#surripio

Where perhaps before one found themselves gauging time by counting moments that signaled their life dragged on, some odd measure of time was counted between when food would be tossed to the cages or they were dragged from them for more interrogation. Faervell and Valiriel had no longer taken to this. No, they counted time in each second that they continued to elude the demons of that forsaken place. And it seemed many times that they had nearly found those seconds cut short by some misstep taken along this sudden escape.

While plans had been made, they only knew so much of what actually was on Daznook. Often times, their dragging by the demons taking them on a far too familiar route directly from the cages to the stones and never straying. What point was there for the demons to stray either? They were lost, yet continued on with the sharp determination of wild animals that would not be caged again. They would not let themselves die there.

Very little sleep had been found, just as it was in the cages. No place was safe, and any time rest was found, it was found tucked in some dark, uncomfortable place amongst the broken stones to the edges of that shattered plane. It was cold, and little could be done of it. They slept in shifts, always one eye open, scanning each stone around them for any demon that might erupt out from beneath the two and tear them from their escape.

Often times it was quiet- no demons to be seen, but every once in awhile, small packs of hounds or imps wandered. They, in some twisted manner, provided them with enough energies to live…even if the food was not there. It wasn’t the same, though, and each pang of hunger or pain of the useless action of their tongue trying to wet their lips was a torture in itself.

Faervell hated it. Every damned second of it.

It was hard to walk, to grab hold of things, to ignore the pains that caused him, at times, to shake uncontrollably with the pain. Valiriel was in no better state, often times having to rest after a while, even if she would not admit the pain her wounds were actually causing her. That was understandable to Faervell. He had expected that, even from the start of it all. But that was far from the worst thing there.

The voices- voices of a thousand whispers that spoke and echoed in his ears and around the rocks they hid in. They seemed deafening now, where before they spoke softly when he was in the cage. He never could get them out of his head, speaking of doubts that he tried to push away, of unknown endings, of assumptions that ended in the worst of ways. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, merely the sounds of his own thoughts, and that if he would ignore them well enough, that they would be gone.

They never left.

Instead, they were supplemented by false visions. Demons of various shapes and despicable appearances moving around him. Sometimes, they kept their distance, but other times they were right beside him, forcing him to hold his breath and curl in close to himself out of fear. Often times he would try and tell Valiriel of them, to warn her, or start to run from them. She would only tell him she did not see them or sharply demand an end to his panic for the sheer fact that she -knew- they weren’t real.

There was an odd understanding, though, and while it obviously would frustrate her or jar her from what little calm she might find, to insert a sharp pin of fear, she hadn’t left him there alone. Instead, she trudged on, only searching for ways out of that place.

Daznook truly was horrendous. Often times, the only ways in and out were one cluster of portals that only at rare, inconsistent times would open forth to allow demons to make their ways. On every portal, there were demons guarding it, watching over it and the towers of the prisoners; prisoners that served a better use as a source of energy to keep the portals activated or open to new places.

Several times, Valiriel and Faervell had found similar setups. Souls feeding into fel constructed machines that served only to further destruction in the world. It sent a chilling reality of the situation and of the fate of many of those who did survive the torturous grasp of the inquisitors or the cold cells they had been in. Nothing was wasted by the legion if it would further their goal to destroy all of creation.

It was a chilling truth to say that there was little chance to escape through the main portals without having themselves cut down or worse, making it to the other side only to be destroyed just as they saw their freedom, wherever that might be. Neither of them wished to speak of the distaste for the latter, a solid understanding of how much worse of a death that would be. Neither were fit to run for such a risk, and neither wished for those outcomes.

It was that fact that lead to a mutual agreement between the two: if they were to make it out, they would have to create their own door. Perhaps the fortunate thing they were offered was that both of them seemed to have a steady knowledge of portals and runes. Valiriel matched Faervell’s own understanding and helped him calculate just what they would need to get a temporary window open for their escape.

A surface to paint the runes, the material to set the runes down with, and power to fuel the spell. Power was the most necessary thing, and while plenty of fel surrounded them, it did not affix the spell to a permanent formation- at least, one long enough for them to run through without finding their bodies potentially cut off. The surface could be found, loose stones brushed away from a more flat place among the rocky crags.

In their escape, they both came to terms easily with the idea of having to sacrifice the lives of others in order to live. Still, the sentiment held true, and their decisions were simple. They would find both the liquid to paint the runes and the energies from the prisoners. Neither forgot that not so long ago, they were part of that group.

Souls were taken, sharded and collected.

Blood was drained, soaked and contained.

Time was such a fickle thing, but the seconds could not seem to drag on longer than when it was time to prepare the portal. Each detail -had- to be right, and Faervell would not make the same mistake that landed him in that situation. He was meticulous, and not once had Valiriel pushed for a faster completion. There was no reason to rush that final step- they would not waste their one chance for a wish to rush it.

The moment that Faervell realized that the portal was open was paired with a large sigh of relief. They had managed it. It had been dangerous- especially with going to the prisons were they collected the souls for their portal. Demons had been wandering out further to find any sign of some of the warlocks that had escaped, but they had managed even still. Valiriel reminded him to waste no more time looking at the circle, her voice cutting through the whispers that still hissed in his ear of all the ways the plan would fail and how death would be the only thing that met him. It was time.

It was time to open the portal.

He remembered the first time he had seen this woman, crazed just as he was with the rush of being deposited in such a place, quick to try and think of some way out. Somehow, along the way, he had taken comfort in her presence, looking to keep close if only for the sanity and companionship she offered. They had created a plan together, managing to stay true to it and not grow greedy for the freedom they’d surely not claim were they to try such a thing alone.

And now he sat there, once more taking her hand and feeling the tether of energies connect them. It was a familiar sensation, one he had done countless times before, and it always gave him such a rush. His grip tightened, and with sharp syllables, Valiriel and Faervell tore open a portal through the nether. It was small, but it was enough, and without hesitation the pair went through the brief door.

Sound was lost, and any feeling of a firm foothold was gone. Faervell felt helpless, his grip on Valiriel’s hand slipping as he tossed and turned. There were arcs of lighting around the pair, and clouds that were filled with freezing winds, with sharp dusts, suddenly took over them. Breath was taken from their lungs and slowly, Faervell had to close his eyes to ignore the sickness that was rising up in his throat. It felt jarring to be so helpless through that place, yet they were lead through it all by some thin string, drawn towards whatever small opening they might find on the other side.

It was suffocating at first, suddenly being dropped into something that felt warmer than the sharp cold of the nether. It was so abrupt a change, that at first, Faervell thought perhaps he had lost himself halfway through the journey. After all, it felt as though he was so weightless…yet he felt something below him.

Pushing up suddenly, the man realized he was in shallow waters that moved slowly towards something more to his left. He opened his eyes to this crystalline sight, seeing the dirt and grime wash away from his body and a bright sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water around him. It was near blinding, and he sucked in a breath- a breath of fresh, untainted air. It still felt as though it burned, but it did not make him want to cough, and as he lifted his head, looking around, all he saw was green.

Foliage was thick, draping vines falling almost perfectly to form some scenic glade. The water that he had landed in was cool, yet not freezing. The air was fresh and smelled like soft flowers and warm dirt. The sun could be seen, could be felt. It was late in the day, the warmth surrounding them in a pleasant way without burning and biting at their flesh. The sounds of nature and life surrounded him, and felt as if it might deafen him.

With such an overwhelming sight, he had all but forgotten the pains throughout his body, the hand that he had used to brace himself the worst off, as it twisted the broken bones under the clear waters.

A sudden fear.

“Valiriel? Val-” He stopped short. She was there, everything was fine. He felt some heavy weight fall from him, seeing that fact. Seeing that she was there.

“Faervell- Yes. I’m here. Where are we? What is this place?”

As if he would know. He quickly spoke out, “I have no idea. But we are…we’re alive. We made it.” Yet water was around, and suddenly it made him painfully aware of how thirsty he was. He didn’t care of there was still dirt that was washing from his hands, he cupped up some of it and brought it straight to his mouth.

It was cool, yet nearly painful for how it felt against his dried lips and parched throat. He hadn’t felt such a thing for so long, and now that he was given it, and so suddenly, he was reminded of how sick he felt. He didn’t manage to drink any. He merely let it dampen his mouth enough so that it would not hurt as bad when he needed to talk. He did not even care if Valiriel had given him a look or not.

Faervell was so glad, even if this was some dream- something that came after his death. Even if it meant that, he was still glad to be gone from Daznook.

To be away from the dark prisons with unforgiving living metal.

To be away from the cold void that he so often had to look out upon.

To be away from the smell of piss and blood and death.

To be away from the jailors that dragged them. To be away from sharp rocks that made his skin raw.

Away from the Inquisitors. Away from their fingers digging into his mind and stealing his thoughts and memories. Twisting them before his eyes and bringing forth only tortured cries that would last till his throat was too raw to allow him to scream.

Away from the whispers that filled his head, that tried to steal away any hope that might be there, that made him want for nothing but death.

Away from the torture.

Away from the fear.

Faervell could hear Valiriel start to say something, but before he could register what she was saying, there was another voice. Someone who seemed to have a lilt of some seductive and coy tone to her, and who sounded far too close to a certain demon for Faervell’s tastes.

“It appears we’ve found our prey.”

Surripio Story Index Here

While they had practically no energy, the others still had something around them. Endless cages hosted broken souls much like themselves. While there was little to have, there was enough to regain some of their strength to enact the plan.

Siphon the prisons dry of their lives and energy, draw it to themselves, and then wait. Wait for a demon to cross the valley that hosted their towers of cages, reach out to it together, and force it to open their confines for them. Run for the cliffs and hide there until they could better form a way out. A portal or something similar that they could escape with.

They would not wait long, both like wild animals, ready to fight their way out of those cages that they’d been kept in. Their moment came when Faervell awoke, noticing no patrol of demons or lingering little tormentors bounding about the valley. He narrowed his eyes, licking at cracked and dry lips uselessly while jumping upon this small chance.

He had not forgotten. He would meet them, he would reach for the promise of the people that were looking for them.

Faervell was quick to reach for the woman that he’d grown so familiar with in their time there. There was a small shake, his hand firmly on her arm as he roused her. His voice, hoarse from the endless screams of pain the demons drew from him, spoke rushedly despite the pain. “Valiriel. Valiriel, wake up.”

It would not take long, considering. Her eyes sprung open and she looked around with fear and the starting signs of panic. There was a weak, fearful noise close to a sob as she pathetically pleaded, “No, no, no.” When he met her gaze, she reached to take hold of his arm in a want for comfort and aid, sitting up from her spot on the floor.

“What? What is it?” Her voice was raw as well, weak from both just rousing and the pain of old screams.

Faervell hardly waited for the question to end, speaking with a hushed rush, “There’s more… There’s more people around us.” He spoke with emphasis on the words, a sign that their moment had come.

Valiriel’s hand left his arm, and she looked around before murmuring, “Are there enough, you think? I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“If extended to some of the cages around us, like we talked about. You remember, yes? Extend equally…. We might…. It might be the best and only chance.” Even so, he kept his voice low, not wanting to give away their plan to anyone that might be near to them, if they were even the slightest bit there.

He saw the determination slowly enter her gaze. “Right, well. If that’s all we’ll get, that’s all we’ll need then.”

“You remember the rest of the plan from there, right?” He would not take his chances with this one. “We get the demon…we run for the clefts to avoid the packs.”

“To the clefts. Find a way out.” She nodded, assuring him that she was still remembering the plan perfectly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Faervell returned the nod. “On three.” He shifted, turning to face the others in their cage, the poor broken souls. Most were covered in soot and blood, just as they were. Some shaking, most trying to rest or get what sparse sleep they could. Each looked dead, losing their hope and just awaiting their death to come at the hands of the demons that had tormented them or the hunger that threatened to overtake them each day.

The man felt some brief pity for them, seeing only a mirrored state of his own withering body and soul. He had been so close. Just as they were, giving in to their fates and wasting away to death. Yet, in the same moment, he lost the pity in terms of his own greed for life. He would not let sympathy stop him from living, and neither would the woman besides him, with whom he’d share the energies equally for their survival.

He gave one last glance to the valley’s entrances, seeing no demons still, and then speaking quietly while he looked back to the cage.

“One…”

Faervell would not give up.

“...Two…”

Faervell would make it away to those that awaited him.

“...Three.”

Faervell would kill anyone or thing necessary to reach that goal.

The unbroken hand reached out, green energies wrapping around his fingertips and slithering outward. It was weak at first, but quick to grab onto the others in the cage. Immediately, he felt the energies drawn, and his body was greedy for them all.

The victims gasped and cried out in pain under the green haze that now filled the cage from both warlocks. Some tried to get away, reaching for the bars and dragging themselves closer to the edges, as if they could escape the spell that stole away their life before them. However, they soon lost their breath, and their skin sunk in while their muscles withered. No cries sounded out any longer, and soon the light left their eyes.

They were dead in the span of seconds.

Faervell felt alive.

The energies were like a jolt, as small as it was. The hunger, thirst, pain…all if it dimmed, even if only a slight bit. It was dizzying for him, nearly causing his stomach to turn out what little he may have had in it. He would not waste the time on such things, though. Instead, he went quickly to Valiriel.

“Get the cage behind you; I am going to get the other side. Make sure they do not see.” The words came in a hiss, his own fear for the demons to hear the sounds of this escape entering his voice.

They both separated, crawling over the corpses of the prisoners till they were at the sides of the cage, facing others in the large towers. Faervell reached through the bars, his broken hand shooting with pain as it braced him. His entire good hand had a stronger line flow from it, leading to the cage over to the side, and quickly that line of deadly magic wrapped around the souls like a snake curling around it’s prey.

The past repeated, life given to the man from the deaths of many others.

He felt stronger, and as the last of the life was drained away, he looked back to Valiriel to see her finished as well.

“Are you…?” What could he say…. Alright? Ready? Better? His eyes lingered on her for a time, but in the end, would be drawn once more around, concerned for the chance that a demon might be upon them now.

Faervell saw the motion of a nod in the corner of his gaze, then then heard her voice raise up, sounding far better than it had just moments ago. “I am capable.”

There was reassurance in his mind before he saw what would be expected. Meandering up the path came a lesser demon. It was no inquisitor, what with its many eyes, but it certainly was not as weak as an imp either. It wandered about, cruelly grinning at the souls in the cage. Surely, it had come to poke and prod and taunt those trapped, as the demons so often too pleasure in doing.

“Will he do, you think?” Faervell whispered to his companion, as if the demon could hear them so well.

Valiriel gave a nod. “If we have to go smaller, we’ll be stuck with imps and I don’t think they’re able to open the cells themselves. This is our chance, Faervell.” She looked to him briefly. “Our one, good chance.”

“Then we shall act quickly. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said simply, slipping away from her side of the cage to his, and stretching her hand outside of the bars. Instead of the haze of green pulling energies to her this time, there was an invisible tether that reached out, taking hold of the demon like a hand that would control a puppet.

Faervell saw the demon freeze mid-stride, its limbs twitching and its features distressed. He wasted no time in placing his hand upon Valiriel’s arm still within the cage, a familiar sensation flowing through him as he linked to her energies and fed into the natural lines that coursed through the both of them. It created a synchronicity, like a thump of a heartbeat that would beat at the same time, each time. It would strengthen her spell, tighten her hold, and allow her that complete control of the demon.

The demon moved, guided to their cage by Valiriels fingers that plucked at the air like pulling on strings. It stared at them both through the bars, eyes glazed over and unfocused. Absent-minded. Under their guidance and control, the demon orchestrated the same movements they had studied day after day to part the bars for them, creating a door where none had been before.

He wanted to run immediately, but he knew if the connection between Valiriel and him broke, then she’d lose the control and it would not end well. No, no. He stayed with her, his hold on her arm tight and the energies still connected.

“We must begin to move. Do not lose your control,” he assured her. He urged her up with his hold on her arm, making sure to rise with her even if his legs where shaky at best. He lead her, not wanting her focus to be on anything other than the demon.

As soon as they were truly out of the cage, he watched as her fingers curled tight, and the demon slamming down face-first into the ground. It was pinned, and uncomfortably so until there was a cracking sound, followed by hissing. Slowly, like lighting a bush on fire, the fel flames erupted from cracks that formed in the demon’s skin and spread quickly to consume the creature. Even so, it did not move. Did not make a sound. Simply burned, laying there.

Faervell waited. Waited till he was certain that the demon was burning for sure and would waste away before he pulled the connection of their energies away, keeping hold of at least a bit of his own strength. Even so, he did not wish for her to fall, quickly bracing her should that happen, or should she choose to run and leave him there.

“We need to get moving -now-.” Already, with his hand on hers, he started to move. His legs were not steady, pained from the lacking exercise and the rare chances to do anything more than crawl across the cages.

They moved quickly, the adrenaline coursing through their veins along with the stolen energies from the lives of others. That forced sacrifice helped them reach the cover of the craggy spaces on the outer edges of the mass of land. It was freezing, but it was away from the sight of passing demons. Even when they were there, they kept moving. Kept going to stray further and further away until they were certain they’d gained at least some time.

Faervell was breathing hard, trying to calm his racing heart, and glancing back the way they came, fearful of a mess of demons chasing after them, coming for them.

Not yet. Not yet, they had time.

He looked to Valiriel, knowing how hard it must have been considering her ribs and the strain it must have had on her own legs. “You are still alright?” He knew, even asking, she would say she was fine.

There was a nod, but no words, her breath coming in small gasps as she tried so dearly to refrain from straining herself.

Another glance was given behind, then Faervell looked the only way that they could go. Sharp rocks, large and small, lined that side. They couldn’t stop there, the fear of both the demons finding the open cage of corpses that spoke of an escape, and the packs of wild imps and hounds that would line their path to freedom. It was terrifying, and Faervell could hear the whispers of doubt that had been filling his ears. The thousand whispers that hadn’t left him since….

Shaking his head, he refrained from thinking further on it, instead intently staring forward. He had let go of Valiriel by then, taking in deeper breaths before he said firmly, “We have to go. We have to keep moving.”

Faervell didn’t know where they would go, or how they’d survive, but they would. He knew they would. He already started to walk, even if it was painful to do so, even if he was scared. He made sure to watch for Valiriel to follow him, actually showing that ounce of care that he’d garnered for the woman that was covered in filth and grime from that horrendous hell hole.

They would escape. He would escape.

Faervell had made a promise after all, and he would not break it.

Surripio Story Index Here

Again he would be tossed into the cages, given what felt like sparse time to fight for scraps of food and small moments of rest.

Again he would be pulled out, put back to the stones. His body and mind were repeatedly torn to shreds, and at such a point, he had truly lost hope for any chance to escape. They were too weak. Too drained. He wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t even walk at this point, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been.

No one came for them. No one ever came. Just the twisted visions that he would catch in the side of his eyes of people he knew that would give a start to his heart. He wanted them so bad to be real, but he distrusted them. He couldn’t let himself anymore. He told himself over and over that they weren’t real. They were just the demon’s tricks.

Endless time had passed, yet finally there seemed a longer pause in their times upon the stones. Despite the coldness that came with the void that threatened to swallow them whole from one side of the cages, he found that rest once more. He didn’t even pray for some semblance of a kind dream, only for rest from the nightmares that haunted him even when he was awake.

The first thing he saw were flames; flames that clung to everything they touched, burnt away flesh and charred his bones. He felt pain, the panic, the fear. He knew it couldn’t be real. He begged for it not to be.

A voice with a thousand whispers spoke directly against his ear, permeating through his thoughts and filling them with new truths.

He heard the ones he loved, the ones he cared for, the ones he hated. All of them. All of them telling him what he had to remember. What he was and what he would do.

Faervell tried to tell them that he would do it, just to ease them away. He wanted them to stop, pleaded with them, told himself anything for comfort’s sake as he sat on a rock in a odd void of broken lands with fel dripping between them.

He hated this, hated it, hated.

The voices called to him, and he covered his ears, trying so hard to block it out. He pleaded with them, trying to tell them to go away, that they were not real.

Something was different though, instead of the voices growing louder like the buzzing of the Inquisitors in his mind, it eased away. One voice stood out, and it was one that did not speak ill of him or his situation. One that was not demanding of him to remember things.

His eyes opened to look to Elleynah. The mender there besides him, looking out to the void. There was sadness in her eyes, yet he awaited that cruel smile that the demons plastered upon their faces so often.

He didn’t trust it; he didn’t want to. Yet, there was something that pulled at him. Something that made him listen to her words- no…her singing.

Humming a tune? No, singing. He heard it clearly as his hands pulled away, trying to place the song, as if it might tell him something. He didn’t know it, it was not one of his memories. Nothing he’d heard before.

Faervell began to wonder. Perhaps this wasn’t a vision- no, perhaps it was real. Was it her, here? He started to feel that hope, then drowned it with his doubts.

No. No, no, no, no. It wasn’t her. No…It wasn’t. It couldn’t be her. She wouldn’t be there. No one was there. Just visions of demons and traitorous whispers. Why did they continue to take those faces, she didn’t deserve it. None of them did.

A swell of emotions came up, and he felt sadness, anger, and disappointment. He quickly stood, getting away from her as he spoke rushedly, “No, no, no, no. Why her…. Why…. Stop, please stop.”

He wanted them to heed his pleas so bad.

Elleynah’s eyes turned back to him, standing from the edge of the rock as well. She looked confused, her hands raising as she spoke up in an oddly soothing voice. One that did not fill him with the fear that the thousand whispers did. “Faervell….” She had started to approach him.

He shook his head. Taking rapid steps away from her to keep the distance, shouting, “Stay back, demon! Stay back. You’re not real.”

No. No. No. It wasn’t real. No. No. No.

She didn’t move any closer, just as he had demanded, but instead of continuing to speak to him, she continued to sing that odd tune. It was something about a ship, sailing. He never heard it, but it…relaxed him. She didn’t feel threatening, and he must have began to show that he was easing back.

After a while, she started to speak once more. “I think we’re really here, Faervell. I think we’ve connected and we’re here together.”

Faervell heard her speak more, but he couldn’t seem to focus on them. He seemed to get a general understanding of it. She believed it was real, and he could feel the honesty in her words. It wasn’t like a vision- cold and merely mimicking it. She was who she said she was, and while he did not want to foolish believe so easily, there was that small flicker of hope again.

He took in a breath, watching her closely as he spoke up, “...Elleynah?”

She offered him a smile. Not one that was too large and spoke of ill intent. No, it was a real smile. An honest smile. One he could trust, and had before. “Faervell, it’s me. I think…I think this is real. I’m really here.” Slowly, the woman offered out her hand, a gesture for him to take if he wanted to see if she was real.

There was a trembling breath he took in, his heart starting to pick up. “Elleynah…” There was both sadness and relief filling his voice. He really believed it was her. It had to be.

He wanted to believe, and he would. Reaching out slowly, pausing only once, he would take hold of her hand.

It was abrupt, but each moment flashed before his eyes once again. From the moment Shahrissa was summoned to the present. All the pain and torment. The flames and visions. It was all there, the sudden feeling of pain and fear causing his head to spin and he felt her hand leave his own, pulling away.

The world around them began to turn. There was thunderous crashes in the distant, and it seemed that the large floating chunks of the shattered world started to grow closer to one another in a terrifying way. Faervell stared at her, not wanting this to end. No, no…not after he’d just come in contact with her. “Elleynah,” he spoke her name in a pleading tone, not wanting her to leave.

Sensing some urgency, Elleynah had turned to him. Immediately, her voice spoke with neediness, “Where are you? What happened? Please, tell me, we’ll look for you. We’re coming for you. Esme’s looking for you.”

Faervell shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening, his other moving to take hold of her arm, drawing closer to her. As if that would ground him, perhaps even bring him with her. “Elleynah…Elleynah, it’s really you.” His voice grew choked, “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me here.” He was so scared…scared she really would leave him.

“Faervell…where are you?” She tried to calm him down. “I can’t stay here for long, I’m already being pulled away. Please, tell me where you are. Tell me what you can, quickly.”

He struggled with the panic, the thought of this moment being pulled away. This small fragment of hope that was literally slipping through his hands.

He gripped tighter, holding onto her while tears started to spring to his eyes, “No, no, no…. Please don’t leave me. Please. Please, please please.”

She looked saddened, her image warping around the tears started to come from him. “Elleynah….” He spoke in that broken voice, begging her and trying to cause her to linger.

Her touch was gentle, a harsh comparison from the sharpness of claws and rough ground that had so often touched there now. She placed her hands on each side of his face, holding him there, steady. “Faervell…please…you have to tell me. I can’t stay here. I need to know anything. I’m sorry.”

He had to try and hold it back, had to try and say something to help her. To help them find him here in this hell. He took in a breath, heavy with the weight of fear and sadness at the unchanging fact she would have to leave. “Daz…Daznook. It’s Daznook. It’s in Daznook.”

“Daznook. Okay. Okay, Faervell. Listen, I’ll tell them, okay?” She tried to reassure him, and he knew it wasn’t working. There was a shake throughout his body that was echoed by the crashing of rocks growing near to them.

Everything was closing in, this small moment being crushed under the reality of their situations.

Faervell tried not to let the tears blind him, to breathe between the small sobs. He was scared and broken, and only wanted some small remedy for the time. One little thread of some comfort. Elleynah offered that. She was there. This was real.

He clung to her like a child, small pleads leaving his lips. He lowered his head, pressing against hers even though he could already see her leaving…everything feeling less real and more like empty air. He clung, and he said all he wanted. Told her to stay, told her to tell the others where he was, told her to tell Esme. He missed them, he wanted out of this.

He begged her. He pleaded with her.

Elleynah could not do much else but look at him with that sad expression, filled with apologies that she didn’t say, and just the whisper of her voice trying to reassure him. There was life in her eyes, sparkling in a manner that made her seem surreal, but he wouldn’t believe her to be anything but the Elleynah he knew. His friend who was here with him. Someone he needed.

He heard his name again, another whisper of an apology, and his hands could no longer contain her. Like smoke through his hands, the wisp of a woman was gone, and all that was left was empty air and the large rock crashing together around him.

Faervell stopped trying to keep his eyes open. He was too upset. He felt no shame in falling to his knees, his voice calling out for someone to find him as he felt that pain of hopelessness and reality settle back in. His world shook, his mind reeled. Heat filled every bone to a painful extent, but even so, he did not look up. He burned the images to his mind, clinging to the image of his friend who had come to him in their dreams.

He would burn the memory of the dream into his mind. He swore, of all things, he would not forget her promises to him. That she would tell them. That they would find him. He need only to try and help them more. He had to. He needed to. They would not be damned to this place.

Faervell clung to this last fragment of hope, and he would sooner die than let it go.

Surripio Story Index Here

Eventually, the endless time on the stone would end. He didn’t know where he would go, but at this point, he didn’t care. He wanted anywhere other than the damned stone. The rough ground made him tense, and he wished that his legs would work so that he might walk behind the cursed creature that found dragging the prisoners was the best form of transport. Eventually, though, it would end with the rough grab.

Faervell and multiple others were tossed carelessly into a cold cage, landing atop one another and causing some to dig into injuries. One unlucky man even lost his life with a sharp crack. A bad landing indeed. The felmancer was quick to pull himself away, quick to tuck himself against the bars of the cage, keeping from shivering as his raw back touched against the metal.

Before he realized, there was an odd vibration to the bars and he immediately lifted his head. He thought, briefly, that it was the demon coming back to him. As if perhaps it had made a mistake and wanted him back. The fear welled up in him until he heard the familiar voice.

“You’re alive.”

He turned his face abruptly to look at the woman, her messy appearance a welcome sight. Immediately, there was some form of relief that she was there. He was glad, at least for that, if not a bit cautious. He tried to wet his cracked and broken lips, finding no relief to his predicament before he spoke in a voice scratched raw from screaming and pleading. “You’re here?”

She gave only a nod in reply at first before catching herself and responding proper. “Unfortunately. I’d take being cold over being crammed in an overstuffed cage though, if forced to pick. So…that’s something, at least.”

Faervell stayed curled up in his own manner as well, nursing the new wounds and staring at her with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure if she really was who he believed, the more he sat here. Doubt couldn’t help but creep up. The visions that plagued him, the way the demons plucked at his thoughts. Was it simply a memory that he was seeing? Was this just a demon’s work?

He took in short breaths, swallowing down the panic that was rising, then asked, "How long? Do you know how long we've been here?"

Valiriel looked outside the cage briefly then to him with a frown. “I have no idea. It feels like an eternity has gone by.” She took a deep breath. He could hear the rattle that sounded from deep within her chest that fell silent as she returned to soft breaths. “Are you going to be okay?”

He needed to know. He needed to make sure that this wasn’t just some vision or madness that had creeped into his mind.

Immediately, his good hand reached out and took hold of the side of her head. He pressed his mind to hers, turning around the swirling thoughts and looking from a simple point. He was viewing her thoughts and feelings, and all he saw was the mirroring of his own mind. Swirling feelings of torment and fear that guided her mistrust. Her fear was suffocating, and he nearly drew back at that alone.

He didn’t have to draw back, because he felt her fingers grasping desperately at his hand, the nails digging into his skin as she pried him away from her. He snapped back to reality, seeing the same wide and wild eyes that he gave to her. At first, he saw the movement of her hand and prepared to be hit. Instead, she simply kept it there, a small simple gesture to ‘stop’ before she spoke, “Do not.”

Faervell  swallowed down, then spoke quietly, “I thought you were one.” She’d surely understand that.

Valiriel understood, certainly, and she showed it with a short nod in reply. Her gaze stuck to him, mildly cautious as she sat straight once more. The wild look in her eyes had weakened and she regarded him then only with an expression of vague unsettlement. "What did they do to you?"

He tucked himself in a manner that seemed closed off more than anything, frowning more and shaking his head a bit. "They...."

He couldn't even seem to form the words. What could you say to it? The words of having your mind prodded and poked like some kind of insect of curiosity. The searing pain when you failed to give answers, or worse yet fought against their attempts to read through your mind. Being left for fel hounds to nip at you or imps with the intent only to mock and cause you to writhe on stones that made everything feel like death?

She'd understand...surely….Did he have to tell her? He just looked at her with that pain in his eyes.

"Best left unsaid, then,” she said with a certain tone that registered to him as her understanding.

He waited a moment, then said harshly, suddenly frantic, "We have to get out. We have to escape."

Valiriel gave pause and looked back at him, that soft rattle sounding in her chest again as she drew a slightly deeper breath. "That much is obvious,” she returned. "The question is how."

His brows came together, “We can try and control one of the demons...one of the lesser ones that do not need as much to dominate.” Such could work if they pooled their magics properly.

She gave a frown. "Worth a try." She eyed a few distant demons from the corner of her vision. "It won't last for long. Perhaps enough to open the door. But if we're quick and build enough cover, that might be all we'll need anyway."

Faervell followed her gaze, then let out a breath. "Perhaps…. But gods, they have drained me…. They have.... Have they to you as well?" He looked to her, a little less hope in his eyes. How could they control a demon in a broken state, after all?

Valiriel clenched her jaw and furrowed her brow. "They did." She gave a short nod. "They keep us starved and thirsty. Even with all the time in the world, we'd never have the means to pick ourselves back up. Not like this…."

He let out a longer breath, the exhaustion of those first few days heavy on him. He was tired, and this talk of their hopeless conditions made him all the more weary. He closed his eyes for a brief few moments, then shook his head.

Faervell hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep, nor how long it had been before Valiriel was shaking him again. Seemingly, it had not been for long as she tried to ask him something of how to get out. How to recuperate their lost energy. What should he have told her, honestly? “Find food and water to steal away. Sleep…. Perhaps siphon energies.” That was something he know he could do…something that might help.

He was so tired then, his eyes falling so easily, and his body heavy and weak to push against it. His thoughts strayed for a moment, a silent appreciation for the fates that brought him back with that woman in that hell with him. While he would far rather be anywhere but there, he was at least thankful for her presence. It was an odd sort of comfort, a fleeting moment in the endless time in that hell.

He heard her speak again, felt her hand against him again as if to rouse him, but he could not will himself to wake once more.

Darkness.

A relieving dreamless sleep.

Surripio Story Index Here

The warmth of familiarity and comfort overwhelmed him, and he turned to look to the side where the voice came from. His sister stood there at one side of his chair, her hand curled around the top of the wooden frame. He could tell she’d come from relaxing, perhaps even sleeping. Her long hair was undone, spilling over one shoulder and down her comfortable robes. She seemed concerned, her head tilted to the side. When had she gotten there? How had he not heard her?

A smile graced his features none the less, his immediate want to ease her of her worries. After all, it wasn’t right to see her upset. He hated that so much.

“Ciara…” He leaned back, then turned in his chair to face her properly. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me, it is you…. You were scared. What was happening?” she easily offered back.

At first, Faervell couldn’t come up with a good response, still hazy from his abrupt awakening. His smile lessened a bit, and then he hesitantly said, “I was…having a bad dream. I suppose with all that is happening, they are on my mind far too much. I’m sorry for waking you up, if I had. Perhaps it’s from all the work I’ve been doing.” There was a lilt of humor in his tone.

She raised her hand and brushed it along his jaw, the touch gentle and relaxing to him. There was some feeling of sadness in the motion that he felt, some distance that just didn’t feel right. Even still, she didn’t seem phased by it. “And here I thought you were better than that, Faervell. You should focus on your work more than you should be dreaming, you know.”

There was a twitch of her expression, her thumb brushing against his cheek in some form of comfort. He felt disappointment, and his smile slowly slipped again, leaning into her touch as if that would gain him forgiveness from it. “You sound like Esme when you say that, sister.” There was a small smirk that died quickly on his lips….

Esme….

She quickly went on, “It is simply to assure that you do not make the same mistakes. You so often do, you know.” Her hand slipped, pinching at his chin and raising his head up a bit to assure that he was meeting her gaze. “And we don’t want any more mistakes, now do we, my dear brother?”

His brows twitched, his annoyance covering the hurt that he felt from her brutal honesty. “I am not going to make another mistake. I’ve learned-”

She cut him off, pressing her finger to his lips to silence him. “Ah! But you have, haven’t you. Why else would you be in this position? Worrying everyone around you like you are. You know why it is….”

Faervell watched his sister, his mind wandering over all that she could be speaking of. He looked aside, then spoke quietly, “I’ve learned from them.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I have.” “No, you haven’t.”

He grew a touch angry then, snapping back to her, “I have learned from it, Ciaragan.” He hadn’t meant to, and immediately, he realized his mistake.

There was hurt in her expression that changed to annoyance. “Do not yell at me for you incompetence, brother. You’re not strong enough. I’ve told you enough times.”

The words sunk into his mind. They echoed in a manner that was like a myriad of memories running through his mind.

He closed his eyes, then let out a sigh, “I am -trying-, Ciara. I am sorry, but I am. I’ve just... “ He took in a breath, “I have been so busy…. There are other things on my mind…. Esme has been-”

There was a stir in the air, a shiver.

...Esme….

“Is that why you’ve been failing me, Faervell?”

Faervell opened his eyes again, only to find that his sister was slithering in her motions to stand at the back of his chair, where he would have difficulty seeing her.

“You know, I care a lot about you; you never appreciate that. I do so much for you, yet here you are, repeating the same mistakes over and over and over again. It’s no wonder…” she trailed off, a more malicious tone to her voice.

He narrowed his eyes, unfocused upon his sister and instead looking across to the bookshelves. “I know, Ciaragan.”

“‘I know Ciaragan’,” she echoed his words in a mocking manner. “But you don’t, now do you. It’s such a shame…. I waited so long.”

He was confused then, an uneasy feeling filling him. Abruptly, he turned, finding Ciaragan’s face leaning down to meet his own. Their noses had nearly brushed against one another, and the suddenness of her being before him caused his heart to jump. “Ciar…a…” he tried to speak.

She looked upset. “I suppose then, for that, I’ll just have to return the favor for the disappointment, Faervell.” Her eyes widened in a manner that gave her a crazed look, her smile cracking wider than normal.

Demon.

It was not his sister. It was not her.

He moved to get away, kicking out of the chair and falling down. He didn’t care of the brief pain it caused, he only cared for the chance to scoot away from her, his hands dragging him back.

The twisted reflection that was Ciaragan stepped over the fallen chair, following after him. “What’s wrong, dear brother, are you -scared-? You asked for this, didn’t you?”

He felt hands pull around his shoulders, the presence of something beside his ear, the whisper of her words right next to him, despite her being there before him and not to his side. “Just another mistake to add to the list. Just another disappointment.”

There was a sudden jolt as he pulled fel fire to him, slapping back to toss away the demon who took on his sister’s features. “Get away from me, damn you!”

Faervell found his footing, quickly standing up and running to the door of his study. He set a spell down, shoddy and quick, but enough to hinder the demon’s approach. He shook his head, as if that might clear his thoughts.

Panic filled him and he looked around. The resounding thought of the one that mattered there coming forward. His sister was safe, he knew that much…but Esme….

…Esme.

He needed to find her.

Faervell wouldn’t waste time, turning and calling out through the main hall, “Esme! Esme, where are you?!” His fear tinged his voice, and already, from the direction of his study, he heard the echos…the whispers of his name. Taunting him, calling to him.

It seemed like such a short distance to cross to bring him back to the bedroom doors, opening them abruptly and then closing them right after. He quickly sent forth another spell…another block to keep him safe. To keep -them- safe.

“Esme, there’s a-”

“There is a what, Faervell?” She sounded annoyed already. “What did you do?”

He turned to look at her, resting on the bed and surrounded by her work. With all that was happening and all that he saw of the rest of the house starting to catch fire, to see her safe there at least relieved him. Even so, he hesitated….

“You are not a demon, correct? Be honest with me, Esme. You are not a demon, right?” Even though he had the overwhelming sense that it was really her, something made him ask.

Her nose scrunched up and she shifted to straighten her back. “No, I am not- Faervell, what is going on? What have you done?”

He didn’t care if she would complain then. He moved over to take hold of her, to hug her close. “Oh, thank the gods you’re alright.”

Faervell heard a whisper of a thought, something in the back of his mind that seemed to wonder why it was he felt so compelled to hold her. Why was he so scared for her safety?

“Faervell…” Her voice softened its sharp edge, and after a long moment, she wrapped her own arms around him, pulling herself up in his hold. In that moment, the room seemed to sink away, just as the worries did for it all.

That comfort lasted. Holding her close to him, the feeling of her slow breathing and relaxed body against his own. Faervell was upset, for some reason. Scared that the feeling would rush away and leave him again. He didn’t want to leave her, he only wanted to hold her close.

“Faervell…”

He heard her once more, felt her raise her head to look up to him.

“Faervell, you are such a fool. It is a wonder that you have not died.”

The man looked down then, seeing the woman he loved in a different light.

Demon.

Not her too.

“No. No!” He pushed her away hard, stumbling back into an endless void. Their home was long gone, leaving just him and this...demon.

“Ohhh…you poor thing.” She spoke in that same mocking tone as his sister had, smoothly walking in a way to trail around him in a large, predatory circle. “Did you think yourself able to escape? Oh, I do so -love- playing that game. Watching how you run like a pest, around and away from what you perceive as bad.”

There was a laugh from her, not like usual, but instead echoing around him, weaving back to his ears repeatedly in a thousand variations. He hated it, wanted to cover his ears from it. Though, a part of him knew that it was useless. This was a place he couldn’t escape from. This endless darkness that trapped him.

His breathing was rapid, his heart threatening to tear out of his chest as he looked for a way to escape this…to fight back…yet he couldn’t.

“Do you still not know, Faervell? Have you not realized?” Esme’s reflection turned her head, mocking an expression of surprise. “What a shame. Here I thought you would remember an old friend. After all, you have spent plenty of nights thinking of me, haven’t you?” She laughed again, going behind his vision. “Do you need a reminder?”

“I…I…. This isn’t real.” He swallowed down, closing his eyes. “This isn’t real, and I know it is not. I know this is not real and that I cannot-”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a flash of light, fire bounding up around him in the vast darkness, as if they were sitting in oil itself. It was sticky, falling onto him with hot embers and covering his skin. He had thought it a dream, thought it would go away had he focused.

This was no dream.

He screamed out as the flames bit into his flesh, consuming him and digging into his bones. He curled to one side, trying to rub off the flames or hide from the ones that licked at him from either side. There was a sickening twist in his stomach; he knew this feeling all too well.

He knew these flames. He knew this demon.

A whisper left his lips, the name he knew too well, “Batuqisuhr.”

“Ahhh, there we have it. Now someone remembers.”

Fear seemed to consume him then, his body shaking as he tried to call out, “Ciara-...Ciaragan. P…Please.” As if he were a child once more, he clung to the only person he knew might save him. The only person who could actually fight off the demon for him. Someone he relied on so heavily….

“If only you actually listened to me,” came her voice above him, causing him to look up.

Faervell saw his sister only for a flash of a moment before he was roughly kicked out of the flames, the motion tossing him far into the darkness once more. He could not see the demon any longer and he was quivering.

“Look at you. Pathetic as it is. You call out to her, but you know she cannot hear you.” It stole her voice. It stole her appearance.

It stole his memories and thoughts.

It controlled him completely and left him helpless and alone.

Alone.

He was here alone.

No one would save him.

“Ciaragan- I…. She-...she can…she can hear.” His voice was but a whimper, no longer able to appear even the slightest bit strong, his lips quivering.

“Ohh…you think she can, do you? Do you really think she wants to listen to you?”

He felt her hand brush across his shoulder, causing him to turn abruptly, but by the time he looked over, she had disappeared into darkness. “Always complaining and being a burden to her. You know that much. You should’ve given up when she offered you help. Perhaps you could’ve been something worthwhile if you gave up this craft. Stopped fooling yourself.”

The memory of arguments past filled his mind, the hurt of the both of them swelling up into his chest and causing tears to rise to his eyes. Times when he strayed from her choice, tried to convince her otherwise, turned down her wants only to…help…himself?

“You only know how to hurt people with your foolish behavior. Puffing out your chest and seeming better than you are. That you would actually have the intellect enough to choose wisely for yourself.” Her voice came in a whisper to one ear, but this time, he did not turn.

Faervell’s attentions were set instead on the memories of his sister’s pained face, the tears she shed, and the emptiness that was left when he walked away. When he denied her. When he gave up on her and left.

His actions caused that.

“And now there’s this one….” Suddenly, Esme was crouching next to him, her bright hair falling over her shoulders as she looked at him with narrowed eyes, but lips that curled into that unnatural grin. “You care so much about this one now…don’t you. I wonder how long it will take before you get her killed.”

Faervell grit his teeth, then lashed out with a wave of fel flame. He thought he’d hit true, but her hand had caught his. She was stronger- the demon was stronger- and soon enough, she was above him. In some twisted reflection of how the pair so often found themselves in more intimate moments, she held down his wrists, heat sinking out of her palms.

“Do not think yourself strong, Faervell Bael’nar. You are weak. You are a mistake,” she hissed at him. “You cannot live that down, but oh…oh, you can get better than you are now. And that is what you will do, Faervell.”

He struggled, but found that he could look nowhere other than up at her. His tears rose up again, a tug given to his wrists as if that would free him. “Stop this. Stop this.”

“Oh, shh, shh, shh….” She leaned down, somehow keeping his arms pinned while cuddling in closer. He wanted to leave, struggled to escape, pushed the thoughts away, tried to close his eyes, yet could only watch as her face came closer.

Just as so often he recalled the gentle teasing of her lips against his, he now felt it again. The whisper of her voice mixed with the others that sent shivers down his spine. “You said it yourself…did you not, Faervell? Said that you are stronger than this? And, oh, I would be so disappointed if you were lying to me, -darling-,” the woman said in that mocking tone.

It was too familiar. He hated this. He wanted to be gone.

“But you are here…I am here....” She grinned widely, then leaned to his ear. Her voice shifted away and in its place was that of the thousands of whispered voices, stolen from other victims to this demons attentions. “...and you are alone, Faervell Bael’Nar.”

His eyes widened past the bright orange locks that threatened to overtake him. There was a sudden, searing pain coming from his neck. He screamed, feeling the heat of fel flames that burned away at his skin…caused it to bubble and burst. It seared his hair away, consumed him, despite how he tried to thrash and cease it.

This was his punishment and he knew it.

This was for his shortcomings. For his failures.

For his mistakes.

More pain ripped through him as she moved off of him, now leaving fel flames in her place. He couldn’t move, no. He wasn’t allowed to move.

It hurt….

…It hurt.

This was his fault.

His mistake.

The pain lasted an eternity, never ceasing or diminishing. He never seemed to burn completely; his skin moved to cover the spots that had been eaten away, only to have the process endlessly repeat itself. His screams fell into a deafening void where none would hear him.

The only other person- thing- there was that which caused such pain.

His tormenter continued to stalk around him, seen in flashes as it took on different shapes. Different memories. It mocked him repeatedly, driving the idea that he was weak. That he needed to do better, or else he would be left there.

Left burning.

Left alone.

He cried to be released, begged for the demon to simply kill him for all he cared.

Yet it wouldn’t. It continued its path, observing its prey.

The flames consumed him over and over.

And over.

And over.

And over again.

Faervell never once was offered relief, the whispers that filled his head driving him to madness itself. He did not call out for anyone. He knew better. No one would hear him. They were not there. He could not burden them with his woes…with something he deserved in the first place. He would not forget this, he swore. He would know better. He would learn.

The thoughts sunk in deep, filling him with despair

Only once his entire being understood that did the flames finally consumed him wholly and the brightness blind him. His eyes closed only to open once more.

Faervell’s throat burned. His body was shaking with the immense pain at his back. He realized he was screaming, crying out even though his voice was hoarse. He could still see what he’d seen before this all. He saw the three pairs of eyes under the hood between the long fingers. The wide grin that twisted the bones of the demon’s features.

Whispers swarmed his ears, constantly there, like gnats in his very mind.

“Do not forget, Faervell Bael’nar.”

With the last clear words, his head was slammed back against the stone. Like a child discarding a toy, the demon released Faervell completely before turning and going on its way.

Faervell shook, even though it caused the runes to activate again, and then whimpered weakly.

“I won’t forget. I won’t forget. I won’t forget.”

He wouldn’t forget.

Surripio Story Index Here 

No. He would live. He wouldn’t allow himself to die to such a thing; he was stronger than this.

He scrambled to try and get up from the ground but ended up stumbling over himself and falling to his hands and knees, a sharp feeling of pain from his left hand. He’d barely registered the hot irons that had formed over his neck, wrists, and ankles. Nor had he realized that already, the chains had lifted to be held by the demon whom had pulled him out of the cage in the first place.

Faervell’s lack of awareness would cost him, as the chains grew taut and lunged him forward until he was laying flat on the ground. His arms were pulled above his head as he was dragged across the sharp stones and dark ash that seemed to cling to everything. He grit his teeth, struggling to draw his knees up to perhaps get a moment to find his way back to his feet and off of that unforgiving ground. Alas, it was not to be, as other prisoners would fall into him, making it all the more difficult to move with everything else happening. The most he was able to do was turn himself over, saving his face and chest from the rough ground while his skin was already raw from the mere moments.

He was breathing heavier, managing to watch as the first stone was approached. His eyes trailed over the dark surface and the runes, trying to quickly understand what it was that was etched there. He managed to pull a few of the runes out, things of destruction and lingering pain, that much he was certain. After all, he’d spent countless hours creating curses and spells that included those same things.

In his intense attention to the stone, he nearly missed as his chains went lax. As though they’d disappeared completely. He blinked, looking up just as the intense pressure surrounded him, lifting his form in an unforgiving way that stole his breath and made him feel as though it would crush him right then and there.

The rawness of his back made the next motion all the worse. The comfortable and thin shirt he’d worn was already starting to tear just from the move from the cage to where he was presently, leaving bare skin to press against blazing hot runes. It was the shooting pain that made him cry out in surprise more than anything.

Faervell did not resist the chains’ pull of his arms and feet. He couldn’t fight against it, even if he had the thought to with all else that was happening.

The demon was upon him already, long claws painfully digging into his cheeks and lifting his head upwards. The rush of sounds that drowned his thoughts were overwhelming, and then he saw it. Saw all of it.

Each moment of his life seemed to flash by at a speed that he thought impossible. Every secret, every private moment, every pain and happiness. He hadn’t expected it and was forced to watch all of his memories once more, leading to that very point in time.

He couldn’t think with all the sound, every attempt  to focus scrambled as the sounds seemed to grow louder. Still he tried. So hard, he tried to overwhelm the demon’s prodding, to push it away from his mind to save himself.

The noise stopped and he felt a sickening slide of the sharp claws slipping out of his skin. It was only then that he could register all that had occurred. The burning pain at the activation of the runes on the stone and the shaking of his entire body. His eyes dropped to the ground and his breathing heavy as he tried to steady himself again.

The demon’s rattling voice, like a wasp’s wings, spoke up. “You will give what you know.”

He knew damn well enough what it wanted, and he knew what would happen if he simply gave up there. It would be so easy to spill things such as military strategy and the defenses that he commonly saw and knew. Ways to find them, to sense them, to break them. All his interests in the past and present still.

Despite the pain in the runes behind his back that felt as if a dozen embers had been dumped upon his skin, he looked up to the inquisitor and its floating eyes. With a grit of his teeth, he gave what he knew for certain…

“Fuck you.”

It seemed the creature didn’t care to argue with him, lashing out with a green tether that wrapped around Faervell and caused more suffering than even that of the stone at his back. It would be his punishment each time, he knew that much.

Yet he wouldn’t give up. He was stronger than the damned demon.

Endless hours passed.

Faervell didn’t try to understand how long he’d been there anymore. He just knew it had been a span of time that felt like an eternity for each second. It was a terrifying concept to be so disconnected from the time that passed and how long he’d truly spent there.

His arms were sore and his wrists and ankles were raw from the heated bindings that still kept hold of him against that accursed rock.

That place.

He hated it so very much. Each subtle motion continued to send a fresh wash of pain over and through him, causing his breathing to struggle again. Even so, in some sick way, he’d gotten accustomed to it…prefered it, even, in comparison to the demon’s actions when they would come.

Hours.

He’d resisted for hours against the Inquisitor, finding ways to twist his mind and to push back, despite the overwhelming sounds that were the constant threat to his wall of defense. He rarely allowed the demon to prod back through his mind as it had the first time. He had quickly learned and, in turn, pushed back.

Each question given, he simply cursed the demon. Mocked it. Tried to be anything but an easy target to harvest information from.

And he had been punished for it.

Bruises lined his throat. Multiple punctures that had been widened from his struggling now lined his cheeks, even above the shaggy beard that had lost its clean appearance long before. More burns interwove with his already twisted skin, searing and further ruining him.

The demon’s attentions were painful, yet even it had given up after a time and left him on the stone to hang just low enough for passing felhounds to nip at his heels. Perhaps that was the worst. To be left alone- completely. To be left hanging from that punishing block, only hearing screams of pain or wails from those who died around the area.

His only indication of time passing was when the imps would come back, forcing sustenance of some kind into his mouth to keep him alive, if only barely. They mocked him, clawing and clinging to him in manners that forced him to move against those damned runes again.

It was painful.

It was humiliating.

Faervell hated it.

Hated it. Hated it. Hated it.

Each painful shift or claw of an imp upon him or sharp bite of a felhound only fueled him further. His anger pushed him to continue resisting, his thoughts lingered only on how he would find ways out of this. He had to think, had to find some way. He wouldn’t die there… he didn’t dare to allow himself that thought again.

Not here, not now.

Time passed, and eventually the horrendous sight of the demon approaching made itself known. Something was off though, no eyes following it this time. It caused slight concern for him, knowing well enough that such things never meant anything good. Or perhaps it was merely his mind playing tricks upon him. Already, despite how sore and tired he now was, he steeled himself once more for the sharp claws and the searing tethers that the demon would once more use against him.

Faervell’s defiant gaze did not leave the demon. He took in deeper breaths in a near animalistic manner, further preparing himself to curse the Inquisitor once more while fending off its prods into his mind. But this was different…

… Something was wrong…

There was a shift in its jaws, something unnatural to its motions as its hand spread in front of Faervell’s face. Something in the motion caused him to feel vertigo, threatening to upturn the sparse meal that had been fed to him by the imps. There was a gnawing feeling at the back of his mind as something oddly familiar sent a shiver down his spine.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t the same demon. Even so, he knew it. He knew that feeling.

Once again, the distraction of his thoughts caused him to be open to the attacks, and abruptly his entire head was grabbed by the hand. Long fingers wrapped completely around him, as if threatening to crush both his head and his mind.

Burning.

It burnt so bad that it caused tears to rise to his eyes without want. He could see through the gaps of its fingers, and there was something so wrong with it…a shift of its features, a turn of its boney smile that allowed one to see beneath the hood…beneath, where there were three pairs of eyes, bright with corruption and staring right at him.

Everything fell silent around him. His eyes widened.

No longer did he feel the burning sensations or the sores that he’d grown so used to from endless hours on the stone.

All he felt was a chill. A coldness that sank deep into his soul and mind. A coldness that shattered his defenses, and left him completely at the whims of the demon before him.

There was a tightening of its fingers around his head, furthering the grip on his mind. He felt sick with the fear, the taste of it on his tongue while the voices reached his ear. The unnaturally soft whispers of a thousand voices that sank deep to his mind.

“Faervell Bael’nar.”

Optimism kept her barely afloat even as the chains and shackles bound to her yanked her at her harshly and threatened to topple her seconds after rising to her feet. She looked to the others that were in the demon’s hand and saw that chains had been created just like her own, linking them to the demon like leashes to a master.

There was another brief word, one she thought had been, ‘moving along’, and she was shoved to her feet instead of being held. She had all of five seconds before the chains grew taut and she was dragged like the rest. The pace set was too much for her, far too wide of steps to follow with her own. After a short distance the ground slipped from beneath her once more. She was dragged, her skin quickly turning from irritated to raw to scratched and bleeding helpless to the environment’s harsh conditions. The other prisoners certainly made it all the harder to find herself upright again, feet constantly nearly trampling her while she tried to hold the chains connecting to her wrists so that she did not find them separating and dislocating.

It was a cruel way to deliver the prisoners, but it worked for demons such as these.

For what seemed like an eternity and a half, she and the others were dragged upwards, then down again…and then they stopped. One chain was pulled and delivered to an awaiting demon; one in a long robe that brushed nearly to the ground. Its legs were unseen, if it even had any, and around it were a multitude of eyes. There had been others like that one, and it was clear that was whom she would be delivered to…eventually.

The first of the poor souls that had been handed off found themselves quickly lifted, the chains shifting and disconnecting from the cruel creature that dragged them here. Before they could find relief in such, they were slammed into a rock formation nearby that was coated in blood and demonic runes. They emitted a sound of pain from the movement, but it was far from over.

The chains began to shift and move around the poor soul, but the demon dragged the rest of the group along already. They were on their way once more.

Valiriel spared a glance back and saw the chains had tightened to each side, pulling the individual’s limbs wide and spread, squeezing them back against the stone behind them and leaving them defenseless.

Such was to await her.

The process continued, pleads and whimpers made by some, while others simply remained resigned to their fate in the end. Screams from ones such as those were hoarse from having gone through this process multiple times already.

And then it came down to two: Valiriel and a human with a broken nose. She clung to the hope that she was not next, that perhaps this human would be tossed up and she would not have to go, but such a wish was futile. The next demon awaited, a cruel grin almost seen across its twisted visage as it watched its victim pulled forward aggressively, the chain already dispersing from her restraints.

Valiriel did not have time to catch her footing. She was tossed up from the ground and back onto it again with the harshness of the first tug, left there before the next demon.

Only a moment’s pause was given for her and the process that she had witnessed multiple times now happened to her. An intense pressure surrounded her and she was lifted as if she were being grabbed by some great, invisible hand that threatened to crush the life out of her. Before she realized it, she was tossed back to the stone.

She had always once prided herself on her ability to withstand certain pains and abuse, whether it was an accurate belief or not was beside the point though, because this...this was unlike what she had ever experienced. The searing heat from the stone bit against her back, her lungs struggling to expand and fall when she was thrust and pulled against it. It was as if a thousand embers bit at her completely.

Her chains moved as they had the others, leaving her throat and drawing her legs and hands apart. Every movement that was causing her to be pressed against the stone left her with that biting pain again, and and again, and again…and when she stopped moving, it only turned into a dull throbbing sensation.

The runes reacted to movements, and she had just enough room in her bindings that she could move just a bit. But even the smallest shift caused that horrendous agony to shoot wherever her skin touched the stone.

And then there was the demon before her, and only the demon. Its floating eyes of fel stared down at her from a multitude of angles, the pressure of their gaze alone enough to suffocate her. The demon grew closer until it was looming over her on the stone. In the blink of an eye, the claws of the creature came out, so calculated in where they grabbed her jaw, the sharp points digging into her flesh to cause small punctures.

Pride. Pride. Pride.

It always got the best of her and at that moment it was biting into the inside of her cheek, willing every ounce of her being to swallow the screams and wails bubbling in her throat. Once, in her youth, when she lay shattered and agonizing on the garden floor her nurses and attendants had told her to cry and that it would make things hurt less. She could hear their voices buzzing in her head, little snap shots of the women cooing and fawning over her, the broken little mistress of the house. And then it was gone, fluttering away while demonic claws bit into her cheeks and the roar of blood in her ears nearly deafened her.

She should have pulled away – she wanted nothing more – but the cuts would only grow worse, widen, hurt more, and cause the runes behind to react. She knew it well enough.

A strange buzz of a spell vibrated through the claws and directly into her mind. While there was no sound in her ears, there was that in her head. It was like a thousand cicadas deafeningly singing their song, causing her thoughts to scatter completely.

Whatever the demon was subjecting her to caused her memories to flit by like a rolodex, moving from one to the next like a vague game of word association. It felt so intrusive, so terrible like she could feel the creature groping at her mind first hand. But writhing and struggling, when left for too long, caused her such an immense pain. It didn't feel all that much better when she stopped but it was just enough of a dull throb for her to breathe, to not feel her diaphragm seize up.

She felt the prodding sensation, but her focus would be ruined. Nothing could stop the damned creature. She was forced to simply stay there as her mind was being prodded. Her memories flipped by like silent movies, nothing more in her ears or head aside from the horrific chattering of the spell.

And then it subsided; the cicadas fell silent.

In the place of buzzing, all she heard was screaming, hoarse and desperate, sustained but quivering. Pain seared hot in her throat and it was only then that she realized the screams were her own.

They were wrong.

She realized this for second time in her life as bitter tears poured down her cheeks.

Crying didn't help the pain at all.

The demon had retracted its long fingers – if you could even call them such – from her head and her mind. There was a 'pleased' hissing sound from its open jaws, and the eyes that floated about grew closed, as if it could peer through her very soul. There was a cruelness as the creature’s rough tongue and it spoke in a creaking sort of way, "You will give all you know until you are broken, small warlock."

What more was there to give? Perhaps it was looking for locations best suited to send demonic gates? Perhaps it was looking to find any plans or information that might be crucial to the other points of invasions, on Quel'thalas, or perhaps even on the Cradle itself. All that was certain was that the demon meant true on its words. The towers of mostly drained and broken people locked away in barbed metals were a testament to that.

"You will tell," it’s horrible words came again, a demand this time, perhaps giving her a chance to betray her own people? Her own land?

Valiriel took the moment of relief if only for those brief seconds away from the invading claws. Of course the shackles and bindings still bit at her, coming back in full force when she reactively shifted away from the demon. Her cheeks burned hot, flushed and stained with tears that still spilled over. Her eyes stung, either from the frustration or from the choking demonic smog that seemed to linger in all parts of the planet.

"I don't know anything." She protested, trying to swallow the prideful streak in her that wanted to believe otherwise. "Certainly nothing that would help…augh…you." Valiriel hissed in pain against the rock, writhing away from the invisible pin pricks but it only intensified them all the more.

"You will tell all in time, elf."

In place of the horrendous fingers stretching into her mind, there was a stream of energy conjured between its claws. Slow at first, it would create a steady line, slowly going towards her like a slithering snake to its prey.

"Tell of weaknesses in your lands."

Valiriel eyed the stream with a quiet but clear revulsion. No matter how much it hurt or how much she could not lean away any further, she at least tried. She flattened herself to the platform that she was chained to. Before she could think all that much on it, she spat out the first word she could think of. She didn't know of it exactly as a weakness but what else was she to say? "Isolated! We're isolated from most everything."

"Most everything?" The stream would curl around, starting to tease as if it would actually go forth.

"People. Mostly," she replied hurriedly. Perhaps some part of her should have felt bad so quickly offering whatever morsel of information she had, but to be fair, the isolationist habits of the Cradle was nothing all that new. But it was also all she had. "I have no connections to the greater Quel'thalas area. I can give you nothing more. Your time is wasted, demon." She had half a mind to spit at the foul creature but for once, she bit her tongue and held back.

The demon watched her with judgement, and at the sound of a click from its teeth, the eyes around her suddenly stretched in a perfect semicircle. Threads of the same energy lashed out like hard spikes, piercing into her body without even having to puncture her pale skin. There was a raw feeling of heat and then waves of pain, aiming to make her writhe against those runes behind her.

The demon’s own snake-like tendril curled around her throat, choking her screams for the time as he spoke.

"You will tell in time. We simply must teach you."

Of course, she should have expected nothing less but still, disappointment struck her as the torture that the demon thrust upon her did. She moved to scream, the red hot flames bursting in her body tormenting her, but she found her throat crushed and struggling much more than panicked gasps of air. The animalistic drive to survive kicked in and despite knowing it foolish, her limbs kicked and failed. Or rather, they attempted to. The flurry of movement only lasted a heartbeat really, but the lingering stabs and pains that assaulted her in return drew out longer

"I have no...no answers!" she croaked when the strangulation so much as paused. "But I can...I can direct you to someone who does."

She expected another bout of choking and when the demon so much as moved closer towards her, she panicked and hurried to cut in. "In the cage! In the cage!" she had yelped. "In the same cage I came from, there is someone who knows much more than I. I'll show you him!"

Slowly the pain receded, and the eyes released their torment while the thread around her throat pulled back.

"What do they know." The expectant tone demanded immediate answer.

Valiriel dared for a moment to take a breath as the demon relented, but she was sure to not let it drag too long. "He spoke of escape! Of…of mounting attacks against the Legion both here and I believe elsewhere." She rotated her hands in their cuffs, taking her time free of pain to flex and accommodate the muscles better. "I've seen him before. He has ties to something powerful." She paused a moment, almost as if thinking but bursting into words once more to divert suspicion.

"Military ties," Valiriel ended finally, eying the demon and glancing wearily at the eyes that crowded around them. "Take me back and I'll point him out to you."

The demon grew closer to her, "You have seen him...then you will show me. You will think of him..." Slowly, the claws would once more reach up, and she knew what would come of that. "Show me your secrets."

It was far from what Valiriel wanted but expected nonetheless.

She recoiled against the stone when the demon raised its hand, her teeth gritting as she felt her world twist and become strangled under its probing fingers. There came the rolodex again and she did her best to guide it. To guide it in toward the man she had seen in the cage and of who she had embellished a few key facts.

Instead of Faervell, the scene that was conjured in her head was that of another man. An equally injured and unkempt, bearded man whom she had fixed her gaze on at least once or twice in the cage. He had sat just beyond Faervell, leaning against the iron bars. The man’s mouth moved in the haunting recreation of her memories and for a drawn out moment, not sound came. Eventually a voice did trickle in but it was that of the presently unseen Faervell. With little other knowledge, it must have merely looked like two clouded memories of the same unknown man, overlapping as memories of memories were oft to do.

"There!" Valiriel managed to cry out amidst the torture, nearly biting off her tongue in the process as she tried to convince the demon to divert his gaze to someone outside of herself.

Like a blade being pulled from her flesh, the pain left her. All of it had left her so quickly that it drew the very breath from her lungs, leaving her dizzy and gasping as she peered up at the inquisitor. For the moment, she was able to breathe, able to see the demon as it spread its claw, holding an odd twisted reflection of her memories within them.

What an odd thing, she had a moment of clarity to consider, but before long, the demon turned without a word.

For a moment, Valiriel had the hope that she would be relieved, that she would be let down, but as the demon left and abandoned her, the shackled woman grew panicked and shrieking once more. As it was, the planet was rife with the wild demons. With the dominating inquisitor leaving off for where surely this individual was, there was the growls of felhounds about her. It did not seem good for her.

"Take me down!" she cried out before immediately shrinking back at the sound of fel hounds.

She endured hours… perhaps days of the torture from the draining, pained bites of the felhounds that nipped at her feet. She was barely able to lift herself out of their reach, but only if she pulled her legs upwards. It would activate the stone’s runes with her struggle and it was painful.

It left her beyond exhausted for when she finally found herself pulled down and tossed like a broken doll. She had all of one moment to gather herself, the chains still heavy on her as they transitioned again to choke her throat and weigh her hands and feet down.

Once more, Valiriel was leashed by the forsaken demon and dragged to it’s whims. She stumbled as though trying to run, but the large demon tasked for taking hold of her made a sharp sound of a laugh, then pulled back. Like a dog, she was tugged and she tumbled, given no time to recover before the flesh-tearing dragging on stone would commence.

They did not go back to where she was before. There was no sign of the towers of iron barbs above the flaming hot fel pools. No. This place was cold and unforgiving. A dark void what most would see outside the high valley walls that kept all from seeing anything other than cages and the void. Cries of pain rang out, pleas to be released for help, for food or water were given, but the demons cared little for it.

Valiriel and a few others were tossed into a new cage. Emptier than the others. All of those inside were in a same state as she was. The chains would disperse, yet felt as if they were still on them, biting at their skin and leaving them to feel heavier and heavier. There was that ever lingering feeling of despair that was thick as the smog here, and it left Valiriel feeling less than great about that escape plan.

She had been left.

She could feel it in her bones, broken and bruised. No more would she be drawn from the cage, not for a while. The others were pulled at times. Few came back as time had gone on. How long would it be? Hours? Days? Weeks? How could one tell time in such a place, such a hell? All that signaled any pass of time were the rare occasions that the demons cared to take care of their prisoners.

They enjoyed to watch their prisoners, like viewing mad dogs fight, few pieces of food would be given, something of water as well. Only enough to feed or help one or two of the people in the cages, leaving more to starve. Those too weak to fight on would die, left to decay and be forgotten in this prison.

She had been left.

Curling up into herself, she prepared herself for the worst, glaring at the others in the cage with her. She found a spot in the corner, looking outwards and knowing that she would not find comfort or sleep here. There was the seed of doubt and fear that was slowly beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach, and she did all she could to swallow it down and wipe away the weakness.

Valiriel had been left.

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She went on further, “Unless you know a way to slip out of these bars on your own, the only way we’re actually going to be able to make it out of here is in transit or when the door is open to retrieve someone else.”

He wanted to snort at the idea, thinking back on the fools who had tried doing something like that. It certainly defeated any hope of doing such. Quickly, his retort came, “You go for the door while they grab others, you get grabbed. You swarm with others, you all will either get killed or grabbed with heavier punishments. You won’t come back from it, either.” He thought of a certain group of three who thought themselves brave and, again, walked themselves to death.

Even so, he went on, “You manage to slip away from them in transit, then gods know you -might- have a chance, but considering we have both never gone that way, I’d dare to say that might not exactly be a great plan. Even your little ‘spy’ as it is will not come telling you every detail of his oh so pleasant trip.”

The returned look to him was a scowl of someone that didn’t want to be told that they were wrong, yet had to accept the truth of it. Something familiar to him caused a small wave of sadness to wash over him; that pang of loss. His thoughts strayed for a moment, almost missing her words.

“Alright then, nothing will work.” She huffed, causing another little tug in his chest as she seemed to mimic the other woman so well without realizing it. “Have you just accepted your death then? According to you, this is all for naught, so what’s your plan?”

Faervell took in a breath, then responded, “Wait for the right moment. There are others just like us who would make a plan. They’d take the time to escape with intricate plans that go beyond simply jumping out when the door is open or try to escape between rounds.” He waved his hand. “No, you wait for a chance like then, and you make your run from it when -that- happens. Use them as a distraction and leave…somehow. Maybe a portal or something, gods if I know. Anywhere that is not a damned cage.”

The woman frowned at the prospect of his words, then shortly replied, “Fine, we wait.” Her legs stretched out into the space she’d created from the man before. “At least there’s a little more room in here now.”

There was an odd, twisted humor to her words, and it warranted a long look to her before he snorted. “What, are you going to start getting people killed so that you might be able to lay yourself out more?”

She once more moved to smooth her hair back , tucking curls behind her tall ears before she shrugged. “More leg room and a little less stench. Seems worth it to me.” She waved her hand at him, “Besides, I’m sure he’ll be back…. Well, maybe.”

He rolled his eyes, before they slowly shut as he spoke. “You’ve barely been awake here for an hour and you already say it so surely.” His head leaned back against the bars, letting out a small breath.

“Well you got me there. You just seemed a touch disapproving so I thought maybe you wanted some optimism. I’m not sure he’ll be back, but I -am- sure that I don’t much care if he does or does not.” There was a small pause in her words before she once more spoke up, “I’m trying to figure something out. Warlock?”

He opened his eyes, looking to her as she pointed at him, making it very clear who the question was for. There was a moment he considered if it was wise to acknowledge such a thing, but slowly he nodded and waved his hand slightly. “Sadly. I assume the same of you?” Her magic earlier certainly proved enough for him to make such an assumption.

“You assume correctly.” She gave a short nod to punctuate her words. There was a motion towards where her legs were, a vague point to the man who used to occupy the space. “He was writing, scribbling nonsense really but vaguely reminiscent of something familiar.” She kicked a small rock away before continuing, “Makes three out of however many. Maybe coincidence, maybe not.”

Faervell sighed, “If you pay attention, a large portion of the cages around here are people like ourselves. I’ve seen at least four attempts in the time i’ve been here for a multitude of people to overwhelm a demon with domination. Didn’t quite work the way they’d hoped.” He allowed his words to sink in before continuing on, “I’ve no idea the rest. Though, considering their will, I’d doubt they’re…” He trailed off, looking to the cages outside of their own where more misfortunate souls were stuck in this hellscape. “...useful.”

The woman looked out of the cage, then slowly would let out a drawn out, “Faaaaaantastic.”

In some odd manner of reaching for humor, he muttered, “Welcome to Daznook.” His own hand now reached to brush through his unkempt hair, “Gods be damned to be put here.”

There was a moment that she spent to speak the name, as if she was testing the word before she grumbled, “Won’t be here long.”

Faervell let out a sigh, her words echoing his own thoughts. After all, he’d plenty to get back to, and eventually the wounds he’d suffered thanks to that damned demon would be too much. He was in a bad spot.

Eager to change his thoughts, he looked to her with a glance and murmured, “What is your name?”

“Valiriel Dra-” She paused, then went on, “Nim’liante. And yours?”

He honestly hadn’t cared if she was lying or not, it was merely easier to refer to her as an actual name rather than simply ‘you’ or ‘her’. Perhaps it made this conversation  feel more real in this twisted hellscape they’d both been submitted to.

“Faervell Bael’Nar.” He spoke with a wave of his hand, as if casually brushing his own name aside.

He could feel her eyes on him, and heard her words come soon after, “A pity we could not meet under better circumstances, Faervell.”

“A pity indeed. Though perhaps we can find a way to benefit from this… less than favorable meeting.” He glanced to Valiriel, “Neither of us will stay here, I am sure, it is simply finding our way out.”

“Benefit? Mm, yes, perhaps once we make it out we can rouse our nation into action on behalf of us, their poorly warlocks left to agonize on a demonic prison planet.” There was the start of a jest, but combined with her sigh of distress and the grunt that soon followed after due to whatever was wrong within her chest, it was cut short. “The most likely route out of here by your suggestion relies so heavily on others… Yes, it relies perhaps more on their failure than success as distraction, but still that is a level of trust in others I can not fathom. How do you find yourself capable of that?”

Faervell hummed a bit in mild thought, “There is no other way, unless you wish to roll over and die now.” He let his attention detach from her a bit and instead watch a demon that approached the other cages near to their own. As if it might hear, he leaned in closer to her, continuing to speak, “And I will not die here to this filth.” The words were sharp, practically spat out with the disgust that she surely mirrored.

“Ah, look at that. We’re two for two, because I surely have no intentions of making this cage my tomb either. We wait then. Or… could we not… Hm, nevermind.” Valiriel silenced herself. After a moment, she spoke up again, “You should cover that, perhaps. Or you’ll have to rely on the kindness of strangers to drag your corpse back home.”

Whatever confusion was left to what she might be speaking of was dismissed with her final statement. His wounds were painfully obvious, not nearly so much as hers. Yet here she was, talking of his corpse being dragged back. Even so, his attention stayed on the demons outside of his cage, watching as people were pulled with screams and wails from their confines. Chains appeared almost as soon as they were released; magical things that emitted a dark violet and seemed to cling to the skin. They were conjured creations, but strong in their place. Those pitiful people would not escape.

Even so, he went on, “I do not need to worry for it. It’s seared shut, and it only looks as bad as it is because of that and the poisoning. It will not kill me, simply make everything more painful.” And painful it was, considering. His hand had been a good distraction, but he could feel the throb of the long wound that seemed far too close to his neck than he’d prefered.

Of course, he would not let her get away with calling him out on such a thing without returning the favor. “Do not act as if you do not have wounds either.”

“I never denied having my own.” Valiriel replied, a small hitch in her throat as she shifted. He saw the movement of her pulling up her top to glance to her side. “Nothing open. It’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look directly to her, but he knew what was more than likely there. The way she sounded and acted; if he had been a betting man, Faervell would assume it to be a cracked rib or worse.

“Just do not let -that- hinder your way from escape, -Darling-,” he murmured to her, all his attention drawn back to the demon. It slowly had moved from the other cages and loomed over their own. The wave of tension and fear that washed over the cage was nearly suffocating, and it was obvious that those who crawled to the edges and tried to shrink into themselves had seen what would occur. They knew what was to come and they feared it.

“It will -not-.” He heard the hiss of the woman’s words beside him, distracting him just a moment.

Faervell, for his part, was kind enough to tap against Valiriel, warning her of the approaching trouble despite any offense she might take to the contact. He immediately saw that she curled back, doing the same to try and appear smaller and unattractive to the demon’s claws. Soon after, he was doing the same thing.

He clung to his position as the entire metal prison was grabbed, rocking and shaking a good deal of people around who had no hold. There was a moment that its dark green eyes glared at those inside the cage with an almost sinister amusement. Then, the demon’s hand moved, taking hold of one of the walls of the cage and twisting it around it’s hand. The immoveable bars melded around its touch, allowing room for people to be dragged out.

And dragged out they would be. The first two that were plucked up screamed and cursed, one started to bawl at the simple thought of going with these damned creatures. Perhaps they thought that would be all, but then the hand came towards the two warlocks at the side of the cage.

There was a painful shot of fear that ran through him, his eyes closing for the time as he waited for that terrifying feeling of the demon’s grip around him. But it never came. Instead, he heard the movements of someone trying to grab hold of anything.. Anyone. His eyes opened, and there he saw her, dragged away by the demon and free from the confines that she had so recently been tossed into.

In a way, there was a pang of sadness for her. One of the only people he’d spent the time to actually speak to, and she was leaving. He didn’t assume she would be back, he knew better than to hope for something like that. She had been taken, and that surely meant that there was no turning back.

Valiriel was gone.

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