him; He'd hoped that Noel wouldn't get involved with all of this. If she did... she risked giving up everything that she'd worked years and years for. Her ambitions of Archon status... up in flames. Henk didn't want that for her, to place herself in peril for his or anyone's sake. She had now, though... and the one who treasured her above all else wasn't about to let that gesture be in vain.

Ehmert's point of leverage gone and his hands all but melting under the liquid steel and Henk's touch, he attempted to dismount the Initiate, only to feel the grip of the boy he'd chastised so frequently's hand tightly wrapped around his neck. It was only a moment before the life of another Proctor had been throttled to an end by the most peaceful of the class. His charred and smoking body fell helplessly to the side as Henk attempted to rise, held back by the black hands that gripped him from the ooze that had seeped across the floor to surround him.

Whatever was left of the clothing on his upper half, that which hadn't burned away was torn in thick scraps by the black grip that aimed to strangle the life out of his lungs. Henk grimaced, pulling and struggling against the insistent tugging with all of his strength. No good. He had to burn brighter. With a sharp cry of pain, flames expelled from his back, burning against the ooze as though it were oil in a lamp.

The first jet of fire was enough to loosen him slightly, but the grip of the ooze remained steelish. So with another deep breath and a pained gasp, he loosed another. And another. Even the Proctor's magic weakened with enough oppression and, wounded and exhausted though he was, Henk staggered back to his feet.

And his mouth hung agape at the sight before him.

In the moments he'd been down, what had been two disillusioned Initiates lashing out had become something more.

A riot... an uprising...

A revolution.

Nearly all of the Initiates he'd grown close too over the last few years had joined together in one final effort to strike back against the hands that had fed them nothing but lies and abuse for their entire lives. bitter enemies, secret lovers, tightly-knit friends... They all moved towards a singular purpose.

Zael was wounded, but not dead. Everleigh supported him with all of her power. Ralene struck out at a Proctor with the force of a mighty cyclone. Sable roared with the fury of the heavens. Delaney and Trix worked to free those remaining confined while Gaage fended off any who tried to stop the pair.

And Noel lay motionless on the ground.

---

Henk didn't even process the fact that he was screaming as he sprinted toward Noel, Sable, and Meredith. All the pain he'd felt from his battle so far, from the festering wound on his back and the heat inside him that he was constantly in danger of losing control of was lost. The only thing he could feel was the lust to feel Kimble's blood on his hands.

"What rush did you feel, Henk?"

Nothing ever would have become of Noel and Henk. They simply weren't meant to be. They were far too different in their ideals, in their goals, and beliefs. That didn't change the fact that he loved her. bShe was the only one he'd ever felt such a strong emotion for in his life. If they were never to see each other again after their time at the Academy together was done, he could have lived with that.

As long as she was alive. Breathing.

They would not take that from him, not with everything that he'd already given them.

Gathering every ounce of strength he could muster into his palm, every ache of rage and pain that pumped through his veins at the sight before him, he thrust his hand towards Kimble and unleashed the most powerful burst of burning light to ever leave his body. Immediately he knew the toll it would take on him, the sharp pain in his chest told him as much. So long as he hit his mark, it would be worth it.

"Those feelings can be dangerous. I'm sorry."

How right she'd been.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

”I’ll try.”

"Just do what you can!" Sable hollered in reply, focusing as best he could on shielding Noel while she worked her magic. What followed was beyond anything that Sable had expected. Noel's scream ripped through the air as the entirety of Sable's maul liquefied before his very eyes. "NOEL!"

Sable continued holding the barrier as he quickly went prone to check on her. Two fingers went to her neck to check her pulse. It was weak, but there, and the rising and falling of her chest told Sable that she was still breathing. She was alive, but not doing well if the trickle of blood running from her nostril was anything to go by.

That was when Sable heard the cry of his own name among the din of chaos around him. The brief glimpses of brilliant, red hair amidst the tide of combat and that haunting call was all Sable needed to inform him of how horrible this situation was truly becoming.

No, please. She can't be here. Please let her be anywhere but here.

But she was. Sable stood, grimacing, and let her pass through his barrier, arms wide as the metal elements of his armor dripped from his body like sludge. He caught her in his embrace, happy that she'd found her way to him but horrified that she was in the same bloody mayhem that was currently unfolding.

"Meredith, I, we--we have to--"

The towering initiate's words died on his lips. He felt the temperature drop as sheets of ice enveloped Sable's barrier. In just seconds, the dome that Sable had erected to protect Noel, and now Meredith as well, was enveloped in a thick exterior of ice. Proctor Kimble had just turned Sable's safe haven into an icy tomb, and the best tool he had for breaking out had just been liquified.

Sable let the now useless energy bubble around them dissipate.
"Shit..." The young titan muttered as he ran a hand along the frozen wall of Kimble's prison. He wreathed his fist in that same, amber arcane energy and smashed it into the interior of the ice dome. It barely left a crack. "Bastard!"

 

[Charon]

Charon stalked forward towards Davi like a tiger cornering its prey. Karambits in hand, he snickered to himself relentlessly. Was the boy begging already? Charon hadn't even begin sinking the daggers into his flesh yet.

Then that roiling wave of allomancy struck him, as well as every other soul in the area. His precious daggers turned to something resembling warm wax, and every intricate metal design on his armor followed suit. Charon kissed his teeth, frowning for the first time since he'd arrived before discarding the now-spent daggers.

Scarlet eyes, burning with hunger glanced over Davi as the cuffs fell from the other initiate's wrists.

"I don't care about 'graduating.'" He spat in reply, gripping one of the sharp, bony protrusions on the elbow of his armor. With a hard yank that cut his own flesh, he snapped the sharp, ossified structure off and brandished it like a knife. His wicked smile returned like it had never left. "I care about making you all suffer."

With that, Charon lunged at Davi, psychic static focusing onto him. Instead of discomfort, Davi would feel the sensation of barbed wire being dragged across his flesh. It was better this way. More FUN this way. This way everyone could fight back! Charon cackled manically as he slung his makeshift weapon at his prey.

"Now be good and SCREAM for me!"

 

[Jaxan]

His mind was mush. Hazy and firing off random synapses. All he knew was that he had to keep Lilliana safe and he had to kill Jaxan.

Lilliana was close by. She even rubbed at his cheek. She must’ve been a great friend.

But who was Jaxan?

He’d never met anyone named Jaxan. Hell, he didn’t even know his own name anymore and it was making him panic. Maybe if he just stayed calm, relaxed, then he could focus. Remember who the hell he was and figure out who this Jaxan fellow was. Where this Jacan fellow was.

The droplets of blood and bone floating above the arena went limp and fell harmlessly to the marbled stone. With his head in such a tizzy it just wasn’t possible to maintain that magic. That’s right! Whoever he was he had magic or something.

Maybe self-actualization was within reach. He just had to remember who this ‘self’ was. It wasn’t Lizziana, she wasn’t him. It wasn’t Jacob, he was evil and had to be killed. He was someone else. With a different name.

A different name. That sounded right. He couldn’t be Liblith or Jemxan but he could be some other thing. Maybe Haroldinio would work? Or diofYEtBnk23? Those were names but they held no meaning. How’d he even know those were names? Where they names?

OK. So, he was a he and he was here. And he had magic. He could use that magic to protect Legsmith. He had a name and it was probably Moo and he’d use his magic to kill Jegfy.

”Oh god,” he’d opened his eyes to a horrifying sight. He had a rib cage and it was being pulled out of his chest. Slowly. One bone at a time. That wasn’t how rib cages worked, they were meant to be on the inside part. He didn’t know much but that was definitely right.

This wasn’t good, if each bone kept tearing through flesh he’d bleed a lot. That’d mean he’d die and if he died no one could stop Jorxin. Lepoin would be in trouble. His hands came up to touch the exposed bones that kept bursting out of his torso.

They were wet. And sticky.

Wait? He had magic. He could use that to make the situation better. Put the bones back in their right place.

Through labored breaths he cried out, ”I’m alright, I’m alright, gonna be okay,” and he just kept repeating that. Then he slumped over.

He’d be fine. He could use his magic to mend his skin and fix his bones. Then a healer would could. Yeah! A healer! They’d fix him up. He was going to be fine then he’d protect his friend, Loqwnsr, from that dastardly Jooodeygsro.

Those were his last thoughts as exasperated breaths ceased while he languished in a puddle of his own blood. His torso resembling a rack of lamb ready for the oven.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh’s gimlet gaze, all gold and gleaming, looked to Zael. It reignited the fire within her. His body was cold, an eye was missing, and yet, he could still give that cocksure grin that the proctors had tried to destroy. Here it was, in all it’s glory, despite the crimson dripping from Zael’s paling skin.

“Shut up,” was all Everleigh could say as Proctor Sikerus started his own lethal magic. Gooseflesh appeared all along her skin, and she cursed and kicked at those tarnished hands. Ice prickled through her breeches and boots, and soon their clawing ripped through fabric and sharp nails began crisscrossing across her legs. She felt blood bleeding down her calves.

Everleigh choked out a scream of anguish, quickly turning it into a raspy growl as Noel’s awesome might destroyed all the metal in this area— even the two dozen piercings on the poison eater’s body. Well, it’s not like she didn’t have Vance electrocute the life out of her that time back in War Games. This pain was awful, but it would be bearable— rather it would need to be bearable.

Everleigh was going to put her body in a far worse situation.

Her reasoning? Zael and Henk, they were far sturdier than her. They thrived off of heat, especially Zael. The frigid air, the icy tar pit and dead-cold hands trying to bring them under… the worst circumstances for Zael. He had taken enough damage. The only thing going through Everleigh’s mind was to get him to a safe place, out of the fray, and finish this fight with the others.

She muttered a quick incantation, a weak shield against fire. The blood on her legs turned clear, stinging her cuts profusely. Alcohol.

Sweat was beading around her forehead despite the chill, the mental concentration it took to control two different toxins was causing a hammering all over her skull. But she persisted, if not for herself than for Zael. Like the wobbly legs of a newborn fawn, this mixture of alcohol moved to Zael’s hand.

Henk had the right idea, Everleigh noted somewhere in her too-tight mind, feeling like her brain was trying to outgrow the strong skull that trapped it. Heat was a way to escape the ooze, not get rid of it completely. Only proctor Sikerus could stop it, but Everleigh would need to see him to use her acidic snake to her advantage.

“Light it up,” Everleigh said, still struggling against the multitude of hands, still doing her best to hold Zael up. The muscles were tight in her thighs, without Zael’s armor, Everleigh full believed— as long as nothing was pulling her back— that she could make a run for it and get Zael to safety and out of the cold.

Zael Castomir Edric

 

[Kalix]

Proctor Novgorodoff, in all his years of teaching (which actually weren’t as many as initiates would think despite his feeble-looks) couldn’t quite say if he had witnessed something so pathetic. Sure, there were some in this class that had potential. Edric, for instance, wonderfully destructive magic— he had witnessed it first hand. Trix had also been a favorite of the proctor, a sort of kinship between knowledge and abilities.

Shame everyone was going to find themselves in a circumstance that could have been avoided if they had just listened.

Watery eyes narrowed as even Noel seemed moved by this paltry display of rebellion. Teenagers will be teenagers, as they saying went. Stupid, sadistic and, at this point, suicidal.

A paper-thin hand reached into the folds of his cloak and he pulled out a series of bags. Seeds. His time focused on plant breeding would be rewarded today, Novgorodoff was certain of it. With magic, roots began breaking through the thin sacks, little green vines slowly beginning to unfurl. He tossed the four growing plants out and about the ensuing battle field, and then fed his lovely little pets all the magic they could possibly want.

---

Kalix felt Alistair’s eyes on him. He was certain that the initiate would speak up and slay him unceremoniously, retribution for all the prodding and name-calling. Maybe even a sort of retribution for RAF’s death. Luckily, someone else had sprang forth, some nobody who wanted to capitalize on this gift.

Kalix, despite being shackled, was able to at least meekly dodge everything that was getting thrown at him— yes, another person with telekinetic abilities, sheesh, was there no more creativity? Of course, when all hell started breaking loose, Kalix had taken quite a few blows unfortunately. Much to the dismay of the initiate battling him, all shackles and chains and whatever else was metal, broke to be nothing more than a petty reminder of what the proctors had sought to do.

Kalix, of course, wasn’t the brightest. He had paused, much to Novgorodoff’s delight.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair only got to enjoy his triumphant breaking out of Edric before everything went to shit for him. The metal...it was gone. For some that would prove to be useful, but almost all of Alistair's weapons and runic pieces were at least in some form made of metal.

His sword, his dagger, and even his carving tool were all gone. It left him with his knowledge of basic magic that while broad was not incredibly powerful.

The only runes left on him were the ones engraved on his body from all these years in the Academy. Some were powerful, but they all hurt like hell and some reacted funnily with his other runes. He would have changed them years ago if they weren't you know...permanent.

He should have snuck off and hidden. The heavy hitters were out now, and Alistair was lacking most of his tools. They did not need him anymore. A small hike back to the Academy and he could get some of his weapons, maybe even find someone to help.

No, it would all be over by then.

Alistair crawled around at first. He kept his head low, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. The battle was chaotic and it was hard to tell where anyone was. Eventually, he found himself at what looked like to be one of the edges of the battlefield. He could dip into the forest and maybe hide it out.

Then, he saw them. It was actually pretty close to where he was. Kalix and Novgorodoff. Kalix was strong, but he would not be able to fight a Proctor by himself...He turned to abandon the battlefield, but he stopped himself. There was a time to be logical, but it wasn't the time if it meant he was a coward.

He mumbled under his breath, "I am going to regret this."

Alistair rushed over to Kalix and the Proctor and stopped a few feet from them. He forced his most confident smile onto his face before slightly bowing.

"Sorry Proctor, but I think it would be best if you left. I actually need to borrow Kalix for a bit."

Kalix

 

[Kalix]

A enormous sister of the venus-flytrap, or more accurately named Ixchel Gigantic Catapulting Flytrapper, sprung to life behind Proctor Novgorodoff. It grew and grew, having ample space and plenty of the proctor’s magic.

“Initiate Krixus,” Novgorodoff said, as the large, sticky tentacles kept Kalix in place, still growing and growing. The other plants were growing as well, to unfathomable heights, a Venus flytrap, a Lobster Pot plant, and Monkey Cup and Sundew Hybrid (which was Novgorodoff’s greatest splicing achievement to date) began ensnaring plenty of students. Trix was down, but even if she wasn’t, Novgorodoff was smug enough to not fear her.

After all, what proctor would fear an initiate?

“You seem to be forgetting Kalix’s transgressions, I was trying to do you a favor. Ah, but you were with another group.” There was a slight intake of breath as one initiate began wailing instead the thick maws of the Venus flytrap, their skin and muscle slowly melting off. The plant would only continue to grow further, taking magic and carnage to feed it’s growth. “Very well. As you can see, he’s bound. The Flytrapper needs more than flesh, and his arcane might is feeding it nicely. I doubt he’ll be able to hurt you. So go ahead.

“Break. His. Neck.”

Alistair Krixus