Dreadlords Terror Within

[Eleanor]

"No no no no..." The words were repeated as Ella started to run towards the home.

She flung open the door to dead silence. It was silent and it smelled terrible. "No no no no..." She continued to say as she tore through the house.

She came across Talus first. His throat was slashed and his eyes were vacant. Blood pooled around him and the flies had started to make their home there. Ella bent down and closed his eyes.

Tears streamed down her face as she continued forward. It was like she was in a dream. It felt as though she was trudging through molasses.

So slow moving.

The next body was that of the loyal direwolf, Grey. He had been killed in a similar fashion to his master.

Ella was openly weeping now. She was terrified about what she would find next.

It was worse than she could have imagined. Zana laid out in the middle of the bed on sheets that were once white but now they were stained with the blood of three bodies. Zana cradled one twin in each other arms. She had been placed like this after death. The murderer had put the twins in her arms after they had killed the children and their mother.

Eleanor could not do anything but cry and scream as she climbed up on the bed and took little Lyra in her arms. She rocked back in forth as she held the baby before she finally laid down next to the woman who had been her mother.

She wanted to die too. She needed the murderer to come back.

 

[Edric]

“You did this.”​

The accusations continued. Biting. Cold.

Some held hate within their words. Some sorrow. Some nothing at all. They whispered to him, yelled at him. Their voices echoing over and over. Almost threatening to drown each other out as they continued in their tirade.

“You did this to us!”

“You took our lives to make yourself whole!”

“Your life isn’t yours!”

“It’s OURS!”​

The words were shouted, and then suddenly he felt it. The figures reached down, their fingers clawed into his flesh. Biting, ripping, tearing. Piece by piece they began to strip his flesh. Ripping skin from muscle, tearing muscle from bone.

Pain and agony joined with misery and despair.

Edric’s sobs became howls of pain. The ghosts rushing through their own crowd in desperation as they tore at him. Ripping him apart strip by strip. Agony convulsing through his form as he began to scream out in desperation. ”No! No! STOP!”

He wailed.

”They made me! THEY MADE ME DO IT!” His words fell on deaf ears. The figures ripping and tearing until he was naught more than a shade himself.

 

[Vance Calgrave]

The entire room flickered in monotone. Vance's lightning flashed out like strobes, now white hot as they licked the walls, the ceiling, the floors. The hooded figures continued to prod him. How were they avoiding the bolts? It was as though their bodies twisted and warped as instantly as his own uncontrollable power.

Vance felt the heat of the fire, and every bite of a knife on his skin caused a new surge roiling out of him. With his screams he tasted hot static, vomiting up bolts and bile. His hair had caught alight, and the flames seared his scalp while hot and angry burns blistered up in jagged tracks on his arms.

He was half blind, and he swiped in blind fury and agony at whatever shadow passed in front of him. He caught a knife bare-handed and watched its wielder turn to ash. His arm exploded from the sudden discharge, his blood boiling away while bone shattered and blackened.

The pain was too much.

He stopped fighting.

The room flashed white for a final time and all was dust.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Table. Two chairs. The room Everleigh knew better than the back of her hand. She had spent countless hours— actually, that was a lie, she did know how many hours she spent in that room, over three-thousand hours— sitting here, staring at Proctor Goetsch. Listening to the fourth level dreadlord worthless piece of—

“Watch it,” Marianne warned, taking a seat. “Only been a year and some months and you’ve already forgotten that I know your every thought. Your every move.” She pulled out a very small set of cards, ornately detailed with gold and silver leafing that caught the dim candlelight above them. Everleigh looked around the room for a moment, cataloguing, trying to see if anything was different.

It was just how she remembered it.

“You’re dead.” Everleigh said plainly, going over to the empty seat and sitting down, staring straight at the blonde proctor. “Or if you are alive then you’re not here. It’s an—“

“Illusion. Sure. Whatever makes you feel better, Evie.” Marianne interjected, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. “Doesn’t mean that this isn’t true, or holds some truth. Still got that rune, right?” Everleigh nodded. “Huh. And you think you’re so smart. Well, it’s for the best. Can’t have your magic getting out of control. So. About this game. We get five cards.” She spread the cards out, three images. Everleigh narrowed her eyes.

“What a nice expression. We’ll start with the emperor, or in this case, empress.” Marianne held up a card that clearly depicted Liliana Lorel, showcasing her in all her glory. Gold leaf tendrils through her blonde hair, a jeweled crown sitting on top her head as she inspected her nails. Beautiful, as always. “They’ve got money, power, political sway, and in this case… magic. Always thought the Lorel bitch was worthless but she’s still alive.”

“Sounds like jealousy.” Everleigh said calmly, looking the proctor in the eyes. Seconds passed, their gaze unwavering and unblinking.

“The citizen.” Marianne continued, and picked up another card. This one depicted Zael Castomir. Confident smile, shining green eyes, framed by flames. “You really like him so there’s three of him.” Everleigh looked over the card, feeling her heart beat faster. Excitement? No, adrenaline. But not from excitement. Dread? Fear? “And lastly, the slave.” Marianne held up the final card, Tinker Smithe painted in all his grubby bleakness, the only bit of color being that bright red of the three scars along his awfully white and pale face. Only a hint of a blue sheen in his eyes.

“You know what we’re playing right?” Everleigh nodded her head. “We called it three card poker but it was hardly that. As a reminder, we place one card down and then flip them over. Empress beats citizen, citizen beats slave, but the slave beats the empress. Citizens cancel each other out. Oh, and to make it more fun…” the blonde snapped her fingers. Everleigh heard footsteps behind her.

She looked over her shoulder. Liliana, Tinker, and Zael were behind her. When Everleigh glanced back over to Marianne she saw the same line up behind her.

“So. Let’s begin.” And with no hesitation, Marianne placed a card face down in front of her. Everleigh looked down, seeing the five cards neatly stacked. She picked them up, shuffled them quickly as she looked at the proctor. “Thirty second time limit. You have—“

“Ten seconds left, I know.” Everleigh said and picked a card, placing it face down. Like clockwork, their hands reached out to flip over the card, completely and utterly synchronized like the best orchestra known to Arethil. Citizens. Everleigh looked up and shivered. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, gooseflesh appearing from the smug look on the proctor’s face.

The Zael on either side of them walked over to each other, drawing their swords. With all the precision that had been beaten into them in their time at the academy, the whistle of a blade in the air as it sliced to the target, the “citizens” beheaded one another.

It took everything, every single ounce of willpower within the poison eater, to channel all the spite and bitterness and years of abuse, to not flinch as blood splattered all over her. She looked straight at Marianne Goetsch, devoid of all expression.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your edge, Evie. I really turned you into a fine concoction to slather over weapons, didn’t I? And I still don’t get a thank you?” Everleigh stayed silent, and instead looked down at her cards. “Now, let’s continue. You place the card down first. And remember. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

The loophole. The reason why Everleigh was the master gambler that she was: Marianne Goetsch could read minds, could experience whatever the person was experiencing inside their heads. The toughest opponent the gambling addict would ever face: and honestly, Everleigh Ebersol loved every second of it.

“What happens to the loser?” She asked, placing down a card face down. A citizen card.

“They die. Illusion or not, whatever you think is going on, if you lose, Evie, I will kill the last bit of humanity you have. Whether that’s your body or something else… when you lose, you’ll cease to exist to how the world now knows you.”

 

[Eleanor]

Ella had no idea how long she had laid there holding the dead child in her arms and crying. Minutes, hours, days...the time did not matter to her. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. If she left the house then it was real and they were dead. Everyone she cared about was gone. Would more be dead if she left? Who else was there? She was sure the universe would find someone.

There was a creak of a floorboard and Ella shot up from the bed. She replaced Lyra in her mothers arms and crept out of the room to investigate.

Perhaps the murderer had heard her pleas and had come back to kill her too.

She paused as she saw the person holding a knife in their hand. She wouldn't fight them. It was her time to die.

The shadowed figure took a few steps towards her and Ella did the same. She would meet the murderer in the middle if it meant departing this life sooner.

The figure stepped into the light and Ella gasped.

"What? No..." Her words trailed off as she stared at herself with a knife in her hand.

She took a step and the fake Eleanor took one too. They matched each others steps until they stood directly in front of the other. She could see the blood on the knife and on the fake Eleanor's hands and outfit. Real Ella reached out to touch the other Ella and her hand hit a hard surface. She could see her hand touching the other hand.

"What the fuck?" She removed her hand from the mirror and looked down at herself.

Ella - the real and only Ella - was covered in blood and she was holding a knife.

She was the murderer. She had killed her friends and family.

She was a monster.

 

[Edric]

Everything was empty.

Dark.

He stood, no lay within a bast abyss of utter nothingness. The hallway was gone. The people were gone. His companions...all gone. There was nothingness. That was where Edric now found himself. Where he stood all on his own.

Eyes fell open, and saw not darkness, but simply an everlasting expanse of yawning naught. His head slowly turned, looking, searching. He glanced down at himself and found that he was not there either. A consciousness, floating.

Lost.

All by himself.

"Hello?" Edric called out quietly. He did not feel cold. Did not feel hot. Did not feel any flickers of light within the empty void that stretched out ahead of him.

He tried to move his hand. Tried to touch his own chest, hear the beat of his heart. Yet as his fingers curled and reached out, he could feel nothing. Not the heat of his skin. Not the gentle thrum within his chest. Panic flickered through his form.

Was this it?

Had he stepped beyond the veil? Followed through finally. Those ghosts had torn him apart, picked at him, and stripped away all that he had been. All that he was. Now...now he would float here, standing in a vast array of nothing for all time and eternity.

Perhaps no less than he deserved.

Then, suddenly, a familiar feeling erupted from within his chest. Eyes flickered down, lips thinning as he felt the piercing of a blade through his chest. Head turned, cocked to the side, and then suddenly the vast nothing around him fell away. A voice reaching out behind him.

"Thought's you was so strong eh? A dreadlord. Well, Baron's gotsa few surprises for you an yours."​

The words were punctuated by grim laughter. Crimson spilling over Edric's tongue.

 

[Vance Calgrave]

Vance’s eyes struggled to open. The light hurt, sounds hurt, everything felt wrong. His throat was dry, so dry that when he tried to speak all he did was cough and sputter. His tongue tasted like ash… but he was still here. He had not been consumed by the uncontrollable current within him, and if the solid floor beneath his knees were real, neither had the house.

There was a ringing in his ears, and though he had managed to open his eyes he could see only blurred shapes and colors. He was kneeling, but his arms were raised. Shackled to a wall behind him.

He did not feel a building surge, which meant the dampeners were still attached. How was that possible? It hurt his head too much to think about.

Were those voices? Were they his friends or more enemies?

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Two cards were on the table. Everleigh had no choice but to look at the proctor straight in the eye. She had haphazardly mixed up her cards once again, without looking, had no idea if they faced the correct way or not, if Marianne could see the cards crystal-clear without needing to read her mind.

Perhaps she could. Or maybe fate was fucking with her.

Everleigh had in the third round placed down her king. Luckily, Marianne had used a civilian so the round was given to the initiate, and she was met with a lovely show of Liliana killing Zael. But that left two cards in Everleigh’s hand: a civilian and the slave. Meanwhile, Marianne had used up all her civilians, and now had a king and a slave. The odds were not in Everleigh’s favor.

Marianne placed down her card, and Everleigh followed suit. The went to turn them. Everleigh’s gimlet gaze caught sight of the queen on Marianne’s side. Which card had she placed? The slave? Did she—

---

The purple initiate awoke with a start, head hazy and a sharp throbbing radiating from the top of her skull and all the way down until it tingled along her spine. Her body felt a dull soreness deep within her bones and thighs, and as she began to come to, she tasted a sharp, bitter taste in her dry mouth.

Bile. So she had thrown up after all, her nostrils bruised and raw as if the sick came up every hole it could find. She coughed, hoarse and fruitless.

Everleigh’s face twisted into stormy concoction of dawning disbelief and arrogant rage. She fucked up. How could she, out of all the initiates here, fuck up? Was it the wind? Before the wind? When had her mind not become her own? How on Arethil could she lose herself to some Baron that had ran and hidden himself away. What was the trigger?

She coughed, her chest burning as her lungs heaved against her rib cage, a feeling Everleigh was acutely aware of, as if her lungs were too big and her rib cage far too small. She could picture the bloody sacks of soft flesh being pierced by the curving tips of the stark-white bone. Her heart was beating fast, hammering hard like the pounding in her thick her skull. The beat of her heartbeat, her ravaged breath, and that electric tightness behind her eyes were a resounding dissonant symphony within her weakened frame.

“Yeah?” Everleigh croaked. She heard it, the sound of flesh that had been pierced. Even with her mind convoluted with the horrors she had experienced, still questioning what was real and what wasn’t, she had to push it all back. They were in danger. And right now, escaping was far more important. “Hate to burst the Baron’s big ass ego but the republic sent over initiates, not dreadlords, because he isn’t worth the effort.”

Piss him off. Enough to get stabbed or sliced, but not enough to were it would be fatal or immobilize her.

Eleanor Edric Vance Calgrave

 

[Eleanor]

Like the others, Ella was pulled back into reality once she had confronted the murderer - once she had confronted herself...

She heard a voice she didn't recognize and then she heard Everleigh's. Were they back together again? They had entered that room by each others side but then Ella had been alone when she had found Vance's body.

Her head was pounding and she was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid to look around the room just to see more bodies of the people she loved that she had killed.

"Evie?" She croaked out and finally opened her eyes just a sliver. There were shapes but they were a blur. What the fuck was happening here?

"Edric?" She didn't say Vance's name. She couldn't bring herself to say it because if he wasn't there then he was really dead.

---

Everleigh Ebersol Vance Calgrave Edric

 

[Edric]

"That so?"

The man in front of him questioned Everleigh with a wide smirk. His face still looking up at Edric with a wicked grin, his hand twisting ever so slightly. A sharp pain lanced through the Initiate as the knife buried within his chest seared with pain. A lance of hot agony shooting through his spine.

Eyes bulged open, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could say a word however a cough rose within his lungs. Blood and splittle splattered out as the wound in his chest began to run its course. The man in front of him splattered with crimson, his smile never leaving his face as the Initiate in front of him began to die.

Desperately, Edric began to thrash.

He reached out, pure instinct, towards the magic that had saved him so many times. He tried to grasp at the other man's life. Drain his vitality. Restore himself at whatever cost he would need to pay.

Yet as he fumbled within the darkness, reached and grasped, Edric found nothing.

"Shame that, actual Dreadlords might have done better."​

The man said, his blade pulling free from Edric's chest with a squelch of blood and flesh. A wicked grin spread over his lips as he turned to face the other Initiates. His eyes wild with a sadistic leer.

Slowly he stepped over towards Everleigh. The knife still bloodied by Edric's fading vitality. The Inquisitor stopped mere inches away from the poison-eaters face, his breath stinking of rotted teeth and old fish. The smile on his face never fading as the bloody knife pressed against her throat.

"Might even have been able to break through the neat little wardings in this room."​

His smirk grew wider.

"Ya know. The ones keepin' ya from using your magic."​

A cackle escaped his throat, echoing in the tiny dungeon-like room. It's pale walls marked with dozens of chains, it's door a heavy steel, and the air within it thick with magic far older than any of the Initiates.

As the man taunted, laughed, Edric lay on the wall behind him. Blood seeped steadily from his wound, sopping his clothes and slowly pooling upon the ground beneath him.

 

[Vance Calgrave]

The headache was pounding now, the more conscious he became the more pain he experienced. He wanted to go back to sleep.

Ella’s voice pierced through the pain and forced him to open his eyes. She and Evie were there, and the very loud thud of Edric’s body hitting the floor marked his presence. That… that was a lot of blood.

Vance didn’t like that cretin so close to the girls, and anger burned through the pain while he tried to struggle against his bonds. His own choked wince met his ears as sharp agony radiated from his wrists down his arms. They weren’t broken, but his wrists had been worn raw and savagely bruised by his unconscious thrashing in the shackles.

He tried to shout “get away!” at the man, but just a dry cough escaped. He was so thirsty.

Unable to use magic, all he could do was struggle in vain against the bonds.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh narrowed her violet eyes at the man. Her eyes flickered past the crimson-stained man and looked over at Edric. So their meat shield wasn’t effective. That meant she also wasn’t going to be able to use any sort of magic herself. Change of plans.

What did she know?

There were wards in the room, nothing actually physically on them that hindered their magic. Good. She could work around that. What else? Quickly she looked around, noting all the thick and heavy chains, seeing some with rust, but all of them had been dosed in blood. Torture. If he wanted them dead, Everleigh was certain that she would have never woken up from that spell.

Besides, if he wanted to kill Edric, he’d slice his throat. No, this man sought to play with them.

The bloodied blade at the soft, pale skin of her throat. The edge was warm and sticky and Everleigh could feel the red rivulets sliding down the length of her neck. She took a deep, controlled breath. Her heart was beating so fast. There was a heat coursing through her, starting down from the pit of her stomach and— oh fuck, she was drooling already.

Instead of leaning away from the rancid breath of their captor, Everleigh couldn’t help the excited lean in, leveling her euphoric gaze with his.

“Yeah?” She said softly, just barely above a whisper. “So what’s the plan, big guy? Gonna torture us one on one?” A wolfish grin appeared. “I bet you can’t even make me feel pain nevertheless scream from it. When it came to receiving punishments, I was always the best.” The poison eater boasted.

Eleanor Edric Vance Calgrave

 

[Eleanor]

Once again Ella found herself in a terrible situation with Vance and no magic. She really needed to figure out how they managed to fuck up so royally yet again. Well...the other time wasn't really their fault. She did make a mental point that Vance was alive (for now) so perhaps she did not kill her family. The chains and lack of magic were more important to figure out at this moment.

Her arms were uncomfortably chained behind her and her knees were under her. There was no way for her to kick out and catch the man in the legs and trip him. She was stuck.

It seemed like Everleigh had some sort of plan and she hoped that was the case because she certainly didn't.

Well...their captor didn't seem to like being talked back to...

"It's true. She is real bitch too. Just go ahead and kill her please. I remember this one time she actually laughed while the Proctors tortured her. Laughed!"

Ella had no idea what she was doing here. She was just trying to distract him so Everleigh could do whatever she was planning to do. The poison eater was crazy but she was always prepared for some shit.

---

Everleigh Ebersol Edric Vance Calgrave

 

[Edric]

The vileman seemed to smile as Everleigh offered her boast, the blade of his knife gently slicking away from her skin.

For a brief moment his eyes seemed to wash over her. The look was a mixture of assessment, and outright leer. He seemed to care not a drop for modesty, and he stared at her as a predator might a piece of meat that had been left out for him.

As he stared, Edric continued to bleed.

His wounds did not seal shut, and the crimson spilled down his form in a continuous path. His head began to lull from side to side, his vision blurred, and as he tried to speak only blood found his tongue. A cough wracked his lungs, body burning as the life began to ebb from him.

"Torture you?"​

The man chuckled.

"Why the fuck would I do that? You're fodder. Pawns. Not worth the time really."​

As the man spoke his blade slipped low. Everleigh would feel it draw over the curve of her chest, and then it's point pressed against her ribs.

The wicked smile returned to the mans face.

"No I'm going to watch you all die."​

He slipped the blade of the soiled knife through her ribs, piercing through her flesh, and forming a bloodletting wound.

 

[Vance Calgrave]

The pool around Edric continued to grow with no signs of slowing. Vance could not remember ever seeing this much blood coming out of him, since he had always healed so annoyingly quickly. Come on, he willed at Edric. Get it together. Heal!

He knew it was futile to hope. He had no energy going through him, the metal wires and rods that coursed across his armor had never been so silent. Without their constant humming and familiar heat they were just cold, dead weight.

Like him. Like Edric would soon be. Like they all were without magic.

Is this what they were without magic? Vance's memory flashed back to a thought-forgotten training session with a pitiful, "new age" training proctor from the Guard. He had been chastised for using magic in the sparring session, told that he had to be able to fight without it. Vance had, predictably, scoffed at the notion. His magic was a part of him. It made him better than ordinary people. How could it ever be separated from him?

He hated being proven wrong almost as much as he hated watching his friends die, yet here he was, hanging from aching wrists and powerless to do anything to help. Edric had minutes left to live. Evie had even less time if she kept mouthing off (which she would, guaranteed). Ella... Ella. He lingered on her bound on the floor. Her red hair was still brilliant in the dim light, and her face still looked fierce in their situation. No less should be expected from Zana's protégé. Even in the face of certain death...

Vance felt a small spark inside of him. It wasn't lightning, it was something much older, much more familiar. Something that had been with him longer than he could remember, and stirred into action by Ella's face.

Anger.

Everleigh's insane grinning fanned the spark. What an obnoxious girl... he absolutely loved her in this moment. She didn't care about the knife at her throat, she practically wanted it there. She didn't deserve to die with such little fanfare.

Edric's body... Edric... an old rival. Was friend a word he could use at the Academy? Was a friend someone you beat up and got beaten up by more than anyone else? If so, the pair of them were best friends. He needed Edric. He wouldn't tell him this, not until they truly were dead and staring down hell's gates together, but it was true. Every sword needs a whetstone.

Fuck this. Fuck this guy, fuck this house, fuck these wards and chains. Vance's breathing grew heavy and came through gritted teeth. Growls came through next, with a frothing, dehydrated rage about his lips. He tugged at the bonds around his wrists. His hands were too wide to slide through, but he pulled all the same. The growl turned to a groan and finally, with the knife sliding through Everleigh's ribs, into a scream.

Bones crunched and hot blood spattered either side of Vance's face as his wrists tore. His hands crumpled in upon themselves as they were pulled roughly through the sharp-edged shackles, sliding free of their bonds along with most of their skin. An earth-shattering roar accompanied the visceral sounds of Vance's freedom, prompting their captor to stand with the knife.

Vance charged forward. He had no lightning, no weapons, and his hands hung lump, broken, and bleeding. In blind fury, and low on options, he headbutted the knife-wielder square in the face, earning himself a cut to his ribs.

"Release the wards!" Vance managed to slur out past the drool of pain and fury. "And we take you alive." He aimed a stomp for where the man had fallen.

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Fodder? Pawns? Not worth his time or his rancid breath? Well now he was actually making her mad.

“Fuck you.” Everleigh hissed out as he dragged the tip of his blade over her. Plan A was a bust, she knew it when he pressed the tip into the side of her ribs. Everleigh braced herself, still grinning wildly at this man who thought he could discard her as trash.

No sound escaped her although she did wince. Instead, she did what she always did when the proctors had brought her down below the academy. Whether it was due to her hyperthymesia or her eidetic memory— although most likely due to both, when she got lost in her head, there was nothing else. One memory in particular, over a game of cards. And so she recessed back into her mind.

She didn’t feel pain. All she focused on was counting cards. Over. And over. And over.

Surprisingly, at least to Everleigh, was when she was jarred back to be consciousness because of Vance. Vance! The dumb hothead who functioned off of one brain cell was… well, functioning with one brain cell, but he had broken through his chains! At the cost of his hands but it was a start!

Without hesitation, Everleigh growled out in pain, seemingly gritting her teeth together. From the knife wound? Slightly. But she had pulled off the metal stud Proctor Goetsch had pierced through her tongue two years ago. Blood soon filled her mouth, and poison. While she couldn’t use her magic, Everleigh wasn’t going to risk her current state as she figured the immunity to toxins was no longer active.

She spat the metal stud, her aim true and accurate even now, and watched it arc from her bloodied lips to land right in the spot on the man that Vance had aimed to stomp.

“Mafe et peerse hif chesf! Keef sfomping!” Everleigh shouted, blood falling down, her injured tongue unable to allow her to pronounce common tongue correctly. Not to mention she wasn’t even sure if Vance caught sight of the piercing, or would understand that even without her magic, everytime she had used it, metal— and all the metal bits embedded into her— held onto poison incredibly well.

Besides, if stinky-breath wanted to leave if he were poisoned, only Everleigh would be able to extract it.

That was if Plan K worked.

Eleanor Edric Vance Calgrave

 

[Eleanor]

Ella did not realize that she screamed as Vance ripped his hands from his restraints. She watched in absolute horror as the metal flayed his skin away from his body. She fought the urge to throw up. She wanted to help but she was not about to fuck up her wrists too. She was the only one that wasn't bleeding out so she might be the only one who can actually get them out alive.

She felt useless as Vance and Everleigh attacked the man in their own way. She was useless right now. She hated it.

---

Everleigh Ebersol Edric Vance Calgrave

 

[Edric]

The Man's head crashed back into the cobbles as Vance's kick struck home.

A blustering laugh echoed from his lips, eyes already surged with pinpricks of blood, his vision blinking and fingers curling around the knife in his hand. He took a futile, desperate swipe towards Vance as he continued to chuckle.

"YOU STUPID FUCK!"​

He swore.

"These wards ain't me!"​

The laughter reached a caucophany, reaching through the room. It was a grating, disturbing and hateful sound. A remembrance of the Proctors who had watched over them all.

Edric still sat chained against the wall. Blood continued to seep from his wound, dripping through his clothes and pooling on the floor. His head swayed from side to side, his vision all but a mass of blur as he tried to focus on Vance.

"You kill me and your friends are dead! You're dead!"​

The man said, chuckling bitter venom.

 

[Vance Calgrave]

Vance's ears were ringing. He saw red, but that might be bleeding in his eyes. The pain in his hands was so constant that it almost blended into the background. He did not hear Everleigh, but he caught the piercing glint in the light where it fell.

He wasn't thinking straight enough to work out that the poison eater had spit it towards them. He barely made sense of the man's cackling words. The laughter was painful itself, and Vance growled against it.

Was he bluffing? He had to be bluffing... but Vance looked up at Everleigh, bloodied and mad-eyed. He looked at Edric with the life draining from him. He looked at Ella, who somehow appeared perfect. There was too much at stake to call the bluff.

He yelled again, feral and agonized, and dropped his boot towards the man's knee. "You'll only wish you were dead!" he spat. "Until these wards go down I will break you again, and again!"

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

While Everleigh liked to think Vance as a big dummy, as all the other big dummies like Edric and Kalix and whoever else also happened to be able six feet, she was actually quite understanding that yes, Vance couldn’t understand her. She couldn’t enuciate, after all, half her tongue was gone. Blood spilling everywhere on her, normally something she wouldn’t have minded if she could use her magic.

She glanced at Edric, seeing how it seemed like he couldn’t even keep his eyes open she wasn’t sure how much time he had left. Was the a limit to his magic working? If there was, Everleigh didn’t know— although she could make assumptions— but in this case she wouldn’t want to risk anything. All she could hope for was for Vance—

She looked over, see him go to break the asshole’s kneecap. Good. Killing him when they could pull more answers out him, especially since he seemed to spill secrets when he was pain-motivated, would have been risky. Her mouth was shut tight and she swallowed a large mouthful of blood, ignoring the metallic taste. Everleigh had drank worse sludge.

She could only hope that Vance’s efforts wouldn’t be futile.

 

[Edric]

Another strike, another gout of laughter, and then suddenly it cut off. The man found himself choking, his words cut off, his eyes opening in abject horror. Something changed. It was hard to tell what, but terror suddenly fluttered through the jailers eyes.

He could not speak, for the blood in his throat choked him.

Yet he began to point, his lips blue, his fingers curling. He reached out and desperately pointed towards the door, index reaching out as he choked upon his own spittle and desperately gestured towards one of the bricks besides the steel door.

Again and again he motioned.

Panic.

Fear as though he had thought someone would come for him. As though he had realized that he was alone, trapped and dying with four Dreadlord Initiates who would not could not do anything to help.

The man was cruel. Evil, but desperate. He no more wanted to die than anyone else. It was clear he had thought someone would put down Vance. That someone would come in and stop him. Yet all that greeted beyond the door was silence. So he motioned, shaking desperately at the odd brick in the wall.

 

[Eleanor]

Ella watched Vance beat the shit of the man, she saw the fight that he had with himself about calling the mans bluff, and she noticed the odd brick that the man was fixated on all of a sudden.

She twisted her head to look at the wall that her chains were connected to. Vance had pulled his clean out of the wall when he had torn his hands free. Now that she was looking at them with a calculating brain, she could see that the chain was attached to a large hook in the wall.

If she could just get the chain off the hook, she would be free (ish). With everyone's attention on the bloody man and Vance, she slowly struggled to put her feet underneath her. Her legs were wobbly as she used the wall to inch her way up.

The hook was still a bit above her head as she stood on her tiptoes and moved her hands to grab the excess chain so she could slid them off the hook. She was not sure how long had passed when the resistance she had been feeling finally stopped and she stumbled forward.

The manacles were still around her wrists but at least she could walk.

Ella started to make her way towards the odd brick.

 

[Vance Calgrave]

Vance's head was pounding so furiously he could hardly see. The sounds of the man's laughter dimmed to a background whine. Blood kept dripping from his flayed hands and there was a considerable volume accumulating on the ground around him. He could still feel the crunch of bones under his boot, though. That felt good.

He staggered forwards and stomped on an ankle. Hopefully the wards would be dropped without him needing to do more, since he wasn't in a state to follow instructions. He looked glassy-eyed at the doorway the man was pointing to. He didn't see the brick... it was all too fuzzy.

Ella was walking towards it though. Ella? When had she been freed? What... was she doing?

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh’s gaze began to droop, tunnel vision soon taking over. However, it didn’t mean that she didn’t catch a glimpse of red hair staggering past her. If only for the length, Everleigh recognized it as belonging to Ella. She had broken free? With her powers? No, that wouldn’t make sense or else she’d be able to— she heard the clank of chains.

Weakly, pathetically so, she tried to struggle against her own bonds but it was futile. Everleigh was the smallest here in this group, and with a stab wound and half her tongue gone— well, who was in worse shape now? Her or Edric? She couldn’t even communicate now even if she wanted to.

Slowly she was being lulled to sleep, the pain she had felt from her injuries were fading away. Like she was on a boat, on a calm lake. She could picture it now, supine on a boat, looking up at the starry sky. She could hear water lapping up against the boat, could hear someone moving a wooden paddle through the water, ferrying her down a river. Wait, river? Wasn’t she on a lake?

Everleigh’s dark violet lashes fluttered for a moment, but then soon enough, she didn’t much care. Her body felt warm and light, and for once, she felt at ease. She felt her head grow clear. Finally, she though, finally it was quiet enough in her head to think. The few times she had felt such piece had only been when she was bedridden, on death’s doorstep….

Everleigh coughed, blood gushing out from her lips, drool and phlegm mixed in with the crimson that fell in torrent onto the dirty floor. She had opened her eyes, briefly, only to close them again.

 

[Edric]

Ella's fingers wrapped around the edge of the strange brick. Her touch would tingle, fingertips going numb, skin burning ever so slightly. It was not painful, but almost like touching a rash that had drawn across the skin.

As soon as she plucked it free the air within the cell seemed to change.

The brick tumbled from the wall, and a pulse seemed to run through the stone itself. There was a flickering change, a rush through the room. Suddenly pulses of their lost magic would flood into the Initiates, a tidal wave of power that struck out as though a dam had been torn away.

Edric's eyes snapped open in an instant.

The man upon the ground let out a gasping, wheezing breath of panic as he suddenly felt what little of his vitality was left ripped away.

In an instant the man upon the floor opened his mouth, doing his best to let out a scream of pain. A strangled cry that was cut off before it could ever get past his lips. Within seconds his body turned to a disheveled and wrinkled corpse. Edric's body lashing out to heal itself, barely controlled by the wisp of consciousness that remained in the young boy.

Edric's chest wracked with a heavy breath, his muscles straining against the chains. "Kress, fuck."

He declared, his gaze wild as he looked around the room. Only half aware of where he had awoken.