Two months prior
"Andran, Calivan, Coll, Fatim, Gomez, Joaquim, Mormont, Morris, Perceval, Quillon, Sander …"
Lucanis intoned the names of his enemies in a low voice as boots marched up to the cells on his block. He sat on the cold stone ground and kept his eyes closed, waiting for them to open his cage, to lower the barrier.
Poised to strike.
But the footfalls went past his cell to the one beside him. There was the sound of swords being drawn, the shink of the magic barrier falling next door, and a brief scuffle as the prisoner was subdued. This poor soul came in while Lucanis was unconscious from his latest experiment session. It had gone particularly poorly for him, in no small part due to the fact they'd starved him of both food and water for days - maybe a week? - before getting him. Only his ties with the demon had kept him alive, just barely.
Yet he'd managed to take out two guards and severely injure a third before his body failed him. Their blood still stained the sand beneath him.
Blood and sand. So good. Need more!
Spite's strident tones from nearby bit into Lucanis' meditations. His jaw hardened but he tried to ignore the demon's words. Agreeing with anything the demon said only strengthened the ties to it. Lucanis walked a tightrope as it was with their contract; he did not want to bond with the creature any more than necessary.
Yes! The other prisoner made them bleed. Leather and blood! Very good!
The footfalls didn't sound as confident this time as someone was dragged from the cell. The prisoner still resisted, even as more guards came running up. Several gloved punches crunched, and eventually the prisoner's grunting ceased.
Near the entrance, Spite let out a frustrated growl that faintly echoed Lucanis' disappointment.
All of this, Lucanis watched in his mind's eye, sitting in his cell listening to everything around him. A drop of water from the roof of his cell hit the sand beside him, a steady stream happening every thirty-six seconds. He knew, because he'd counted.
Everything had a pattern. You needed to find it, exploit it, use it to your advantage. Patterns kept you sane; everything in its place, and a place for everything.
Across from him, Spite snorted.Boring human.
Including meddlesome demons occupying part of your brain. Especially meddlesome demons in one's brain.
"Dellamorte?"
Icy fingers sank into Lucanis' soul. His eyes flew open but he didn't dare move another muscle. The prisoner across from the assassin, disheveled and too young to be here, stared at Lucanis with wide eyes. Dark eyes and dark hair - clearly Antivan - wearing familiar dark leathers.
Crow leathers.
The guards paused, staring suspiciously between the new prisoner and Lucanis. One, a tall redheaded Fereldan placed in charge after Lucanis had broken his predecessor's neck and no longer had to wear the mask, smirked. "Friend of yours, Lucanis?"
The assassin ignored the guard, focusing on the youth's face. One of Heir's wards, most likely. He didn't recognize the boy, but the boy seemed to know him. Pain speared his heart. Katarina wouldn't have sent a child this young to rescue him, would she? Heir would have protested, it was too risky a contract for one so young.
Even as another small part of Lucanis' heart mourned the boy's presence, Spite raged against the magic barrier keeping them inside.Murderous oafs! Twisted stupid lackeys! We shall feast on your eyes!
"Antaam rounded him up on the streets of Treviso. Little bastard thought he was on an assignment - sound familiar?" The redhead's smirk widened. "I'll be sure to let Calivan know this one is special to you, maybe it'll help make you more…compliant."
Even as scared as he was, Lucanis saw the boy's realization that he had messed up. Anguish and disappointment flashed across his face, quickly covered so the guard's didn't see, but he turned his face from Lucanis in shame.
Pity speared the assassin's heart. He wanted to tell the youth it wasn't his fault, he had no blame in this hellish place, but he dared not give them any more ammunition. He knew what was coming: they'd either use threats against the youth to make him compliant, or force him to watch as they tortured, turned, or otherwise harmed the child. The boy, who couldn't be more than fourteen years, was Crow; Heir, ever stoic, would still be devastated in her way to lose one of her charges.
There was nothing Lucanis could do for him.
We shall dine on your corpses! Shred you to pieces before you die!
So the assassin closed his eyes once more, willed his breathing and heart rate to slow again as he mentally recited the growing list of future kills. Andran, Calivan, Coll…
Remove their limbs! Eat the livers as they watch! Spite sounded positively gleeful at the prospect.
Fatim, Gomez, Joaquim…
Sever their heads. Bathe in their blood!
Mormont.
Tear his throat. Eviscerate his bowels. Rend flesh from his body! Leave his eyes so he can watch death come.
Lucanis listened as the redhead Mormont, growing impatient at the assassin, snorted his derision and snapped his fingers. The Venatori guards dragged the boy away further into the prison. There was still struggling - the boy did himself credit as a guard yelped in pain and cursed - but he was hauled away nonetheless. Soon there would be screams as the Venatori did their experiments on the child, inhuman croes maybe as the demons were brought into the world and bound to the boy…
No. Lucanis would not shame the lad. He had earned his leathers; he was a Crow, and deserved to be acknowledged as such. If death took him, Lucanis would ensure he was remembered.
He would escape.
They will ALL burn!
And they would all burn.
