[Center][h2][u]SEQUENCE 3: The Backwards Castle[/u][/h2]
[i][b]Segment 1: Reconstruction[/b][/i][/center]


Birdcages, strung up in the dark and filled with swarms of churning winged insects. The chittering beat of their wings sang in a rhythm almost akin to speech. A cacophony of grinding mandibles and chitin against metal, this swarm...knew of a detail. It hissed lamentations of spite, dejection for being used, and a hungering ambiguous [i]want[/i]. Where was it!? There was fear, but anger ruled its disjointed form as reality crashed down on the depths of the mass.
It was at Istvargrad. It knew of its fleeting fragility, but still [i]was[/i] when others would not. It had a name, probably many, but in its state, it was hardly anything, anymore. Just a collection of thoughts and rampant emotions driven mad from its perceived eternity of imprisonment, it would suffice.

Bricks rose, encasing the cage in a cobblestone box alongside others like it.
Torches burst to life to illuminate the cell block as the click of metal-toed boots echoed from down the hall, drawing near until the figures rounded the corner to face the nearly identical section of the prison that the woman accompanying The Stranger was pulled from. A silence reigned in the halls, the chaotic thrumming of insect hoards falling silent before the two had even drawn near enough to hear it.
The Stranger slowly paced from one cell to the next, peering into the contents before settling on the cage in the wall. As violet accompanied them, they'd see not an amalgam of vermin in a bird cage, but a singular man slumped in a dim stone cell. The New Rule had recomposed their form, and the instant Violet's Kite touched the door, life flowed back to Jericho's form in time to watch the cell slide open.
If he'd hoped to find some form of death, they may be disappointed. No gates to white or scorching inferno, just a silence as still as a grave. However, given the chaotic dream-like blur he'd been roused from...silence might not be such a terrible alternative. For the moment, at least, a still semblance of peace permeated existence, like a relief following waking from a nightmare.

Kite looked back to Violet, their expression hidden, though an implied confidence rose from their gesture; lifting a hand to about shoulder-height and wiggling their pinky-finger.