Zhyan Suri

She swallowed her pride, for the time being, and turned her back to the two men; lids fluttering shut with sheer annoyance, spirits already whispering in her ears, as she asked them for the favour Zhyan suggested; power returned to her, her hand balled into a fist to stop herself from lashing out anything more detrimental. "Go for it - " she muttered, eyes still tightly shut.

The very thought of what was waiting for him when he came home began to warm Axel from the inside out. The imagined heat from the fireplace back home, the comfort of a warm blanket enveloping him, and the promise of safety and solitude became a beacon of light in the gloom of his current situation.

As his mood lightened, buoyed by these thoughts, Axel watched Zhyan carefully with his newfound hope.

He wanted to believe it was the innocent. But the spirits craved for his violence, so that intention must be stronger.

Between himself and Evanora, they got the spells right, the spirits moving reality to their wishes, and Axel could press through. Since they were both paying attention to the spirits, neither could say goodbye, and Axel passed through the wall without fault, moving slowly. Zhyan waited as long as necessary before being certain that it had worked. He dropped his connection to the spirits, and turned to Evanora. "Time to get out of this cell," he said, turning to the metal, and risking another spell as he whispered in Hindi. He set a step forward and with a light touch bend the metal at the door, pushing the bolt outward and flinging the door open.

---

Meanwhile Axel was on the other side of the wall, free, hurt, cold. Taking a deep breath as soon as his whole body has come free of the station. The alley was quiet... was... just when he thought he's out of the woods, when he thought he could return home to his book and the warmth of the fireplace, someone yelled in his direction.

While Zhyan checked on Axel, the other witch was pacing back and forth; hands going through her long waves. She could still feel her fingers twitch with electrcity, yet she couldn't get them out of here alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" a sharp turn followed; eyes dark, piercing through his own, " Why the fuck would I care about Axel? It's his own damn fault that he's here." It was one thing, to allow those fucks to throw her in that cell, and another entirely to continue taking the blows, and from Zhyan himself. The one she wanted to set free, against her better judgement, against the voice in her head that told her he shouldn't be trusted - no, he's innocent.

She wanted to remind him that the only reason he's got his power back, was because she used her own in his favor.

"What kind of a spell?" gritted teeth barely let the words out, as she moved closer to the bars, with her back turned to him.

Surrounded by chaos, Axel found his patience wearing down, not only due to the situation itself but also because of Evanora’s snarky remarks. Her words, cutting and dismissive, as if he were merely a part of the backdrop rather than a person suffering right beside her, ignited a spark of defiance in him. “Actually, princess,” he retorted, his voice carrying a sharp edge it seldom did, “I didn’t choose this. I was ambushed, beaten, and dragged here. Believe me, sharing a cell with you of all people was not exactly on my agenda tonight.” His words flew from him, fueled by a blend of pain and stress, a boldness borne out of his current situation rather than calculated courage. 

After letting out his frustrations, Axel took a short moment to take a deep breath to quell the storm of emotions within him. His focus then shifted back to Zhyan, his expression one of expectations as he waited for an explanation of the spell.

But he had magic, he would be capable of getting Axel out, and he was certain between himself and Evanora, they could take the people who had just come in. If there were more... he didn't know, but he'd gladly attempt it.

"Evanora," he pleaded. "He's innocent in all of this." Axel had his own retort, and he worried it might make things worse. But he didn't have time for this, none of them had.

"Axel, move to wall there," he said, as he pointed to the wall he knew was adjacent to the street. "All you have to do is wait for our signal, when we give it, take a deep breath and walk through the wall, it will feel difficult, it will be like walking through water, don't breath until you're fully on the other side." He turned to Evanora. "I need you to ask the spirits to change the composition of the wall, back to its liquid state. I'll request them to make Axel able to walk through solid matter. There is bound to be pipes and whatnot in these structures, so we can't rely on just one spell." And his request was going to be costly, but he hoped they would listen, he was desperate, and he was promising them violence as soon as they got Axel out.

She had her focus solely on the man; a second of distraction could cause her this whole expedition, if she could call it that. One thing Zhyan should know about Evanora is that she'd only invest in anything, if she's guaranteed to win. Nothing else was worth the energy.

A bike chain was the weapon of choice for the next human that was foolish enough to go against her; the sound of the metal snapping from his hands and wrapping around his throat next echoed around them.

"Try that again and I'll break your bones one by one." she murmured, an attempt to make it sound like there's some strenght left in her; an umcomfortable throb already pulseting in her mind, which reminded her that she was starting to push past her limit. Joining Axel on the damn floor, in a state of unconciousness wasn't going to help anyone.

At the sight of the other man chocking on his own chain, the others were quick to gather around the witch; a gun pressed to her back, in order to urge her to move, hands clasped behind her back by a rough pair of large male ones— "No more circus acts. Get in the fucking cell." a snarl to her ear. She reluctantly joined Zhyan behind the bars. At least this way she could recharge; words already whispered to the spirits.

Blinking his eyes open, Axel’s gaze landed on yet another scene that seemed to defy reality further: a bike chain tightening around someone’s neck. Horror washed over him as the persons body fell limp to the floor. This was not at all how he had envisioned his evening. All he wanted was the simple pleasure of a good book by the fireplace, not this nightmarish tableau. How had his relatively quiet night turned into this spectacle of violence and despair? 

His eyes then caught Evanora stepping into the cell with Zhyan, adding another layer of confusion to his already strained comprehension. If there was any hope of escape, sure it rested on their shoulders. There was not much Axel could offer, other than whimpers in pain from the beating, no balance, and no control of his magic. He felt his helplessness acutely. 

His voice tinged with desperation and pain, he once again spoke up. “Seriously… What is going on?” It sounded almost like a plea. A need for clarification amidst the chaos around them.

Evanora had to obey eventually, when one of the hooligans produced a gun. He’d seen this one often enough to know it must’ve been stolen from the police station itself. Taken out of some holding where it was held for safe-keeping. He’d never been threatened by a weapon, he’d only ever seen it worn. The sight of it filled him with dread.

One of the hooligans picked up Axel and threw him into the cell after the others, locking the bars back in place. Two of them felt the need to sneer before they disappeared through the door back into the main area of the station. “Filthy witches.”

Zhyan swallowed, fear gripped at him, but for the sake of Axel, he braved the threshold of Helia’s spell again to take a look at the damage done. Yet to his surprise: there was no threshold. Nothing made him weaker, and he couldn’t help the intention as he reached out for the Spirits, and the grin that passed over his features when they answered. Magic was at his fingertips again.

And he knew he should make the right choice on how to use it. He’d been deaf to them for months, so he probably didn’t have that much goodwill left. “Axel, are you alright, can you stand?” He turned to Evanora before catching a reply. “Do you still have reserves?” he asked. He swallowed. “I have a spell that can get Axel out, he needs help. I– we should make sure he’s safe before we try anything. I need two people.”

It wasn’t a difficult spell, but it was the amount of people that made it difficult. They would have to convince the spirits to make Axel and his body transparent, so he could move through the wall and get outside and away from this mess. “I– I can hear the spirits again, I can do one part of the spell.” There was a promise in his eyes as he watched Evanora: a promise that if she helped him with this, he’d help her with whatever chaos she had in mind.

He hummed in reply. “I didn’t have any plans, so I guess it is.” Though there was longing in his voice, he wished to be among people again. Though rather as someone anonymous. “Are they… are they doing festivities like usual?” he asked.

A soft “oof” escaped his lips as he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Disoriented, he struggled to piece together the chaotic tableau unfolding around him. It was the sporadic flashes of green electric light, flickering like errant fireflies that eventually drew his gaze to the familiar figures of Evanora and Zhyan. His lips parted in an attempt to ask about the events, but his words betrayed him, dissolving into the charged air.

Axel sought the steadiness to stand by leaning heavily against the wall for support. The world, however, seemed to be in a relentless spin – mocking his efforts. He realized he needed a moment – just a brief respite from the disorienting whirl of his senses.

After gathering his strength, Axel finally managed to find his voice, albeit a little weak and laced with confusion. “What is happening?” He looked between them in attempt to read their expressions to find answers, and some semblance of understanding in the midst of the chaos.

Just before the barrier was broken, a few men who were not police officers - or witches for that matter - walked into the small room. They seemed to move to attack Evanora, with one of them instantly being felled to her Magic. But how much did she have left to fight against them. There were five in total now, one laying on the floor, one reaching for Evanora with a bike chain, one closing the door behind him, and two dragging in an unconscious individual. 

This one was a Witch… and not unconscious after all. But in a bad state nonetheless. “Axel?” 

Zhyan turned to Evanora, uncertain of what these three wanted, but clear on one fact: they weren’t supernatural. “Evanora,” he hissed. “You can’t fight them on your own!” He was pleading with her. Their best course of action was to lay low: especially as whatever they’d done to Axel, they might as well do to them too.

The witch walked inside the police station, like she wasn't a goddamn civilian, but one of their own. Of course she would do something like that; she was always on the brink of unpredictability. Nobody seemed to stop her at first, but then she felt a hand on her arm; strong grip stopping her in her tracks. "Excuse me, maam - " the man spoke. She didn't even let him finish. It didn't take much to send him back on his way; a whisper to the spirits was enough. Power, not only her own, but the one that was gifted to her, rushed through her veins, and the tips of her fingers shook with electricity. Don't go off the wagaon, a silent reminder to behave, at least no yet.

Despite this, curiosity got the better of him, drawing his gaze upwards. The police station, now in full view, was a hive of frenetic energy, voices clashing in anger and urgency. A part of him wanted to explore what was happening, and to understand the source of the uproar. However, reason prevailed, and urged him to continue down the street towards his home, pace even quicker and a growing sense of paranoia nipping at his heels.  

Lost in his thoughts, he was pulled back as a sharp pain exploded at the back of his head, staggering him. He fought to maintain balance, his vision swimming into a blur. When it cleared, he found himself surrounded by four ominous figured, their words unintelligible against the pounding in his skull.

Blows rained down on him, each hit and kick draining his strength, tethering him closer to the cold ground. In desperation, he pleaded silently to the spirits for aid, but their voices only eluded him, lost in the maelstrom of stress and pain.

Before long, rough hands hoisted him to his feet, dragging him away. The throbbing pain at the back of his head pulsed with every step, clouding his thoughts, and stifling any attempt at resistance. As they neared the chaos of the police station, his desire to fight fought against the crippling agony. However, the pain left him unable to do anything. He felt like a mere spectator in his own ordeal, helplessly caught in the unfolding drama as the police station loomed closer and closer as he was brought towards the turmoil.

“What are you planning?” he asked. He took a step closer to the bars, he felt the difference, the power keeping him in check was less intense. 

Meanwhile the commotion in the police station grew, as the staff - those who weren’t actively engaged - was alerted by a figure being dragged in by four men. The doors were closed behind them, as the figure was plopped up against the wall. Chaos erupted a few seconds later as officers started to move. The hooligans, twenty in total, addressed the situation with far more organisation than anyone expected, making sure nobody was capable of getting out, collecting them all in the very middle of the station. 

"It's easy to point fingers, isn't it?" She asked; eyes still locked on the metal bars, as her fingers traced them one by one. She couldn't believe how long it's been since that day and Zhyan still couldn't decide, for himself, if she was the villain in this place. She could give him a hint; she was the villain in every place. But she wasn't the villain in his story, was she?

"Until you've walked a mile in someone elses shoes." Evanora added, "What do you think, Zhyan? Come on, it's beem months - " her lips curled into the slightest smirk, "You still can't make up your mind."

He looked away from her then, he wasn’t pointing fingers, he was wondering, he was wondering if he was the only one in this room right now who had lifted a finger to kill someone. The thing was, he’d done so many times before, back home, in the war his parents had made him fight. And he wasn’t so sure he’d ever completely escaped that war. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t feel like you want me to find out,” he said. “I know you didn’t call those ten people they found on the beach, that was something else. But do you? Do you know that?”

“It’s Christmas?” he asked, still not familiar with the Western holidays, and getting very little room to look into the outside world. It felt like his whole world was this prison, this room, the cold, his bed, the chair, the blanket falling down from his shoulders. He’d never missed people much, but now he did. A lot. He was starting to realise that he was an extravert.

He'd been tainted, by the power of those he should consider his own. He looked away from Evanora because he could not address the shame he felt to be brought down again, and he didn't dare to admit that he didn't really mind.

He stood. "I won't kid myself," he said, more forcefully than he'd said anything before. "I'm at the mercy of this city's leadership, and there is no way I'm getting out without them." In order to show this to Evanora, Zhyan took a few steps towards the bars, weakness seeping into his body until he felt like another step might make him faint. He retreated back to his chair.

"Do you think I'd be capable of... do you think that was me?" he asked.

"no." she sighed; words laced with slight disappointment. they might not have known each other for a long time, but she could see him for who he was; and that was no killer. a pity, really. a witch must come to great power, and make their enemies perish, when threatened. "you don't have it in you." she was firm; dark eyes locked on him. her words were not meant to provoke, not meant to stab; she meant to reassure him, that the villain in this place, was still her.

"you don't get to steal the small town murderer title, so easily from me." red lips curled into a smirk; unlike zhyan, she had been painted a murderer a long time ago, and quite frankly, the role suited her. she didn't mind getting blamed for all of this; hell, she could show them what more she was capable of.

He looked away. “I was used… by this… spirit.” He brushed his shoulder, where the bullet had been once. “You’re not really a murderer either, are you? Those three I saw you with, that day… did you kill them?” 

Would it matter? Zhyan had been caught red-handed, Evanora only had speculations to her name.

she pitied the man; her frame moved closer to the bars; slender fingers brushing against each metal bar, one by one, gently.

"if you could only - " a beat; there was a hint of mischief evident within her dark hues, " - find the power, to get yourself out of here -" she hummed softly; she was cunning, especially when her mind was working in the direction of achieving something that would piss some people off.

"but you've made your bed, i suppose, so -" she lifted her shoulders lightly, "you must lie in it."

He'd been tainted, by the power of those he should consider his own. He looked away from Evanora because he could not address the shame he felt to be brought down again, and he didn't dare to admit that he didn't really mind.

He stood. "I won't kid myself," he said, more forcefully than he'd said anything before. "I'm at the mercy of this city's leadership, and there is no way I'm getting out without them." In order to show this to Evanora, Zhyan took a few steps towards the bars, weakness seeping into his body until he felt like another step might make him faint. He retreated back to his chair.

"Do you think I'd be capable of... do you think that was me?" he asked.

He’d wanted to. He could feel his body eager to stand and walk out, to disappear into the night as if he’d never been there. But he was kept in his place. Not firmly, not firmly enough for him to notice it was done by magic, but loosely enough that he was being under the influence of suggestions. 

He held his hands on his knees in front of him. The bullet to his shoulder had healed quickly; both because it always did, and because the spirits had been helping him. He knew the witches had asked them to, had urged them to pull Zhyan from mortal danger. 

Now they were left wondering what to do with him. 

“We can trade,” he suggested.  please.

Though it would be unfair. Evanora had been subject to suspicion on the murders earlier that year, but the covens had protected her, despite her reputation. Now Zhyan was known to have given the blow that killed one of the Werewolf leaders, but nobody in town fed those rumours. He had been saved from the scrutiny because it had happened behind the veils of another world.