Burning my skin won't kill the witch

Snakes, Caretaker could deal with. The occasional basilisk, maybe, if they were very careful about it. But a naga... those were a bit too human for Caretaker’s comfort. They knew animal medicine, not human medicine. And they had absolutely no idea which one would be appropriate here. 

Then the naga shifted, their tail curling closer to their torso. They let out a soft, strangled groan.  

All of Caretaker's worry vanished. They were cleared of almost any thought at all. They simply moved, all but dropping to the creature’s side, pack full of supplies already open. 

Caretaker reached out, a single hand brushing against scales to search for any wounds they might have missed. The naga flinched. Violently. They snapped away from Caretaker with a sharp hiss. 

It would have been a very obvious warning, even if it had been from an ordinary snake. And it was a warning that Caretaker completely ignored.  

“It’s alright,” Caretaker said softly. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”

The naga hissed again, tail lashing in warning. And then the hiss turned into a cry of pain. They curled in on themself, wincing, eyes shut tight in torment. 

Caretaker bit back a sigh. “Please, try to hold still. I promise I’m going to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” the naga snarled. 

Then the naga opened their eyes to fix Caretaker with a glare. And Caretaker froze. 

They knew those eyes. They knew that face, that hair, should have recognized them even under all the dirt and cuts and bruises. 

This wasn’t just a random naga. 

This was Whumpee. 

Their Whumpee. 

Caretaker’s hand fell lamely to their side. “Whumpee... what... how... what happened?”

It was then that Whumpee seemed to recognize Caretaker. Whumpee’s eyes went wide. A horrible look crossed their face-- one that looked far too close to fear for Caretaker’s comfort-- before they abruptly turned away. But that did nothing to erase the look on Whumpee's face from Caretaker's mind. Nor did it allow Caretaker to forget about the bruises and cuts all over them. 

Caretaker carefully slid closer. “Alright... alright, you don’t need to talk about it. Not if you don’t want to. But please. Let me help you.” 

Whumpee's tail lashed again, sending them further away from Caretaker. The movement made them gasp in pain again. Caretaker's heart wrenched. 

“Please, Whumpee,” Caretaker whispered. “It’s me. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” 

Whumpee still hesitated. Still curled in on themselves as best as they could without causing even more pain. And they still kept their face hidden from Caretaker. 

“Why... why are you here?” they choked out. 

Caretaker would have loved to have said I was looking for you, but that would have been a lie. Whumpee had only been gone for a few hours at most, which was far from uncommon. Though now Caretaker found themself seeing those frequent periods of absence in a new, very concerning light. 

At least their real answer would share the same sentiment. Hopefully. 

“I was looking for those mushrooms you like,” said Caretaker. “I was hoping to surprise you with your favorite stew. When you came back. I... I thought things had been a little rough, lately, you’ve been quieter than usual, but I never--”

“You were going to surprise me?” Whumpee repeated. 

Their voice was shaking. Caretaker didn’t know if that was due to the injuries or some other, far more emotional reason. They shoved that thought aside for the moment. 

“Of course,” Caretaker said gently. “And I still... well, I can’t surprise you anymore, but I can still make you some stew. After I patch you up, and we get you home." 

A soft noise escaped Whumpee’s throat, almost a hiss, almost a whine. 

“You still want to feed me?” they choked out. “Even now? Even after... you...” Whumpee sighed, letting their entire form slump even lower than before. "You were never supposed to see me like this."

“We can talk about that later,” Caretaker said firmly. They offered their hand. “Come on. Let me take care of you. And then we can go home.”

Whumpee let out a soft breath, a sort of bitter laugh. “Home...”

“Before you say it, yes, I do still want you to come home,” Caretaker insisted. 

And finally, finally, Whumpee met their gaze. The look in Whumpee’s eyes was uncertain. Heartwrenching. 

“You... you still want me there?” they breathed, nearly sobbing. “You still love me?”

Caretaker didn't even hesitate. 

“Of course I do.”

Whumpee's tail twitched. “Scales and fangs and all?”

The collar was ice cold against Mianu’s throat, burning into his skin, cutting off his breath. Yet his body forced him to breathe. Her curse forced his hand to raise. Pain lanced down his arm as his magic leapt to life at her command. 

It was like he was trapped inside a stone prison. He felt so small, so feeble, a tiny figure pounding against his own skull with bare fists in a vain attempt to break free. He couldn’t even see. He could hardly hear. The world was reduced to a blur of dense, shadowy fog. Only Elore’s voice rang clear. And even then, he was only allowed to hear what she wanted him to hear. 

He would have screamed in pure frustration if he could get his jaw working. 

But when his magic crackled along his arm, the world got a little clearer. 

He knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that there was someone else out there. Someone that Elore wanted to hurt. 

And she was about to use Mianu to do it. 

No! Mianu tried to scream out, his mind roaring where his voice was silenced. No, no, NO, you can’t make me do this! I won’t go back! I will not be your pawn again! 

The more he fought, the more his magic burned. And the pain brought him back, inch by inch. 

His heart pounded once. Twice. And that was enough for him to see exactly who he was being forced to turn against. 

Darius. 

Oh, gods... 

His heart may have stopped beating right then and there. But in that moment, Mianu wouldn’t have cared. Darius was in danger. And it was his fault. Darius must have heard about what had happened. And then he must have acted like the wonderful, bullheaded idiot that he was, and gotten himself caught by the soldiers that Elore now controlled. The same soldiers that should have been under Mianu’s command. 

And now he was here. About to be killed by Mianu’s own hand. 

He couldn’t allow that to happen. 

He would not let Darius fall. 

But there was no way for him to stop his own spell. He’d been fighting against Elore’s power for so long without any real cracks in the stupid curse... 

Except for one. 

A tiny spark of hope burned in his chest, chasing away a little more of the curse that kept him trapped in his own body. 

If his magic was being torn out of him anyway... then he may as well put it to good use.

Elore’s command rang through his mind. 

Destroy him...

Well. Something would be destroyed, most likely.

For the first time since Elore snared that collar around his neck, Mianu took a deep breath of his own accord. His magic still surged through him, spears of ice as deadly and cold as that blasted collar itself. It seared down his arm. Dug into his chest. That very same breath felt like ice. 

Then he let it out. All of it. 

Darkness slammed around him. Someone was screaming. It might have been him. It might have just been the sound of his own magic as his shadows ripped free. He didn’t dare hope that the screams were Elore. He prayed they weren’t from Darius. 

Wind tore at him, ripping through his hair, cutting through his clothing. The screaming went on, and on, until his very thoughts became nothing but screams... 

Then there was silence. 

It seemed to stretch on forever. Mianu honestly wouldn’t have cared if it did. As long as it meant Elore was gone. As long as it meant that Darius was--

“Mianu...?” 

Mianu would have sobbed in relief if he had the strength. 

He’d know Darius’ voice anywhere. Even in the void left after... whatever he had managed to accomplish. 

He’d never drained himself this much before. He was dimly surprised he hadn’t passed out yet. Maybe he had, and he’d just missed it. 

“Mianu... you overdid it again.” 

A warm hand rested on his shoulder. And the world shifted, spinning around him, until he was completely enveloped in that warmth. Darius whispered something. Something that Mianu probably wasn’t meant to hear. 

It must have been very bad if Darius was swearing. 

But gods, Mianu just felt so relieved that Darius was alive. He could swear as much as he wanted. 

“You really need to stop pushing yourself like that,” Darius said gently. “If you do something like this again--” 

And despite all of his exhaustion, Mianu managed to find his voice. Barely. 

“Needed... save you.” 

He could hardly form the words. They were likely more feeble than a whisper. But Darius made that noise he always made whenever Mianu had done something monumentally stupid, and that was worth all the effort. 

“I know,” Darius said softly. “And I’ll tell you all about how much of an idiot you are for that later. But first, I’m going to tell you I’m very proud of how strong you are. And then I’m going to make sure you actually come back to me.” 

Back...

Irrational panic seized Mianu’s heart. “Don’t want to... go back... not her... never again...” 

“Ah... no, that’s not what I meant,” Darius said quickly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything like that happen again. That’s my job, after all. And my honor. Because I love you, and watching you tear yourself apart will never be fun. Or good for our health. So come on.” 

The world shifted again. But everything was still warm. Because Darius was still holding him. 

“Let’s get you somewhere safe,” Darius said gently.

Hayden just wished that the hastily-scrawled map he was following hadn’t led to the dungeons beneath the abandoned Colosseum, the darkest stain on their city’s history. What treasure would be worth going all the way down here? 

At least Robyn had probably disabled any traps or pitfalls that might have been in the way. Or she’d fallen right into them. 

That thought made Hayden run faster. 

“Robyn?” he called, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I’m here! Where are you? Where’d you go?” 

Nothing. No response. 

Hayden’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. 

He kept searching. Kept calling her name. But no matter what he tried, everything remained eerily silent. His own footsteps echoed across the frustratingly-narrow tunnels that wove from cell to cell, his own calls bounced uselessly back at him. Until, at last, he spotted a hint of light. 

Robyn had to be over there. Hayden felt like he had searched everywhere else, and he didn’t want to linger down here any longer than he needed to. 

Hayden raced towards the light. And he found, of course, another cell, barely lit by a single torch on the wall. And inside...

“Robyn!” Hayden shouted. 

Robyn sat in the middle of the cell, her arms shackled behind her back. Her head was hanging low. Her bangs flopped in front of her eyes. She was curled in on herself, sitting back awkwardly on her heels. 

Hayden didn’t waste much more time trying to look at her. His sister was trapped, in trouble, and by the gods he was going to get her out. He didn’t even care what she had done to get herself in this predicament. 

He was by her side almost before he’d realized he’d moved. 

“Robyn, what happened? Are you hurt?” 

All the words left him in a desperate rush. And for a single, horrible moment, Robyn didn’t respond. Hayden feared he was too late. 

Then Robyn lifted her head up. Hayden's heart lurched. She was definitely hurt. Her face was badly bruised. Her lip was split and bloodied. And the gag-- she was gagged, what kind of monster would do that?-- was probably just making things a lot worse. Her sleeves were torn in several places, and though her dark clothing usually didn’t show stains, the coppery spots around those rips were unmistakable. And now that he was looking closer, Hayden didn’t like the way that her legs were twisted under her. 

Hayden bristled with fury. “Who did this to you?” 

Robyn glared at him. Which, honestly, he should have expected at this point. Especially since he hadn’t attempted to set her free yet. 

“Right, sorry, get you out of here first,” he said quickly.

Robyn shook her head. She pulled back, her glare growing harsher. Her body flinched at the movement, though her furious expression masked her pain. 

Hayden’s blood went cold with guilt. “Robyn, let me help you. I know this is embarrassing, but--” 

Robyn very pointedly rolled her eyes. And then she made muffled sounds, clearly trying to tell him something. Probably that he was being an idiot. That was her usual track of conversation when things got bad. 

Hayden huffed out a sigh. “Look, I promise I won’t tell anyone you got into this mess, okay? Just let me help you.” 

He reached for her gag. At least that would be a good place to start. He also had no idea how to get her unchained, but he could figure that out later.  

Robyn kept spouting out muffled complaints, even as she finally allowed Hayden to do something to help. It felt like it took ages to actually get the knot undone. This stupid gag was on tight. 

It was infuriating. Disturbing. He was going to make whoever was responsible for this face justice, that much was certain. 

“There,” Hayden sighed when the gag finally slipped free. “And you’re welcome. Now we just need to--” 

Robyn let out a ragged cough. Then: 

“You idiot!” she growled. “I was trying to tell you to run!” 

Hayden froze, staring in shock. “Wha-- but I--” 

“Did you really think I would just let myself get stuck down in this hellhole, and beaten to a pulp besides, and then tell you about it?” Robyn snapped. 

Hayden blinked. That... was actually a good point. 

He didn’t get the chance to dwell on it. There was a sudden rush of wind. The tingle of magic. And then the torch went out. 

Hayden swore. His hand went to his sword again. He leaped to his feet and whirled around, squinting in the sudden dark... and then he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut as the light flared back to life, far brighter than before. 

When he finally opened his eyes again, the cell wasn’t empty anymore. 

They were completely surrounded. At least a dozen people lined the walls of the cell, circling Hayden. He shifted, putting himself protectively in front of his sister. As if he could do anything against an entire army. And they were all clearly magic-users. A rush of whispers filled the room as each one started the words of a spell. 

As if that wasn’t a clear enough hint, all of them were wearing robes. Robes with a very specific insignia on the chest, just above where their hearts would have been if they had hearts. 

He’d walked right into a Cult trap. 

The leader sneered at him, practically glowing with triumph. “Well, well. Looks like our little game is over. At long last.” 

“Oh my gods, you cannot still be going with that line!” Robyn growled. 

At least her pride hadn’t taken too much of a hit. 

Hayden’s sword almost sang as he drew it. He aimed it right at the leader. 

“You really think that cowards like you actually stand a chance against us?” Hayden said with as much bravado as he could muster. “Hiding in the shadows, using tricks and traps... disgraceful.” 

“Hiding behind an invisibility spell, actually,” the leader said casually. He raised his hand, dark magic already lacing down his arm. “Now... are you going to come quietly? Or are we going to need to be a bit... less reasonable about things?” 

They didn’t even give Hayden the chance of a response. Before he could say a word, one of the cultists slammed the cell door shut. The leader laughed. 

“Nowhere to run, little hero,” he jeered. “So? What’s your choice?” 

There wasn’t a choice. Not with Robyn’s safety on the line. Hayden had no doubt that, as soon as they had done what they wanted with him, they were going to kill Robyn. Just to get rid of any loose ends. 

Hayden would not allow that to happen. 

So he shifted his stance. He raised his blade in an obvious challenge. 

The Cult leader just grinned.

“Very well,” he hissed. “Time for a new game, then.” He snapped his fingers. “Get him.” 

A dozen spells fired off at once. Hayden stood his ground. He didn’t care what happened to him. He was going to protect his little sister. 

“Really, now? A group of the realm’s most powerful mercenaries, and you can’t even handle one little girl?” 

Everyone went still. Except for Robyn. She used the opportunity to redouble her efforts. And she almost made it. She almost broke free. But her captors wouldn’t stay distracted for long, not even with their boss walking in. One of them snared their arm around her neck, forcing her to go still or strangle herself. 

Not that their boss seemed to care. 

“You are all well aware that we are on a tight schedule,” the boss snapped. “We have no time for these foolish little games--”

It was the perfect setup for a little quip. Robyn couldn’t possibly resist. It was part of the fun of being a master thief, after all. So she hit the boss with her best, slyest, most confident grin. 

“Aw, someone getting bored?” she jeered. “I know I had so much fun playing tag with your little goons. Did you want a turn? Tell you what, I’ll even give you a head st--” 

She didn’t see it happen. She didn’t see the leader move. She just felt the pain. A ragged cough was forced from her lungs, her words immediately killed. Her knees buckled and she collapsed, curling in on herself. The mercs who had been holding her back were now very much holding her up. 

The second Robyn had enough air for her mind to catch up with what had happened, she internally cursed herself. How had she gotten so pathetic? It had been a long time since she’d been punched in the gut, sure, but since when had that been enough to take her down? 

“I have no time for your comedy act, either,” the boss said coldly. “I’m sure our little message has been found by now. We must put everything into place.” 

Robyn lifted her head. She refused to show any further weakness.

“A message, huh?” Gods, she hated that her voice trembled, even if it was only slightly. “If you’re after a ransom or a reward or something, you’re never gonna get it. Nobody would actually pay for my safety. And the wanted posters always over-exaggerate the--”

“If we were looking for reward money, you would have been dead by now,” the boss said casually. 

And once again, all of Robyn’s bravado was instantly killed. But she didn’t dare ask for any kind of clarity. That would just show how much of a failure she really was. 

Her unspoken question was answered anyway. 

“No, we’re looking for someone else,” the boss went on. “Someone much more important than you.”

Then he turned his back on her. And as he moved, Robyn caught the barest flash of gold on his uniform. A sigil. A very familiar sigil. 

That was the symbol of the very same order that her brother, Hayden, had been trying to stop for years. 

Robyn’s eyes widened in horrible realization. Whatever plans they had for Hayden, they would not be good.

“No...” the words felt torn out of her. “No! You can’t do this to him, I won’t let you, I’m gonna--”

“Ugh, will you shut her up already?” the boss snapped. “And get her into position. Before she wastes even more of our time.”  

Robyn tried to scramble after him, her boots scraping uselessly against the ground. She tried to cry out again. But something was snared around her head, cutting into the corners of her mouth-- a rope? They were gagging her with a gods-damned rope?-- painfully forcing her head back. 

But whatever pain she felt, whatever terrible position they were about to put her in, was nothing compared to what they were about to do to her brother.