[IC] Wanderers

[Carantathraiel]

The elf whirled at the sound of her name, bright eyes landing on Kire, then immediately to the man to which she gestured. Ysaryn took a step, vanishing, to reappear behind him. She threw her weight into him, palms braced against his back as she shoved him, and she vanished again to reclaim her place on the floor, reappearing just as he fell with a sick sound onto the floor. Darts. Ysaryn felt the urge to run her hand along her neck, ensuring she'd not been hit. That was how they'd done it.

She didn't have time to mull it over. Ysaryn inhaled and went back to her slaughter, until the men who were trying to attack were so few and sparse they had a chance to breathe. All of them. So many now-freed elves were circling like lionesses, eyes set with a burning intensity that Ysaryn could only be proud of. Bolym glanced her way, looking for instruction, and Ysaryn grinned when she saw he was coated in blood. No doubt she looked similar. Her smile spread, and Bolym grinned in return.

"Yes." Ysaryn answered, and several of the other dozen elves turned their heads towards her, then towards Kire. They all stood upright, each covered in varying amounts of blood, each looking still furious, but temporarily placated. As Kire mentioned emptying the wagons, Ysaryn translated, and the other elves moved forward without hesitation to assist.
Until Kire said the Gemini had him. Rulitus. Ysaryn's head snapped up to Kire, alarm buzzing in her ears. Even if they had know it was the goal. Even if he'd been prepared for it and willing, Ysaryn felt afraid for him. A phantom pain ripped across her belly, and she placed her hand over the scar that marked her.
Bolym noticed and touched her elbow. "He's been taken?" he asked, not understanding Kire's words. Ysaryn nodded, and Bolym mimicked her. "Then you and the other Chieftess need to go and show these bastards why they shouldn't be messing with us." He grinned a cruel, cold smile. "Paint the earth."

She was prepared to answer Kire's final question when it came. Ysaryn inhaled, squaring her shoulders. "You and I will paint the earth." Ysaryn repeated with a cold smile. "Bolym will make sure they are safe and to home."
Stopping was a mistake. She could feel her body sink from the ebb of adrenalin, her arms growing heavier, her skin burn where she'd failed to protect herself and her blood ran with that of her enemies. "We move." Ysaryn insisted, wiping her sleeve across her face.

---

Rab carried the disappearing man over his shoulder, jaw clenched. He was far lighter than he looked, especially for someone strong enough to withstand one of the darts. Rab had never seen anyone keep to their feet after one. At least he'd gone down after the second. Had he not, Rab knew they'd have been killed for their attempts to take him down.
He followed Gavin, feeling warm blood run against his hand as he held the man's bleeding arm. When told to hurry, Rab broke into a jog, his long legs keeping up with Gavin's running gait easily, the man jostling over his shoulders.

When Gavin stopped suddenly, without warning, Rab whirled, nearly sending the man sprawling onto the ground. Rab stared, curious, unable to understand the look in the man's face, the agony behind his eyes. He watched, making no sound, no movement, until Gavin moved again, palm bleeding. He was ordered to move, so Rab did, wondering how many more times he would be ordered before he would be given his freedom.

When given yet another order, Rab crouched and set the man down as gently as he could manage, laying him down on his back. He looked harmless when he slept. No different from any other man Rab had seen. He claimed they were alike, but this one sported no pointed ears. No eerie eyes. No pointed teeth, Rab learned when he carefully pushed the man's upper lip up just enough to catch sight of his incisors. While Gavin tried to rouse him, Rab crouched nearby, curious, watchful.

He raised his head when the man's eyes opened, if barely. He hissed, a strange sort of dark aura surrounding him for a second before the man exhaled and it was gone.

You can't run. This was the plan. Ruli reminded himself, releasing his call on his Shadow-Walking magic to remain where he lay. If he tried now, anyway, he'd harm himself. He couldn't feel anything. Not his toes. Not his hands. Not his face. The Gemini was speaking to him, and Ruli blinked at him, trying to focus.
She'll know me. Ruli inhaled, unsure if he'd managed to say that out loud. Judging by the lack of comprehension in those green eyes, Ruli hadn't said anything. I can't kill her.

Hunter friend? Did he mean Kire? Kire... Ruli recalled that she would be following, would be able to follow him to Akuma. She would kill the bitch. He wouldn't have to. Then they'd be taken to Ikegai, and Kire could end him, too. He wasn't disturbed by the Gemini's comment on Kire's wellbeing; of course she'd still be alive. Kire was too stubborn to die.

With effort, Ruli squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. And repeated it. He understood.

[Michellin]

Paint the earth. Kire found herself smirking, if only briefly, and she nodded in reply. When Ysarynn wiped her face, Kire realized her own face must be covered in blood too—hers, and the slavers they had slaughtered. Once they had blocked off the way behind them, using the gates the slavers had built for it, the crates they had unload, and a cage Kire had managed to tear from the wagon, they were off. The elves, Bolym at the head, took over the wagons and horses. Kire took one of the free horses. “Ride with me, Chieftess.” They both needed to conserve their strength for what lay ahead.

They had met no real opposition as they rode down the hidden trail. Either the rest of them had been trapped behind them, or had fled to safety, or were with the ones that had gone to capture Ruli. With the Gemini. Kire focused on the trail ahead and spotting danger on the way; the sooner she and Ysaryn reach their destination, the sooner they could help Ruli. They met a few stragglers ahead, but on horseback they were easy to dispose of. Soon, Kire could see the roads diverging: one of the paths looked brighter, the overcropping receding to let in the morning light more. The way out. Kire worried there may be more of Itallo’s slavers guarding that path, but she would have to trust Bolym and their kin that they could hold their own. She waited just a few more moments to see if enemies would be charging at them. When none came, she gave him a nod and directed her steed to the other road.

“They’ll be alright, won’t they?” Kire murmured as they made their way straight ahead. This trail veered left and began to slope downward once more. Soon, the light of morning disappeared, replaced once more by torchlight. She could smell not just Gemini magic, but the specific signature of Ikegai’s bloody art. The horse seemed to sense it too. In any case, the further they went, the less likely they would be able to take it in. Kire had it stop, climbed off the saddle, drew her sword again. Mines? Ah. She had expected to find some passage that would lead to the underside of a manor or palace, but instead it looked like they were heading for the entrance to a mine shaft. The closer she got to the opening, the stronger the signatures were, she was afraid she’d lose track of where Gavin was taking Rulitus. On top of that, there was a new sensation: the smell of an orchard, filled with orchids and plums, with an underlying odor of rot. She remembered the crates full of stored elf blood they had left behind.

Somebody was coming their way. The first sentries. As Kire prepared for the attack, though, she could see the silhouette crouch to fit through the entrance before extending itself. “Oh fuck me,” Kire hissed. It was a Kartaian. She instinctively stepped back, arm held out to Ysaryn. The Kartaian’s head swayed this way and that, as if looking for something, before finally looking their way, lips curled into a snarl, smelling of decay.
Decay?
Kire’s eyes searched its body for signs, finally finding the carved runes on its chest, the pinprick of light from a blood gem. She barely registered it when the Kartaian lunged with his sword. “It’s a doll. Puppet. Not alive, still deadly!” More silhouettes flickered in the torchlight behind the Kartaian. More dolls. “Cut out the gem,” she said simply, before meeting the Kartaian-doll’s blade. This one was much less decayed than the other doll she had fought, and seemed quicker, too. With a grunt, Kire parried its blows, went in for an opening and slashed its leg off. She was about to go in for another when she felt multiple hands grabbing her. Elf-dolls. Ysaryn’s kin. Empty now, save for the commands from the gem to protect the mine’s entrance.

“Bastards!” Kire yelled as she pulled more dragon-strength from the Ring, throwing the whole lot against the Kartaian. She hacked through them, but they had no weapons, went limp faster than the Kartaian doll when she damaged them. Fodder. He made fodder out of their corpses. They really were just dolls to the blood mage, playthings to test out his magic. She hacked off the head of the Kartaian doll last, cut out the gem on its chest while the other dolls writhed uselessly. She turned quickly to Ysaryn to see if she needed help, slashing the dolls nearest to her. Gods. The bastard!

--

Gavin gulped when he blinked twice. His voice was shaking earlier when he made his proposition, and now there was no turning back. “You understand, don’t you?” he said, turning to Rab. “If he succeeds, the masters will be dead. Nobody to hunt us down when we escape. Help me bring him to the mines, to my chambers there, and you’re free to go after that.” There was a portion of the mines reserved for when he needed to make more difficult magic. Even when Akuma would relay the instructions, he needed concentration. Which was a difficult balancing act for someone who was under somebody’s thrall. Or maybe, getting him to focus on more complex rituals helped keep that defiant voice in check, just as when he would be tasked to conduct the experiments on the elves. Akuma would be in one of the chambers, away from where he would construct the dolls. Preparing the elf blood for Akuma’s sustenance required a different kind of fine-tuning. Different dolls, different purposes, and she was the most complex doll of all. When Gavin would fall under the trance of working on strengthening Akuma, half the time he wouldn’t be entirely aware of what his hands were doing, what some of the runes were for. He would almost become a doll, himself, and he would struggle to remember what he had done at all afterward.

Right now, Akuma and Itallo should still be in the manor. Itallo, the poor fool. Totally ensnared. That was why the control worked so well for certain people: Akuma would use the glamour to dangle something they wanted in front of them, and that would be the magic’s way into the brain. Like a pest looking for the first signs of rot on fruit. And even when Gavin knew this rationale, it was one thing to think logically on it, quite another to fight it. Itallo, pathetic lord that he was, didn’t stand a chance against the glamour that made him believe his lost lover had returned. And this lost lover whispered dreams of empire into his small, greedy mind, played into his weaknesses as a lord who rose up from the ranks.

The manor wasn’t that far from the mines. Precarious, but also convenient. By now maybe some of his men would be arriving with word of what had happened, and he would be expected. They would be looking for him, ask him questions, and dread washed over him. He had to show up before arousing suspicion. They needed to be quick. “He needs to look like we’ve bound him properly. Not too tight, though.”

Eunuchs, those mutilated for their crimes, and human slaves that Itallo couldn’t sell manned the mines, or at least the parts of it that Itallo managed. But as Akuma took over Itallo, more and more parts began to be off-limits to ordinary workers, save for the few that had been assigned to Gavin. “I have to show my face to the lo—to Itallo. Follow this path, you’ll meet the eunuchs who would know where to leave him. Make sure you hand him over to them and that he’s safe. You have your freedom after that. If you don’t, they’ll all have our hide, and they’ll turn us into dolls. Like the ones in the mines, yes.” Gavin said all this as he administered the dose that would revive Ruli later.

[Carantathraiel]

Ysaryn translated orders at the others, Bolym helping her as they separated and readied their paths. She shared a few soft words for him, making him promise to deliver these women back to their people and to safety. Hard-faced, he nodded, they gripped one another's wrists firmly, and said their farewells.
It was only when Kire offered her hand for Ysaryn to join her on the horse that the elf balked. Shit. She swore inwardly. "I do not know how." She warned, before taking Kire's arm anyway and settling behind the woman. She wrapped her arm tight around Kire's middle, her thighs bracing Kire as they moved, the horses fast pace cutting minutes off of their pursuit.

She let Kire deal with anyone they came across, the elf uneasy about taking her arms from around Kire. She knew leaping off the horse to dispatch them would eat away at their time, so Ysaryn refrained.

"I have no answer you want." Ysaryn answered brutally. "They will do their best. It is all and enough. Just like us."

She was silently grateful when Kire stopped and dismounted, the elf hopping down immediately after, her knees shaking slightly after clenching her thighs so tightly against Kire. "I do not like." Ysaryn admitted shamelessly, watching the horse meander away in search of something on which to graze. She withdrew her two blades once more, ready, facing the darkening path into the mine.
And the figure moving within.

At Kire's swear, Ysaryn's eyes darted to the woman, uncertainty creeping across her face, before the thing emerged. Kire straightened and stepped back, shielding Ysaryn as her fuchsia eyes took in full-bred Kartaian for the first time.
"Holy Gods." Ysaryn swore quietly.

She'd heard countless stories about the giant monsters with demonic eyes and skin like shadow, so similar yet so different from many of their own kind. She had met Envy and enjoyed his company, but he had often mentioned that he'd been a runt, a pariah, compared to his kin. Never had she thought the contrast would be so dramatic.
It was huge. Lethal in every movement.
And dead.

Kire confirmed it with words as soon as Ysaryn smelled the decay in the air, along with the blood and flora.

They all moved, aiming to spill blood and cast down one another, blades glinting in the bit of torchlight. Close quarters, such as it was, gave them the advantage, as the Kartaian boasted several feet above their height, and often had to bend or swivel to avoid hitting his head. Not that he would have noticed if he did. Ysaryn wasn't sure he could feel anything, and confirmed it when her blade sunk into him and he barely flinched, hardly aware. He retaliated, thrusting his blade forward, aiming for her ribs.
Ysaryn clamped her arm down against her side, blade caught between, and twisted, yanking the blade from his grasp with a sharp inhalation of pain. Her other hand went to bury her blade deep in its chest, to pierce its heart, but the doll flung an arm out and sent the elf flying against the cavern wall. Ysaryn yelped as she hit the hard surface, the sound carrying, and she vanished before the Kartaian pounced on her.

When she'd reappeared, Kire had dispatched it, only to be tackled by elves. Her elves. Her people, enslaved bodily with gems of their own and forced to attack. "Stop it!" Ysaryn shouted, her left hand tingling slightly. "Stop! I command you, as Daughter of Scindere, to stop! Unhand her!"
Her eyes burned as they ignored her, minds overpowered by the tether that bound them to their new master. She couldn't. These were her people. Her elves. Her tribe. She couldn't raise a hand against them. Even when they turned their attention on her, moved against her, grabbing, pulling, Ysaryn couldn't raise her hands. Her blades were ripped from her hands, her left arm, now tingling up to the shoulder, burned in agony. Bloodloss. Ysaryn realized, seeing the red river that poured over her dark fingers. From when she'd torn the blade from the Kartaian using her body. Ysaryn felt pressure on her body, felt her knees bent to kiss the ground, before hands, more than one, reached around her throat. She clenched her eyes, blocking out their empty faces as they moved to end her.

---

He blinked. He understood. Rab looked from the man to Gavin, wondering what it meant. Just as Gavin turned to him. It was clarified, and Rab automatically nodded, knowing he looked more eager, more hopeful, than he should. They'd be free. He would be free.

Rab didn't hesitate in lifting the blond again, hoisting him over his shoulder once more. The man's blue eyes glared viciously, but he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. As he stood, Rab froze, his eyes unfocused as he saw himself in a different city, someplace Rab didn't know. The horrible woman, the master Akuma, was smiling at him, stroking his face. The sun that beat down on her black hair was swallowed, but her eyes glittered brilliantly in the light. "And are you mine, Rulitus?" Her cold voice said. A dark hand, certainly not Rab's, rose to grasp her cold fingers, his cheeks stretching in a smile. It blurred, and then was gone, and Rab turned to look towards Gavin in confusion. But Gavin's face was set, blank, as they marched toward his chambers.
I don't understand. Rab thought to himself. When he turned his head back toward the blond, who face hung upside down just below Rab's left elbow, his face was blank, lost in unconsciousness.

As he was given further instructions, Rab obeyed, carefully laying the man down. He groaned softly, but lay limp. More careful still, Rab rolled him onto his front, carefully pulling his arms back to bind with the ropes offered. Rab paused, staring at the dark hands in his grasp. Had they been his hands? Rab blinked. Had it been a memory? But how? Had he known Akuma? Was that his name, then? Rulitus?
He finsihed tying together Ruli's wrists and ankles, not too tightly, just as he'd been ordered, and he looked up to Gavin. Somehow, he needed this information, didn't he? That this man and Akuma knew one another? ...Right?
Gavin was offering more instructions as he dosed the man, Rulitus, and Rab tried to motion to the blond on the ground. Gavin looked to misinterpret his gestures for understanding, and the young man left, stalking through the dark caverns towards the manor.

Rab exhaled noisily through his nostrils, watching the blond in the silence that hung over them. She'll kill everyone. That was what he'd said before the drugs claimed his body. So he knew that Akuma would hurt them. And had come anyway. Rab would not have done that. he'd have fled. Let the town and these slavers come to their end without help.
As he thought it, Rab bent down to scoop up the man again, carrying him to the eunuchs. Once he handed him over, he could leave. Gavin had given his permission. And he would, too. Rab would leave this place behind and never look back. Let them die under whatever darkness followed that woman and her master. He'd leave and find somewhere peaceful to live. Not like this foolish man bound and semi-conscious over his shoulder.

He froze again as another memory, as that was what it had to be, surfaced and twisted into his head. The same city, the sun-baked buildings demolished and soaked in blood and ash alike, bodies everywhere. The stench in the air was thick and unrivaled, the ache in Rulitus's chest, in Rab's chest, hurt just as bad as the torture they'd rained on him as punishment.
Rab was on his knees from the agony, the man falling from his shoulders to thump onto the ground with a grunt. The memory slipped away just as quickly, and Rab turned to glance down at the disappearing man. His eyes stared back, now more clear as the drug wore off. But the anger still burned in them.
"Help." He whispered quietly, his voice still fighting the effects.

Swallowing thickly, Rab held up an open hand. Stop. He pleaded. He didn't like the memories. The pain. The smell. He hoisted the man back onto his shoulders and kept going.
To the eunuchs. Rab gently lowered the blond to the ground again. While Rab had felt him move and test his muscles while being carried, Rulitus went limp as Rab went to release him, playing his part as the drugged hostage. Even his face was slack and unresponsive. He didn't flinch when the eunuchs came forward and scooped him up.

That's it. Rab inhaled. Freedom. His to claim. He turned back to look behind him, to the endless options he had in leaving. Never looking back.
And yet...
Rab did. He turned back around to look at the blond as he was dragged away.

[Michellin]

She’s not fighting them. Kire pulled them away from her, tossing them as far as she could manage down the path they had just come from until there were none left between her and Ysaryn. Putting herself between the controlled bodies and her comrade, Kire raised her sword. “They’re essentially dead,” she said firmly, but not unkindly, “if they’re like that,, they’re far gone.” She stepped forward, cutting them down, doing her best to do it quickly, though with them crowding around her like that, there wasn’t much space to do it cleanly. As with the other bodies she had slashed earlier, these went down more easily than the Kartaian body. Slaves. Weakened severely before death. Even if they couldn’t feel pain, there wasn’t much to work with anymore.

Quicky, Kire went to Ysaryn, looking her over. “You’re hurt,” she said, touching the bloody arm. She looked around, tore a scrap of cloth from one of the fallen to bind the elf’s injury. Her eyes went to Ysaryn’s neck, where the dolls had tried to strangle her, and she gestured at it. “Can you go on? There could be more—like this. Down there. The moment you think you can’t fight on, you retreat. I’m not losing you here.” She looked down the entrance. Rulitus and the Gemini were on the move, on the far side of the mines. It was getting harder to keep track, with all the other magical signatures overwhelming her senses. What I’d give to have that mind-reading power of his right now. Ikegai, Akuma, the Gemini, they were all somewhere here, so close, but not close enough for Kire’s liking. “Come on.”

The entrance led them down the mineshaft that would have looked abandoned save for the presence of torchlight and of the dolls they had just killed. It’s too quiet. Kire had an odd feeling, of cold creeping down her spine. She remembered what it had been like to hunt for Ikegai back in Amria, and this brought back those terrible waking nightmares. She had some idea of what was waiting for her, but he had six months to lie in wait and prepare. Kire looked about; the walls look like they had been extracted of their precious ores already, and so deeper they must go. Ahead of them, the corridor opened up to a deep, vertical mineshaft. A reddish glow emanated from it that Kire was almost certain wasn’t from fire. She gripped her sword. “More coming,” Kire murmured. “From the pit.” They’ve been waiting for me.

What crawled out of the pit was a horror that felt both gut-wrenching and familiar: her face, twisted into different forms. Elven features, molded, wrongly, into a warped version of her likeness. Others, though not a copy of her, looked like attempts to replicate a Kartaian’s form. All of them, wrong in every way, and coming at them. Kire lunged, cutting them down before they could climb fully out of the pit. Where’s the way down? She got as close as she dared to the edge of the pit, kicking away dolls, beheading others, almost getting pulled down by a Kartaian-sized monstrosity. “Grab a torch!” she yelled, stepping back to take one for herself. The dolls, seeing her retreat, advanced, and were met with Kire’s blade and the flames from the torch. Some of the corpses caught fire faster, spread it to the others. The sounds they made were inhuman.

There! As they cut a swath through the advancing dolls, she could see, just to the side, beginning from the lip of the pit, a staircase carved into the rock.

--

Gavin slicked back his hair, trying to steady his shaky hands. He needed to be presentable, needed to keep the mask of obedience on his face. Not a sign of weakness. He walked as briskly as he dared, even as other henchmen and servants were busy securing the manor. Many knew that even they shouldn’t risk the mines. From a servant he heard news that the captives had gotten away, and the wild hope threatened to burst out of him. He must look angry. He must look like he had no investment in this chaos. He practically ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, until he reached the third floor. The topmost level of the manor, where the lord’s chambers were, and where he and his bride would reside, was similarly off-limits to all but a few. Somebody, surely, must have informed them by now. Gavin took a few deep breaths, pressed a thumb to the self-inflicted cut on his hand, and stepped inside Lord Itallo’s chambers.

There was an otherworldly glow inside, the chamber covered by runes. The lord himself sat unnaturally stiff on the edge of the bed, eyes glazed. “Ana…” he murmured, mouth twitching, the gem in his hand gleaming. Very soon, there wouldn’t be much of the lord left. There would only be Ikegai in his mind, a living avatar of his master. Should the wedding proceed, it would be Ikegai, through Itallo’s body, standing beside the beautiful, deadly beauty. Should. A blasphemous thought. Where is she?

“Looking for something, Gavin?”

Gavin turned, expecting the regal Akuma in all the wedding finery, a crown of orchids adorning her lustrous, blacker-than-black hair Instead he gasped. She was wearing armor, a sword by her side. Akuma smiled, reached out to touch Gavin’s chin. “What is it, my boy?”
Gavin stammered, wishing he could be anywhere but here. “T-there are intruders. In the slavers’ hold and in the mines.”
Akuma nodded, her red eyes gleaming. “I know. I can feel her. She is getting close.”
“I caught one of the intruders. I can prepare your chamber, for the final blood ritual before the ceremony. We can use him. His blood will be potent, maybe even more potent than the elves.”
Akuma didn’t speak at first. Instead, she searched his face, and Gavin forced all the will he could muster to hold her gaze. She leaned forward, kissed Gavin on the cheek, her cold lips making him shiver even harder. “I know. You have been so good,” she whispered into his ear. “Such a good boy, you are.”
Gavin gasped. He wanted to die, right there.
Akuma straightened up, took his hand—the bloody one—squeezed it tight. “Come. Let’s go out and meet our friends.”

--

Just as Gavin had reached the manor, the eunuchs carried the ‘unconscious’ Ruli down a set of carved stairs. Unlike the rest of the mine, these corridors had been smoothed out, and proper lamps lit the way. The sounds of fighting have yet to reach this place. As they descended, Rulitus would have noticed the veins of red crystal, and a red glow that didn’t come from any of the lamps. Like there was a giant furnace somewhere, without the heat. In fact, it wasn’t hot inside the mines at all, despite the depth. They finally set him down inside a large chamber. The lamps here looked as if they were made of quartz, and the same red glow emanated from them. The floor and the walls were smooth, save for the grooves of interlocking rune circles carved onto the floor and walls.

Some of the passages around the large rune chamber led to staircases. One of the two larger openings led to an area similar to the arena in the slavers’ underground hiding place, filled with tables with manacles attached to them, shelves with vials, mysterious crates. A room for a blood mage. The other opening opposite it had a shallow, empty pool in the middle. Great ceramic jars with symbols etched into them stood all around, filled with elf blood. The eunuchs dragged Rulitus to the blood mage chamber, about to shackle him to one of the tables.

Not long later, outside, the soft sounds of people heading their way. Dolls, the closest likenesses to Akuma but with empty, glassy-eyed expressions, lined the rune chamber. And following behind, the armored footsteps of Akuma.

[Carantathraiel]

Kire's words offered little comfort. They should have. Ysaryn knew it. As Kire cut her people away and their combined grip on her fell, the elf inhaled deeply, kneeling in the dirt. "I know." Ysaryn breathed, remaining on her knees to look at her kin, her elves. She'd failed them all. She wanted to be angry at Kire for hurting them, for cutting them down, but her anger was misplaced. Ysaryn knew it. Kire took them down quickly, which was more than she could say for what her target had done to them.
When Kire noticed her injury and bound her arm, Ysaryn turned her eyes upward to stare at her, her expression shadowed. "More." She repeated. Her voice almost cracked, so Ysaryn inhaled and squared her shoulders. She stood, her body steady despite the whirlwind of guilt she felt. The binding on her arm helped, she could feel her arm again, flexing her fingers. So many more. "I know." Ysaryn repeated, rising to her feet.

She knew there'd be more. Knew she had to continue. Knew she had to fight for all of them. So many lost souls that would never see their family again.

Upon Kire's invite, Ysaryn picked up her fallen blade and followed, her jaw clenched.

It took her the space of a few yards to put her mind back together, to focus on the battles ahead and not the elves she had lost. By the time they approached the chamber with the vertical shaft that fell down and further down. Ysaryn inhaled, keeping her body far from the ledge as she craned her neck to peer down. Kire warned that more were on the way, and Ysaryn shook out her arms, her left one pinching and tingling fiercley.
After all she'd seen so far, with Ruli's ring enchantments and the elven dolls, she was still far from prepared for what came crawling out of the mine like unnatural, monstrous spiders. Some bore pieces of Kire's face, others were misshaped, like they were supposed to grow as tall and thick as the Kartaian from before but only portions of them grew; that one bore too large an arm, that one's right side was far larger than the rest of her. Unclothed, unnatural, and lifeless, then poured over the lip of the shaft and went toward them like ants after crumbs of cake.
"Holy Gods." Ysaryn could only gasp again.

Her hesitation nearly cost Kire her balance, and when the woman called for torches, Ysaryn flew, her legs carrying her quickly to grab as many as she could hold in one hand. She offered one to Kire, swinging another at the dolls with her injured arm before swiping at them with her right.
Gods Above, the sounds they made. The cries. The groans. Like a horrible mix between a scream and the hiss of a wineskin that bore a leak. Ysaryn swallowed, but kept cutting. It was easier with these ones, they were so mutilated she could block out the pieces of her people she could see, but each swing of her sword cut into her chest.
They're dead. They're dead. They've been dead long before they met your blade. This is a mercy. You're letting them go.

Her eyes caught Kire's upturned head, and, following her gaze, Ysaryn noticed the stairwell. On the other side of the mine. They could run around the chamber, along the lip, luring the monstrous dolls after them, or─

"Hand!" Ysaryn shouted, tossing the torch she held down into the hole. More inhumane noises erupted from below. "We go!"

As soon as she felt Kire's hand grasp her own, Ysaryn yanked, gritting her teeth against the discomfort in her arm as she pulled Kire into the shadows with her. When they emerged once more on the other side, Ysaryn dropped Kire's hand to squeeze her arm against her, suffocating the burn in her muscles. "Go." She shouted, pushing Kire toward the stairs, her own feet rushing after.

---

It was really uncomfortable. His body was becoming his again, his muscles spasming as they regained feeling. Ruli tried to hide it, tried to writhe now and then, let the eunuchs believe he was trying to fight the toxin and failing. Their hands pressed into his shoulders, the small of his back, his thighs, fingers digging uncomfortably to ensure their hold was firm. He wanted to shift, to adjust, and it took all his self control to refrain. His head, hanging over the foremost eunuch's shoulders, wobbled to a point that made his neck ache. He opened his eyes just so, peering slyly ahead to the table before them. Fuck me... he thought, his heart beating a little faster.
It was part of the plan, he knew this would be a part of it, but seeing it only made him wish he'd never agreed.

He heard the shackles, and the sound of the metal sent a shiver so profound through him, memories surfacing from a faraway life, a different Rulitus, that made him feel very cold. He clenched his jaw, his facade cracking as he tried to pull his arms away. "No." He said, far more weakly than he intended. He could hear people approaching, but the steps were too patient, too slow, to be Kire, Ysaryn, and Bolym. He inhaled, pulling his arm away from a eunuch, only to have his other arm pinned. He hissed, twisting, only to find they'd grabbed his other. His ankles were already shackled, he learned, when he went to bend his legs to place his feet on the table, and his ears heard the song of the metal chains.
No. He breathed unsteadily. He feared Walking at the moment, wasn't sure how much control he had regained. But anything, anything was better than being shackled. Let them cut him open and bleed him dry, just not while he wore chains. Ruli twisted on the table again, eyes wide and searching, but it was short lived. His wary attention fell on a beautiful face with hair made of shadow and eyes red as blood. The air escaped him as he beheld her in her armour, her crown of orchids, the floral smell overwhelming him.

"Akuma." he breathed out in awe.

---

He'd only stood still for five minutes, perhaps. Letting the eunuchs take him away, putting distance between them, before Rab broke into a jog, moving through a different set of tunnels. Following the noise. Following the smell of decay that was stronger than what followed Master Akuma.
To the imposter. The intruders. The one who had slipped in at the same time as the disappearing man.

His chest ached as he kept moving, following the winding tunnels, even as the smell of smoke and burning flesh filled his lungs and made running more difficult. "Go." He heard a voice shout, and Rab stopped so suddenly he skin on the packed soil. He retraced his steps, standing at the top of a staircase, the sounds of feet rushing upward.
The very moment he saw their heads, their faces, he threw out an arm and pointed. He opened his mouth and tried to repeat the man's plea. Help. But without a tongue, without ever having learned how to form words, it came out as a strangled noise. He peered at the blonde's face, and then, behind her, the elf. The one he'd helped escape. Rab froze, beholding her once more, his eyes searching her flushed face for sign of her wolf smile.

She bared her teeth and ducked by Kire, throwing herself at him. Rab let out a frightened noise and retreated, back thumping against the wall as the Wolf Smile bore down on him, a blade pressed against the soft spot beneath his jaw. "Where is he!?" She snarled angrily, but Rab couldn't answer.

[Michellin]

“Ruli,” Akuma said simply, smiling down at the shackled man. “It’s been a while. Come to see me get wed?” She reached down, her fingers hovering just above the scars. “You came. I had wondered if you still held me in your thoughts. Tell me, how is Envy?” She smiled wider as she said the Kartaian’s name, then glanced at her hand, as if only just then noticing the bloodstains on the palm. “My boy,” she called over her shoulder, “do come in here. You should be properly introduced, if you are going to be a lord of Cordon.”
Gavin stepped inside, almost as pale as the bloodless dolls outside. She smiled and touched his shoulder. “Gavin of House Gemini, Gavin of Amria, meet Rulitus of Ziad.” Her nails dug into his shoulder. “Say hello, Gavin.”
“H-hello.”
“Remind me again, Gavin, what you had been before we found you.”
“Nothing. I was nothing.” He glared down at the table, unable to look Ruli in the eyes, reduced to a chastised boy before this monster. His wild hope turned to despair, and he felt like he could throw up any minute. How much of this had been a trap? How much of what he had thought was defiance was foreseen? Or did she merely sniff it out of him all this time, and waited?
“It’s not too late, you know,” Akuma crooned to Ruli. “You can be like Gavin. You can still be mine. You can rise above these worthless lot. You have so much potential. We, all of us, are material, and molded by the right hands, we can build an empire here.” She paused, looking sideways, as if sensing something, before turning back to Ruli, touching his arm. “Really, we were surprised you’d be helping her. Or that she would be asking for help. She likes carrying the world on her own shoulders, then moaning about the weight. So much self-sacrifice, so much conflict, in that pretty head. I should know,” she said, tapping her temple, as if all this was somehow amusing.

Gavin’s thoughts began to cloud over, the part of him that had surrendered to Akuma’s hold on his mind taking over now, numbing him. Akuma had fallen silent. “She is coming,” she murmured, and the thought gave her the widest smile. The Beloved. The Paladin. The other dolls entered then, blank and soulless. “Gavin, be a good boy and give him a dose. I’m sure you’ve seen him do it. I want to show him something.” Gavin’s eyes wept freely, standing rooted to the spot. But Akuma looked over her shoulder at him, her red eyes on his green ones, and he went completely numb, going through the motions of drugging him. The dolls, meanwhile, upon Akuma’s instructions removed all the shackles save for one on his right hand, then pushed him upright so that he could see the rune chamber.

“Now, we are all about to meet the Empress of Amria.”

--
“Fucking—bastards!” Kire cursed as she ran up at Ysaryn’s urging, rushing up as fast as she could. The smell reminded her of the burning at the warehouse, only worse. On top of the staircase she saw a figure like one of the Kartaian dolls and was about to leap at him, until she recognized him. He was pointing, mouthing something, though words didn’t come out. Kire’s eyes widened. Before she could do anything, though, Ysaryn lunged, trapping him against the wall. “Wait!” Kire put a hand gently on her shoulder. “He’s the half-Kartaian. He was pointing that way.” She turned to him. “Is that where he is?” Behind them, she could hear the infernal dolls, and she knew they needed to move faster. They’d just have to trust him.

Through the winding tunnels, not daring to stop and feel her exhaustion. Ysaryn was still with her, despite her injuries. Kire couldn’t fail now. They were so close. They ran till she couldn’t keep track of the bends and forks in the corridors, till they reached one mineshaft that was clearly different from the others. It was quieter here, colder. The carved stairs more polished than the ones they had left behind. The signatures were getting more distinct; they were on the right track. That eerie chill, too, was getting stronger. This time, Kire took the lead, running ahead of the elves. If there were any dolls lying in wait, they weren’t on the way.

Orchids. Plums. Death. Kire found herself staring down a staircase and into a circular hall with rune circles. Kire inhaled sharply. There were dolls lining the walls, but they weren’t moving. “Your Highness Akire,” one said, stepping out into view. Akuma.
“Ysaryn.” Kire’s voice was low. “He’s down there. Chamber to the right. With the Gemini. If you can get to him—the moment you get Ruli. You take him, and you go. Understand?”
“Your Highness,” Akuma repeated. “Oh. I am not observing the protocols.” She smiled and dipped into a curtsy. “My honor to have finally met you formally.”
Kire didn’t answer, had nothing to say to this doll, no answer for the taunts Ikegai had already given her before, only this time spoken with her own voice, through her lips. Kire leaped off the stairs, disappeared in a blue flash, and reappeared where Akuma had been, striking with her sword.

Except, she found herself in the middle of a town. Holy gods. She knew this village.

Around her, her own soldiers pillaged the town, burning it, putting its people to the sword. They were within the borders of Gemini territory. The skies were red, remnants of the Black Storm that had devastated this side of Amria mere days ago. And Kire, newly Empress, newly orphaned, and burning with a cold anger that made her eyes gleam red, had marched her army through it.
“This isn’t real,” she said aloud, reliving one of her greatest horrors. The sword wavered in her hand as she watched the slaughter that happened under her command. She may have become impervious to Ikegai’s control, but this… “This isn’t real!” she cried out, running towards the nearest soldier. As she got nearer, the soldier faced her, and it had her face.

Kire was sent flying back with a blow from Akuma, slamming against the cavern wall. Her head spun, her gaze unfocused, her mind seeing both the real chamber and the illusion. She was reeling, too, from using the portal, and had only just ducked in time before Akuma’s powerful second strike. Kire rolled away, running for her sword. “You know you’re not my opposite, Your Highness. I am your child, after all. I came from your soul. Ikegai knows you so well. And you’ve fought his dolls so often, seen you move so often, that he has quite a good picture of it. Enough to give to me.” Akuma grinned then. “Are you angry at me for invading and slaughtering a city? Perhaps look in a mirror, Sire.”

She aimed another blow at Kire’s middle; still confused by the illusions, Kire was a hair too slow to evade and crumpled upon contact, coughing up blood. The cuirass’s enchantment held, but Kire felt the full force of it, anyway. The blood. She draws strength from it. She’s toying with me. Akuma must have sensed that Kire needed a bit longer before calling upon the dragon-strength again. Move, Kay! Move, or she’ll kill you!

Gavin watched, horrified though rooted to the spot, surrounded by dolls. He saw the visions given life, and now remembered, with a sickening feeling, that he had helped carve those runes onto the floor. He glanced sideways at Rulitus. He had obeyed, he had given Ruli a dose—but his conscious mind held on just enough to give the wrong dose. A stimulant.

[Carantathraiel]

Rab wasn't sure he was breathing, staring into those lovely hued eyes as she snarled at him. Fear and joy, an odd mix. She'd gotten out. She'd survived. And, like the disappearing man, she'd come back to fight. Why? Rab wanted to touch her face, decired more than ever before the chance to speak to ask why she'd come back here instead of taking her freedom.

The other won interrupted what he was sure would have been his murder, and he turned his eyes on the blonde at the same time as the elf before him. She spoke to him, asking about the disappearing man, and he gave her a single nod, making the noise again. Repeating the man's single plea for help.
The elf released him, and Rab inhaled, his lungs still aching from his earlier run, and he bolted down the corridor to lead the way.

---

It all blurred. His desire and his hatred for the woman before him. The doll who bore anothers face. Ruli could see the destruction and burning of Ziad, the dead laying on the street, their blood staining the dirt, but, too, she saw her smile, felt her fingers on his face. Her lips on his.
He swallowed as she approached and nearly touched him, tracing the lines she'd left to mar his cheek without every touching him. It tormented him, being this close, but not feeling her. Her cool skin against his sun-warmed flesh. He hated that he needed her touch.

But when she said Envy's name, something cracked inside his mind. The hard shell that forced his mind to think of her and how much he was drawn to him softened, his memory of Envy flooding in. The goodness to her darkness. The elf who had cared for him when he was almost nothing, who had raised him, taught him, loved him. Ruli swallowed, his eyes shifting to Gavin as the boy was brought forward.

An Amrian boy. The Gemini, as they had guessed. He looked defeated, beaten, nothing like the man who had looked at Ruli with that hopeful glint in his eye before he'd lost all consciousness. Nothing like the man who had asked for Ruli to kill Akuma. Her magic held him strong. Gripped him so tightly Ruli could see the agony in his downturned face. If he would just look up, if he would meet Ruli's eyes, he would find a way to tell him it would be okay.
Because the moment Envy's name passed over those perfect lips, Akuma had reminded Ruli just how much she destroyed him. And how much he owed her in return.

She addressed him once more, and Ruli turned his blue eyes on her flawless face. Pieces of his mind shifted, like it was trying to pull together the glamour that held him, but the shards were too fragile, too shattered. She wouldn't hold him again, Ruli realized with clear relief.
But Akuma didn't need to know that.

"She was going to lead me to you." Ruli said quietly, watching her mouth. "How could I resist?"

But her attentions shifted, and Ruli looked instead to Gavin as he stepped forward in blind obedience. The hold she held on him was strong indeed. Everything vanished from his face, as if seeing Ruli and Akuma address one another made him lose all hope. Ruli inhaled, debating on reaching out, secretly informing the lad that it would be okay, that he'd do as he was asked to do.
But with Akuma's claws so deep in his mind, she'd know if he shook the foundation.

"I will do as you ask, Gemini." Ruli whispered, offering his arm. A silent gesture that asked for trust just as he extended it. Ruli's gaze bore down onto the young man's face. Fight it. He pleaded in silence, still not daring to rattle Akuma's hold.

---

Ysaryn's legs began to ache after the tenth turn through the mines. Or was it the fiftieth? Ah, she didn't know. All she knew was that she was tired of running. She glanced down at Kire's hand, itching to take it, to drag her into the shadows, making Kire lead them through the nothing in order to reach Rulitus faster. To put an end to this endless chase.
But just before she reached out, the opened into the chamber. It was cold. The reek was different, but potent. Rab was half hidden in the shadows behind them, as if afraid to be seen, afraid to annoucne he'd led them here. She turned to look him over as Kire whispered to her, giving her orders.

Like hell she'd be leaving.

But she nodded, letting Kire focus as she took a step back, hiding in the shadows beside the half-breed. "You understand?" She whispered to him. He nodded, almost imperceptibly in the dark crevice. "Good. When I move, you're coming with me." Ysaryn turned her head to him to find him staring at her, wonder in his expression, curiosity in his eyes. "Did you really help me escape?" Another nod. Ysaryn smirked, and his eyes dropped to her lips. He looked like he was waiting for something. "Good. I'll thank you when we're out of this."

She turned back toward the chamber, Kire already shouting and in combat with Akuma. Ysaryn passed her gaze over the two, and then the dolls. Just as she took a step to move around the many, many dolls, to see if they moved or followed, all hell broke loose.

Something threw itself at Akuma in a blur that appeared out of nowhere. Akuma, who had been circling Kire like a viper about to strike with its poisonous fangs, had not been expecting him. She and the blur toppled, rolling on the ground.
Rulitus. Ysaryn inhaled, and felt the half-breed stiffen beside her.

What did you give me? He'd asked Gavin as he felt his heart race. He'd panted, even while standing still, feeling his muscles tense and shake. He felt the need to move. The inability to sit still. He could smell everything. Could taste more than he should in the air. He looked to Gavin, demanding an answer, and swore he could hear the young man's blood flow through him. What did you give me!?
Gavin had answered, but Ruli barely remembered. He'd caught the scent of Akuma, the trail that led into the other chamber, where he could hear Kire shouting. He let out a low growl and was gone, leaving Gavin to follow.

Grappling with her now, Ruli was barely aware of anything but her. He knew she had a sword, but ignored it. Knew she wore armour, but didn't care. He could smell her; the blood, the flowers, the plums. The scent that had left its mark in his head and toyed with him. Ruli gripped and clawed, trying to rip through the armour to no avail. He needed to get at her. Needed to spill her blood in exchange for all she'd done. He found her hair and made a fist in it, feeling the orchids crumple against his fist. His other arm swung in a strike against her flawless face. Her face. Ruli inhaled and grabbed her face, and was about to force his commands into her mind when he found himself flung off of her.

His eyes were dilated, teeth bared enough to show off his sharp molars as he snarled at Akuma and launched himself at her again.

Ysaryn ran down the stairs, gripping Kire's arm to hoist her to her feet. "Found him." She smiled wickedly, turning to watch Ruli harass Akuma with a strength and speed she did not expect from the man. "Do we let him?" She whispered. Even the half-breed watched, mesmerized.

[Michellin]

Kire just needed a breather, just a few moments and she’d be able to meet Akuma’s unnatural strength. If only the room would stop spinning, if only the illusions stopped torturing her mind. Her ribs ached, and the head injury she had only partially healed earlier began to throb with it, but she had to ignore these. She had to devote all the energy into killing this doll. But when she looked up, something else had taken on the task. Ruli! He turned into a demon almost, snarling and clawing like some animal let loose. Kire almost laughed, both in relief and in wonder at his sudden resolve, so different from the conflicted hatred he’d had for just the mere sight of her face. “Holy shit,” she breathed, just as Ysaryn pulled her to her feet.

Her question, though. As amazing as it was to finally see him fight, Kire had to remind herself that the danger wasn’t over. The dolls around them begun to shift, as if waking up from slumber. And Gavin…he was gaping at the sight, unaware that the dolls were moving towards him. “For now.” She pointed at Gavin. “We need the Gemini alive. He knows where the master is.”
“Enough!” Akuma cried out, an inexplicable expression on her face, as if it wanted to contort in anger but didn’t quite know how to do that. The rune circles lit up as her own eyes flashed red, as did the eyes of the dolls around them, while the illusions faded from Kire’s mind. Akuma met Ruli’s lunge with a fist, raised her sword at him just as the dolls rushed forward towards them.
This time, head clear, Kire met the dolls and cut some of them down before they could reach Ruli. The dolls clawed at her, too, but she knocked them back, slashing her way to Gavin. The rune circle still shone, however, and with each doll she cut down, with each tainted blood that spilled on it, Akuma’s eyes flashed. Fuck, this can’t be good. “Gemini!” she yelled, even as she pulled dolls off him. Once he was free, she grabbed him by his collar. “Where is Ikegai? He’s close he’s here somewhere, but he’s got protective wards up. Where?” Kire’s other hand beheaded another doll, slashed at another, ignoring the pull of fatigue, stronger now that she was taking as much energy the Ring could give her.

Gavin gasped, looking into the woman’s face. She was so very alike Akuma and yet, this close, he could see she was a totally different entity altogether. It wasn’t just the hair, or the scar, but the eyes—the fire behind them, that no doll could replicate. “Not far. Deeper down. Secret passage. I can—I can lead you to it break the prot—” He gasped, face crumpling in horror, as the voice of Akuma in his head screamed, his hands scratching at his own face. Kire smelled the stink of control on him. Fuck! A wave of blood magic surged from the chamber, more powerful than just glamour, searching for subject to control. It was strongest in its epicenter, Akuma, and radiated outward. They were deep underground, but the control extended just far enough to affect humans immediately aboveground.

[Carantathraiel]

Ysaryn watched beside Kire, captivated. She'd never seen any male fight like that. The teeth he flashed at her, the way his fingers curled like he could tear her flesh from her bones if just given an inch of space. His unchecked rage rolling off of him. He'd chosen a side, Ysaryn realized. No longer would he carry the scent of careful neutrality. He was with them.
She smiled that wolfish grin, gripped her blades, and moved to deal with the dolls, protecting the ─

─the Gemini. Green eyes. Ysaryn hesitated, but to her credit it was only for a moment. Spare the thug now so she could deal him a wallop later. There was a roar from Rulitus beneath her just as the dolls sprang forward, and Ysaryn's blades sang to meet them. Their eerie, glowing eyes only beacons that drew her to them.

Gods Above, the smell of blood. It was wrong. It was tainted. Otherworldly. It was all he could smell. Ruli's nostril's flared, and he spat, his own blood joining the pool. She hit hard. Met his launch with such a strike he knew better than to meet it again. He was only vaguely aware of the others. He could hear Kire and Ysaryn, but only saw Akuma. Only needed her. The bitch that had destroyed everything.
Then, he became vaguely aware of screaming. Pain-filled shrieks. Ruli turned his head for a moment, catching sight of the Gemini on the ground writhing, and knew immediately.
Instantly, he threw himself at Akuma, diving under her defensive strike with her sword and he gripped her arm with his right hand, his other flying to her throat. "Release him!" He snarled both in and out of her head, his inner voice far louder than he'd intended. He bared a smile at her as she twisted and danced out of his grip. But his head ached, magic spasming, from the attack.

Mind magic was a fragile thing. To burrow into someone else's head and whisper orders and lies believed as truths, it was delicate. Even if it was strong magic, forged by iron, it was thin as thread and easy to snap. Her own magic, with her feet splashing in the blood that coated the runes painting the floor, was stronger than his own. If he kept trying, his magic and his mind could shatter.
Ruli glanced down at her feet, her white clothing black and red with death as she moved through the arena. He only had one thought.
Get her out of it.

With another snarl, he lunged again, eyes sweeping quickly before he grabbed at Akuma. She dodged, but he spun, feet sliding in the unsteady soil so he could fly at her again. When she dodged a second time, Ruli kept running, putting space between them and throwing speed into his leg muscles. Just as he was about to trample over Ysaryn as she took three dolls down at once, he vanished.

Reappearing immediately behind Akuma.
But before he could crush her against the ground with the force of his body, he vanished again, and took her with him.

Into the room where he'd been shackled.

He threw both of them against the table with a force that could have crushed the bones of a regular person, his weight thrown against her body, pinning her to the table if only for a moment. He bent and opened his mouth, teeth clamping on the nap of her neck where it was exposed over her armour.

[Michellin]

Akuma writhed, shrieking as she felt the bite on her neck. The last time she had felt pain was during her birth, when Ikegai, having collected enough blood from the many encounters Kire had with his imperfect dolls, had stitched her together with the flesh of a beautiful Amrian lass. In her blood was the blood of Amrians, Shadow-Elves, and Kartaians, charged with taboo magic. “Ruli,” she cried out, pouring in all the pitiful emotions she could mimic, “Ruli, please, you’re hurting me.” With one desperate burst, she radiated glamour, even as she used unnatural strength to hold onto him and throw him full-force against the wall. It was weaker than her earlier blows, owing to the simultaneous use of glamour and the stolen blood leaking out of her neck, but it was enough to get him off her. Akuma picked up her sword and raised it, just as dolls poured into the room to hold him down.
“That brat gave you something, didn’t he?” She smiled, though it didn’t match the tone of her voice. “When it wears off, you’ll feel twice as worse. And it will wear off, soon. Can you keep that up?”

He got her out! Kire could sense it; the glamour was still strong, but Gavin had stopped shrieking. “Ikegai. Now!” The lad trembled, but he nodded weakly, climbing to his feet, and running towards the other chamber, the one with the shallow pit and stored blood. He could feel the echoes of Akuma’s shrieking in his mind, but the mad hope had come bursting back. He muttered words, his hands moving in strange loops and circles as he faced the shallow pool, muttering hurriedly but with an intense focus, undoing the wards that he himself had laid down. The floor of the pool disappeared, and a bright, warm glow lit up the way down. Ikegai. I know where you are. Kire was about to follow when she saw behind her, in the chamber across them, the swarm of dolls headed for Ruli.
“Hurry!” Gavin pleaded.
“Ysaryn, go help him,” Kire said, leaping down the passage.

The whole chamber was filled with gleaming crystal veins—and women. Most were human, a couple were elves, and looking like they hadn’t seen the sun or had proper food in days. All beautiful. They’re alive! They were barely clothed, and some looked to still be recovering from fresh stitches on their abdomen. Their eyes looked to her, pleading. And they all held knives to their necks.
“My Beloved,” called a feeble voice.
On the far end, on a bed carved from crystal, was a man Kire hardly recognized, if not for the stink of blood magic that emanated so strongly from him. He looked like a living mummy, skin clinging tightly to his bones. His body smelled strongly of rot. Still, he managed to push himself upright, to look straight at her, his black eyes peering out of a skull-like face. What was keeping him alive? Blood magic, and resolve?
“Ikegai.”
“One more step, or call your friends, and I will order them to kill themselves,” he said. She heard the women whimper, a few openly weeping, even as they still held the knives against themselves. “Akire, you have used up the portals for today, haven’t you? If you force one more at this state, your heart will give out and burst from the strain. Not even the Ring could bring you back.” He extended his hand. “Stop this.” Gavin, beside Kire, had similarly raised the knife to his own neck. “Give me the Ring.”

Kire had played out this moment so many times in her mind, and in her dreams and nightmares. It had occurred to her many times that it would come to this. The both knew it. They had clashed enough times for them to have arrived here. Kire glanced down at her hand. In all the previous encounters, there was one thing she hadn’t yet done, even if she’d said it to herself many times, even though she had come close many times. She could still feel the knife on her abdomen. Kire took a deep breath, and disappeared in a bright burst of blue light. Ikegai’s eyes widened—only for a second. It would be the last thing he saw, as Kire’s blade emerged first from the other end of the portal right in front of him. Kire crashed to the ground, at the same time as his body. All the women dropped the knives and collapsed, shaking.

Gavin, too, collapsed onto his knees, Kire’s hunting knife still in his hand. Kire didn’t get up. From outside the chamber, a great, terrible cry. Akuma's.

[Carantathraiel]

His name on her lips. In her voice. It was so strikingly similar to the sound of Kire's, with one vital difference. Kire had never spoken to him with that amount of desperation. That much pleading. No, Kire was anger and determination. He knew, even with the false emotion, that this was the enemy, the woman who took everything and gave nothing back. Ruli growled and made to bite down more fiercely, but was blown back in the next second.

The force of the wall as his body thrust against it first had his head spinning, then seconds later the ache in his bones. Delayed, due to the drugs. Ruli groaned. Get up. Get up get up get up. Ruli obeyed it, shuffling to push himself upright, and then onto his feet.
Akuma's words meant little to him. He knew it would wear off. He knew that his tolerance for catalysts like the one currently in his system would eat through the effects that much faster. Knew he would pay dearly for every punch, every slam, every strike against him.
But he also knew that he had too much experience working through pain. A life Akuma never knew, that no one knew about, made him a fighter even when his body was broken.

"I think," He said with a pant, already his muscles shuddering, urging him to move. He ignored the dolls, their clawing, tearing, clutching. "that you know I can. And you're afraid."
A flash of a smile, then he moved again.

---

Ysaryn didn't hesitate when she heard Kire's order. Ysaryn tore her blade from the doll she'd carved open and bolted. She didn't need to ask where to go, the dolls led the way. Ysaryn swung, cutting, shoving, trampling the many dolls to reach the chamber ahead of them. Rulitus's predatory snarls sent a shiver down her spine as she flung herself forward.

Throwing herself between Akuma and Rulitus at the moment was suicide, the elf knew. She focused on the dolls, leaving the few that had gotten in ahead of her for the moment to strike at those pouring in. Get them to pile up, she planned. They'll slow each other with their corpses.
But they didn't.
Ysaryn cut and ripped, but they kept crawling over one another, pushing and pulling on the bodies to make room to crawl over. Five. Ten. Thirteen. They never stopped. Ysaryn felt herself let out a strangled cry of despair.

This would be it, then. The chamber in which she died. If injuries didn't claim her, exhaustion would. But she wouldn't go down easily. Ysaryn filled her lungs with air and let out an enraged cry before raising her arms and pushing back against the swarm.

---

He was at a loss. Rab inhaled, looking uncertainly at the fight that unfolded. And then moved. The chamber emptied before him, his eyes wide and tracing. Wolf Smile ran into one chamber, Gavin into another. One after the Master Akuma and the disappearing man. One with the blonde who would free them.
Where they went, he wasn't sure, but he'd heard her shouting for the grand master.

Two choices.
Two against one.
Or two against one.

Only one choice involved Wolf Smile.
He pushed into the tunnel just as he heard her cry, the sound echoing through the mine. He felt, rather than heard, himself growl as he moved forward, pushing through the mass of bodies that clawed over one another like rats. He wasn't sure what to do. He was not a killer. Did not know how to kill things that he knew to be dead. So he only grabbed several in his arms and pushed downward, forcing them beneath his feet and those of the others. Then he grabbed more, crushing them down. Pinning them. They began to writhe and shriek in objection, which he took to be a good thing.

Then he heard a laugh. He looked up, hopeful, and saw her fuchsia eyes leering at him in wicked delight. A few swings of her blades, and he could see her down to her shoulder. The elf thrust her arm out, offering the hilt of one of her blades. "Lop their heads off." She ordered.
Rab hesitated. And it cost her.
One of the dolls reached up and grabbed her, and with a sharp yank pulled her into the wall of her sisters. Wolf Smile hissed in pain as she struggled against them, the blade dropped from her hand.

He didn't hesitate a second time. Rab bent and scooped it up, pulling it from the grasp of a doll, and he obeyed. He swung, his strength greater than he imagined, likely due to his size. He'd never held a weapon before. Never would have guessed he'd be dangerous. He looked up, hopeful once more, as the elf with the pretty eyes yanked herself free again. She looked pale, but angry. That wicked grin blossomed and she raised her blade, and even if, for a split second, he noticed her hand shaking, she thrust her arm downward with vengeance.

---

Ysaryn. Ruli ducked under Akuma's blade again, studying her movements just as she studied his. He was aware of Ysaryn and had to continue to be aware of her. Keep Akuma from her. The elf's back was turned toward them as she fought against the horde. Leaving herself vulnerable. She danced out of reach of the dolls, but he could smell the fatigue on her.
Could feel it in himself.
Knew the stimulant was wearing off.

A few dolls had beaten the elf into the chamber, had rushed toward him and tackled him. He was relentless in his focus on Akuma, hadn't let up, while kicking and swiping at his weaker assailants. They tore, clawed, and pulled on him. His clothing tore, his skin bled, his muscles began to shake. He was prepared to fight through it, but Ysaryn...
When the wall of dolls yanked on her when she stepped to close to where she'd managed to bottle neck them, she cried out and struggled, and he had cast a glance at her. Akuma had won a strike against him in that second, and it winded him. He felt it resonate in his bones as he straightened again.

"Out!" he barked at the elf as she, too, straightened and threw herself into her own battle.
Her reply in elvish was so colourful he would have blushed if he hadn't been so focused on murder.

[Michellin]

Free. That was the first word Gavin thought of when he finally rose up. But he had no time to relish the freedom. “Stay down!” he barked at the women who, he knew, would also just realize it, themselves. They may be free, but the dolls and Akuma had stored up enough energy to go on for just a little longer Ikegai’s body convulsed, residual blood magic still animating the body even as the severed head rolled to the floor, muscles twitching uselessly. Gavin ran, instead, towards Kire’s body, taking out his pouch of needles. Just as he had done to Ruli earlier, Gavin administered a stimulant. As fast as he could, he unfastened her cuirass, then dragged her up to Ikegai’s crystal bed. Ikegai may have gotten powerful here, but it had cost him dearly. He had needed Itallo’s body, would have taken it over before his own frail one failed him. And now, together with the drug he had injected into her, Gavin was going to use the blood magic that had helped keep him alive to bring Kire back.
Kire.
She opened her eyes and found herself adrift in the middle of strong winds. They were pulling at her from every which way, and yet she remained where she was. One wind yanked at her, and when she turned, she saw the visions she had seen after Ruli had given her his memories. She and Ruli—together?, with her face unscarred. Another wind tugged at her, and she saw her fight with the dragon, a god-like being she couldn’t have possibly killed. In another she saw herself in full armor, standing on top of a hill, surveying a battlefield, and in another she saw herself wearing strange clothes, standing in the middle of a city made of concrete, with towers that shimmered in the sun as if made of glass. On and on, the winds showed her strange sights, but in all of them she saw herself, in all of them a little different from the way she was now. Not like the twisted dolls, but as if she had been born into a different time, a different life.
When she made a full turn, she found herself, in armor, sitting cross-legged, her face serene. Her sword lay across her lap, glowing. Not yet your time, Paladin, the other her said, and somehow Kire knew who this was. Her Will Incarnate, the Sword of her resolve. Brace yourself, her Sword said, tapping her chest.

She felt like her chest had been hit with a sledgehammer. Once, twice. Like someone was beating down her chest. And each time, she felt as if fire was running through her veins. Kire gasped for air, coughed, felt like she was lying down on something warm, almost hot. Gavin was hovering over her, his hands on her chest, and her hand darted up at his neck, even as she caught her breath. Despite the hand clutching tightly at him, Gavin grinned. His eyes looked wild—definitely not empty, or hollow. Around them the women gasped. Some where looking at Ikegai’s body, revulsion in their eyes. Kire sat up, still coughing, and saw the body, too. It’s over, isn’t it? Still unable to speak, Kire looked to Gavin, loosening her hold on him.
“The dolls will follow. But they’re still fighting with their last magical reserves. We have to hurry, I don’t know if I’ve put anything else in the walls as a countermeasure.” Gavin looked her over. “Can you stand?”
Kire climbed off the crystal bed, almost collapsing on her knees, her heart beating fast, her mind and body overwhelmed with having just been brought back. Fuck, come on, Kay! Kire grunted, bracing against the bed to stand. She felt weird—but she was standing, and that was important right now. Kire bent carefully to get her sword, feeling much better upon contact with it. She remembered the vision, the steadfastness of her Will. Outside, she heard the shrill shrieks of the dolls, finally sensing the death of their master. The Ring had no power to give her now, she only had herself. Which suited her just fine. “Stay behind me. When you see an opening, bring the women up to safety.” Gavin nodded

In the other chambers, Akuma reeled, and so did the dolls. The nearest ones to her collapsed, Akuma’s eyes lighting up, taking whatever power was left for herself. She saw Ysaryn and Rab fighting despite their tiredness and injuries. While there were still many dolls, Kire knew it was only a matter of time. Gavin’s warning echoed in her ears; she wasn’t going to take chances. “Ikegai’s dead. Women and elves in passage behind me. Get them and get out!” The rest of the dolls harassing the two elves fell to Kire’s blade. The surge from blood magic and the stimulant she had gotten from her revival enlivened her now that she was moving, the blood circulating.

She met Akuma’s gaze, just as she had raised her sword at Ruli, surrounded by fallen dolls. Kire grinned, glad to see her faith in his stubbornness wasn’t misplaced, and lunged. “Get your ass out, now!” she yelled at Ruli as she met Akuma’s blade. “You feel that?” she murmured; gods her body felt sore. “Your master’s dead.” Akuma only shrieked back. Kire could see the recognition of impending death in the doll’s eyes, but she didn’t let up, dodged and advanced. Her adversary was getting slower, and blood continued to ooze out of the bite mark. Akuma stopped, backed into a corner by both Kire and Ruli.
“Your Highness,” she said, one final, eerie smile cast their way. “You know I’m a part of you.” Kire said nothing to this; she knew that already. She lived with the weight of it every day. Kire saw Akuma raise her sword up, and Kire prepared for one final attack. Instead, she raised it to her neck, murmuring under her breath. Oh, dammit.. “Out! Go, go go!”
Akuma’s whole body lit up in runes, and the runes in the chamber outside did the same. The doll cut her own neck with her sword, and a loud crack sounded throughout the caverns.

[Carantathraiel]

She wasn't leaving. Ruli accepted that, turning his attention back on Akuma. He ducked and grabbed, pulled and retreated, trying to expose more of her skin, trying to find a way to get at her once more. To rip into her mind and bring her to her knees, or to take his teeth to her flesh and tear her apart.
He hoped for the former option, as the taste of her blood was worse than anything he'd ever tasted.

But just as he went to assault her again, and she raised her sword to meet him, they all reeled, the dolls collapsing in the chamber. The noises they made echoed in his ears. And he beheld Akuma's gaze and the light in them that increased as her power increased. Ruli swallowed. Ysaryn was still swinging, taking down the ones by the entrance that hadn't fallen yet, so Ruli kept his waning focus on Akuma. On his fight.

Then Kire came. Ruli had attempted a last attempt, doing nothing but making AKuma turn as she dodged him, listening to his ragged breathing. He was nearer to the entrance, to Kire, Ysaryn, and ... the half-breed, apparently. She shouted orders, and while Ysaryn stayed, the taller figure turned to listen, disappearing into the darkness.
Ysaryn, however, whirled around to look for Ruli as Kire, too, ordered him out. He didn't listen. When Kire lunged, so did he, and Ysaryn threw herself between him and the women. He shoved her aside easily, growling like an animal, before he and Kire backed Akuma into a corner. Not knowing what to do, Ysaryn flanked them, swords ready, eyes wide.

As Akuma raised her sword, Ruli tensed, flexing his legs to prepare to leap at her, only to falter in surprise when she raised it to her own throat instead. "Wh-" Ruli began to ask. He wanted to watch. Wanted to see her die. But when Akuma opened her neck and the caverns seemed to react to it, he decided against it all. He looked up, wary, unsure.

So they ran. Ruli and Ysaryn, both tired and bleeding, the former's stimulant on its last legs, lagged behind Kire. When he heard her laboured breaths, Ruli reached out and grasped Ysaryn's wrist, meeting her gaze for a second. Long enough to promise he wouldn't let her fall behind.
"I can ... get us ... out!" He shouted up the tunnel. His mind was clear enough now to Walk without endangerment.
"No!" Ysaryn snarled back at him. "Others!"
Dammit. Ruli understood then, and raced on.

[Michellin]

“Fucking hells,” Kire breathed as they ran up. Gavin, the half-elf, and the women had fled ahead of them, and she was still feeling the buzz of energy from the stimulant and blood magic, but even she wondered if they’d all make it out. You will, you’ll make it, come on! She sensed the other two lagging behind her and she stepped back, offered her other hand to Ysaryn, her mind filled with nothing but expletives and the desire to see them all out together. Behind them the ground rumbled as the rune chamber started swallowing itself up, but ahead of them, the mines had opened up, sunlight filtering through gaps in the roof. So close! A part of the stone ceiling fell, narrowly missing Gavin, but it had given them a makeshift ramp up to the uppermost level of the mines, towards the exit. Some of the women, running on adrenaline alone, had stumbled, and Gavin shouted for the half-elf to pull them up to the rock slant.

Another loud crack followed closely behind them; fissures opened up in the stairs they had just left behind and in the walls, widening and climbing up just above them. “Look out!” Kire braced herself against the rock wall that threatened to fall on them, using the stimulant-driven energy for the Ring to convert into dragon-strength. With a pained cry she held it back. “Go! Get them out!” She gritted her teeth as she braced herself, willing against hope for the wall to list away from her, her heart thudding fast.

[Carantathraiel]

Everything burned. Ysaryn couldn't feel half of her body. Between bruises, cuts, bloodloss, exhaustion, she was surprised she was still on her feet. She wasn't even sure how long they'd been running. She took Kire's offered hand without thought, feeling only the pressure of her hand in her own, without really feeling it.

Daylight. Ysaryn let out a choked gasp of relief, and felt more pressure on her hands as someone squeezed her. Who, she wasn't sure. They were relieved, too. She tried to pull when the ceiling caved, but the other two blundered forward, dragging her to it, knowing before she did that they wouldn't be crushed.
The half-elf and the Gemini were hauling the women out, their thin hands reaching for the men, for their safety. They were so close.

More cracks, more earth shifting beneath their feet. Ysaryn felt Kire let her go as they bound up the sloped stone and into the air. Her breathing was ragged. The half-elf reached for her, and the moment she grasped him, she felt Ruli let her go, as well. Hauled out into the open, Ysaryn grappled, wrapping her arm around the half-elf as she twisted back around.
Neither Ruli or Kire were beside her.

He'd gone back down. The moment he got a look at the area around the mine opening, he turned heel, darting back into the crumbling cavern. To Kire. He threw himself against her, wrapping his arm around her middle and her shoulder. He was tired. So very tired. He held her firm, inhaled, and pulled her backward, disappearing as the the tunnel caved.

Ysaryn shouted, staring down into the rubble filled hole as Rab began to haul her back, lifting her off her feet to avoid having to physically drag her.
Until the surprised shouts from the others made her turn.
Ruli let Kire go and went to his knees, kneeling in the rocky soil. Ysaryn shoved Rab off and approached, swearing colourfully at both him and Kire. Rab, having no understanding of the elven tongue, only gaped at her angry face and her sour tone as she rounded on them.
More cracks sounded beneath their feet, and he clapped his hands eagerly. Move! He tried to say, pointing to the ground.

[Michellin]

One moment, she was bracing against a wall of rock, her heart so close to giving out a second time, the next moment she felt arms around herself, shoving her into a familiar cold darkness, and a blink after that, sunlight. She was lying on her back, breathing heavily. Gods, it was as if it had been ages since she’d known sunlight. Exhausted to the marrow, in great pain, and her heart still thudding painfully in her chest, Kire let out a hysterical laugh, her eyes welling up as she vaguely registered Ysaryn swearing at her. Her body shook, withdrawal coming down hard on her after the Ring had burned through the drug—no, it wasn’t just her body, but the ground shaking beneath them. She didn’t want to move another inch, but her mind screamed for her to get up, anyway. Climbing to her feet, she dragged Ruli to his feet by his ragged, bloody sleeve as she half ran, half stumbled, back away from the makeshift entrance, finally tripping with exhaustion backward.

The ground collapsed, the unholy vapors from the rot and black magic hissing up from the great fissures. Kire watched it crumble just beyond her feet. A shockwave knocked back whoever else was on their feet, overwhelming Kire with the dying burst of Ikegai’s signature before, at last, it dissipated. The smell of the sea blew their way. “Finally…” she breathed, before collapsing back onto the soil. The hysterical laugh bubbled up again, though the tears fell freely from her face now, and each laugh sent a spasm of pain throughout her chest.

Gavin looked about, his own face wet with tears, too. “We’re free,” he said, daring to say the words aloud now, as if saying them a moment too soon would curse him to lose his newfound freedom. But when he stood up, he was reminded that there were still many loose ends. The women cradled each other, some blinking their tired eyes at the light as if blinking away a nightmare they had just woken from. And Gavin saw, just beyond them, an army approaching them, the banners of Cordon flying high, with some of the councilmen riding ahead. They looked to Gavin like they had just come from a fight, themselves. He whirled around, looking from Rab to Ysaryn, and from Ruli to Kire. They were in no position to fight, or even to flee. Soon, the armed guard of the Councilmen would surround them. It felt ironic, that he should be imprisoned or killed now as a free man, but Gavin knew he deserved it. The others, however…

“Wait!” he said, throwing himself forward, arms raised. One of the guards approached him and aimed a blow, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Behind them, Kire was back on her feet, scowling at the men surrounding them, though clearly she was too exhausted to be comprehending everything that was happening around her. They took a look at her face and recognized Akuma, and lowered their lances at her, to which she answered with a string of Amrian curses she didn’t bother to translate. Gavin felt himself being manhandled, and he knew no amount of explaining would help in this situation, not from him anyway.
One of the women, wrapping the rags she had been supplied more tightly around her, stepped away from the other freed captives and raised her hands at one of the councilmen. The man narrowed his eyes at her, then, slowly, a look of wonder dawned on him.

If Kire still had all of her faculties at that moment, she would have heard the councilman recognize her as a relation of his. Not too long ago, Itallo had told him the elves had taken her in retaliation for their discrimination, but now, in a trembling but resolute voice, she told them about their captivity, and about how these strangers had killed the man who had violated them. She would have heard the councilmen tell the group that, just moments ago, they had been in the middle of a battle that had broken out in parts of the city closest to Itallo’s property. People going mad, people heeding strange orders of a voice that crooned in their head. And the Lord Itallo himself, shrieking like some demon in his manor, before the other councilmen’s forces had finally broken through the barricades of the manor, slaying him. Kire would have seen the councilmen order the women taken care of, though now, unsure of what to do with the elf women and the strange, armed, half-dead rescuers. The other captives, including the councilman’s relative, insisted that they were the ones who had gotten them out.

Kire didn’t hear all that, because she had collapsed backward, her body finally giving out and sinking into unconsciousness.

[Carantathraiel]

Free. Rab turned toward Gavin when he said the word. Gavin had offered it to him, and Rab had decided to go back, to help them, and he still had it. Freedom. The world seemed so large. So open. He could go anywhere. Absolutely anywhere he pleased!
But as the army of men approached them, armed and bannered, cross looks on their faces, Rab realized he had no idea where to go. Wasn't sure if he had anywhere to go. Not with the way he'd seen these men treat the elves here. He reached up to his pointed ears, knowing he was one of them. He would be treated poorly.
So, as the councilmen neared, Rab knelt, surrendering.
Short lived freedom.

Ysaryn, too, swallowed when she saw them. Her instinct told her to run and to hide, to avoid being seen by these men, who held their weapons aloft, for fear of being taken and abused. She looked around, to Gavin, who was tossed aside and grabbed, to Kire, whose laughter had died with her awareness as the women fell into unconsciousness. To Ruli, who was struggling to rise, looking wan and pained. To the half-elf, who fell to his knees, his hands splayed out in surrender.
To the woman who stumbled forward, reaching for her kin as she told their story.

Ysaryn's body shook, exhaustion teasing her, as she, too, listened. Heard the councilman tell that Itallo was dead, that chaos had broken out for a time in the city. Heard, with relief, as they ordered to women cared for. Saw his questioning look as he looked over herself and the others who had helped. Uneasily, she stepped forward.
"I am Ysaryn of the elf tribe." She offered, swallowing the fear that was a large stone, scraping along her throat. Their eyes, while tolerant, were not friendly as they beheld her. "My people were taken, also. I come to help. Get everyone out." She paused as the councilman's kin confirmed that, at least, she had been with Ruli and Kire as they'd come hauling ass out of the crumbling mines. "I ask for assistance. To make sure they are all right." Ysaryn gestured to the group behind her. Rab, Ruli, and the still Kire. "Then, we will go. Mind our own."

Behind her, Ruli groaned and rose to his feet. Ysaryn turned her head to see him pointing at Gavin. "Him, as well." He stated firmly. "He double crossed them, got us in, helped us win."
Ysaryn, surprised by this, blinked, but nodded firmly in an attempt to confirm.

[Michellin]

The councilman eyed the elf-warrior, expressionless as she introduced herself and made her pleas. He looked to the other man, who, like his companions, seemed to have been dragged from the depths of hell by the look of him. His gaze fell to Gavin, a face he’d looked at several times already, but this young man—soot-covered, disheveled—had an expression on his face that made him almost unrecognizable, as if he was a completely different person to the one the councilman had seen serving Itallo. The thought of the dead lord curled his lips in anger. Some of the council who hadn’t been bought by him had found his movements of late suspicious, but this was something else entirely. Like the man had made a pact with demons.

“’Ysaryn’, hm? You are Scindere’s daughter then?” he said by way of question, still observing the rather raggedy group. He looked at the unconscious member of their party, gestured at the one on the ground. “I take it that woman isn’t Itallo’s bride-to-be?” He had met her when Itallo presented the woman to the council yesterday. A strange kind of alluring, the kind that was beckoning to them to give up their world, their own wives and families, to lay themselves at their feet. They were so enthralled by her, would do anything for her, in fact. Now, he wasn’t sure why he felt that at all, and he certainly didn’t feel it for the bloodstained woman lying exhausted with her sword at her hip. He had many, many questions, as he was the sure the surviving councilmen had, too. Some of their number, who had been at Itallo’s manor when The Madness had taken over the people earlier, had to be hauled away or put down, behaving like rabid dogs and attacking others. The price they paid for casting their lot with a madman.

He turned and gave orders to his people. They would be cared for, though under guard, at his estate. As much as there needed to be an investigation, he wanted to get away from this accursed place. Somebody came forward to give water to the group at his instruction. After arrangements were made for wagons to carry the rescued women and this group, they were off, the latter flanked by guards. Later, at his estate, they were put in simple quarters together, provided food and more water, while healers went in to look them over and treat their wounds. They didn’t quite know what to do with Kire, though, who was still asleep. She came in with a gash on her head that looked partly healed, and upon observation she seemed to have some broken ribs, which they had treated. But half a day later, the wound on her head already looked much better, as if it had been healing for a few days already. As they recovered in the room that was, in essence, a temporary prison, each member of the party, save for the one without a tongue, was questioned about the events of the day, with Gavin having been interrogated the longest.

Gavin wasn’t sure if any of them would even believe anything he had to say, both because of his closeness to Itallo and the sheer strangeness of every horrible detail, but he gave them what he could explain most plainly: that his former masters had been responsible for what happened to Ziad, that they had captured and enslaved him and, under pain of death, made him serve the lord Itallo to use him, that they were planning to do to Cordon what had happened to Ziad. Had the people of Cordon not seen The Madness themselves and witnessed the horrors happening at Itallo’s manor, he doubted he would be believed at all.

When it was Ysaryn’s turn, the councilman, pondered on the Chieftain’s daughter. Well-spoken, second language aside, rational, at least as far as he could tell. Save for the obviously very elfin appearance, she had the bearings of some foreign ambassador’s daughter. Too bad about being elf, though. But still. Given the events of the day, the councilman had many things to think over.

And still, Kire slept. It wouldn’t be till little more than a whole day later, when, finally, they were allowed to leave, that she finally woke up. The councilman had offered coin, too, for their trouble, with the implication that he was buying their silence on the whole truth. She opened her eyes at around late afternoon, finding herself in a chamber she didn’t recognize. The first thing she felt was thirst, followed closely by a raging hunger, and when she took a deep breath, pain in her chest. It wasn’t as sharp as when it had been fresh, and she felt a cast around her torso that meant she had been treated, too. Where am I? she thought, frowning at the ceiling, not yet daring to sit up. Gods, she was still sore. “Fuuuuuuuuck,” she rasped.

[Carantathraiel]

Ysaryn swallowed, nodding clearly in a single motion. "Yes." She confirmed her heritage. Granted, she looked very little like her father, but she doubted this man was overly familiar with the elf to notice. When he voice his question about Kire, she once more answered clearly, a single shake of her head. "No, sir." Oh, she hated herself for that word. But now was the time to offer courtesy. "She is the woman who hunted the bride-to-be and her master. Who ended this."
Slowly, Ysaryn raised her hands to gesture vaguely. No sudden movements. Not when they were armed. Not when she was too tired to Walk out of harms way. Too drained to defend herself with anything more than words.

But her words were accepted, and they were brought to the councilman's chambers for questioning. Ysaryn slept uneasily, Ruli not at all. When he realized that they would be questioned, Ruli volunteered, his mind pushing away the temptation of a very long and deep sleep. He answered as best he could, as a witness to the destruction of Ziad, a citizen. Would swear on any god they asked him to that the unconscious woman was not Akuma, and that he had even seen the two snarling in combat before he'd interfered.
The rest of the details, he admitted honestly, were hazy. He'd been drugged, though he omitted by whom.

Once he was allowed back into their temporary jail, Ruli slept.

Ysaryn, once her injuries were tended to; -the slice on her arm dangerously close to ripping through an artery and ending her, she napped, then Walked briefly back to the mountains long enough to make sure Envy knew they were alive, before she returned with no councilman or his staff the wiser. For all they had known, she'd been in the lavatory.
She didn't appreciate being questioned. Not because she felt they doubted the story, but because she felt they doubted her simply for her race. Her fuchsia eyes held steadily, without flinching, her words clear. She kept herself still and properly upright, afraid for any movement being mistaken for hostility.

When they were finally allowed to leave, Ysaryn and Rab, which was his name, they learned through Gavin, struggled to rouse Rulitus. When they at least got him to open his eyes, he was visibly agitated and withdrawn. Gavin informed them it was occasionally a side effect of the drugs.
Which drug, he didn't clarify. And Ysaryn wondered if she'd been this agitated when she'd recovered, or if she had the same agitation to look forward to in Kire.

Her initial swear right after coming to gave Ysaryn an answer.

She crouched over the woman, a muted smile on her lips. "Good afternoon, Chieftess." The elf greeted. "Today, we are released." ysaryn shifted on the balls of her feet to gesture around the room. Gavin stood in the corner, hands shoved into his pockets. Rab, standing nearest to Kire besides the elf, looked at the blond curiously, mind alight in wonder as she woke. And Ruli, who sat on the windowsill, arms and legs drawn to himself and his head turned away. The state of his hair and clothes suggested he'd slept and hadn't changed or washed, while the others had at least attempted a bath and a wash of their articles. Ysaryn and Ruli were bandaged and bruised, though the elf showed little of the latter.

With some assistance from the half-elf, Ysaryn got Kire to her feet. While she stepped aside, allowing her fellow chieftess the dignity of standing on her own, Rab loitered just within reach, looking very much as if it just happened to be where he decided to stand. When she'd been given water, and a moment to adjust, Ysaryn turned to organize their return.
After walking out the front doors, of course. Ysaryn decided it best not to allow the men of the city catch a glimpse of the power they held, or what her people, already abused and feared, had the potential to do.

They all walked in silence, the elf watching the guards and footmen with cautious intensity. When they were out of the gate, she turned to the others. "Who goes to mountains? And who stays?" Her gaze most pointedly fell between Rab and Gavin. The former immediately shrugged, having no opinion, but his eyes followed Ysaryn in a way that said, I'll go where you go.
"If necessary, I go." Ysaryn admitted with her chin high. "But, I return at once. For the others. To make sure all is well."

[Michellin]

Afternoon? “What the f—” Kire’s rasped words were interrupted with a coughing fit, “—fuck day is it?” She grunted, footing unsure as the two helped her to her feet, but she managed to keep steady once they’d released their grip on her. Kire touched her head gingerly where she’d had the injury, and found that though the Ring had done its job to speed up the healing, the slaver’s sword had shaved off a little of her short hair. Must be a pretty sight, she thought sullenly. The atmosphere around the room was somber, understandably, but Kire was glad to note that they were all there and alive. She gave each one a measured look: the half-Kartaian, curious like a child almost, the Gemini, her knife still in his possession, whose signature, though mostly the same, seemed to have shifted slightly, and Rulitus, sullen and sulky as ever. And Ysaryn—Kire was grateful to have her here, and to have her take on the role of Chieftess. Water, gods. Kire felt like she hadn’t tasted anything sweeter when she finally had her drink. While Ysaryn went off, Kire looked from Gavin to Ruli. “Someone fill me in on what I missed.”
Gavin looked at her, unspeaking at first. He had gotten a good look while she was still asleep, and now that she was up and about again, and without the threat of death crashing down around them, he continued to see how different she was from the Akuma he knew. But nobody else was answering her question, so with a sigh, he told her a much-abridged version of events, having already done this during the interrogations.

Later, when they finally took their leave, Kire stayed silent, both to conserve her strength and to contemplate what had just happened. The cast was uncomfortable but necessary till the Ring could heal her injuries completely, and till then she wanted to rest before jumping through another portal. She listened as Ysaryn posed her question to Rab and Gavin. “Mountains?” the young man asked. He had removed the black surcoat, which had gotten tattered beyond repair anyway, and wore simpler garb this time, his hair a mess he didn’t bother to fix.
“I still have questions for you,” Kire finally said. “I’d like you to come back with us.” Gavin paled a little at that. It sounded like a threat. When Kire saw the expression, she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I—I don’t want to stay here,” he said, looking away. “I have nowhere, nobody, to go to anyway. Oh.” He pulled out the hunting knife and handed it to her. “This is yours, right?”
She took the knife, observed it. He obviously took good care of it. She hadn’t known a Gemini who would keep anything with the Wyvern sigil on their person. “Keep it. Seemed to have served you well.” The expression on his face then as he took back the knife told Kire this was the first time he had actually received a gift freely given. To Ysaryn, Kire said, “I’ll rest in the mountains, but let me know if your people need anything else I can help with. I hope they’re all right.” She offered a small smile to the chieftess. Not long later, they found a spot where they would be unseen, and Kire prepared to enter the shadows. “What’s happening? Are we waiting for horses?” Gavin whispered. Kire smirked.

To Gavin’s horror, they were not. They emerged in the mountains, where Gavin stumbled forward, breathing heavily from the shock. He knew the Kartaians could do this but hadn’t known what it was like. Kire breathed in the cool, clean mountain air, so very glad to be back here. Ruli had already walked off, still without having said anything yet. Gavin had mentioned this might be the effect of the drugs wearing off, but she was still worried about him. “Come on, let’s show our faces.”