Author's Note: This is my very first attempt at writing a story. Reviews would be much appreciated. The main character, Pyro, is based on my level 65 spiritmaster residing in Siel, NA servers. I've been to the instance that I will be describing here. Please keep in mind that I will be altering a lot of the details within the instance.
Warning: Will contain lots of gore, blood, description of torture, and disturbing events. Read at your own discretion!
Pyro sat with his back against the trunk of the tree, eyes glazed over. The fresh metallic smell of blood spurting erratically from his wounds has turned rancid as it slowly dried up. His normally fair white hair is knotted with streaks of dirt. The tear tracks on his face are clearly visible.
Another one of them has lost her sanity.
His eyes stung as he re-lived the memory of Melody thrashing wildly, attempting to bury her claws in her own throat as panicked guards tried to hold her down. He remembered desperately trying to calm her while deafened by her terrible wails. A woman bereaved of her child could not have produced a more heart-rending noise. Her eyes were blank and unseeing; her mind stuck in the horrifying mission that their team last undertook.
Then she broke free. Baring her bloodstained teeth, she pounced at him, her best friend. He did not even try to deflect her claws as they ripped his skin open. Instead, he held her tightly as more guards were summoned and dragged her away, kicking and screaming.
He remained oblivious to the clerics healing the deep gashes on his body as he thought of what they had seen on their mission that would make him question everything that he'd ever known.
. . . . .
Mental Health Centre is a treatment facility for daevas who need professional help in coping with psychological scars they've acquired on the battlefield. When the idea for a hospital specializing in psychiatry was first brought up, the higher-ups dismissed it as a waste of the faction's resources. But as more and more daevas succumbed to their inner wounds, Pandemonium gave in and ordered the construction of the building. Psychiatrists and nurses were trained and hired. Today, the Centre is filled to capacity with patients, some of whom afflicted with such severe conditions that they were kept there for years.
Pyro sat wearily in the waiting area of the facility, his Wind Spirit by his side. A few patients are gathered around a coffee table playing a board game, observed by a nurse nearby who periodically jotted notes down on her clipboard. Occasionally the corners of her lips would curl upward at something one of them said. Despite the generally relaxed atmosphere, Pyro could sense the depression contorting the features of the daevas. There was heaviness in their every movement, shadows lacing their smiles; he knew that despite their best efforts to escape, whatever had put them in this place haunts them without respite.
His gaze drifted past them to the bulletproof glass doors barring him from the PICU: the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit, where Melody was taken. The screams had stopped, thank Azphel; probably due to her having been injected with anti-anxiety meds to calm her down. If she was in danger of hurting herself or other daevas, she would've been held down while given the syringe.
Pyro knew the drill well. After all, he had been in and out of here several times.
A nurse opened the door and gestured to him, breaking his reverie. Her smile was thin. Inwardly frowning at the pronounced stress in her features, Pyro followed her inside. The nurses in the nursing station nodded at him in recognition as he passed them en route to the patient rooms. A curtain hung over every doorway for an attempt at privacy. Cameras were installed in every room for 24/7 surveillance. Pyro remembered feeling uneasy at being watched, even if they said it was to make sure he was safe.
The nurse stops at one of the rooms and motions for him to come inside. His breath hitches upon seeing clumps of lavender hair litter the floor. Slowly he dares himself to look at the lone occupant of the bed, and as he did so, his eyes well up again. Melody lay strapped down to it. Slivers of hair remain between her claws, stained with crusted blood; testify to the violence she did herself. Patches of blood, some still fresh, adorn her scalp. A blanket covered most of her body, exposed under her ripped clothes. Bits of foam remain on the corners of her mouth, a sign that she had been convulsing. He takes a seat on the chair next to her bed and touches her hand.
"Mel," he whispers.
"She finally went to sleep a few minutes ago." The nurse murmured.
"Is she going to be alright?"
"We'll talk to her and do some tests when she wakes up. Hopefully she'll be in a calmer state of mind by then."
He doubted anything would be able to erase the terrible things she has seen. One by one his teammates had fallen prey to the horrors they witnessed during their trek through Idgel Research Center.
. . . . . . . .
It had begun as a spy mission on Pradeth, occupied at the time by the Elyos. Pyro's team was sent with the objective of accessing the fortifications of the fortress before the invasion scheduled to take place next day. Any weak points they report will be targeted first. One single mistake could mean defeat: thus there was no room for error.
The three assassins and ranger doing most of the scouting were faring well so far. Through headsets they reported the number of guards at each gate as well as the ones patrolling the walls. Pyro and Melody, their cleric, remained behind in the safe zone in case backup is needed.
"Hey! I found something!" one of the assassins whispered excitedly.
"What?" Instantly Pyro went on alert.
"It's a portal. I've never seen it before...I wonder what it does?"
"Wait! Don't touch it!" he shouted. But it was too late, it seemed. There was only dead silence at the other end. A string of profanities made their way out of his mouth as a message appeared telepathically in his mind: The Idgel Research Center has opened.
"We have to go after him. He could be in huge trouble!" The ranger intoned worriedly.
"All the more reason why we should call for backup before doing anything rash," Pyro snapped.
"Chances are it's an abandoned old research lab." Another assassin argued.
"We'll be the first one to discover a new hideout! We'll be famous!" The third assassin chirped. "What're you waiting for?" Their ends went silent as well.
"Dammit!" He cursed. Despairing, he looked at Melody. She shrugs.
"We're a geared team, Pyro. I think we'll be able to hold our ground if we come across Elyos or Beritra's forces. We should hurry to them though. It wouldn't be wise to leave them be without heals."
He relented. "Alright. But don't blame me if shit goes wrong."
She giggles. "You always worry too much."
As they reached the location of the portal where their teammates were last heard from, a strange sense of foreboding twisted like a knife in his stomach. His Wind Spirit whimpered nervously, the hairs on its back standing on end. He tried to convince himself that, in the worst case scenario, they could just make their escape.
"Scared?" Melody winked at him mischievously, one hand already extended towards the swirling purple entrance.
"N-no way!" He forced a smile onto his face. It quickly turned into a frown as he felt his pet rake its claws on his leg urgently. The spirit usually retained its calm even when facing 20 Elyos. His disquiet worsened. "Mel, maybe we should-"he turned towards her direction, but she had disappeared into the portal.
Closing his eyes, he walked towards it. He lifted his right hand and waited. Slowly he felt the distorted space consume his essence. His last thought before being completely swallowed up? "I hope she's right."