Chapter 22 : Transmundane
"…There was no doubt in the full extent of the inborn abilities that the child has, but even now we cannot test the full potential of her gift. The moment she was born she seemed like any other child – fat and pink, innocent and delightful, squalling like any other newborn babe. At first glance, I expected nothing from the child, just a new future member of the Gray Order whom I'll soon have to cultivate when she comes of age, another new blood we will have to train and shape and mold into an adept sorceress, to further our legacy and inheritance.
That child was expected to at least wield some magical talent, being born from a warlock father and a witch mother. But what we did not expect was the immensely powerful gift she was given...
After she had agreed to help Gregori Hastur, they had released her from her restraints and moved her to a proper room. And by 'moving', they actually put her to sleep and placed her in a more decent chamber with a proper bed, a small desk and a bookshelf. When she woke, her hands were freed from the painful bindings, and she was leaning against a comfortable featherbed.
The chamber was white too, to her frustration. But she couldn't complain much.
Shyvana blinked when her vision cleared, taking in the stark whiteness of the room. On the desk was a jug of wine with an intricate glass beside it. At the sight of the wine, she realized how dry her throat was, and she quickly poured herself a glass, quenching her thirst.
She did not notice the small device until she put down her glass. The orb where Gregori had promised her was lying idly on the table, its colour almost similar to the surface. She picked up the object, feeling the smooth metal surface and the ridges of runes carved into the sphere. The runes glowed with an ominous blue light, and the device split itself suddenly to reveal the mechanisms underneath. Startled, she nearly dropped the device to the floor.
A holographic globe expanded around the orb, showing the map of Valoran. It spun at a rather slow speed, and Shyvana searched for the Ironspike Mountains, looking for a wide mountain range with jagged peaks.
When she found it, there was a ripple around a small circle among the lines and shapes that depicted the Ironspike Mountains. Lying in the heart of the Ironspike, but not so far into the north. To that, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Putting down the device, Shyvana started pacing around the room. How would Gregori want her to help him? When would he contact her? Her fingers fiddled nervously and she bit her lip in frustration. She hated waiting, and if there was anything worse than waiting, it was being entirely clueless about her situation.
She got so bored she started browsing the bookshelf. Most of them were tomes, spellbooks and grimoires, or simply history books about the world. Majority of the books were heavy books at least a thousand pages thick, and just the sight of them made her eyelids feel heavy.
She randomly picked a thin book from the shelf and studied the frontispiece – hardback, leather bound and its pages yellowed. The title read 'The Planes Beyond Runeterra'
Heading to the bed, she plopped down on the pillow and started flipping through the pages, seeing diagrams and drawings of a hundred different geometrical shapes. She did not bother reading the texts – not that she would understand them anyway, and to her those shapes looked like celestial bodies that her father once spoke of reverently, that Runeterra was one of the celestial bodies in the heavens that was formed from clusters of ashes and dusts. And so she looked at the diagrams, captioned in Runic, a language that only wizards and sorcerers used for incantations and spells.
Her eyes soon grew heavy, and she did not know when or how, but she fell asleep with the book on her chest.
In her dream, she walked aimlessly. She could feel something calling to her, an unknown force of nature pulling her and guiding her, and without second thoughts within her dream-like state, she felt herself floating towards the edge of oblivion.
A baby whimpered. Drawn within herself, Shyvana could not tell nor see what was ahead of her. Her mind was an endless fog of confusion, and drugged by her drowsiness, she forgot about precautions and suspicions.
"Who are you?" she asked, not expecting an answer.
The whimper did not stop, but it grew softer. A moment later, an image was projected into her mind. The image of the same nursery room that she had seen before, but she could not remember where. Nevertheless, another image appeared, this time a framed photograph of a couple dressed in grey, standing together for a photo. It was Gregori Hastur and his wife, and her arms were wrapped around a small bundle. They were both smiling, but Shyvana could tell that there was no benevolence behind that smile.
Bells chimed. The air smelled of something burning. Another image replaced what she was seeing.
This time she saw a man in grey being burnt alive, his arms flailing in the air wildly as he screamed. She saw his eyes melting from his sockets, his skin and flesh blacken and curl like a burnt out match. His grey robes caught fire quickly, and burnt with the rest of him.
Then another image. A woman was strapped to a chair similar to the one she was bound to earlier, and she seized uncontrollably, eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth foamed. She thrashed around so much her hands simply tore the leather straps from the chair, and her nails went to her face, clawing her own cheeks and gouging her fingers deep into her own eyes, ribbons of blood streaming down her face as she screamed and screamed and screamed.
Another image. An old man, emaciated and haggard, sitting in a rickety chair, his eyes dead and white as paper, his mouth hanging open with a thread of drool as he stared in a distance. But his chest rose and fell, showing signs of life. Nonetheless, he stared into oblivion, his expression devoid of life. His mind was completely damaged, he is no longer sentient, a voice spoke. On his table was stacked high with trays of stale food, left to the vermin and pests.
More images flashed through her mind, each one more horrifying than the last. Until the last one where all she could see was utter darkness. Just inky darkness.
But within that, something sinister swirled. A distant hum. Two glowing red pits staring back at her. And it was then she saw it – a shadow as black as the depths of the Void.
The Void?
The half-dragon shuddered. "Why are you showing me this?"
The baby cooed, as though confused, as if saying, You asked for answer.
All of a sudden, she understood.
All the images she had seen were the baby's memories, shown through the toddler's perspective. And she was answering her question by showing them.
"What are you?" Shyvana asked, fearing the unknown. Who would do something so horrifying?
The baby only giggled, mistaking Shyvana's sign of fear as being playful to her.
...had surpassed any other sorcerer's or witch's we have ever seen. Or perhaps I was mistaken. We ran through some tests and experiments, seeing if that child has any power over mental domination, psycho-kinesis or runic energy. Oddly, the results came out negative.
I thought we had overestimated her. Until when she was a few months old, she started displaying signs of extraordinary abilities.
Her parents started having odd dreams of their child speaking senseless gibberish, but what unsettled them was the clever glint in her eyes, like she knew what they were doing. Then they started seeing visions of people who have crossed the Gray Order, and secrets of what they had done to them resurfaced, secrets that only the two leaders of the Gray Order knew, that no one else was privy to.
They brushed it off as a random, coincidental occurrence. The child started displaying odd behaviour then, like random objects would combust with a small mote of flame whenever she stared at something for too long, or how other sorcerers would suddenly hear a baby's babbling despite being nowhere near her. Her caretaker was closest to her, and claimed that she had had weird dreams and hallucinations like someone whispering to her. It wasn't long before she was driven insane and started displaying signs of masochism.
Then one day the caretaker tried to harm the baby, claiming her as the spawn of demon and attempted to harm her with a knife (refer to appendix #1, evidence no. 6). Other staff of the Gray Order had heard the baby's sharp wails and the caretaker's screams, but when they entered the nursery, the caretaker was strapped to chair, with a knife between her and the baby who was still wailing uncontrollably. The caretaker began screaming and thrashing as though she was in a fit, and attempted to tear the straps, which she succeeded and started scratching her face and gouging her eyes out. She died a moment later due to cardiac arrest. Post-mortem reports stated that there was excessive bleeding at the cerebral area of her brain.
There were other incidents as well, where we tried to test the baby's abilities again. The experiment went awfully wrong, where one of our staff mishandled the child and she mistook it as a hostile movement. There was no heat in the chamber, nor any flammable items, but the staff spontaneously combusted, and he soon succumbed to third degree burns all over his body.
And there was another incident (refer to Heimholt's Experiment Report), where a man had all his five senses utterly destroyed, until he was totally incapable of any other human activity. He died of starvation soon after.
Connecting the dots, all these victims only had one in common – they had, one way or another, attempted something which the baby perceived to be hostile, and their causes of deaths had been most unusual. Psychics detected bouts of mana energy at the places where they died, and we were very much convinced that magic was involved...
Her eyes shot open in a moment of fright, and she panted frantically, catching her breath as her hand clutched her chest painfully, feeling the fierce beating of her heart underneath. The bed sheets were damp with her cold sweat, and the blankets were a tangled mess around her legs.
Looking at the table, she was about to pour herself another glass of wine to at least calm her nerves. But what she saw next sent a cold shiver down her spine.
The empty glass she had drank from earlier was toppled, the few drops left inside spilling upon the white tabletop. The wine had dried perhaps an hour ago, but the stain was still very much visible, and climbing out of the bed, Shyvana approached the table for closer inspection.
The stains were random and without pattern. At a closer look, she noticed how the stains formed a few letters, but it was not obvious due to the fact it seemed more like a child's handwriting, like the one who wrote had just learnt to hold a quill for a few days. She squinted, trying to see what was being shown to her.
"A... N...," she mumbled as she spelt. "N...,"
"It is time,"
She jumped, not knowing that Gregori Hastur was already in the room, standing before her with his usual grey robes. Shyvana cursed, and unconsciously wiped the wine stains away, hoping that Gregori had not seen what she was trying to do.
"You could have at least given a warning," she scoffed.
"We depart at once, half-dragon," he ignored her complaint, his gaze falling on the book she had picked from the shelf. "Never knew you were such a keen learner,"
"I was bored,"
Gregori Hastur smiled mirthlessly, moving his hands in various motions and whispering incantations. A rift opened, revealing a portal. Shyvana tried to see what was on the other side of the portal, but all she could see was a swirling black mass, and the sensation of wind whipping through the rift.
"Where are we going?" she asked, standing at a safe distance from the warlock.
"The forest where the demon was last seen. We have detected magical activity in this area," he opened another portal, this time her gauntlets falling through it and landed before her. They remained their beautiful red and golden colours, light reflecting on the metal edges. "You have a minute to be prepared before I throw you into this portal myself,"
Her eyes were fixed on the man, his hands still in the air to keep the portal open. She thought about the wine stains and the dream earlier, and the visions she had yesterday. Reminiscing, she had a clear idea of what word the stains had formed.
"Gregori Hastur," she called out. "What is your daughter's name?" she asked. There was no threat underlying her tone, only curiousity.
He stared at her, his cool eyes locked with hers, as if he could sense the fear and paranoia within her. There was a moment of silence between the both of them, and Shyvana thought he was never going to answer her. She shrugged, and walked towards the portal, ready to jump into it.
"Annie," Gregori said behind her, as she stepped into the darkness.
It was an overwhelming sensation, like she was swallowed by the ocean. She felt herself sinking further into the darkness' embrace, odd noises mumbling and whispering unintelligible words into her ears. She tried not to focus on what they were saying, but it was hard not to.
She had lost all sense of coherence. She was blinded and silenced, she could not see nor hear nor feel, and it made her sick in the stomach.
Until the portal spat her out and she fell two feet from the air, landing face-first into a puddle of mud.
Shyvana coughed and cursed, standing and dusting herself off with heated motions. Gregori Hastur stepped out of the portal and landed on his feet gracefully, maintaining his elegant composure unlike Shyvana. She glared at him distastefully, a glare which he returned rather mirthlessly.
"The Gray Order is here, together with Amoline and the prince,"
The half-dragon studied her surroundings, taking note of the tall pine trees closely grown together, their canopy of leaves blocking any rare streams of sunlight and halting the growth of minute plants underneath. But the sky was dark and the grove was darker, rendering her blind unless she depended on her dragon senses.
"We are at the west of the town," Gregori Hastur turned to her, and she noticed how his eyes glowed with an eerie blue hue. He walked around with ease, side-stepping boulders and avoiding puddles even though Shyvana had difficulty doing so. Magic, she thought. Magic always made everything more convenient.
"How are we suppose to catch the demon?" she asked, following closely.
"The Gray Order will lay a trap, a stasis bubble that freezes time and space within its activated radius," he explained. "We have already drawn the runes. All we need now is the energy and time to cast it. You will attempt to lure the demon into the rune circle and weaken it, and once we cast the spell the demon will be snared and contained, to be researched and disposed of,"
"Researched?" Shyvana emphasized, her voice filled with disdain.
"Researched to find the best way to exterminate it, or banish it to another spatial dimension, should the need arises,"
"Sounds easy enough," she mumbled.
"I hope so, the spell takes an awful amount of time to cast. The prince will be allowed to aid you, and both of you can use whatever means possible to buy us time," Gregori reached into his robe and retrieved a small wooden trinket. He chanted as he pointed the trinket to the soft ground beneath them, light began enveloping a mild radius around his hands as they moved like fluid. At the same time, a rune was seared to the ground, its language alien to the half-dragon. As the rune glowed, it revealed a large circular path of runes that surrounded the entire forest, before dimming and disappearing.
"It has begun," Gregori announced grimly. Shyvana's fists clenched around her gauntlets, feeling heat coursing through her blood. Her battle instincts kicked in, and she knew she was more pumped up than ever, ready to mow down whatever challenges that may present themselves before her.
A screech blared throughout the phantom forest, warning everyone of its existence. Shyvana barely flinched, though she must admit she felt slightly unnerved by the magnitude of the scream. Her senses sharpened immediately, ready to jump upon any sounds her ears may picked up.
"You didn't tell me what this demon is supposed to look like," Shyvana chided, her footsteps slow and measured so that she would not wake anything that lived in the forest, however tiny. She waited for an answer, but the silence was too much, and when she turned behind she realized she was alone.
"Son of a bitch," she cursed, and tossed Gregori Hastur to the back of her mind.
She breathed. Being tossed into the unknown, she suddenly remembered what her father had always taught her. Still your breathing, calm your heart, immerse yourself into the quiet before the battle.
The quiet before battle. She relaxed her grip on her weapons a little, eyes and ears still acute to any visible changes of her surroundings – a sudden rustle of leaves, a chill gust of wind, anything. Otherwise, she remained still as a dead rock, waiting for whatever that was hiding beyond the forest to reveal itself.
Another screech. Her shoulders stiffened.
Where? Her gaze darted around, her eyes akin to two burning molten pits. She scanned through every tree and bush and rock for any signs of movement. The hair on the nape of her neck stood erect, and her guts told her that something sinister was near.
But where?
Fear and uncertainty crept upon her. Soon, leaves and branches were swept into the air, blown in circles as though moved by a miniature twister.
This time there was no nerve-wrecking screech, but a low growl. Her vision darkened.
The rune that Gregori Hastur cast upon the ground burnt hotly.
Her vision was quickly turning dark, and the half-dragon hissed, instinctively surrounding herself in flames. Wisps of shadow swirled about the forest, hissed, then crept closer around the half-dragon.
Her eyes widened and her cheeks paled in fright. Then she knew.
It was everywhere.
Jarvan heard the screech, and he was getting worried. Wrapped in the cloak Shyvana had lent him, the prince brandished his lance, slightly annoyed and unnerved by the fact that he could barely see. He cannot fight while his vision was limited.
"Where is Shyvana?" he asked, expecting the Shadow Witch, Amoline to answer. He knew almost the entirety of the Gray Order was here, preparing to capture the demon that had caused unrest upon the townspeople. Still, he would not trust these people, not after what happened to him at the inn.
He would never trust mages again.
"She is around," Amoline said. "Gregori had written the last rune. The circle is now complete, now we have to lure the demon into it. Be ready, prince,"
Another screech interrupted them, and Jarvan knew the demon was near.
He was about to ask her how he was supposed to fight something if he could not see, until a pair of soft hands rested on his temples, her touch gentle and warm. Jarvan sighed, a hot, burning sensation surging through his skin until his vision brightened. He saw the lady's green eyes and soft features, her face hardly marred by wrinkles or old age. When their gazes caught each other, Jarvan swiftly looked away, his face flushed
"This will help you see better. The demon should be here at any moment," Amoline stepped backwards. Jarvan couldn't help but notice how her grey dress hugged her form tightly, her breasts barely sagging and her skin still smooth and fair like a young maiden's. Curiously he wondered how old she must be. 30, perhaps?
Focus, he reprimanded himself. Do not get distracted.
One by one, the members of the Gray Order cast a teleportation spell and winked out of existence. Until Amoline was left. Jarvan looked at her, puzzled.
"We are preparing the spell, prince," Amoline chanted, ready to cast the spell as well. "The Gray Order had the perimeter covered, the demon will be in our vicinity. Your job is to keep the creature occupied while the spell works itself,"
"So I am the bait?" he said, unable to hide the spite in his voice.
The Shadow Witch turned her back on him. A portal opened and she stepped into it, not before saying, "Good luck, prince,"
"Shit!"
A blue spark of lightning brushed past her cheek, electrifying the air around her. Shyvana hopped and dodged and rolled, desperately predicting the demon's next move as she threw fireballs of her own. The shadow demon's form shifted and spread like fluid, her flames barely inflicting any damage except irritating it.
The demon stayed still, the wisps of its form dripping like malicious venom. It watched the half-dragon carefully, and Shyvana suddenly felt how heavy the air was. She broke out in cold sweat, recognizing the density of mana concentration in the air, weighing her down and pressuring her.
This forest was saturated with magic. And no wonder the demon was so powerful.
I will have to outsmart it, Shyvana decided, panting heavily. But how? Her attacks had no effects on this demon.
Tired of waiting, the demon lashed out, sending forth a huge mass of black fire. Its fire was dark as night and cold as the biting wind, a massive force of burning, virulent scourge that was fast approaching her.
Knowing she could not dodge in time, the half-dragon enveloped her gauntlet with heat and fire, and executed an uppercut. Her flaming fist collided with the black fire, the force throwing her off balance as it exploded into embers that rained upon the ground.
Small motes of black fire touched her face and skin, and her flesh hissed and sizzled. The half-dragon cried out in anguish, frantically rubbing her skin burnt raw by the tiniest bit of black fire. Blisters formed and her skin reddened, and the half-dragon shuddered.
This was how it felt like – being burnt by fire.
If a few drops of its fire had hurt this much, Shyvana dared not think how excruciating it would be if she were to be hit by a huge ball of it.
Suddenly, Shyvana felt her mind being dominated by a foreign force. It came first as an annoying itch, an itch that she knew it was there but not where. Then it slowly transformed into a throbbing headache, the vein in her temple began pulsing visibly. She began receiving uninviting thoughts that she had no idea where they come from, and she saw memories that did not belong to her, hearing sounds and experiencing alien feelings that did not belong to her. Someone whispered an odd language in her head, a language of screeches and garbles and gnarled words, words that she could not have understood. Yet she understood.
She saw darkness, a pool of burning black fire. She felt heat. Unbearable heat. Tormented beings howling and begging for mercy in a hundred other mundane languages, some she recognized – Shuriman, Ionian, the common tongue, even Runic. The half-dragon gasped, knowing she was not present at the hell she was seeing, knowing that it was just a mild hallucination. Yet it felt as though her lungs were clogged by the sulphuric air, poisoning her blood and seizing her heart. Her heart rate accelerated at an alarming rate, her limbs started trembling uncontrollably.
She saw where this demon first originated. Its birthing place.
The creature spoke. And she understood. Where is it? The marked one?
"Get out!" Shyvana screamed, her arms flailed wildly. She was no longer at the forest, her soul being projected to another dimension, another pocket of space that should have never existed, at least to the eyes of a mundane creature.
You are not the one, its voice was a gong, each word a loud slam that sent a wave of nauseous pain through her head. I do not belong here, yet I was bound to this plane. My temporary form deteriorates, if you do not find me the mark, I will die. I do not belong to this plane. Your body does not suit me, it yields no bond for my transmundane form.
"I don't care!" she howled, her words nothing but a shrill scream.
You are bonded to the mark, and the mark is bonded to you. Your knowledge and memories will serve me well. May the oblivion consume you.
Shyvana fell to her knees. She felt blood trickling down her nose, her eyes rolled back into her head. She sighed. "Annie," she whispered, the word coming out of nowhere.
A light overwhelmed the darkness she saw in her mind's eye. And suddenly she was freed of her pain, her confinement, her personal space being intruded by an otherworldly demon. Shyvana gasped, able to breathe once more.
A familiar voice spoke in rapid, fluent Runic, before uttering in the language she understood. "Banish!" he roared, and the forest was filled with the wounded cries of a demon.
Her vision cleared, and the first thing she saw was a man in tattered robes, his torso bared and covered in glowing white markings. A large scroll, sizzling with power and arcane energy was strapped to his back, and when he turned to her, his eyes were a glowing white, his ashen beard whipping in the wind.
"You!" Shyvana gritted her teeth, struggling to her feet.
"You can thank me later," Ryze turned to the demon, already on its feet and seething with rage. The arcane mage brought his hands together, and a ball of sparkling energy formed between his palms. With a punch, he sent the spell forward, and it shot through the demon's shifting form.
To her surprise, the demon screeched.
"How...?" she stared, wide-eyed and confused. Ryze only laughed and prepared another spell.
"Physical attacks do no damage to a djinn," he explained. "And that's what he is, a djinn. A demon that does not belong to our physical plane, which was why its form was growing weaker as we speak, yet it was summoned here. Its summoner had bound its presence to this plane such that it was unable to return to its dimension,"
"Gregori said it was weak to fire. My attacks did no damage or whatsoever,"
"You are a fool to believe him, halfling," Ryze chided. "This creature is the result of Gregori's experiment. I did not understand his intentions, but now I do. Gregori had always been ambitious, and a djinn's power is undeniably strong,"
"His daughter," Shyvana suddenly understood why Gregori wanted her help. "The djinn needed a host, and that was his daughter. Gregori refused to sacrifice her,"
"And so he sent you here in her stead,"
"The demon said I was not the one," she said, not surprised by Gregori's lies and betrayal. "It mentioned... a mark,"
Ryze's markings shone again. "Doesn't matter. I'm going to banish this demon while we escape. I cannot remove the bindings between the summoner and the djinn, but I can create a temporary time and space, and banish it there. It won't hold for long, though. Where is the prince?"
The half-dragon was quiet for a few moments, considering her options carefully. The demon was seething, its form shifting more violently and frequently. She was at a terrible situation, but she knew she could never trust this mage even though he had offered his assistance. Her eyes flared bright orange, and wisps of liquid fire poured from her gauntlets.
"He's coming," she said. "How will you pull this off? The Gray Order is watching us, if you do this they will come after us,"
"I got that covered," Ryze mumbled, then began to chant. With one hand, he conjured an orb of pure, white-hot energy, which he tossed with keen accuracy towards the djinn. The demon howled and cast its own spells as well, trading attacks with the mage. Ryze dodged, all the while his other hand writing runes with quick precision and firing it to the soft ground around the djinn.
Writing the last rune, Ryze stepped backwards. The rune circle activated, and when the djinn tried to lash out another spell, twelve yellow spears materialized around it, halting its movements, crackling sparks and imprisoning the demon. The mage never stopped chanting, and his hands struck six gestures that Shyvana had seen several times – the teleportation spell.
A rift opened right above the angered djinn, a space of vacuum from another dimension sending leaves and branches flying around in wild gusts of wind. The djinn's form was disintegrating quickly, its black shadowy tendrils being sucked bit by bit into another dimension by Ryze's rift.
"Vile demon!" Ryze's voice boomed. "Begone!"
The djinn remained stubborn, its form still tethered strongly to the physical world. Shyvana could see frustration boiling within Ryze, until the prison that bound the demon began shaking violently, before shattering and exploding with a bright, blinding flash.
Shyvana shielded her eyes. Ryze cursed. But when they opened their eyes, the rift was already closed, the runes smoking and no longer active, and the djinn was gone.
"Was that supposed to happen?" Shyvana asked, noticing how Ryze seemed confused. He turned to her, not answering her question as he strode forward.
"Does that matter?" he kicked a pebble idly, and prepared himself to cast another spell. "Right now we have to get out of – Ackk!"
The half-dragon tackled the mage and pinned him to the ground. For the first time, Shyvana saw fear in his eyes, and she saw herself through his eyes' reflection – murderous and vengeful, the sharpened edge of her gauntlet poised at his throat which bobbed up and down fearfully.
"Wha – What's the meaning of this?!" Ryze shouted. Shyvana only pressed the gauntlet closer to his throat, drawing a bead of blood which rimmed the sharp edge.
"You are a fool to think that I will believe you," she bared her teeth, her sharp incisors striking fear deep into his heart. Her heightened senses could sense the telltale signs of spells ready to be cast, which she growled. "Do not even try casting a spell. I will slit your throat, no hesitation. Dare to try me?"
Ryze remained still, but his shoulders still trembled. "We're sitting ducks here. You have to trust me!"
"I don't care," she snarled. "Let them come. Let Gregori Hastur come. I'll spill his guts on this ground. I'll slaughter every last one of his puppets. Where did you hide the prince?"
"Ri-ridiculous!" Ryze stammered, but his brows knitted in fury. "I come here to put an end to Gregori's plans. If he gets ahold of the djinn's power, he will –"
"I don't care about Gregori Hastur. You used the prince and me. You tricked us, and I won't fall for your silly theatrics again,"
"You have to trust me! That girl, Annie, we have to help her!"
Shyvana stiffened at that name, her lips pulled back in a taut line.
Ryze noticed the change in her demeanour, and testing the waters, he laid a hand on the gauntlet. The half-dragon did not swat it away. "She has connected to you, hasn't she? Please, if her father knows how powerful she is –"
"I know no one by that name,"
Ryze continued. "– he will use her to further his goals, and possibly transcend to something akin to godliness, like the djinn. You know it. The results could be catastrophic,"
Shyvana swallowed hard. She hated being in this position, in a dilemma where she could not choose. Before she could weigh her decisions, the bush behind her rustled. Her shoulders tensed, ready to face whatever threat that may come before her.
"Shyvana!" a familiar voice called out, and the half-dragon felt relief crushing upon her.
Without removing the gauntlet from the mage's neck, Shyvana looked over her shoulder and saw the prince, donned in his golden armour and the cloak made from her father's hide. He strode towards her with ease, avoiding any mud puddles or pebbles in his way.
"You had me worried," he chuckled, and his gaze hardened when he saw Ryze, who was still pinned to the ground. "Why is he here?"
"He helped us somehow. The demon is gone for now," Shyvana explained quickly. "He can help us get out of here, but I don't trust him,"
Jarvan sighed. "Never trust sorcerers. I've learnt that the hard way. But if he's our only way out of here..."
Surprisingly, Ryze had gone very quiet. His shoulders have stopped trembling, and he did not seem to notice the gauntlet at his throat anymore. The mage stared at Jarvan intently, and Shyvana could only wonder what he was thinking.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" Shyvana rose, pulling the mage to his feet, her gauntlet still placed at his neck. Ryze no longer whined, and Shyvana felt his sudden change of behaviour rather odd. Earlier he was begging for mercy, and now he was quiet and withdrawn to himself, contemplating silently.
The prince only flashed her a smile, and shook his head. "No. You look well. Now we have to get out of here. We can talk later,"
The half-dragon agreed, and nudged the mage. "Cast your spell, mage. Get us out of here,"
Ryze still stared at the prince, his glare hot enough to sear through Jarvan's back. He did nothing to cast any spells, only stared at the prince. Jarvan was indifferent to him however, and he just kept looking at the forest around him, until he met Ryze's unsettling gaze.
Shyvana nudged him harder, finally breaking him from his trance. Ryze turned to meet the half-dragon's amber eyes, and vehemently he shook his head. "No," he spoke, refusing to cast any spell.
Jarvan's blue eyes gleamed in confusion. "What's wrong with you?"
Ryze could feel the sharp edge of the gauntlet pressing hard against his throat, but he refused nonetheless. "I won't teleport us out of here,"
Shyvana hissed, her grip on her gauntlet tightened. "Say that again,"
"The Gray Order hasn't teleported here and slammed the shit out of us," Ryze said coldly. "Why do you think so? They must have seen me here. They must have known what I did to their prized puppet. So why haven't they appeared to capture me yet?"
The half-dragon had no answer for that, and so she kept quiet. Indeed, it was getting suspicious.
"Prince Jarvan," Ryze called out, making sure he was loud enough to be heard. "How could you see so well in the dark?"
The prince narrowed his eyes, then he answered. "One of the mages cast a spell on me, so that I could see in the dark. How am I suppose to fight if my vision is pitch black?"
"Who touched you?" Ryze asked again.
Jarvan remembered Amoline's soft fingers touching his temples, as his vision brightened. "Amoline,"
"What's your point, Ryze?" Shyvana was running out of patience, and her voice was a low growl. But she saw how the mage's face had turned the colour of milk, his eyes still fixed on Jarvan.
"The demon," Ryze said, fear dripping from his words. "I failed. I did not banish it. It escaped,"
Jarvan and Shyvana glared at Ryze. The prince's face was a steel mask of coldness, and Shyvana only felt more confused by his words.
"Forgive me, halfling," Ryze spoke. Then he raised two fingers, while elbowed Shyvana hard in the gut, which she doubled over and stepped backwards in pain. Sparks flew from Ryze's fingers, striking Jarvan hard in the chest, sending him tumbling straight towards the trees. The prince's back collided hard with the trunk of a tree, and with an excruciating grunt he slid down, his head lolling about in an unconscious state.
Recovering, Shyvana leapt forward and tackled Ryze, punching him straight in the jaw. "What the fuck are you doing?!" she roared, landing another two punches onto his face and broke his nose. She was about to continue battering his face, until Ryze caught her arms and shouted in her face, his mouth spitting blood and broken teeth.
"He is marked! Amoline marked him! He is the sacrifice! Don't you see?! Don't you see?!" he screamed in naked fury, and finally Shyvana stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. She turned towards the prince, who sat unconscious below the tree, his lance laying idle by his side.
To her horror, black smoke emanated from the prince's body.
"Banish it again," she said, and it was not a request. "Flush it out, like you did to me earlier,"
"I can't. The djinn. Once it possesses the host it is compatible with, that is marked, it binds the body to it, there's no way –"
"Cut the crap!" she screamed.
"I can't do it!" Ryze shouted back, his voice hoarse and hysterical. "We have to get out, the djinn will kill all of us. Gregori got what he wanted – the fucking djinn in the perfect fucking body! And now he's going to trap it. That's his grand plan, and he won!"
More smoke poured out of Jarvan's body. His fingers twitched.
Shyvana's breathing quickened. Her gaze turned to Jarvan, the prince. The kind prince who had helped her countless times, never leaving her behind. The prince, who made love to her passionately when they were both in the boat out in the sea. He groaned, looking up, his drowsy blue eyes meeting hers. And for a while, she was hopeful.
Then he spoke in an odd language. A language she had heard earlier, used by the djinn when he entered her mind.
Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and her blood curdled.
"That old fool is in the game," the Shadow Witch commented snidely, as her eyes watched the events that unfolded. Her body was with the rest of the Gray Order, but part of her mind was scrying through Ryze's perspective, and the rogue mage had too much to worry about that he did not notice Amoline's intrusion.
She had thought of giving Ryze a hard push, forcing him to tumble and make a mistake, just so the djinn could rip him to shreds. She had never liked him – arrogant and self-centered. But now, she quite enjoyed the fear and confusion on his face, and decided to only watch the tragedy happen from afar.
The rest of the Gray Order channelled their mana energy into the large runic circle that surrounded the entire forest. Gregori Hastur nodded as his wife projected the images she saw into his head, sharing their visions.
"Ryze will teleport anytime soon," Amoline warned.
"That is taken care of," Gregori said, and proceeded to chant an incantation. "I've set up a barrier around the runic circle, right after he hopped into the battle. Now they can't get out, trapped like mice," he stressed the last word with disdain and abhorrence.
"A shame really," Amoline remarked, her voice full of apathy. "I quite like the prince, and the half-dragon. But this is for Annie,"
Gregori neither agreed nor disagreed. "For the Gray Order," he simply said, and watched as the djinn went berserk.
Jarvan dashed forward, lance in his hand, but his face was a cold mask of stone, unforgiving and cruel. Black tendrils of smoke weaved behind him, and everywhere he stepped on, a jet of red-orange flame burst high into the sky.
Shyvana dodged, rolled and stepped out of the prince's attack range. She was obviously holding back, not even trying to land a hit. She brought up her gauntlets once or twice to parry a thrust from his lance, but she did not retaliate.
Ryze, on the other hand, was desperately trying to open a rift, but to no avail.
"Fuck it!" he threw his hands up, giving up. "Gregori set up a barrier! There's no way out!"
She ignored the mage. Even if he had opened a portal, she wouldn't escape with Ryze anyway. She wouldn't leave him, not like this.
"Then we have to fight him. Fuck Gregori Hastur, I'm not letting him win!" she roared. Jarvan charged with alarming speed, his lance held high above his head, ready to bring it down onto the half-dragon. Shyvana cursed and instinctively covered herself in flames, quick enough to shield her head with her gauntlets.
His lance collided with her gauntlets. Steel met steel, and sparks flew.
"Jarvan," Shyvana grunted, her hands beginning to tremble from the demon's sheer force. "How could you be so reckless?"
The prince's eerie blue eyes met hers, but within them she saw no recognition or familiarity. Only coldness, and bloodlust. He opened his mouth and a string of unknown words tumbled forth, and by the time Shyvana realized what he was saying, it was already too late.
But before he could release the spell upon the half-dragon, a bout of magical energy flew towards the prince, cancelling the spell he was casting with an ear-splitting burst. Shyvana took the opportunity and stepped backwards quickly, putting some distance between herself and the djinn who had taken over Jarvan's body. When she looked to the caster, Ryze was already preparing to cast another spell.
"I will use magic to break down his magical defenses," Ryze explained, swirls of purple and white energy gathered in his palms, causing a huge flux of mana, sizzling with strength and power. "Then you will strike his physical form to weaken him. Eliminate him,"
Before the half-dragon could disagree, she felt the air being superheated, and it did not come from her. Letting her draconic instincts take over, she jumped into the air and flipped backwards, narrowly dodging a jet of black fire that obliterated everything in its path.
Jarvan's hands were covered by black flames, his lance dripping malicious heat and dark magic. He mumbled unintelligible words, and not even the voice belonged to the prince anymore, but to the demon that dwelled within.
Ryze sent in spells after spells. Sparks and flames and ice conjured out of nowhere, and he threw in every destruction magic spell that he could conjure. But every spell that was thrown into the demon's direction was deflected effortlessly by its dark tendrils, wisps of darkness that simply lashed out to ward off his weak attacks.
It's no use, deep inside him, he knew it. But the mage was running out of ideas, and time as well. Soon the demon would overwhelm them, and he hated to think of the consequences should Gregori ever had the djinn under his command. The Grey Warlock had always been ambitious, and even though he had been the man to lead the High Command's court wizards and sorcerers away from the country's corruption and greed, he had always put his goals as his first priority before anything else.
And Ryze hated how he was always his rival. He had once proven to him, that not even Amoline could defeat him in psychic abilities. And she loathed him for that. But Gregori was different – there had been several times where he was one step ahead of him.
His only chance to surpass him would be to foil his plans.
Earlier, he had felt an odd headache – nothing severe, just an itch that he couldn't scratch. It wasn't until he could no longer warp space to create a teleportation portal that he realized somehow the Gray Order was able to watch their every move with exact precision. And so Ryze reached deep into his own mind, and peeped, looking for the possible intruder, and cautious enough to not alert this infiltrator.
He almost sneered when he realized who it was.
Now, he only proceeded to cast spells that cost low mana. The half-dragon was struggling, but the demon had not gained the upper hand yet. And so he slowly reached for the mental link, the connection that Amoline had established to intrude his conscience. Ryze shuddered, he always hated being scryed by this woman.
Slowly, he followed the link back to its spell-caster, careful not to cause any attraction to himself. It should be difficult to others, but this was a menial task for the arcane mage.
He had to hide his excitement as he finally reached Amoline's most personal space, undetected - her memories and thoughts. Like discovering a treasure trove, he began pulling back drawers and opening chests that hid in her deepest mind, revealing valuable information and secrets that not even her husband knew.
In his mind, Ryze chuckled wickedly. Dear, sweet Amoline. What a snake you are, he tutted, still looking through her memories and visions. Oh how the tables have turned.
He looked at a rather obscene memory that should have only belonged to Amoline and Gregori, but Ryze simply took it as a revenge and cackled like a villain who had won his prize. And turns out Gregori is a hapless boy beneath the sheets. Ha! Incompetent.
Then a flashback played out. A scene of a baby girl, with bright green eyes and wisps of brown hair atop her head. He began seeing countless memories of this girl – happy, gleeful memories, like every toddler should have, then it all turned dark, and Ryze held his breath as the darkest secrets of the Gray Order unveiled itself before him.
He had known about Gregori and Amoline's child. Annie. He had heard of the girl's talent, but he did not expect power like this.
What have they brought unto this world? Beads of sweat peppered the mage's forehead.
An alarming tingle shocked him out of his reverie, and Ryze nearly pulled out of Amoline's head in fear, afraid that somehow she had discovered him peeking into her mind. He restrained himself, and realized that it was not Amoline who had found him, but someone else. Someone else who had been inside her head the whole time and discovered him, yet Ryze had failed to notice its presence when he looked into the witch's secrets.
The intruder did not alert his presence to the witch. Instead, it remained idle, waiting for him to do something. Perhaps it was even imploring him to find it.
Is it Gregori? Or someone from the Order? Could it be the djinn itself? Who else would be powerful enough to enter the mind of the Shadow Witch undetected?
He soon found his answer. And Ryze could not believe it.
He was shown the image of a child, a babe which he was horrified of moments ago.
Impossible.
The child giggled happily, thinking he was simply toying with her. He realized he had to cut the link immediately, before Amoline could wreak havoc –
The babe then showed him an image of the half-dragon, and their current predicament. It was as though she was trying to communicate with him, despite being a babe who could barely walk or talk. Ryze was suddenly very afraid, afraid of the possibilities that this child could achieve. When she grew up, the world could literally be at her mercy.
He watched silently, seeing what she had to propose. He noticed her fondness with the half-dragon, and he wondered if Shyvana had known about this child.
Shee-wanne, she mumbled childishly.
Knowing what the child wanted, Ryze quickly disconnected from the Shadow Witch's mind. He never stopped hurtling spells towards the djinn, but he turned to Shyvana.
A half-breed, blue of skin and grey-scaled. With eyes as fierce as burning gold, and a mane of vicious red hair. Her gauntlets of crimson and golden hues gleamed with a wicked edge, and the flames that she conjured burnt with righteous fury. She was an angry beast, wreaking havoc on everything in her path. Ryze could not understand how the prince could ever find company from that creature. And he was even more puzzled to find the child being fond to her.
But it's the only way, Ryze grimaced, and drew in mana energy from his surroundings.
She did not stop. She could not stop. Ryze's spells barely hurt him. The possessed prince landed blows after blows upon her gauntlets tirelessly. She had grazed his cheek and punched him once or twice in his gut, but he did not falter, and his anger only burnt stronger as moments passed. She panted, wheezed, huffed, the fatigue beginning to catch up on her.
But she could not stop.
It wasn't midway through the fight that she started having a pounding headache, but she remembered that she had not taken a blow on the head. Once or twice her head throbbed so painfully she almost doubled over, nearly receiving a fatal blow from Jarvan's lance, only to step away or dodge in the nick of time.
She stepped a few paces away, her hand grabbing her head, trying to rub the ache away. The half-dragon looked at the arcane mage, who stared at her apologetically.
Shyvana was confused, and that left her exposed. Then the djinn saw its chance and fired a bolt of lightning in the half-dragon's direction. The half-dragon saw it too late and could only bring her gauntlets together, a feeble attempt to ward off the djinn's spell which struck her painfully. She cried, and was thrown backwards when the djinn pounced onto her and knocked her to the ground.
Her head struck the soft mud, and her eyes were met by the dangerous glimmer of the lance's tip. She struggled and took hold of Jarvan's hands, trembling with force as the tip loomed dangerously close.
The throbbing headache made her violent, wanting to wound and kill.
Roaring, she slammed her knee into Jarvan's gut, which knocked him away momentarily. The djinn grunted, and Shyvana angrily returned a punch in the face. The prince staggered and fell to his side. The half-dragon swiftly responded with an angry sneer, climbing onto him and threw his lance away.
Her eyes were clouded by anger, hatred and fear. The pain from the headache still ailed her, and hatefully she raised a fist far behind her, burning hot with flames trailing from her arm, singeing the sleeve of her tunic.
She wanted to bring it down onto the djinn's head. She wanted to smash its head into bloody bits, and continuously pummel it until it was nothing but gore. She was so full of hatred and disgust they almost spilled over, but she hesitated.
Jarvan's beautiful blue eyes met hers, and she realized it was the face of someone she could not hurt.
Shyvana let out a bitter cry.
However, the prince only answered her cry with a fist charged with a powerful lightning spell, punching it straight into her chest. The half-dragon's body seized like a man electrified, and she gasped, the breath being knocked out of her lungs.
The headache grew worse. It was like having a thunderstorm in her head, and she nearly fainted from the pain of it.
Then she recognized that feeling. That feeling where someone had entered her mind, invaded her most private space, her secret chamber. But there was nothing she could do to stop the power of the transmundane.
The djinn will destroy her mentally, before crushing her body with its spells and vicious magic. Ryze was right, Gregori Hastur had won. She closed her eyes, only wanting her suffering to end.
Until, in her mind, she heard the familiar giggle of a child.