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whitewater-writing · 4 years ago

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The Arrival

It was raining the night the child first came to Whitewater Manor. Thunder cracked loudly as they waited, slouching on a plush couch and tear tracks covering their face. The click of heels grew louder as someone approached the door, the child's anxiety growing with each of the Duchess's footfalls. They stared hard at the floor, counting the tiles and trying their best to disappear before she should see them.

The doors opened, and despite their efforts, the child couldn't help but look up at the woman before them. The duchess was an intimidating,yet beautiful, woman. She reached over six feet in her heels and towered over the child. She was dressed in all black, with a sword hung at her side. Odd for the late hour that she should be fully dressed.

Despite her otherwise frightening appearance, her gaze was gentle as she crouched before them, gently taking their face into her hands. "Oh Petty... What a horrible thing to have happened to you..." She sighed, brushing a stray tear from their cheek.

"I'm sorry Aunt Bomby, I tried to help I-" They immediately tried to explain but were cut off by a heated glare.

"Hush child, it wasn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done.." She stood and offered her hand. "Come along. I've had your rooms prepared, and you need some rest." She smiled at them gently. Or perhaps it would have appeared gentle if lightning hadn't stuck outside the house, illuminating the room and giving her a threatening aura.

A whimper escaped Petty's lips but they took her hand without protest, following her down the halls of Whitewater in silence for several moments before she spoke again.

"You'll be staying with me from now on. I'll ensure your success as a noble my dear, as should be expected of my ward..." Her grip tightened on their hand almost painfully and a twisted smile tugged at her lips. "This is a blessing for us both Petty. I'm sure you'll realize this eventually. " She stopped at a large door and ushered them inside the dark room once the door was opened by a servant. "Get some rest. Your maid will wake you and prepare you for tomorrow," she told them before the door shut once again, leaving them alone with only the light of a candle illuminating the room.

____________________________

The duchess made her way back to her rooms, the only sounds the clicking of her heels on marble tile and the rain beating hard against stained glass windows. She entered her chambers silently, a maid jumping to help her undress and prepare for bed.

"Such a shame what happened to the rest of them," she said absently, with a small smirk, setting her sword on the bed.

"What's that ma'am?" the servant asked softly, looking perplexed.

"Petty's relatives. The rest of the family. I didn't think he'd slaughter all of them, including the children," She laughed evilly as she climbed into bed. "Oh what will the queen think of this? No matter. I got what I wanted. The child is under my rule now, they'll make quite the effective pawn when they're of marrying age." She stretched and relaxed in bed. "You’re dismissed," she instructed, and the maid bowed before extinguishing the lights.

"Goodnight, my lady," she said to the darkness before leaving the room.

Minutes passed before anything but rain was heard. A sloshing noise like someone getting out of a bath came from the washroom, then moments after the door creaked open. Lightning struck again, casting shadows and lighting up the room for a few seconds where a blond man was stalking across the room with a sword black as tar.

He raised the blade over the sleeping woman, intending to strike. As his sword fell, the sound of metal clashing together filled the room and the lights lit once again. The duchess held her sword above her, smirking. "Really Basty? As if I wasn't expecting your visit."

The man only rolled his eyes, the sword disappearing into a viscous liquid that seemed to be absorbed by his body. "I'll kill you one of these days."

"We'll see about that." She laughed and got out of bed again. "Would you join me for a cup of tea? I'll have them bring it here so you don't have to hold your form," she suggested, not waiting for an answer before alerting the servants of her manor to bring them tea and a selection of sweets.

"If it weren't for the information I know you have, I'd refuse." Bast sighed before the two of them went back to the bathroom where the man's physical form melted into a thick, black liquid.

She hummed and shrugged, "I'm well aware Basty. What's this information worth to you?"

"A trade. If my theory is correct, I have information you might find…" He hesitated as a servant entered the room, handing the Duchess a tea cup and doing her best to avoid looking at him, "useful."

"Deal," she immediately agreed, "what's this information?"

"And why should I be the one to share first?" he asked, reaching out and dripping a bit of his tar-like liquid into her cup and earning a glare in response.

"Because one of us keeps our promises, and we both know that isn't always you." She huffed and dumped the contaminated tea into the bath. The Bastard of the bathtub cringed slightly as it mixed into his liquid form.

"As much as I like tea, kindly don't pour things into me," he huffed, "You nobility types are so disrespectful."

"'Us nobility types'?" She mused, setting the empty cup aside, "You act as if you weren't once one of us… your majesty."

"Don't call me that," he snapped at her, "I never wanted my title. Royal is a better ruler than I ever would have been. "

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The kingdom has dissolved mostly into chaos since she started associating with the Marquis."

"Indeed… but Dumbass has their own motivations. They may align for now but how long that lasts is still yet to be seen. "

"Right," she sighed before sitting up straight and clapping her hands together, "Now, your information for me?"

"The Count of Caspen’s family has been killed, or, rather, assassinated, as I'm sure you already know."

She nodded. "Of course I already know that."

"There's a survivor." He smirked at her, leaning over the edge of the bath.

She sighed in disappointment, "I'm aware of that as well. Petty, the youngest, has become my ward."

The liquid mass looked amused as he sunk back into the bathtub, making no indication to deny or confirm that that's what he meant.

"Is that all you have?" she asked, a scowl pulling her lips downward.

"All I'm currently willing to tell." He shrugged.

"Fine… I suppose you kept your end, it isn't necessarily your fault I already knew. What do you want to know?"

"You're responsible, aren't you? You hired the assassins?"

A smirk pulled at her lips and she nodded, "I did."

"Why?"

"I needed a child. I'm still young, sure, but…" She bit her lip and shrugged, "It's unlikely that l will marry. I need to have someone to inherit my estate. Unlike some of you, I wasn't blessed with magic or immortality."

"You could just make them legally your heir, why would you need to kill their family?"

"I need to shape them into my successor! And this gives me a wonderful political advantage. I'm already making arrangements with a noble of the neighboring country to arrange their marriage. Once they're of marrying age, my plans will come to fruition."

"...You're insane, my lady." He laughed softly, a horrifying sound, like a person drowning.

"I'm doing what I think is best for myself. I don't need nor want your judgement." She stood. "It's late. I need my beauty sleep."

"You could sleep for centuries and it would do nothing to help," he teased her.

"Go to hell." She laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, and my lady?"

"What is it now, Bastard?" She sighed, yelping in surprise as black fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her down toward the bath with inhuman strength.

"For crimes committed to earn an heir,

Beware when giving up your hand,

By forces not sent up above,

The last shall be the last to stand."

"God, not another one of you prophetic riddles," she groaned and jerked her arm away, hissing in pain and rubbing at the bruising skin, "When do you come up with this stuff?"

"I have a lot of time on my hands." He shrugged in response, liquid moving around the bath as she moved to leave again.

"Right, well… I'll be going. Goodnight Bastard."

The man didn't reply, having drained himself back into the pipes and left the manor.

She groaned softly as she put her sword in its sheath, hanging it up before putting out the lights once again and climbing into bed. What an exhausting day.

#petty #bathbomb #Whitewater #the arrival #tw murder #bastard

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angstymarshmallow · 6 years ago

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Chapter Fourteen: “The Manor Shrouded in Darkness” (Part 14 Of Fantasy AU, a TRR fanfic)

[A little note: I think if I read this again, I may go insane. Here’s Part 14, of my slaves of Fates series and as usual, thank you so much for those of you who’ve kept up with this monster of a series so far. Hope you enjoy!]

[Word Count: 6869]

Part 1: “The Beginning” Part 2: “The Adventurer” Part 3: “The Knight” Part 4: “The Jester” Part 5: “The Untimely Meeting” Part 6: “The Unlikely Alliance” Part 7: “The Mismatched Trio” Part 8: “The Ambush” Part 9: “The Plan B” Part 10: “The Rebels of Willesden” Part 11: “The Battle for Willesden” Part 12: “The Plan to End All Tyranny” Part 13: “The Mage’s Rune”

Bile rose in Drake’s throat. He swallowed thickly, shaking his head as he turned away from the grisly sight. “I don’t understand…are you telling me it’s the same….thing from whatever we saw before?”

“Is that even possible? Are you certain it is the same rune?” Maxwell added, finding the idea too incredulous. To be the same rune to have caused the explosion meant they were in far graver danger than any of them realized. It was difficult to look for long, but he kept his jaw clenched tight. He squinted at the body, trying to find similarities in the design on its chest.

Robyn gave them a curt nod.

She couldn’t forget even if she tried – the memory had burned a hole inside her head and just the sight of this made her skin crawl. She rubbed the abrupt goosebumps on her arms and searched for the right words to adequately explain how bizarre this all was. “It shouldn’t be possible…and yet yes I am quite sure it.” She shook her head. “It does not make any sense; no mage should have that amount of magic at their fingertips.”

“What do you mean?” Drake’s lips curled a little. “Aren’t all mages powerful?”

“In theory yes,” Robyn uttered a frustrated sigh. “You have seen how different Maxwell and I are. And as a mage - well, we all have different affinities and abilities depending on our bloodline.” She further explained. “I suppose Neville’s bloodline must be exceptionally strong…” She trailed off for a moment, steadying breath. “Still, he shouldn’t be capable of making so many runes in such little time. That requires tremendous amounts of power.” Without realizing it, her eyes drifted to the rune she had placed on Drake shy of a week ago – the spot that was still remarkably hidden and invisible to the naked eye.

She winced.

He followed her gaze before she could look away. His eyes narrowed into slits. “There is something you are not telling us.”

She tried to keep her expression neutral, but inwardly her heart skipped a beat. “Nonsense.”

“But the rune made one of the bandits explode the last time, did it not?” Maxwell reminded her. “How could they be one in the same?”

Mercifully, Drake had averted his stare and for the moment, Robyn could breathe a little easier again. “I know how strange this all sounds,” she turned to Maxwell. “But I recognize those as the very same inscriptions.” Her brows knitted in concentration. “They are the same even though they didn’t explode.” A sudden horrible thought struck her, “it could be possible that the amount of magic they all required could have negatively affected them…” Realizing she had spoken aloud, she snapped her mouth shut.

She didn’t want to finish the thought.

“What is it?” She flinched slightly at the sudden harshness laced inside Drake’s tone. He took a threatening closer to her, his eyes flashing with anger – whether it was towards her or Neville, Robyn wasn’t sure but she stumbled back all the same. “You have a duty to tell us exactly what you’re thinking – whatever it may be. You cannot withhold information that could help us.”

“A duty?” She bristled. “I have no such thing.” Had he forgotten it was him and his friend who came to her for aid – and not the other way around? “You’re a long way from home and I owe you nothing.” She felt a prickle of guilt at her own words and ignored it. She could not think of it now – nor the scratch she had made on his soul. Right now, all that mattered was the threat that Neville possessed.

“Drake –” Maxwell interrupted, wedging himself between them. Now wasn’t the time for either one of them to lose their tempers. But he could feel the change in the air, shifting and tensing around them. If they did not enter Neville’s manor as a cohesive unit – Maxwell doubted their odds of survivals even more by the second.

He could decipher Caspen’s familiar lanky figure from the corner of his eyes, followed by the rest of their companions bunching the steps of the manor. He watched bewilderment touch their expressions and what he felt earlier dawned on their faces; twisting their expressions into downright horror.

“Heavens, we’re too late.” Caspen swore, running his fingers in frustration through his dark hair.

Every single one of them turned to gape at him and seemingly oblivious to their stare, Caspen bent and inspected the dead more closely. “It is just as I feared.”

Robyn considered asking surely what she thought everyone else had been thinking. “You knew about this? That they were…” She trailed off for a moment, trying to think of a word for it. “Runed?”

“I heard rumors from Gretchen.” Caspen answered carefully. His eyes were unreadable until they shifted to the body again. “But I didn’t want to believe they were true.” Those crystals of his were suddenly clouded with something she could describe as pity and sympathy before he got to his feet, after uttering a short prayer in aiding their passage in the afterlife. Clearing his throat, the Pinevale mayor frowned. “Gretchen didn’t have the time to tell me what they were capable of but by the looks of it – it’s not good.”

“Is there anyone else that wants to return back to Willesden right about now?” Maxwell said, gazing uneasily around him. “No? Just me?” He paused. “Well then.”

The rest seemed to have ignored his words. Most of them were still staring at the dead with fresh fear reflecting in their eyes until it felt as though it was even lingering in the air around them.

Drake had been the only one to recover quickly. He was no longer as stunned as the rest. He knew what mages were capable of and this only fueled his desire in believe that nothing good could from them. Mages, simply could not be trusted and were still as much of a danger as he always believed. And despite his earlier blunder when it came to Robyn, despite feeling her lips for the first time and wanting to devour her the moment she whispered his name, the woman in front of him – as much as she took his breath away, was a damned mage too. He glared at her, jaw locked tight with contempt. “And we won’t know the full extent until Robyn tells us whatever it is that she’s hiding.”

At the sound of her name, Robyn jolted – drawing attention from the rest of her companions onto her from Drake’s words. A mixture of curiosity, surprise, bewilderment and suspicion – flitted across their features, and no matter where she looked, she could not get away from their stares. They felt as though they were trying to pierce through her soul, rather than plead with her for more information.

She swallowed thickly.

“Oh, boy.” Maxwell mumbled. He did not like where this was headed at all.

“I’ve already told you all I know about runes.” Robyn folded her arms, chin jutting out to meet Drake’s glare with one of her own. Liar, liar. A voice inwardly whispered to her but she shrugged it off.

For all she knew, they were going to somehow use that knowledge against.

“Robyn,” She hated the way he said her name – like it was poison, as if they hadn’t shared…something in the last twenty-four hours. She was wrong to think things were changing between them, because from where she was standing – all she could see was the same disregard for her life when he had discovered she was a mage.

“Time is running out – and we need to know what Neville is capable of.” Drake continued curtly, lips bared into a sneer.

She stiffened.

Maxwell stepped between them, raising his hands held high. “Okay, this is getting a little too tense for me.” He tried to placate them both with a smile. A smile he did not feel, as his gut suddenly prickled. “I don’t agree with Drake very often, but he does have a point my lady. If we are to storm in there and fight him – we need to know,” before she could protest, he quickly continued. “If it pertains to this that is.” He spared Drake a look. “And nothing more.”

Drake grumbled something under his breath, and the rest of their companions were anxiously waiting her answer.

Robyn sighed. “I suppose I do know something.” She said vaguely. She decided to choose her next words carefully; knowing that it Maxwell was right – didn’t mean she wanted to place herself under scrutiny. “I have mentioned how runes work,” she began. “Usually mages attach them to items – to imbue them with magical power or to store them somewhere for later…But…” She trailed off for a moment.

“Spit it out.” Drake snapped.

Maxwell elbowed him.

“Anything you have to say Robyn, we are all ears.” Caspen muttered. His eyes, glancing at her with that strange sympathy – as if he knew more than he was letting on.

Blinking, Robyn bit her lower lip. “Neville isn’t the first person I’ve come across that have used runes in this manner. Although, his are the only…positive results I’ve seen in quite some time.”

“This is positive results?” Drake uttered in disbelief. “The dead lying around us?”

She ignored his outburst. “When he placed the runes on his army, they didn’t die right away – that in itself is more than enough for what I anticipated. You see – although I don’t know all the rules around magic, trying to perverse it this way can never end well.” She thought briefly of her own parents – a stray thought that was somewhat murky; and the journal they had left behind – buried in the bottom of her burlap sack. “There’s been some…studies,” she didn’t know how else to explain, “and usually the subject has died.”

“So Neville’s using some major mumbo jumbo on his army.” Maxwell finished for her.

“Yes.” Robyn smiled slightly at him. “I remember from our last fight – the rune had allowed him control over the bandit, and I’m assuming there are other benefits as well.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he’s lying on the ground, dead.” Drake spoke up, impatiently.

“I was getting to that.” She gave a tired sigh. “Because runes are usually used on objects – they make artifacts. What Neville is trying to do is make people living weapons and, like I said the results of using it on people goes often unprecedented. I think because he’s using it on living beings – and a rune needs magic to work…it’s somehow taking the life force of the person to fuel itself.”

They all stared at her, stunned into silence by the implications of her words. She couldn’t blame them, she was still wrapping her head around it herself.

“You mean to tell me…” Maxwell shook his head in disbelief.

“Yes. That Neville’s using his magic to…an unstoppable army.” She sighed, “his mind is so simple, singular. My guess is he wants to take over not just small bits of it, but all of the North by the rate he’s going.” It was all starting to make sense to her now – his ego had indeed been that big.

“That’s madness.” Gavin whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

“But it is the truth.” She insisted. “I never understood why he needed the materials I had procured for him when we first met. But then I noticed all his diagrams and notes on his desk…now I understand. If he can perfect the rune on humans capabilities…”

“Then he really will be unstoppable.” Drake finished for her, sounding as horrified as she felt.

“Exactly.”

“No, he won’t.”

Robyn was surprised by the vehemence in Caspen’s voice as he stepped in front of them, unsheathing his sword as he pointed towards the door. Out of everyone all the other village leaders, she hadn’t expected the sudden grim determination to be in his eyes or for him to lead the charge into the manor.

“Follow me, we end Neville’s tyranny tonight.”

Ending it was easier said than done.

Once they entered the manor, the entire home seemed to be engulfed in darkness. They were surprised to find it pitch black and seemingly empty. The air was extremely chilly, Robyn had to rub her arms furiously in an effort to keep herself warm as she peered into the darkness of the room. It made no difference, she couldn’t see anything.

Caspen had ordered everyone to use their lanterns as he lit his own. He kept one hand on his weapon and the other clenched tightly around the oil-lamp once they had a chance to stare at their new surroundings.

But nothing could prepare them for this.

Everywhere they looked there was a strange and downright uneasy sight. Blood that seemed to have been present for at least several weeks was dried against the hardwood floors. The air seemed heavy with death although they could find no trace of bodies – only continuous signs of blood and the uneasy feeling that someone was watching them.

Robyn shivered.

Drake’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

Maxwell’s gaze skirted wildly as the terrible feeling in his stomach returned a tenfold.

Something very bad had happened here, and something was also telling Maxwell that it was a mistake coming through that door. Trying to swallow back his fear, he followed along with his companions – each foot taken was measured and careful steps were their forefront as they spotted the hall.

This was not the same place Robyn had been invited to several weeks ago. The air reeked of death. There were broken pieces of glass belonging to vases, windows – and intricate designs from Neville’s personal itinerary. Her eyes widened at the sight of the state of the walls. It was peeling in several paces. Portraits of the most recent Bloomingdale old mayor’s family were torn, left in tatters. The more they walked, the more she felt as though they were being watched.

She shuddered enough to draw a worried glance from Maxwell and Drake. She ignored Drake and gave Maxwell a timid smile of reassurance. It was the only thing she could muster without fear gripping her.

Their half-thought of plan to surprise Neville with an ambush seemed unlikely with the manor’s state and Robyn wondered when the last time the man had any visitors. Still, she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling that had stricken her the moment they begun heading down the hall.

They kept a formation while they walked. Caspen, Hannon and Belfay were at the front. Robyn was comfortable in the middle while Maxwell, Drake and Gavin were stationed near their rear – all the while keeping a watchful gaze ahead, in case anything jumped out at them.

But nothing did.

Their feet were the only noise that carried; a soft thud against the carpet that was also stained with blood.

Heavens what happened here, Drake thought to himself. He frowned at the sight of more blood and wondered if there was no end to it.

“We need to find Gretchen.” Caspen whispered, breaking the silence first.

They had all been on edge that the sound of his voice made most of them jump; except for Drake who scowled at the suggestion. “She isn’t our priority.” He hissed.

“I don’t care. She is mine.” Caspen hissed back.

“Guys, we’re supposed to be keeping quiet.” Maxwell reminded them, with a whisper of his own.

“What exactly are we keeping quiet for?” Hannon grumbled, speaking louder than the rest. “There’s no one left alive.”

Caspen stiffened and Robyn shook her head. Something in her was telling her differently. “There’s evil here.” She murmured. She could feel it; reaching out to her, trying dig its claws onto her soul – and she wanted to recoil in fear. Swallowing thinly, she picked up her speed until she was only a few inches away from Caspen and Balfey. “I think we’re heading in the right direction.”

Near the end of the hall, there were several splitting from one another. A grand staircase whittled with age that led to the upstairs part of the manor. There was also a secondary staircase, although there was dried blood leading towards the lower level of the building and Robyn had a feeling whatever evil had tried to reach out, it had to be there.

“We do not split up.” Maxwell said stubbornly before anyone else had the chance to suggest it. “Splitting up is always a bad idea.”

Drake quirked an eyebrow at him – not that he disagreed, but there were also benefits in divide and conquer strategies.

“Does this have to do with that vi-” Robyn paused for a moment; remembering their company. “Ah,” coughing, she cleared her throat. “Does that have to do with that thing you talked about earlier?”

He stared at her for a moment then slowly realization dawned on him. “Yes, um at least, I think it does.” He frowned faintly. “I can’t really tell unless,” he bit his lower lip before he could finish his sentence. “But this all looks familiar.”

“I see, well that puts us back to square one.” Robyn sighed.

The rest of their companions except Drake had confusion flitting across their features by their whole exchange. “Just what in the bloody hell was that –” Caspen’s brows arched while Hannon’s eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

The rest of his sentence was rudely interrupted by a sudden noise. It was an ear-splitting scream; loud enough to make their eardrums ache as they moved to cover their ears.

“What in heavens name is going on?!” Hannon growled.

Robyn would like to know. All she could was press her eyes close and wait for the noise to subside. When it did seconds later and she could finally hear again, she glanced at her companions in dismay. “I don’t know what that it is, but whatever it is –couldn’t have been good.”

Another loud scream pierced their eyes, bringing nearly all of them to their knees.

Robyn had to think on her feet. Keeping one hand in the air, she forced herself to push past the ghoulish sound and focused. She concentrated on letting go – just enough to feel the familiar flood of magic in her veins. It came quickly as though it had been waiting an eternity for her.

She gritted her teeth and forced it to heel; taking what she needed to feed a quick spell. Her senses became duller and to her ears the high-pitched scream became nothing more than dull background voice. The incantation was brief but she knew it was successful as the people around her suddenly dropped their hands.

They shared glances of confusion, which Robyn avoided by staring straight ahead. She couldn’t exactly explain why they suddenly had no difficulty withstanding the screaming – not without revealing her magic.

Then the screaming returned, loud enough to nearly break Robyn’s spell – and this time it was accompanied by something furry – and vaguely familiar squeezing itself into the hall.

Emerging from the basement was a furry looking beast. It’s head had nearly reached the ceiling and its paws were rather razor sharp along with the long canine teeth that seemed to have grown into fangs the moment it growled at them. If it had two feet high instead of wide and taking up one fourth’s of the room, Robyn might have laughed.

However, their circumstances were quite unlaughable as Robyn noticed the glint of a rune; the same inscription that had troubled them all night.

Shit.

The furry creature wasn’t just any furry creature. She remembered it being a cat once – barely a foot tall. It still had its sleek and nearly all white coat but it wasn’t the adorable little critter that occasionally hissed at her the last time she was here. She stared at it while everyone else had begun backing away with increased frenzy. “Is that Snowball?” Sure enough the large animal’s whiskers and ears seemed to twitch in recognition before it begun circling them; its red eyes glinting as though they were its prey.

They probably were.

“Robyn,” Maxwell somehow managed to keep his voice calm – despite the real possibility of death becoming very apparent. He wanted to scream. “How do you know this Snowball? More importantly why is she looking at us like we’re breakfast?”

“That’s because we probably are.” Robyn muttered back. Louder, she yelled. “Here kitty, kitty.” She stretched her arms in the air, “don’t you remember me?” She cooed, biting back the fear she had felt rising to her chest.

It hissed – sending another shrill scream through out the air.

She quickly hugged herself. “Yup, I’m definitely getting the impression that we’re on the menu.”

“What do we do?” Hannon whispered urgently. “I do not fancy being cat food.”

“I say we split up.” Caspen grunted, spinning his sword fluidly in his hand.

Maxwell was the first to protest. “I thought we agreed splitting up was a very bad idea.”

“Well if you haven’t noticed outsider, we’re pretty much shite out of luck. So, unless you’ve got something better –”

The furry beast, “Snowball” roared. It bared its teeth before pouncing forward.

“I see your point!” Maxwell yelled back and as the giant creature darted across the room, the companions dispersed into several directions.

Both Maxwell and Gavin skirted towards the right before making a mad dash for upstairs. Caspen and Robyn had darted to the left, using the basement stairs as coverage. Drake and Hannon narrowly missed its sharp claws and Drake winced at the sudden stab of pain he felt in his side.

“Drake!” Robyn yelled. She couldn’t dampen her reaction. Her stomach lurched and she was afraid for his safety. She took a small step in his direction.

He gave a brief nod in an indication that he was alright. “You go on ahead, we’ll take care of this beast while Maxwell and Gavin are upstairs.”

“But – ” She hesitated. She felt uncertainty and dread nearly overwhelm her all at once, until Caspen was almost yanking her away.

“Don’t be stupid. This is our only shot. We’ve got this.”

“No, we don’t!” Hannon grunted, ducking as the large animal swiped at him with her paws. He loaded his crossbow and fired three into its side.

Snowball hissed. Its large tail manage to swipe Hannon off his feet. Though at the sight of the other three talking, it skirted around Drake and made a dash for Robyn and Caspen with its fangs bared. Before it could reach them however, Drake used the brunt of his shoulder to dive into his side; shoving and screaming until Snowball tittered forward on unsteady legs. The large animal slammed into the wall – inches away from Robyn and Caspen.

“Go you idiots!” Drake snarled, his eyes bright with determination. “That’s an order!”

Robyn wanted to argue that she wasn’t a soldier and therefore didn’t take orders from him, but by the look inside his eyes, she knew this was not up for debate. Ignoring her fear for his safety, she allowed herself to pulled towards the stairs. “Alright, alright. But don’t you dare die. We’ve still got a prince to go rescue.”

She thought she was seeing things, but the corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

It was colder in the lower area of the manor. The minute they locked the door behind them, Robyn couldn’t stop shaking. Coldness bit into her cheeks and she rubbed her hands together to stop them from going numb. Her breaths came out in the air as hurried smoke and she tried to get her breathing under control.

“Here, take this.” The Pinevale mayor from beside her handed her his cloak.

She wanted to ignore his outstretched hand, however the temptation was too great. The rest of agreed her seemed to agree his gesture as she gratefully slipped it around her. Instead of using it all for herself, she placed her arm loosely around him and tugged him close enough to share. “You can’t fool me for even a second. You’re cold too.”

Caspen laughed until his teeth started to chatter. “I am, but I thought it was the chivalrous thing to offer the fair maiden in my present company, my cloak.”

She snorted. “Caspen, you will soon realize I am unlike any fair maiden you have ever met.”

“Aye, I am already starting to realize that.” He glanced at her then. “Considering you are a mage.”

“I – what?” She stumbled, nearly falling into him.

His arm came out to steady her.

Robyn wanted to deny it of course, it was the only logical thing to do. She did not know him and despite how charming his subtle and not-so-subtle flirtation was, she had to protect herself. “Magic?” She snorted. “Are you daft? Why in heavens sake would you think that.”

His eyes unnerved her. They trapped her under their stare. She didn’t see fear reflecting back at her, she saw gratitude and something else. “When that blasted beast was screaming at us – you saved us.”

“No, I didn’t,” she quickly tried to protest but he interceded.

“You did. It’s the only explanation as to why it didn’t destroy our eardrums.” Caspen searched her eyes. “You saved us and you have my gratitude.”

For a moment, Robyn couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak either.

“If you’re worried about me telling anyone, I won’t. I have my own secrets and I believe people more than deserve to have their own.” He smiled. It was a soft smile that Robyn couldn’t look away from. “I don’t think the others have noticed as much; they fear magic as much as the next person and would rather believe it was the work of the gods.”

Instead, she nodded slowly; releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “Yes, I am a mage.” It had been awhile since she had uttered such words and aloud; and saying them now filled her with a sense of purpose and identity. “But why aren’t you afraid?” She looked at him; really looked at him – there wasn’t an ounce of fear in his open gaze.

“Because you’ve done nothing for me to fear you.” He seemed to be...admiring her. It was something she wasn’t used to. “I see things a little differently than the rest of the village leaders. Unlike them I’ve explored a little, seen bits of the world – things that could not explained until father called me home.” A shadow passed through his features before he continued. “But magic in itself is nothing to be feared, it is a tool that shapes and bends to the person’s will. It is always people that have been scary – no matter how many wars, rivalries or time that has passed; it seems that will always stand true.”

Robyn nodded thoughtfully at his words. She couldn’t agree with him completely; she was living and breathing proof of magic and yet she did not consider it a tool – she was beginning to think it was simply apart of who she was. “I do like the way you talk,” she hadn’t realized she had said the words out-loud until the Pinevale mayor chucked; guiding her closer to him as they walked.

“It isn’t the first time someone’s said this to me,” he said coolly, “but it is the first time I’ve been interested to care what someone else thinks.” His gaze held and his hand slid to hers where her pulse jumped.

She swore she could see deepest hues of blue in his eyes before she pulled away. “I bet you say that to all the woman you meet.” She murmured.

He made a noise of agreement. “Only the pretty ones,” Winking, he turned his sight back into the impending darkness in front of them. It seemed to stretch eons as he held his lantern higher.

Robyn’s gaze drifted towards the ceiling for a moment before they began walking again. “What is this place?

“Neville’s creepy dungeon.” Caspen offered.

She knew he meant it as a jest, but she found herself more than inclined to agree. “I wish laughing wouldn’t hurt.”

“Save it for something truly funny,” he waited a beat. “Such as Neville’s face when he realizes we’ve come to put an end to his foolish reign over Bloomingdale.”

“You really think we can beat him?” She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. She liked admiring people when she could, yet the usual confidence Caspen seemed to radiate seemed to be missing now.

He looked shaken but not defeated. “I don’t know.” He answered carefully. “I haven’t seen anyone alive. Gretchen is probably dead. There’s a giant cat upstairs ready to maul and eat everyone. And whatever hell is waiting for us down here is likely to get us killed.”

“So, all in all…you’re saying it’s likely that we’ll win.”

He laughed and Robyn found it was a pleasant sound compared to the silence she had become accustomed to whenever she was with Drake. Although, she had no idea why she was suddenly thinking of him – and why comparing the two was her first thought. Her first and foremost thought should be getting out here alive, preferably all intact.

“Your sense of humour may be what we need to turn the tide.” He teased.

“You wouldn’t be the first to admire it.” Actually, he would be – but Robyn didn’t want to mention that. She didn’t want to break their easy banter as they came closer and closer to certain doom. Her expression softened, “besides you don’t know that she’s dead.”

He gave her a droll stare. “We haven’t seen anyone alive, everyone else has either been eaten by that…monster upstairs or worse.”

“She’s important to you, isn’t she?” She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes.

“What?” An easy smile slid in place. “Feeling jealous?”

“Hardly.” She snorted. “It’s just…you don’t seem like the type.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “She’s a close family friend, since you’ve asked.” He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, “I disagreed with her leaving for Bloomingdale but she didn’t listen.” Sadness flashed in his eyes before just as quickly fading. “And for the record, you’re wrong I am the type.” His unnerving blue eyes settled on her. “But only for the right person.” Then he had the galls to wink at her.

She laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous!”

“Maybe, but I did get you to laugh – didn’t I?”

“Maybe.” Her lips twitched.

“And to smile despite our grim circumstances.” He smirked. “I am truly a worker of miracles.

Shaking her head, she was about to retort before a sudden chill seeped into her bones. She shivered.

“What is it?”

She could sense it again. A great evil that was growing stronger the further they headed into whatever awaited them in the dark. She could hear its subtle whispers and cocked her head to listen. It was almost nauseating. “You remember the evil I mentioned earlier?”

“I don’t think I’ll like where this is heading, but yes.”

“Then you’re really going to hate what I have to say next. It’s somewhere down here.”

“Fantastic.”

Upstairs Maxwell and Gavin had begun searching every room in sight. They split up; Maxwell had gone for the bedroom first while the older gentleman ran to the guestroom a couple feet away. Both could hear the scurry of feet moving downstairs, the crash that followed when the wailing cat had crashed into something. And no mattered how terrifying it sounded, neither one of them offered to rush back and help.

Maxwell enjoyed being alive too much, and right now he knew he could do more good by finding whatever plans Neville had for all six towns before it was too late. He understood the basic concept of wanting to create better versions of one selves, however the rune part was still very beyond his knowledge of magic. Unlike Robyn he wasn’t well-versed in magic and not knowing made it easier for him to part with the others in good conscience.

He gave a little squeal of triumph when his fingers had finally found something heavy and black. He made room for it on the dresser as his curiosity overtaken the better of him. Laden with pages wrapped in leather, he hovered over the parchment only for his fingers to suddenly burn the second they made contact.

“By the heavens!” Maxwell swore foully. He blew on his fingertips.

“Did you find somethin’?”

Maxwell hadn’t heard the older gentleman come in. He pointed at the book, “sort of. It won’t budge. But my guess is there’s magic binding this together.” When he tried to touch it again, all he could manage was a yelp. “Yup definitely magic.”

“It’s foul! We should leave it here.”

Maxwell shook his head. He knew the benefits of something important when he saw it. Glancing around warily, he carefully used his rapier to slice half of the bedsheet and wrapped it inside the magical item before strapping it to his back. “I say it’ll be useful for later.”

He heard the older man grumble before disappearing again and when he was gone, Maxwell scourged the rest of room. He found nothing – nothing else of his importance anyway. For a man that had always seemed arrogant the lack of any personal items here he found was startling. His eyes located a picture though, although the frame seemed broken he brushed of pieces askew before raising it closer to his lantern.

It was a picture of Neville several years younger with his parents. As a little boy, he looked like the Neville he remembered – a person that laughed for the fun of it and not for other people’s expense and enjoyed games that only children could. But they were no longer children and whatever ties Maxwell felt to the man couldn’t stand in the way of all the horrid atrocities he committed.

Heaving a sigh, he folded the photo and tucked it into his breast pocket before seeking another room.

Downstairs Drake was trying his best not to be killed. Despite his earlier reassurances to Robyn, it was proving to be far more difficult to keep his promise each time he dodged another one of the creature’s attacks.

His muscles were starting to grow weary and tears were starting to form into his clothes, while Snowball seemed to have an abundance of energy. He didn’t doubt that it had more to do with the rune on his neck than its actual physique as the beast’s unnerving bright-crimsons watched his every move.

Drake couldn’t fathom how he was getting out of this one – at least not alive, especially with his comrade swearing and yelling as he tried to stay out the way. “Can your aim be a little better Hannon?” He growled at the heavy-set man, as he nimbly missed another swipe of Snowball’s dastardly terrifying claws.

“I am trying.” Hannon wheezed through a cough, as he unloaded another barrage of bolts –only two hitting true to it’s arm. They stuck the beast’s left side. And yet it seemed more a nick though than doing any good in slowing it down because the furry creature didn’t as much as winced despite its side starting to bleed rather profusely.

Drake couldn’t understand it. Did the animal feel no pain?

It must be the rune. His inner thoughts nagged insistently as the cat begun circling him. But how do I stop that? How did he have any hope of stopping such a thing when he didn’t know its weakness?

The rune itself seemed to be pulsating from its exposed neck. The familiar looking inscriptions etched into its coat and the veins around it were a stark contrast to its white fur. It was pulsating a dark shade of violet.

Drake’s brows furrowed at the sight, his brain trying to think of a way to gain the upper hand. The beast pounced for another attack and his blade met claws head-on before he rolled and feinted left, swiping his weapon to chip off one of it’s jagged edges.

The creature didn’t as much as blink at the lost claw, confirming Drake’s suspicions that it seemed incapable of feeling pain. “Great.” He muttered grimly, “an enemy without pain is going to be hard to cut down.” The thought alone would have terrified if it not had been for the adrenaline him rousing the knight to his feet.

“I have an idea.” Drake yelled to Hannon as he skirted around the hall with Snowball nearly snapping at his heels. “But you’re not going to like it, hell I don’t even like it.”

Hannon was across the room; his beady eyes widening as the two figures drew closer. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be the distraction!”

“I am the distraction!” Drake shouted back. “See that rune on his neck? The one Robyn was talking about?” He didn’t wait for him to answer as he ducked against another swipe of the creature’s claws. “Just aim your next attack at his neck – and please for the love of god – do not miss.”

Hannon’s mouth moved to protest but at the increasing alarm in which they grew closer, he seemed to think better of it. Raising his hands high, he kept his eyes locked on the animal – watching its jerky movements. There was a pattern to it and Hannon smiled as he adjusted his weight on his weapon. He closed one eye and held his breath. He released the same moment the bolts did – one missing its mark but the other two dug itself right in the middle.

Snowball dug its feet into the ground, yowling loud enough for Drake to cup his ears as he tried to skirt out of its way. Its claws were desperately trying to reach him as it started sliding against the floor.

“Heads up,” Drake began running past Hannon and at the last second; he thought better of it and scooped the shorter man into his arms. His feet began an all-out sprint.

Hannon screamed, clutching the taller gentleman as the beast begun tumbling down. Its eyes seemed to widen in horror when Drake glanced back and for a moment, he felt a wave of pity for the animal as it landed in a heap – its head slamming against the hallway’s wall with such force that it made a hole giant enough for its head to fall quickly through.

Drake uttered a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging until Hannon started hitting him with his fists. “Put me down – you giant oaf!’

The knight grunted, narrowly missing another fist to his shoulder as he helped the village leader to his feet. “You’re welcome.” He said dryly.

The shorter man harrumphed and muttered something under his breath; too low for Drake to hear. He patted his protruding stomach before hooking his crossbow to the straps across his back. “We’re wasting time.”

Drake agreed. “We need to find the others. Hopefully they’ve had much better luck than the rest of us – ”

“Drake!” Maxwell’s voice interrupted. It boomed from upstairs and the knight had to crane his neck to see the nobleman’s frantic wave. “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine.” He couldn’t lie to himself. He was happy to see the other man alive.

“Speak for yourself.” Hannon grumbled.

Drake ignored him. “And you?”

“Fine.” Maxwell beamed. “Even better now that we’ve found something. I think – I think it may help, but we’ll have to show Robyn.”

At the sound of her name Drake stood a little straighter and cursed. He had forgotten. He left the woman with that village leader because he hadn’t any other choice. Now he wondered what kind of ill-fate awaited them since making it to the lower level. They needed to hurry.

“Aye, I’m here as well!” Seconds later, Gavin’s grey hair poked through before his face met Hannon’s relieved smile. “He says that blasted thing is useful but it isn’t since we can’t actually put it to use right now, can we boy?” He glared at Maxwell.

“Not every little thing will reveal itself all at once.” Maxwell argued, glaring back. “One has to simply wait for the meanings to make themselves known. I am sure of it.”

Gavin stared at him. “What kind of foolish, dimwitted thinking –”

“Explain on the way,” Drake cupped his mouth to shout and interrupted their bickering. His impatience and worry were at odds with each other, warring as he thought of Robyn and the imposing threat that awaited them at the other staircase.

The knight was not a betting man, or a superstitious man but he was a man that believed in fear. Fear was real and tangible in a way that he could not stop the shudder of trepidation from reaching him. Whatever the lower level held – it most certainly would descend them into more danger. “We need to find Robyn and Caspen before Neville does.”

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