Stolas blinked. The heat hit him in a wave. Smoke clogged his lungs as he struggled to breathe, and the ringing in his ears muffled the surrounding chaos. His eyes stung. Blinked uncontrollably. His arms fastened to the ground, and a weight rested on his legs that prohibited him from moving. "Help," He wheezed. Stolas' head lay tilted to the side. Through flashes of orange, red and yellow, the shifting of flames through the holes in the rock, he saw wings and jagged teeth. Stolas pulled at his body. "Help," His voice broke as he shouted harder. "I can't move." Stolas' cloudy mind dipped in and out of consciousness, falling to a dark place and then flung back into the heat. Why can't I move? He asked himself. Using every ounce of strength, he rolled his head to face forward and screamed as the pain of thousands of searing needles stabbed into him. His hair matted together in a growing pool of wine-red blood.
Stolas batted open his eyes again after a moment and saw a face framed in a halo of pearlescent hair. The Virtue clamped him to the floor, supporting a crushing amount of fallen stone on its back. Stolas lay beneath it, his body covered in dust and soot. "Balit el, g apila." It said, the inclination of its voice sounding almost relieved. The shimmering quality of its mask glowed in the fire, as if it had itself caught aflame. The angel appeared evermore intimidating, and Stolas, in his state, let the corners of his mouth lift.
"I don't know Enochian, I'm sorry." He said, his speech sputtering into a coughing fit that ripped through his chest.
"G fafen arp geta, apila!" asserted the Virtue. Stolas raised his eyebrows and tried to shrug as he sensed the pull of sleep weighing him down further.
"I don't know…" He mumbled, trailing off as he recognised the feeling in his chest. His eyes widened slightly as he observed the Virtue. "Hey angel," his tone softened, and a smile formed on his lips. "You know, you don't make me feel so ill." The thunderclap of cracking stone sounded above, and, in an instant, the angel braced. The boulder smashed into the rubble and when Stolas opened his eyes, the dwindling firelight vanished into the dark. More dust coated him, staining his skin grey and sending him gasping into another hacking fit. The angel still emitted a faint white glow, and he realised now that less than an inch separated them. This one did not have the same scent as the others, rather a sweeter one. Rose oil.
"Balit el," The Virtue paused, as if to think. "You run," Stolas flinched. "Please." The angel spoke with a soft accent that mellowed out the words of his harsh tongue, as if he heard them in a whisper, or the wind chanted them in a lullaby. They rocked him back to reality. In the rocky furnace they lay in, his skin grew cold and his breaths deeper. Aches and pains flowered in every inch of body and his head exploded.
"Part of the ravine collapsed," His heart rate mounted. "Part of the ravine collapsed and then-"
Stolas and Caine emerged into the auditorium greeted by an anthem of chaos. A striking hot wind blew back his hair and sucked the moisture from his skin. Embers swam in the air like swarms of locusts as everything crackled and burned. Stolas searched among the crazed attendants, both guests and slaves alike, mixing in a bloody breakout, for a glint of dark eyes. "Kalou!" he cried, cupping his mouth. "Kalou. Éirean. We are here!"
"Look out!" Caine slammed him onto the floor as a stream of flames cast above him. The fall heavily scraped his cheek and soot matted to the cut, his white clothes ripped and dirtied. The blue dragon swooped down and landed then on the head of another, melting their face to the bone in a second. Stolas couldn't rip his eyes away. The mutilated corpse dropped, and the starved beast gnawed on the stump of the neck with voracious abandon. He shrunk. A sizzling drop of blood splattered onto his nose. "Sorry," said Caine as he dragged Stolas to his feet. "Come on, let's find them."
"Yeah." he replied in a whisper. He returned to the rest of the blaze. "We need to get to the treasury." Torrents of people still piled out of the hallway, some he recognised. Their faces of joy warped into distress as they emerged.
"Stolas!" Caine cried as he ran into the stream beside him, discrepancy thrown to the wind. Stolas homed in on everybody that emerged, yet with each stranger, the pit in his stomach grew tenfold. Even his mind could not comprehend the thought of losing his brother, it spun him further into a dark place that he felt already pulling him closer.
"Y-you! You are my dancer!" He whipped around. Upon the stage, the squealing pig of a man the voice belonged to, he knew as the previous owner of the swallow, his white mask strewn to the floor. Or rather, he also knew him as Lord Solomon. A man who sat at his dining table condemning the bounty on his plate.
"Aha, you remember me too. Famous, was I? The one who got away."
Stolas halted.
"Time has caught up with you, you old fool." Éirean hissed. The soldier drenched himself in the blood of the guests as he yanked his swords from the throat of one. Bodies of hostesses, scantily clad women and men in dress wear, surrounded him.
"What kind of sick bastard resets the scene of the crime and starts all over again?" Kalou emerged from the flames and threw the woman impaled on his sword aside like a toy grown bored with. His eyes wild. He sauntered upon the stage and with a sinful grin, teeth bloody, rested on Éirean's shoulder. "Not very smart, my Lord." Bathed in fire and blood together, a sinister aura haunted them. Like predators homing in on their prey, monsters that sucked the life of any who dare go near. Closer in form to the angels that hunted them. With every heartbeat, Stolas saw another body fallen victim to their malice. His entity rejected the sight before him entirely.
"They are killing people?" He laughed. Stolas had no tears left. Caine did. He ran his hand through his hair, smearing his face with ash as he beheld the mess before him. "No, no, you can stop joking now," He giggled. "This isn't happening, right? This isn't real, is it?" He questioned Caine incredulously. Begging it to be a lie. His mentor crouched on the floor, covering his eyes.
"This is why I couldn't keep teaching him!" He shouted, appalled. "You don't know your brother Stolas; the kid is insane!"
"What are you saying?" Stolas cried. He stiffened. The twins! He turned back to the treasury. Stolas bolted down the hallway without a second thought, batting aside everyone in his way. The flames travelled with him, curling up the walls and consuming the drab portraits upon them. Memories of those long dead extinguished. As the dregs of the slaves dragged themselves out, the way inside cleared. Only the old man's beaten body remained in a room plundered of its riches. That, and a dying guard.
"Ahh...no... little Micha?" Stolas slowed and looked up.
"Graer?" He asked. The mangled man collapsed to his knees.
"Please don't kill me! I didn't want to be here, okay? It was the only way to buy those two out of the whorehouse, please!" He sobbed. Stolas flinched as a bolt of sadness ran through him. His eyes are still so kind, he thought. Did Kalou do this?
"I am not here for you." Stolas lowered himself to meet him. "Graer, what happened? Have you seen two young boys? Have you seen Víđarr?" Víđarr. Again. That cursed child and the guilt he commanded over him would never leave would it, Stolas cursed himself.
"What?" Graer's voice warped as he swallowed the phlegm in his throat.
"Have you seen him?" Graer paused and shook his head a solemn no. Stolas' jaw clenched. "And the twins?"
"Over there…" he wept.
"Michaeas! You came back like you said!" Rook and Icarus barrelled into him, smothering him in their hugs.
"You two...you waited for me." Stolas tensed as their bright faces smiled at him. He forgot. "I'm so sorry, so, so sorry I'm late. You should not have relied on me. Are you both alright?" They nodded. "Let's get you out of here," Stolas returned to his childhood friend.
"Can you stand?" Graer did not respond, but pulled himself up, using a broadsword as a crutch. As a last scan of the room, Stolas designated it as truly empty. The door to the storage room ajar and held open with a discarded red blanket. He sucked in a breath. "Okay."
The four of them fled the treasury and went back into the great auditorium. More bodies littered the ground and piles more hammered at the door to the mineshaft. "Fuck it's locked!" Stolas exclaimed. His body reached its stress limit too long ago and now his blood vessels burst. A rumbling came from above.
"Get down!" Cried Graer, wrapping them in a protective embrace as the skylight cracked and shattered. Droplets of glass came down like crystal rain and giant shards stabbed into the stone, scattering shrapnel. Stolas squeezed the twins into his chest and covered their eyes. He held his breath and released it as a scream. Pain sprouted across his back as glass slashed his burn in two. The weight of the man on top of them pressed down as Graer gave out. Adrenaline rushed through him and Stolas pushed him off, scrambling out from underneath, a boy under each arm. He blocked out sensation as much as he could mentally manage and swivelled round to find Graer punctured with hundreds of stained splinters. His trembling hands gravitated to his face as he gasped for breath. One large fragment stuck Graer through. His eyes still open and void.
"Oh my god," His voice broke.
"Michaeas," Rook held him with tear-stained cheeks. "Please don't be sad." He said, balling. Stolas shook violently. His body no longer recognised his commands and nausea succeeded as he keeled over and threw up what little food was left in him. Through shuddered breaths, Stolas stared at the surge of blood running from Graer's corpse. Black feelings of hatred boiled up inside of him and the serene focus sanguiness conjured within him breached the borders of his consciousness. This world and its cruel people. Why should these parasites live?
"I was mistaken, Graer." He whispered. His hands enclosed into fists, scraping his fingers on the fragments. Stolas watched his own blood pour. It is the same colour as always, as everything he cut up before. He ground his teeth as his loathing inflated. His intimate familiarity with this disgusting substance repulsed him to the core. "Life is not special. Not a God-given gift." He dragged himself up, falling back onto a brazier. The stars in the sky shone brighter, framed in fire. "And certainly, it is not a right that belongs to everyone." The prince's face contorted into a disturbed smile. His voice corrupted. "I get it."
"What the fuck are you saying?" Caine struck him. Stolas snapped open his eyes, and the darkness faded.
"What?" he asked. "Why did you-" Stolas pulled his fingers away from his cheek and they came back bloody.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Caine raged. He clamped down on his shoulders and tugged him forward. "Don't ever say such things again. You are meant to be the sane one in this godforsaken royal family!"
"I said nothing! I was- I was on the floor and then…" Stolas trailed off. Caine's jaw set.
"You don't remember again, right?" he said. Stolas faltered. "Listen to me: I never want to see that horrid look on your face again. Do you understand? Never. Next time I do, it will be my blade that cuts you, not my fist." Stolas winced. "Stupid boy." Caine loosened his grip. His attention drew lower. The twins clutched his thighs, defiance plain in their mind. Perhaps they possessed the want to challenge this gruff man, but quaking legs stopped them in their tracks. "I thought I said not to bring back strays." Stolas' eyes flicked to the woman behind Caine's back. Abberline glared at him. No wonder I was sick, he thought. "If that disgusting woman comes, so do they."
"Hey you brat!" Abberline yelled. Stolas' lip curled. This woman troubled him. He picked up the swallow from the ground.
"You have all the horrid features of the angels and none of their wonder, Mistress. A sickly mirage of divinity. Do not hold yourself in such high regard." Stolas spat as he distanced himself. Caine bit his lip, diverting his eyes to hide the amusement creeping up on his face. "If you laugh, why keep her around?"
"She follows me, I have not said a word to the woman," said Caine. Stolas grimaced.
"Have you seen Kalou and Éirean?" asked Stolas, noticing they had moved on from the site of their massacre. He dared not devote any thought to the feelings that possessed him when thinking of that image. Caine paused; a shadow cast over him, his face wiped clean of any hint of a smile.
"They are...playing, it seems." He inclined his head to the left, where two figures faced a fallen beam. Lord Solomon squirmed under the weight of the burning wood that crushed his legs, and Éirean looked on with glee.
"Please, your highness, I beg of you!" Lord Solomon sobbed. "Let the law punish me, your father will see sense, you must save me!" Kalou's brow raised. He squatted down and gripped his fat chin. Squeezed.
"Why?" He asked. "You are utter scum. The King is a merciful man, but he is no idiot. Your lies and petty manipulations would not work on him, nor myself. I am your judge, and I condemn you to die here, sir."
"Let him burn," Éirean pressed his heel to the weeping man's throat and twisted. "Even the ground wouldn't want him to rot in it."
"Kalou." Stolas approached them; his voice fell flat. To his relief, both remained unharmed. Albeit their clothing slightly singed at the edges. His anger simmered, and his brother took on a form he resented. "Please stop this. It's barbaric."
"Dear brother! You are-" Kalou stopped mid speech as he recognised the state of him. The cumulative blood, dirt, and ash that coated him masked his elegant features into a gory expression. Stolas saw the moment it clicked in his brother's head. A dreadful look of shame plastered his face. "Stolas I'm-" He reached out, but Stolas dodged, letting his outstretched hand slip past his cheek.
"Don't touch me," He diverted his focus to the soldier. "Leave this man Éirean, we need to get out of here now." His friend's stare did not waver from his prisoner. His jaw twitched and his eyes glossed over.
"You don't get it, Stolas." His voice strained through the lump in his throat and his frown deepened. "You don't know who this man is, what he did to me, to my friends. He needs to suffer for his crimes." Stolas began to speak when Caine cleared his throat and edged forward.
"My friend, you have every reason to despise this man, I am sure. But this place is collapsing, and the door is locked. The priority is to get out." Éirean shuddered, his breathing unstable. Caine continued to talk him off his emotional ledge. "Look at him. He is cornered. His legs are bleeding, and I would garner that it is a severed artery. Leave him behind, he will die a slow, painful death by blood loss, or the flames will consume him. Is that not enough?" The soldier stifled his tears, wiping his eyes until they puffed up red.
"When I was five, he took me from the Jünden orphanage, along with four of my friends. He took us to his grand house and called us his children. For a few days, he fed us sweets and gave us elaborate and fancy toys. I was younger, so to me it was like heaven. The older two realised something wasn't right when they looked at the maids…" Éirean knelt on the man's chest with his spare knee, making him sputter and gargle. He plucked lord Solomon's tongue and pulled. "He cut out their tongues to silence them, you know." With a swing of a dagger, the wiggling muscle fell limp, and the Lord drowned in his own juices. "One night after he drugged our sweets, we awoke in the basement. I was the only one to live past the first month." Éirean laughed in pain. "He forced hundreds of children into that arena in the six years I lived down there, for the fun of it. How twisted is that? When Kalou and the King's men stormed in, they cooked the rest of the surviving kids in dragon fire to get rid of the evidence." He pressed his heel harder into the lord's throat. "Couldn't get rid of me, though, could you? Your star champion. Your Dancing Dragon!" he seethed as he stamped down, collapsing his trachea, and sending blood flying into the air like a human fountain. Éirean ripped away his sleeve, revealing the extent of his disfigurement. The scar travelled from his collar to his thigh, the edges feathered as the flames licked up his skin. "This is what you did to me!"
"Éirean," Kalou sighed, wrapping him up in his arms with an element of restraint as he limply pushed him away. "We got him. " Kalou pressed Éirean's head to his shoulder. "You don't need to remember anymore." He whispered. Kalou's shoulder dampened as Éirean hid his face in the crook of the prince's neck. Stolas met his brother's gaze with concern. "He'll be okay, let's go." Kalou mouthed, removing his cloak and wrapping it over his friend's shoulders.
The group set their sights on the mass of people crowding by the door. Some fought off the incoming beasts while others used a fallen beam as a battering ram.
"Alright, that door won't break that easily." Said Caine in despair as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Then we should climb, duh." Said Rook as a matter of fact. "The rock is unstable, but surely you guys, of everyone, could do it…" he clocked his casual manner of speaking too late and muddled down his words to a grumble. Icarus bowed and pushed his brother's head down with one hand.
"Ss-sorry"
"Your little heads are full of ideas, aren't they?" said Stolas. He looked up at the wall of the ravine, doubting if his battered body would manage. Although Rook's words sparked something else entirely.
"My trump card." He mumbled. Stolas analysed the wall, the grooves and cracks in the rock, and inverted them. Like a puzzle, it could work, he thought. The others observed as he took on his practised vacant gloom.