"Run and Hide, Little Mage"
"He can't hurt you. He won't."
"How do you know?" She had asked, not understanding how he could scare away the monster. The figure simply tilted it's head and Liz could feel something itching in the back of her head. It was familiar. So familiar. Why?
"I won't let him."
It paused, then rewound. Almost like the dream itself started to unravel. The white walls and the light slowly fizzled and melted away.
'I won't let – won't le-et him.' The voice distorted and a deep chuckle could be heard, her eyes flew open and her heart was threatening to pump it's way out of her chest. Liz could have sworn she could still hear the chuckling ringing in her ears, but when consciousness fully gripped her – her friend was gone.
That's right. He was gone. He left. Just like everyone else.
Hopelessness gripped her chest as she stared at the dank walls of her cell. She was going to die in here, wasn't she? Liz was going to die all alone in a world not her own. What a wonderful thought. If she was reborn again somehow, hopefully she could at least start over with a blank slate.
'But if I'm going to die, I don't want to die alone. Please. Just...'
You can run, but you can never hide for long.
Well, at least now Liz knew what 'The Pit' was. She hadn't been far off in her assumption, anyway. Dungeons in this day and age never turned out good on the detainee's part. And from the sounds of it, she would be incredibly lucky if she were to even come out of the situation alive.
After some debate, they'd figured out that she was not, in fact, some random mage that Auri had been harboring. But an escaped mage. Didn't look too good on her part.
And it shouldn't. She'd been the one to kill all of those people, afterall. The thought caused her stomach to roil. She was disgusted with herself. The young woman rubbed at her eyes, feeling them bruise from the constant motion. She was tired, but couldn't sleep. Everytime she slept all she could see was their faces. Agape, angry, air filled with the smell of cooked flesh. Her dreams here felt so… real.
"It's the Trevelyan kid. Do you think he's a Vint?" Liz heard one of the men say at the end of the hall when she focused in on their conversation again. They'd been gossiping like little schoolgirls for the passed two hours, now. She, of course, used it as an opportunity to learn about the place she was stuck in. Thus far, she learned they were Orlesian (From the country she was in currently). They sounded French. They thought Liz was a young boy. And something about the cute chef and her bosoms.
Ah, and not to forget that Edward owes Paul four Royals and three Crowns. She assumed that was the currency in this world.
The candlelight flickered across the battered stone hallway. It barely allowed her to see the cell across from her. She could have sworn she saw another figure slumped in the corner. Or maybe it was staring back at—the eyes shone, green orbs glinting as it turned it's head. Okay, yes. It was looking at her. Must be a race with low-light or darkvision. A dwarf or elf? Since her arrival to the tower, she hadn't ever seen a dwarf within the confines of the building. She'd seen them milling about in the town near shipments. But never in the tower. She wasn't sure why.
Neither of the prisoners made a sound.
"What? Why do you say that?" Edward asked and she could hear him slap something onto the table that sounded oddly like change. "I raise."
"Bugger."
It's been two days now? Two, since her capture. She'd tried to leave Auri's house after laying low for two days. Unfortunately templars came pounding at the woman's door. Maxwell had been right. They found her. What she wanted to know was, how? They didn't have cameras in this world, that she knew of, so how had they pinpointed her so quickly? Perhaps rumors had spread. Gossip, as it seemed, appeared to travel like wildfire.
"I hear they have relatives in Tevinter. I bet he was sent in to spy on Orlais!" Paul's more accented voice spouted. Liz's lips thinned as she focused in on the bars, her fingers feeling for any weak spots. For the first time since she'd arrived, she wished she knew more about the world.
Okay. Orlais was the country she was in. But what's Tevinter? They spoke of it like it was a disease of some sort. Were they at war? Did Tevinter try to invade?
"Could it be? Is that why he's alive?" A gasp, "Yes! That's the only reason they didn't kill him outright. I'll bet you they need information."
"Oh hohoho, boy. He's got it in for 'im."
Evidently nothing good, in her case. Nothing was ever easy.
The young woman sighed quietly and stopped her scratching at the bars, fingers getting just as sore as the rest of her battered body. She scooted back and leaned against the wall at the far back, facing the dark hallway.
Liz wondered if she'd ever really see the outside of this dungeon at all. Though she didn't really begrudge those templars for how they were treating her. She was, afterall, a monster. All mages were.
If what she'd done to those people in the library had been proof enough.
Two days in that blasted cell. Two. She'd been living off of bread and dirty water that they occasionally delivered through the bars of her cell. The cuffs around her wrists prevented her from casting spells completely. She could still get a spark to dance at the tip of her finger. But that was it.
The young woman frowned, pushing the bangs away from her dirt smudged face. She'd been caught on her way out of the city. Of course, she'd been fleeing templars at the time. She had gotten through the woods. But ah, Erin's weak body failed her yet again. She'd tripped over her own feet.
'At least this way I won't end up getting possessed and killing someone.' She admitted to herself, curling into a ball. Especially since she could swear she heard whispers out in the hallway. The whispers here seemed louder, more prominent. Frantic, even. At times they wouldn't stop. There was no sleep for Liz. Especially not here.
Deep into her musing, she was interrupted by a 'click!', then her cell door opening slowly. It's hinges squeaked and squealed ominously, but quiet enough to not attract attention. Edward and Paul cackled in the background, obviously having fun playing their game. Liz's eyes snapped open and she looked up at the door fearfully.
Another templar?
No. He had no armor. A shadow—a lanky young man in leathers stood above her at the entrance of her cell. She couldn't see his face or features, only that he was a dark shadow standing there observing her. The way he moved stiffly caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. He? It? What-
It was silent. Standing there for maybe a minute as the noise down the hallway died down, cloaking them in the ominous hum of the dungeon.
The meager amount of light that even shifted into the cell from the torches far down the hall wasn't enough to make out much of this thing's features. The only thing she could see was a shadow of what it was. The silence seemed to echo. The halls, harrowing, hollow—her heartbeat galloped.
It's face turned and the warm hues of the torchlight felt almost foreboding as the thing before her stared down at her. The little amount of illumination highlighting pale features and sunken in eyes. The accented angles of it's face and how it's eyes seemed to glow under the dim light caused her breathing to hitch. Her brown eyes widened as she scuttled backward.
"W-W-What are you?" It didn't feel human. Liz didn't know why, but the way it moved and the way it seemed to observe her didn't seem right. Keys jingled in it's hands as it moved closer and pocketed them.
That's when her fight or flight instinct kicked in. Normally the young woman would flee, but she needed those keys.
It knelt down in front of her, so close she could feel it's breath. Then, a male voice spoke. "I can take it all away."
Liz's breath shuddered, the memory of the thing in her dreams spurring the fear in her gut and causing her to panic. With one swift motion, she jutted her hands into it's face. The thing let out a grunt and fell backward, something falling out of it's pocket with a clink and clatter. Multiple somethings.
She took advantage of it's stunned state and pounced atop it. She grabbed it's hair and slammed it's head against the floor. Again. Again. Limp. Unmoving. She didn't know if she killed it, but she scanned the floor for the keys. Surprised that she could see. A glowing blue rock lit up a portion of the cell, almost shining like a beacon next to the keys that were once in the thing's pocket.
Her fingers worked through the ring of keys, oblivious to the watching eyes in the cell across from her. She checked every single one, it seemed, trying to unlock her cuffs.
'That's it!'
With renewed hope, she stood up and began to creep toward the unlocked cell. Liz, of course, didn't forget the glowing rock. The blue glow was muffled as she pocketed it. As she was shuffling around, her foot bumped into something, causing her to pause at it's loud 'clank!'.
Liz could feel her stomach drop to her feet.
"What was that?" Someone asked from down the hallway. Liz felt frozen, the blood in her veins turning to ice. No. Nono. This was bad. She forced herself to bend down and grab the object she'd bumped into. A dagger.
"Should we go check it out?"
"Better safe than sorry, I suppose." Heavy footfalls made their way toward her cell, her heart beating wildly. The object she'd picked up had been the thing's dagger. Had it been trying to kill her? "I'll stay here."
"Yeah yeah, lazy ass." One of them grumbled as he walked down the corridor with a lantern. His voice more aged and wizened.
"Shut up, Paul!" The other one snapped just as Paul's lantern lit her up. She had no doubt in her mind that she looked like a haggard mess. A monstrosity. Especially with how most of her hair had been chopped off above her shoulders from earlier.
An unfortunate result of her attempted escape in the woods.
"That's—whoa!" The templar's eyes widened in fear as Liz lunged in his direction, dagger poised. She needed to act fast. In his surprised state, he had no time to react to it as it was plunged up into the bottom of his jaw. He gurgled on his own blood as she tried to rip it back out.
It was harder than she thought. Liz could feel the flesh tearing and pulling, hot blood gushing down her hands and arms—making the grip on the dagger slippery. The young woman had to hold back the urge to gag as she finally yanked it free.
The fear in her gut seemed to spur the base human instinct into overdrive. Survive. Live. It drove her forth as she thrust it in again, for good measure. The ex-EMT was no rookie when it came to death and blood. However, she'd never been the one to do it. She'd watched her fair share of lives die out. Sometimes even held their hand as the light slowly extinguished in their eyes. Scared. Unmoving.
But this was nothing like that. She was the direct cause of this man's death. The reason his fear-filled features stared down at her. She was the reason the luster in his gaze dulled as they rolled back. The reason the blood—oh the blood. It coated her arms like warm, slick paint.
"Paul!" She heard a shriek of fury from behind the templar as he slowly fell backward, lantern clattering to the floor. Then came his body with a heavy, 'Thud!'
Liz didn't hesitate, even though she felt she should have. She didn't. She pulled at the power inside of her, letting the electricity guide itself. Even her own hair was standing on end as it traveled down her arms and erupted from the tips of her fingers. Everything exploded into a mess of blues and purples. The light ricocheted down the hallway and connected to the other man.
His body spasmed and flailed about, but she refused to let it up. This time she would not let him live. Liz, in the back of her mind, felt something pulling at her. Promising her more power. More more. 'More?'
'More.'
'No. Nono.'
Once she was satisfied and the smell of cooked flesh filled the corridors, she took a hesitant step out and paused. The cell across from her barely lit up, thanks to the lantern at her feet. A young man was crouched in the middle of the cell, watching her from underneath a curtain of mussed hair. She nodded and tossed him the bloody ring of keys, then turned and ran off without a second thought. Liz took the turn she thought was toward the exit.
Unfortunately for her, it lead deeper into the Pit.
'Whatever this place is, it's a damn maze.' Liz thought to herself as she passed the same door she did the last couple of times. It felt like she was being lead in circles. Her bare feet clapped against the moist stone surface. She'd even run into a flooded portion, much to her luck. She washed off the filth, trying to convince herself that she was coated in mud. Oil. Something other than—
The young mage tried to retrace her steps, again and again. Using only the light from the glowing stone as illumination. It wasn't much. There were twists and turns. She even had to climb through a few collapsed hallways at some point. But eventually she made her way back from where she'd come from. Or, at least she thought that was it.
Liz was beginning to regret running off so quickly. Now she was stuck in the pitch blackness of the underground maze with only the sounds of rats scurrying across her feet for company. Liz's stomach growled and she suddenly wished she could have a cheeseburger or something from Burger King. The thought only seemed to make her even hungrier.
Would she have to resort to eating the rats?
Oh Gods.
She was distracted when she turned the corner and bumped into someone. It took everything in her not to scream or toast them with her magic. Which would have been entirely accidental, of course. The poor girl didn't even have full control over her abilities. She knew that, for sure. Especially since the nervousness that buzzed underneath her skin almost manifested like that time in the library. Liz had to breathe and focus on the figure instead of her own fear.
The tall figure stumbled back and stared down at her, eyes wide. He almost looked frightened at the sight of Liz.
Her nerves calmed, if only slightly, when she realized that the young man was not one of those templars. She whispered, "Oh, it's just you."
His eyes seemed to widen even further, at that. Almost like the fact that she was even talking to him absolutely horrified him.
She remembered seeing him in the Tower at some point. He was completely covered in old dried blood, the coppery scent permeated the air and almost made the young woman gag. It's not like she smelled like daisies either, so she felt she had no room to judge.
He must have gotten into the same position as her and escaped. Did the man in the cell across from her let some of the others out? Did he get out, too? Liz kept her guard up, ever cautious of this new person in front of her. She took in his appearance as he stood there, frozen.
Liz noticed a bruise forming on the side of his face, the blue light only dimly revealing his gaunt face. Had they even fed the poor guy? Irritation reared it's ugly head and waged war against the uneasiness that seemed only to grow as the young man stared down at her with those sad eyes of his.
The most striking blue eyes she'd ever seen, in fact.
Hidden beneath a mass of stringy blonde hair. Eyes that held an insurmountable amount of pain and loneliness. Eyes that told her that he's seen and experienced much much more than she ever could. Even so, the young woman saw a little of herself in that man. It reflected back at her, the ache in her chest growing.
He was lost. So so lost.
"What are you doing down here?" Liz muttered, trying to keep her voice quiet as she lowered her hand from it's defensive stance. The young man seemed to relax, if only a little. Though his shaking had not ceased and she could tell from his body language that he was nervous and scared.
When it seemed he was about to answer, his mouth opening slightly, voices echoed quietly from down the tunnel and Liz tensed. Without even a second thought, she snatched his hand and dragged him in the opposite direction. He struggled for a moment, confusion flickering across his face and the woman tapped down the urge to growl impatiently.
"Do you want to get caught?" She spoke quietly, allowing the irritation to enter her tone as she continued around the corner. He tugged on her hand-
"But they can't-" His voice was too loud! Liz whirled around and let out a 'shush!' sound, her other hand merely inches from his mouth. What was he thinking?! They would hear him if he was too loud, did he not know that? He'd go back to that cell and- and- "See me."
The young mage's hand pushed against him and she shoved him against the wall. Their sheer size difference was almost comical and he could have easily pushed her off and overpowered her for all she knew, but he simply froze up and stared down at her with that terrified expression of his.
"I don't care if you want to get thrown back in that cell, but I'll be damned if you get me caught in the process." Liz spoke dangerously, the light extinguishing as she pocketed the stone again. The voices seemed only to grow in the distance. They were both shrouded in the darkness as she tuned her hearing in and tried to listen. The woman could hear their heavily clad footsteps, even make out some of the words as they spoke amongst one another.
They were talking about some deaths that had happened, which made her stomach drop. 'They are looking for me.'
Then she realized, why did she care what happened to this young man anyway? Dragging him along would only serve to get her captured, possibly killed, in the process. Something that she should be avoiding. Caring about the wellbeing of people tended to do that to a person. Liz released him and stepped back. Caring for that boy that was getting beaten got the people in the library killed. Caring was not a luxury she could have. Not if she wanted to survive.
A stark contrast to what she was used to back on Earth. But it was either adapt or survive. She'd rather live.
That's right. Staying there would get her caught and killed. He would only drag her down.
It was then something changed inside of her.
Without even a second thought, or even a word of warning, she turned and darted off. The young mage left him leaning against that wall, shaking and confused. Something clenched in her stomach but she shook her head and continued on, around the corner. Left, right, right, left. It was an endless maze and she ran onto places that were completely submerged in water more times than she could count.
But she continued to run. Run away from the pit forming in her stomach. The void. The ever dwindling fleck of humanity that had remained from Earth. Gone. Abandoned. This world was different and she had to adopt new morals. It was either her, or them.
And she chose herself.
So she refused to think about what had probably happened to that young man once the templars found him. She tried so so hard not to think about it.
Two days, now. Three days, no food. She knew, because she had to sleep in a dusty room full of cobwebs on more than one occasion. Though, it was definitely better than the cell she'd been sleeping in. On account of the fact that there was still a mattress on the broken bed. It was a soft surface, nonetheless. Better than nothing.
The young mage had also scrounged up an old pot from one of said rooms. She used it to collect water. Which she knew from back in her world likely contained harmful bacteria. Liz's stomach clenched and growled as she held the cup.
Easily rectified with a little trick she'd taught herself. She heated up the cup to kill said bacteria, using dancing sparks on her hands. Sparks, that seemed to come a lot easier to her than anything else. She was too afraid of fire. Lightning, electricity... it was beautiful. She believed so, anyway.
So with enough concentration, she had been able to boil the water. Liz, afterall, did not want to get diarrhea and get sick. She'd just end up dead quicker. Unfortunately, it was time consuming. And she'd almost burned the palms of her hands more often than she'd like to admit.
Sleep, sleep was harder. She still couldn't find it in her to fall asleep completely, constantly plagued with their faces. Voices. Was it their voices or demons? Were the demons preying on her guilt? Her pain? Her sins?
She finally slept that night. Although not intentionally. The woman practically passed out from exhaustion. The reason she knew she fell asleep was because of the way she heard her name, whispered from an unknown entity that refused to show it's face. Something was there. Watching. Waiting. It—it.
Something shifted, causing her eyes to snap open from the dream she'd been having. She had been wandering the halls of the Pit, glowstone gone. Unseen. Dark. Liz breathed heavily, feeling her heart hammering against her small chest.
'Won't...die'
The voice was right there! She sat up, fumbling around her pockets for the stone. Where was the stone?!
'I...'
It breathed into her ear and Liz could feel the tears spring into her eyes. She wanted to cry. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, 'Oh Gods, please just go away!'
The young mage panicked, pulling at the power again and letting her hand light up. It was completely encased in electricity as it danced and chirped around her roughly bandaged palm. But upon doing so, she could have sworn the voice got stronger. Her eyes darted around the empty room, but saw nothing. Just the aged furniture and the mattress she was sitting on. The vines on the walls seemed to create shadows, as if taunting her. Trying to scare her.
'Why are you afraid?' It rasped, as though it were next to her. But then she heard footsteps. Outside into the debilitated halls. Templars?
Liz ignored her fear, letting the room go dark again. She didn't move. Couldn't.
Footsteps, hesitant. Tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap.
Then came a blue glow. It slowly got brighter and brighter, until something passed the door. A man. An older man she could have sworn she'd seen before. He didn't even look into the room as she sat on the bed, frozen.
Right! It had been one of the mages from the tower. She'd bumped into him once or twice, asking for directions. Liz stood up and slowly walked to the door, watching him leave. That's when she began to shadow him, careful not to step on any loose stones. The last thing she needed was to alert him of her presence.
What had been his name? Ralph...? No... Whatever be the case, what was he doing down here?
She silently asked herself questions, growing more curious by the minute. Then he stopped and called out a name, "Cole?"
Why was he looking for someone down here? Was he, also, an escapee like her?
Cole
The light that erupted from Rhys' staff was the only thing that lit up the small corridor that the two men stood in. Rhys was an older man, a trimmed beard framing his strong features. His usually neat black hair was unkempt from his travels in the bowels of the Spire.
Occasionally the light would dim, then brighten. The young man stared at his feet, blue eyes flicking up at his friend every now and again. His expression, at first, was that of forced blankness. Then anger, disappointment? It was hard for Cole to tell, but he just … he could have sworn he could feel it rolling off of him. Which didn't make sense at all.
The scraggly young man stood in the dimmed corridor in front of his friend. His stomach was in knots and his chest full of grief. His closest and only friend had taken a step back from him in what he perceived as fear. He'd found out about Cole's escapades in the dungeon of the Pit. He found out that he was The Ghost of the Spire. The one that had been killing the mages in the cells in cold blood.
Rhys quite obviously did not agree with what he was doing. Cole hadn't intended for his friend to find out, but he did. And he definitely didn't anticipate the reaction. As the older mage took a step back, Cole's face twisted into grief.
"The only way you can stay..." The mage spoke, referring to the reason behind his killing. "Is to kill someone?"
"I know they'll see me." Cole whispered, eyes darting to the ground as he fiddled with the frayed ends of his hand wrappings. "I don't know why, but I do. So I go to them. The moment they die, they look at me. They know I'm the one that's killed them, and that makes me the most important thing in the world." He could feel his facial expression change as anguish took hold, a tear in his chest becoming larger. He continued, his voice a hoarse croak. "I've never been that important to anyone."
"And … being important makes you real?" Rhys asked, trying to make sense of his killings. Of the situation. Cole didn't understand, how could he not know? Was it not that way for him? He looked up at his friend and blinked.
"Doesn't it do that for you?"
Then Rhys tried to tell Cole that killing people wasn't going to change anything. But could he really be sure? That's when his friend stepped forward and grabbed the young man by his shoulders, trying to convince him to go with him to talk to the templars. Rhys was so sure that Cole was being manipulated somehow or being controlled by magic.
But it wasn't so.
He knew that they wouldn't be able to help him. He didn't want them to help him. He didn't trust the templars one bit. Eventually the conversation escalated into an argument, causing Cole to flee out into the empty and dark corridors.
During his frantic running, Cole could have sworn he saw a crouched shadow around one of the corners just as he got to the bottom of the staircase. But he was distracted right as he heard Rhys yell.
"Stop!" 'BOOM' A bolt of white energy lanced down the corridor, striking a wall right next to him. The stone exploded with a crack of thunder, sending rocks flying everywhere in front of Cole. He let out a cry in fear, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Why why? The thunderous boom and Cole's cry drowned out, what sounded like, another screech of fear.
By the time he saw his friend's boots come into view, he was cowering on the ground and shaking. Cole wanted so badly to just curl up and cry. To disappear. He didn't ask for this. Never this. Was Rhys going to strike him down? Did he hate him, now? He ignored the loose stones that fell from the ceiling.
Cole didn't want to die.
So he clutched the stolen dagger, though not his own, and held it threateningly.
"I don't want to hurt you." Cole warned, locking gazes with Rhys. Neither seemed willing to give and it appeared to make his friend angry. It was evident on his face.
"Why not?" The mage snapped out, "I can see you. Won't killing me make you more real?"
Cole flinched, his chest clenching at his words. It was almost like a slap to the face. Especially with the tone he used. The young man felt his eyes narrow. He had no choice, did he? He would have to hurt his friend...no. He couldn't.
Cole leapt to the side, intent on getting away. Rhys let out a grunt and unleashed some energy from his staff. The young man twisted his body and dodged the attack with the grace of a cat. Dirt and rocks fell, shielding him in a cloud of dust.
It seemed luck was on his side as a yell came from the opposite end of the corridor. A woman, from the sounds of it. She stopped Rhys and began to talk, her black hair tied up in a bun of sorts. They spoke back and forth, the woman (templar?) and Rhys. Cole used this to his advantage and hid, but remained nearby.
He was afraid. So so afraid. Why did this have to happen? The conversation between the two didn't even seem to register to him as he curled inwardly and began to shut down. Cole clasped his hands in his hair and began to rock, head against his knees.
Part of him felt as though he should go and try to help his friend, but the other was too frightened to move. Too scared to leave his hiding place around the corner. Even though he knew that she would not be able to see him.
He and Rhys had met a while ago, maybe a year. Two? He couldn't recall completely, but he'd been completely baffled that someone could see him. Hear him. Remember him. He was afraid at first, sure. But Cole grew to like Rhys. He had always been there for him. He taught him how to play chess and talked about the people in the tower above.
And now he was mad at Cole for his actions in the dungeons. He hated Cole. He just knew it.
The young man let out a whimper from his spot on the ground. He sat there for a moment, shaking. He couldn't even seem to think straight through the grief he felt. That is, until he heard approaching footsteps. The footsteps sounded hesitant.
When the young man froze and looked up, eyes squinting at the sudden illumination in the hallway. There, stood the young boy he'd met only days back. His matted and choppy brown hair fell in clumps on the sides of his face. He stared apprehensively down at Cole.
"Y-You're … They did not take you."
What? Did he think that the templars would take him? Cole had already told him that they couldn't see him. But even Rhys didn't seem to believe him, at first. So it must have been a normal reaction. Cole simply shook his head at the statement, wondering what he should do.
"That was your friend, correct?" She asked, getting a faint nod out of the young man. "Do you know the way out?"
Another nod. Cole didn't know him. He'd even attacked him in the cell and got away. Although he didn't seem to show any hostility toward him, so perhaps he didn't know it was Cole that tried to … tried to...
Rhys' face flickered in his mind. His reaction at Cole's deeds. The young man winced and looked at the stone floor, trying to will the pain away. It hurt. It hurt so much. Rhys was mad, hated him even. Maker, what has he done?
"You are... Cole, right? Rhys called you Cole." He spoke quietly and shifted on his feet. Which, Cole noticed, were bruised and dirty. His eyes flicked up to his face and the boy seemed to contemplate something for a moment before nodding, "I am Erin. You wouldn't happen to know if there is an exit, do you?"
"Which one?" He asked, wondering how Erin seemed to know Rhys. The young mage tilted his head to the side and blinked.
"The one that would leave me least likely to die by the hands of templars." Was his blunt answer, as if the answer should have been obvious. Cole only nodded numbly, before standing up cautiously. The young man shifted awkwardly a bit, trying to get a read on the boy before he turned and headed off in the direction of the sewers.
Cole, afterall, knew this place like the back of his hand.
But something about Erin made him feel uneasy. He didn't know what. Perhaps it was the fact that the boy could see him. Remember him, even. It shouldn't bother him, right? He'd kind of wanted that, in fact. Hadn't he? That's when he spotted his ornate dagger peeking just outside of Erin's waistband.
Cole frowned, wondering how he could go about getting it back.
They advanced down the debilitated hallways, water trickling and dripping from the ceiling in some places. Until, they happened upon a broken down section filled with water. Pillars jutted out, offering a chance to hop across. Cole hopped atop one gracefully, as if he'd had much practice in doing so. He turned on his heel, staring over at Erin.
Through his matted dark hair and dirt smudged face, he could tell that he was irritated just from the look in his eyes as he stared up at him. Guarded brown eyes seemed to take in Cole's appearance almost cautiously, as if waiting for him to strike out and hurt him. The boy tilted his head, expression carefully passive, before finally speaking up.
"I don't know if you're aware, but I'm not exactly the most athletic person on the planet." Was his bland response, his tone rang throughout the empty confines of the tunnels they were in. Planet? He did have an odd way of speaking, now that he thought about it. Cole shifted from his place atop the rock, water surrounding him.
"But out is this way."
"I can't swim, either. I'll drown." The boy defended, crossing his thin arms across his chest. Cole stared for a moment. How had he gotten this far without dying, if he cannot even swim? If the boy was so incapable, couldn't he just overpower him and take his dagger back?
Killing the boy didn't serve a purpose right then. Especially since he didn't feel the need to. Not yet, anyway.
Cole hopped back onto solid ground and walked toward Erin. Though he did give pause. Erin's eyes were narrowed as he took in Cole's appearance. He knew from experience what kind of expression that was. He looked like he just realized something. This caused the young man to shift uncomfortably.
"You were the one I hit." He finally broke the silence, "The keys and dagger belong to you."
Cole felt himself tense and his fingers twitched. He thought about taking out his dagger to defend himself, but Erin made no movement to attack or grab his weapon. Or, rather, Cole's weapon. That was his dagger.
"They were going to make you tranquil." He informed, getting a confused look out of the boy.
"So you wanted to … help me?"
"Yes I-" Cole shifted on his feet, his eyes averting and refusing to meet the mage's. Although, he was certain it was not the kind of help Erin was thinking of.
"I understand." Erin's face was of forced neutrality, "Is there another way out?"
Cole stared. And stared. But the boy's expression would not budge. Would not allow him to read it. But he got the feeling that Erin was about to do something. Something bad. He took a step back and shook his head.
That's when the hallways seemed to get brighter, showing off the thin sheen of perspiration on the stone walls. Lightning burst forth, coating the mage's arms almost protectively. It danced and twitched, giving Cole the distinct feeling that Erin was distressed. He didn't know how he got that notion at all, but he took a step back. Cole's hand twitched at his hip above his dagger.
"Tch!" The boy lunged forward and tried to tackle Cole, his little arms wrapping around his waist. His back slammed against the damp wall, his arms coming up in defense. What was he doing? As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to prompt this kind of reaction.
The two got into a scuffle, both trying to pin the other. They fought for the upper hand. Though it was painfully obvious who was stronger than who. Erin, being the small boy that he was, couldn't seem to hold up against Cole's strength. Although Cole was not much stronger, due to his rail thin body.
Grunts and hisses echoed through the darkened corridors. The only sound to be heard other than the trickle of water or the hum of silence. At some point or another, Erin tried to pull out a dagger but it'd been promptly knocked out of his hand.
"Were you going to kill me?" Erin spat, arms shaking as he struggled to keep Cole at bay. Maybe. "Like you did the other mages?"
He knew.
'Yes.'
He didn't answer. At least, not outwardly. Didn't have time to, as he flipped their position so that he was on top of the boy. Cole pressed his palm flat against Erin's chest, trying to pin him down when – he paused, surprised. He flexed his fingers experimentally.
Soft.
Erin was a girl?
'THWACK!'
The side of his face exploded in pain as he—she took advantage of his surprise and punched him. "Unnf!" He staggered off of her and skidded backwards onto his bottom. Cole began to scoot back when his hand bumped into something hard. Erin rolled into a kneeling position, wiping away stray blood from her lip as she readied herself. He clutched at the object frantically, a familiar feel to it.
His dagger.
That's when her eyes drifted off of him and toward the exit into the sewers. He didn't think. He couldn't. Distracted, Erin didn't even have time to react as his much larger frame collided with her smaller one.
A small squeak escaped her lips as they hit the ground. She struggled on her back and his thighs held her in place. Their eyes met, cool blue on frantic brown. Back to square one.
Only it seemed she was exhausting faster than he, having been wandering alone for days without food and minimal water. Her hands wrapped around his wrists as he went in and attempted to plunge the dagger into her chest.
Arms shaking, shuddering breath. He couldn't tell who was more exhausted, at that point.
"Aaah." She hissed, his dagger closing in. Inch by inch. The tip of the dagger gleamed ominously in the blue light emitted from the glowstone at their left. The light danced across her frightened features, eyes zeroed in on him. Only him.
Cole let out a breath and felt the dagger dig into the bottom of her rib cage, but not enough. It wasn't enough. It would be the same, just like the others. He's done this many times, already and-
"W-What would he think of this?" She asked, voice swift—small and shuddering. And just like that, his thoughts seemed to unravel.
What would—what would Rhys think? Think of what he was about to do? Again. This. Killing this girl.
The face that his friend had made when he realized Cole had been killing the mages flashed before his eyes and his grip loosened. Doubt flooded his mind. Rhys disapproved of the killings. Disapproved. And he'd gotten him into trouble, in the process.
His moment of hesitation seemed to be all she needed.
The hairs on his arms stood up and Erin's hands suddenly became warm. Warmer. Hot. They were scalding hot as a bluish light enveloped her arms and climbed up and connected with his hands. He didn't even have time to pull away. His muscles locked up and his body began to shake as the electricity jolted through his system.
When the light extinguished, Cole's body went slack and he slumped forward. She was able to work his hands so that he didn't stab her in the chest, yet he still felt flesh give.
"Aah!" She cried out and began to struggle, only to make it worse. The metal seemed to dig deeper into her torso. Cole couldn't be sure where she'd gotten hit, because his mind felt foggy and his body refused to listen to him.
The last thing he remembered was the faint sounds of whimpering as his head lolled and his world went black.
Sometimes...sometimes it haunts me to think back on that moment. She could have died, aching and alone all because of me. Just like the other mages.