It started with his toes. The dirty black color of corruption creeping upwards until it met his knees and stunk his boots. Now it was at half the level of his thighs.
Theo frowned.
The corruption was scentless, yet to him it smelled so foul he had to wrap his legs and feet in multiple anti-foul smelling charms. Unconsciously, he gripped his slightly numbed thighs.
He slid his feet back into his boots and stood up.
The first rays of dawn slid over his face, coating his cheeks in warm orange hues. He basked in it for a moment. No matter how warm it felt, the hearts of those who rebelled were cold.
The rebels had made their escape around midnight a couple days ago. However, nothing followed their careful planning ever since that point. The good news was that they have made it out the walls, including Theo, who was snatched from his cot in the middle of his slumber. The bad news that outweighed the good was that almost half of them were captured, and the twins had succumbed to an illness they didn't know—and at a bad time at that.
The low grade potions Theo made certainly did not an effect on them. He had no choice but to steal their sickness and take them into his body.
They couldn't lose their leaders. Not now. Not at this critical juncture.
"Theo."
Theo turned back to see Laris with a makeshift wood cane. Theo hurriedly went to his side to support him.
"Should you be walking around already?"
It felt like a taboo to raise one's voice in such an atmosphere. Theo couldn't help but whisper back to the man who realized his freedom and safety. This Healer-kind knows that he owes the half-Lycan before him; along with the many that died because his safety was prioritized.
"It's fine." Laris lowered his head, his long ginger-red bangs shielding the look in his eyes away from Theo's visibility. "I'm sorry, Theo. In the end, I couldn't even keep my promise to you."
Shaking his head, Theo said, "It's not like they made me do it. It's my choice." He stared at the horizon as Laris sat down on trunk of a fallen tree. "Besides, it's my fault for not being able to even make a decent healing potion..." Theo trailed off, fists clenched.
I couldn't even save anybody.
Laris heard his thoughts but said nothing. Indeed, it was hard to comfort a person whom you might've not been in the same boat with. One might even end up saying some insensitive things. At times like these, Laris chose to close his mouth and simply observe the coming of a new day, staring fixedly at the horizon.
Everything looked different at higher ground. Two people savored the silence, yet it didn't last long.
Before the wolf even appeared, Laris already scented them out.
"Can we talk?"
"Karen", Laris greeted the other person, without standing up. He then turned and gave a look to Theo, who nodded in complacency. "Thank you", Laris softly uttered as Theo left.
Laris knew what Karen meant by coming to see him. Someone like Karen could only be as capable as Mitchell. To be honest, losing Mitchell on their escape has already been quite the handicap to the twins. A lot of wolves even came to their camp upon his urging. Without him, he had to strive to keep them.
"Let's hear it—your plan."
Karen stood in front of Laris, casting her shadow over the other.
"You wouldn't have come here abruptly otherwise, isn't that right?" Laris pressed the issue.
When Karen nodded, Laris silently stood up. Together, they went back to the camp to discuss the matter of rescuing their comrades.
This time for sure, Laris thought.
Having discussed everything thoroughly, the twins had decided on a handful of people to split up. The final plan was that Letitia's group will survey the far east side and cause a ruckus enough to attract most of the watchdogs and Lycan guards, while Laris and Karen would trek the interrogation chambers at the west side to find their comrades and rescue the Satori-Wraith hybrid siblings.
By the time the twins' rebel camp would have finished their preparations, dusk would have already settled in by then.
At the same time, morning or evening made no difference in the gloomy Lycan dungeons, as a creature that barely resembled a man was dragged by the roots of his hair. His vision felt impaired; everything looking like an intoxicating blurred mess.
Grunting, enduring, hoping...
Screech—
Mitchell looked up, yanked by the guard and pushed to sit on the interrogation chair with a force that almost made it turnover backwards. His body ached. Instinctively, he hunched over, trying to ease away the pain in his abdomen full of bruises and broken ribs. The interrogator never shied away in using all coercive means to make him talk.
Unfortunately, Mitchell's lips failed to sing.
Blinking, Mitchell kept his head down at the dirty blood-stained floor, until belatedly, he saw the legs of another chair opposite him. He hardly noticed as he was focused at the guards and his aching body.
Slowly lifting his head to the person in front of him, he ignored the fact that he was being tied into the chair with the interrogator's practiced finesse.
So small, was Mitchell's first impression of the child that sat stiffly in front of him, almost as if he was afraid to move. White hair and pale skin that was dirty enough to look a sickly gray.
Was he or she really almost the same age as the twins? Mitchell wasn't even sure of the other's gender. The small frame composed of skin and bones was distracting.
"Hurry up. We don't have all day", the other guard impatiently scolded the child, forcibly taking away the memory stone that the child unknowingly clutched tightly, as if it was his treasure.
Anybody with half a brain could tell that the two Lycan guards present were just about to lose their patience, one guard more impatient than the other as he barely held himself from hitting the child in annoyance.
The child doesn't move, much less flinch though. This seemed to finally tick off the guard that brought Mitchell in, as he grabbed the child's jaw with his half-transformed claw, his nails digging into small gaunt cheeks. It looked painful no matter how one looked at it, but the child never uttered anything. He didn't even cry in pain as if such a level of pain was nothing to him; he was numbed to it.
Greasy shoulder-length white hair was grasped as the child was forced to look at the only prisoner present.
Mitchell flinched as he was made to look all the same. Then, he was mesmerized; captivated by the child's pair of amber eyes. The Lycan-kind had the same set of eyes. It wasn't anything unusual. But somehow, for some reason, he can't look away.
"Did you take orders from Lucille?"
This snapped Mitchell back to reality as he angrily spat at the guard's chin.
The question may not seem much, but to the Lycan-kind, not many know that the twins' mother, Lucille Ashraf, has already passed away. Like this, they continue to disrespect and insult her name, thinking she had a wonderful life outside the kingdom and repeatedly calling her a traitor when all she did was love.
None would be surprised if one was to say that her soul was unable to rest with all the unkind names the Lycan-kind call and make her out to be. Her brother, Alpha King Vaughn, never even bothered to say anything about it, despite it being so easy for him to do. It just goes to show how much he secretly disliked Lucille, but this wasn't anything new to the rebels.
"Futue te ipsi", Mitchell hoarsely said, his damaged throat caused by strangulation barely managing to get the sound out. He spat at the other Lycan's face, which angered him into slapping Mitchell on the face, yelling his demand for an answer.
Mitchell tasted iron in his mouth.
Well, if such candor was abundant, there'd be no need for interrogation chambers, would there? But people have things they hold dear and want to protect; things they wish to know or have no matter the means.
Mitchell screamed as a guard used a pincer to pull out his left hand's nails in random order, starting from his pinky finger. Even when torturing and pulling fingernails, the guard named Pablo loved to bully the smallest and weakest things.
Unwillingly, the hatred for such a situation brew and brew—the hatred for the guards, for the rebel's comrades who betrayed him, for the people who put him there, and for the unaccomplished plans he wanted to see through. A flash of nervousness went by at the thought of leaving everything to Laris and his mate should he die. It was only a moment uncertainty, but it was sufficient.
The child looked up at the map and gazed in Mitchell's eyes that tried its best not to widen in shock, but his dilated pupils gave him away despite the unreadable facial expression. He felt so transparent.
"...damnatus Laris. I bet they're at some place we haven't tried looking..."
"Ah!" The other guard pointed at a place, a gleam in his eyes. "I bet they're at the Barred Forest."
Averting his eyes, the child eyes no longer strayed to Mitchell. His hatred unconsciously slipping from his eyes as he stared at the ground and gripped his chair.
"They're at Barred Forest", the child whispered.
Mitchell's eyes widened; Impossible! Laris said the child shouldn't be able to read minds!
"They're at Barred Forest", he repeated with a voice much clearer this time, his eyes dodging the pleading eyes of the male prisoner in front of him.
The guards smile maliciously as they went through procedures and proceeded to drag the struggling Mitchell away.
Mitchell, on the other hand, hated the child's dull, dull eyes. He hated them even though his hate was unfounded, irrelevant. But he couldn't stop it.
Why won't you fight back? Why aren't you trying to escape anymore? I'm here to help you escape but why do you like you've cast your hope aside—
There were so many words he wanted to say.
Get up! You can't tell them that! You have to lie, quick, lie about it! Do you know how many people you'll endanger?! How many more good people will die?!
Don't you want to at least defend yourself?? Why?!
Why...?
What... For what was I doing all this for?
In the corners of his mind, Mitchell yelled his questions in turmoil. He knew it to be wrong. He can't blame his comrades, can't blame the innocent child they're using against him, can't... can't.... He can't!
And yet... He felt betrayed somehow.
Helplessly, his eyes dimmed as the light of life left him, his ears ringing with the saddest scream.
So the child could scream after all, had been Mitchell's last thought. Abruptly, he felt relieved at hearing the reluctance to submit in that one scream.
Sadly, no matter what happened now, it was too late for him.
A silver-coated knife had stealthily slit his throat, the blood splattering all over the cold dungeon floor.