Eryn spits the blood pooling in her mouth onto the ground, wiping the stray drops off her chin as she does with a wild grin as she sees Whitburn's eyes flash with fear at the sounds of manacles snapping off the dungeon walls behind him. She hears Darius behind Whitburn chuckling with his familiar baritone voice, and that noise just makes her heart sing. She forgot how much she missed just hearing his laugh. Whitburn is in a defensive stance, he's in quite the predicament being sandwiched between the brothers and herself. Darius calls Whitburn's name, demanding his attention with a line that sends chills down her own spine, his presence exudes pure menace.
Eryn doesn't wait to let him get his bearings, once she sees both Darius and Draven standing there, tall and confident, commanding his gaze to be focused on them, she charges at Whitburn. He whips around and parries her blow like she knew he would, but with his back turned Draven is able to land a staggering blow with a sickening crack to his ribs. "You thought we were idiots huh? You underestimated me! Draven! And no one does that and lives!"
"Draven, less taunting, more killing!" Katarina hisses from across the cell where Mournflame is dueling with her. She lands a deep blow with her blade causing the knight to roar in pain before landing a nasty blow to her leg. She's the one howling in pain now as her leg gives out beneath her, but it's Darius to her rescue as he collides with his full force into the Demacian. Mournflame staggers backwards, looking truly worse for wear. "Took you long enough, your little vacation in Demacia making you slower?" She taunts him and he laughs it off, seemingly unfazed by her bitter tone.
"Always good to see you too Kat."
"Fuck off I'm mad at you. All three of you."
"What else is new?" Darius's voice is warm and light hearted, like they weren't fighting for their lives at this very moment. Eryn feels a pang of jealousy at the familiarity he's showing Kat, like they're old friends, but she pushes it aside. Now is not the time to be petty. She reminds herself.
Eryn surveys their surroundings. The one guard she had sent hurtling into the wall is unmoving, most likely unconscious or dead. Mournflame and Whitburn are both engaged in combat, but the other Demacian seems to have disappeared after she had gotten distracted by Whitburn. The one with the broken shield.
Draven's body collides into her as Whitburn lands a decent blow against Draven and she's sent tumbling to the floor with him. Whitburn charges at them while they're still vulnerable. Draven struggles to get to his feet to get between her and Whitburn, to try to be her human shield. Draven's too slow, too off kilter, but Darius isn't as he grabs Whitburn by his arm and flings him into the wall. Eryn's magic allows him to toss Whitburn like a ragdoll, and he gladly makes full use of that strength.
"Any harm you bring to them I'll give back to you tenfold you Demacian pig." Darius growls, sounding almost animalistic as he brings his fists down with all of his might, aiming to crush his head beneath his fists.
Whitburn blocks with his gauntlet just in time, the petricite absorbing the magic that had surrounded Darius. Whitburn grabs Darius by his wrist and twists it sharply and Darius howls in pain. "You think you can win, you scum? You're just delaying the inevitable. And now it's not just you who's going to suffer for it, but your little magic girlfriend and your foolish brother too!" Whitburn roars as his fists batter into Darius's arms, who's doing his best to block the brunt of the blows, but she can see he's starting to falter. He's been living as a prisoner for weeks now, he's not going to be in top form, and it's starting to show.
Eryn scrambles to her feet, but as she does she hears the sound of footsteps in the stairway. A lot of footsteps are coming to the dungeon. Reinforcements. Panic fills her with each breath, like she's drowning in an ocean of it. They definitely can't handle the entire fort barreling down on them. Draven hears it too, his usual cocky expression is replaced with concern as he looks between his struggling brother and the stairway. "Hold them off!" Eryn orders as she lunges forward, not even waiting for a response from him.
Whitburn's back is to her as he lands a harsh blow to Darius's chest sending him stumbling away, and memories of the battle of Fort Ironwood flood back to her. She's low on magic, just as she was then, but even more desperate. She wraps her arms tightly around Whitburn's waist as she summons all of her magic. Her hands swathed in green flames press into his chest as she wills him to sleep.
She feels him struggle, at first in confusion and then panic as the magic takes hold of him. He grabs her arm with his petricite gauntlet and she feels her magic waiver. Desperation takes hold as she flings all of it at him, every last bit of her magic, pushing past the petricite trying to block her. It burns her being, and she screams in pain but doesn't stop until she feels his body collapse and go limp beneath her. But even then she doesn't stop, she can't. She wants to make sure he never wakes up, he never harms her or Darius or anyone again.
"Eryn!"
She hears the voice, she thinks it's Draven's, but she can't stop. Her vision has gone black but she still feels his life force flickering under her hands. She needs to snuff it out. She can't stop. He needs to die. She hears screaming and she isn't sure if it's herself or Whitburn beneath her.
"Eryn we need to go!"
She ignores the voice, digging her fingers into Whitburn's skin as her arms burn from her own magic.
"Eryn I need you to come back to me." Suddenly she's enveloped in something warm and her body is lifted into the air. Her eyes snap back into focus to see Darius cradling her. His face is smeared with blood and his eyes are full of fear. She's never seen him afraid before, she realizes.
"We gotta get to those tunnels, those soldiers are going to be through my shitty blockade any second! Eryn where do we go? You gotta tell us where to go right now!" It's Draven's voice now that rings through the dungeon.
"Hall. Left." She croaks before devolving into a coughing fit. What did she do to herself? Out of the corner of her eye she sees what she thinks is Whitburn's body, but the skin has turned black and has the texture of a rotten fruit. Her stomach churns. Did she do that?
The rest is a blur for Eryn as she fights to remain conscious. Darius cradles her against his chest as they dash through the hallways. Draven supports a limping Katarina on his shoulder as they go. Torches whizz by them as they move swiftly through the halls. She keeps her eyes on Darius's face as they move, how tightly his jaw is clenched and how he steals worried glances down to her in his arms. She must look like a mess because everytime he does she can see a pained expression plastered across his face.
They reach a dead end and Draven starts swearing profusely, the Demacian soldiers are right on their heels. "Mooreheart how's this thing open? What magic word we gotta say?"
"Hand." Eryn's voice sounds like a grindstone as she struggles to even get a word out. She holds out her hand and that's when she sees her arms. She understands why Darius has been reacting so viscerally, her skin is so burnt it looks like she had dunked them into a molten forge. The flesh is marred deeply, singed a deep red, and green sparks flicker off them like a smoldering campfire.
Draven just repeats after Eryn like it's some kind of magic word and Katarina snaps at him. "You idiot she means put her hand to the wall."
Darius is already on it, gently bringing Eryn close enough for her to place her hand against the stone. It lights up in green flames just like before, and she sees him flinch backwards momentarily as the wall turns to ash. The four of them enter the hallway, the bricks reforming behind them just as the Demacian soldiers round the corner to see them slip from their grasp. Eryn sighs in relief, the worst of it having come to pass.
She rests her face against Darius's chest, allowing the exhaustion to settle over her like a heavy blanket. "Eryn I need you to stay awake." His voice is stern, like he's her commander giving her an order.
"Make me." Her voice is hoarse as she attempts to tease him.
He chuckles and the way it rumbles through her entire body causes a grin to splay across her face. "Already being insubordinate. You're going to be a problematic Noxian." He lifts her higher to press his lips to her forehead, she can feel him smiling as he does.
She can hear Draven and Katarina say something witty, teasing him somehow, but at this point she's too tired to make it out. Her consciousness slips away but as it does, she notes how much she likes being called a Noxian, something that would have felt like an insult just mere months ago feels like a compliment. Like acceptance. Like she finally belongs somewhere.