As it happened, Rilien and Ashton managed to emerge back into the large, centralized chamber the Tranquil had earlier occupied at almost precisely the same time as Lucien and Sophia did so from the other side. They looked a little worse for wear than the pair of rogues, and Rilien blinked in surprise. Theyâd faced enemies already? Probably things with teeth judging from the state of the chevalierâs armor. His semi-permanent smile dropped into a look of worry, and at about the moment Ashton found himself able to hear and generate sound, Rilien spoke. âSer Lucien? Sophia? What happened?â There was obvious concern there, and the elf drew three potions from his bandolier, approaching the other two and handing a pair to Sophia and the other one to his friend. âJust in case,â he explained, then turned and handed Ash another two.
Well, if theyâd come from the right, and he and Ashton had emerged from the left⊠it looked like theyâd have to go straight forward after all. Rilienâs bird-shaped magelights led the way, followed shortly thereafter by the man himself, who, despite a slight dose of worry, was still more pleased to be here, like this, than anything. Joy was⊠incredible. Did other people get this all the time, all these little bursts of relief and happiness to be near people that they liked? Satisfaction from helping them in small ways, resolve from having such folk at their backs and a goal in front of them? It was all almost overwhelming really.
The passage before them wasnât terribly unique or interesting, save that the shadows on the wall seemed to move independently of the light Rilien was casting, contorting into horrific shapes and seeming almost alive. The Tranquil paid them no heed, though he did wonder if he could call himself that anymore. Was this change permanent? The thought that it might not be sent a cold sliver of fear licking at the base of his spine, and even this was so new he scarcely understood it. These ashes⊠they were the key ingredient in more than one brew, but⊠there would only be enough for one. Heâd never really given it much thought before, never considered the other option, but⊠he could. He could fix himself forever, have these feelings, his magic, back, and never need to give them up again.
All he had to give in return was the chance to free Sparrow from a demon sheâd invited into her soul.
The emotions this thought produced were far too complex to decipher, and he pushed the thoughts aside for a moment. Now wasnât the time, was it? Was there ever a time for a decision like that one? Rilien had once been a very self-interested individual, and he essentially still was. He did what was required to keep himself alive and whole, and the times he didnât were the incidents that resulted in him becoming Tranquil in the first place, in losing everything heâd ever been. The only one after that had resulted in his death sentence, something that he thankfully managed to escape. No, he did much better when he thought first of himselfâthe consequences of doing otherwise were always steep.
His feet were silent over the stone of the cave floor, and when he looked up, he could see the pitch of the ceiling increasing. He could also feel something getting closer, something that put a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach and sat there, like a fat cormorant, mocking him. You donât know what you want, now that you can want anything at all. And he didnât, it was true. He knew this was a decision heâd have to make. He knew which one the others would want him to make. But he had yet to decide what he was going to do.
âWeâre close,â he said, more to stave off his uncomfortable train of thought than anything, though he supposed it would also be good if they were aware of what they approached. He made no move to draw a weapon. Everything heâd ever needed was at his fingertips. Knives and blades were the tools of the Tranquil, the one who couldnât even dream. A lesser being than he.
The tunnel opened into a roughly circular chamber, the vaulted ceiling of it indicating that they must surely be directly under the mountain now. At the far end directly in front of them sat an ancient altar, to one of the old elven gods or another, but the design appeared to have Tevinter-like influences as well, a most curious fact that Rilien nevertheless ignored. Standing in front of the altar was the target: clad in the remnants of robes of red silk and dark velvet, the creatureâs flesh was twisted and warped, but it still appeared more human than the average arcane horror. Perhaps the strength of the demon inside had prevented the corpse from rotting overmuch. Perhaps it was the blood magic of the magister. Initially facing away from them, the creature turned, staring across the chamber with eyes like burning coals in deep sockets. âI am Abraxas,â it intoned. âWhat mortal fools dare appear before me?â
Rilien just barely suppressed the urge to snicker. He always had thought these things took themselves far too seriously. Ashton lacked no such compunction, chuckling at the demon's superior dialect. He lifted a finger from his bowstring, arrow still kept in place with the others, and pointed at Rilien. "I think he just called you a mortal," Ashton pointed out in a mock air of seriousness. Sure, the whole episode may have been deathly serious, but with what he was just put through, he was going to make a joke dammit. Maker, he loved the sound of his own voice. Not to mention that there friends around him now? He was estatic comparably. "Ugh," Rilien replied with an affectation of disgust. "How dare he? I'm not mortal, I'm Orlesian!" Granted, those were two entirely differently-applicable adjectives, but to hear some of the courtiers talk, completely contradictory all the same. Either way, Ashton liked this Rilien.
Lucien, having known Rilien only as the Tranquil fellow heâd always been, was rather more surprised. Granted, he didnât think amusement was really the proper reaction to all of this, but it was certainly quite a bit better than blind panic, as heâd been experiencing earlier, and it was some combination of this perhaps unbecoming humor and his simple relief to be alive and beside friends that had him smiling as well. Well. Perhaps it was also the fact that Rilienâs joke was very on-point. Nevertheless, he hefted his axe anyway, raising a brow. âWhenever you two are quite ready?â he inquired, tones laced equally with mild admonishment and good-natured levity. Let this creature come. It would find them harder targets than it seemed to think, mortal and foolish though they might be.
Rilien sighed. He supposed the chevalier had a point. How ever ridiculous it might be, this thing calling itself Abraxas was not going to kill itself, now was it? âYes, yes, very well. Have it your way, Ser Lucien.â Rilien flicked his eyes overhead, and the two flame-sparrows wheeled, diving at the creature in twin resounding explosions. Modified fireball spell, and damn if this didnât feel good. For all the showiness, however, it wasnât a very heavy attack, more a signal than anything else, and when the smoke cleared, Abraxas appeared mostly unharmed, moving his hands in a familiar conjuration pattern.
âHex of Tormentâmove.â His warning delivered, Rilien himself darted forward. The spell was designed to simply cause severe pain, and cloud the mind with it. Not something one wanted to be on the receiving end of, certainly. The hex landed, catching one of his legs in its radius and Rilien went down when it suddenly seemed not to want to support his weight anymore. Though he might have been aware of its coming, that did not equate to quite being prepared, and he swore under his breath in his mother tongue when he rolled to his feet, only to feel as though his bones were splintering. âMerde,â he spat, throwing a bolt of lightning at Abraxas in retaliation.
The attack blasted violently off of the demon, but seemed to do little to deter him, and Sophia darted in behind it, not even close to being in a laughing mood about any of this. It was quite a turn of events that Rilien seemed to have regained his magic and his emotions, but there was quite the Arcane Horror to deal with here, and Sophia did not intend to take the foe lightly. Abraxas, as he named himself, seemed a largely motionless foe, not doing a great deal of maneuvering about the room, preferring to take and receive attacks from his central location. From what she knew of these magister-demons, however, they were very poor at melee, but incredibly strong magically. If she or Lucien could get in close, under whatever guard it was able to put up, it looked frail enough.
She reached it from the demon's left side and threw a downward slash at what appeared to be an unprotected flank, but Abraxas reacted with a wall of rock appearing in front of her, and her sword clanged harmlessly away. He turned swiftly, casting a hand out, sending a stonefist spell into her, catching her across most of her torso and taking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard and rolled over backwards away from him, her wind gone, but all serious damage was avoided. A lightning bolt of his own was lined up immediately afterwards, and Sophia dove sideways just as it cracked down beside her, kicking up a large burst of dirt and rock. Impressive magic indeed.
It seemed the action was kicking off without him, and with the obligatory banter out of the way, he turned his attention to the task at hand: The arcane horror. There was something to be said about Ashton's knack for finding the dark secrets of magics, from being in one mage's dream, to hunting down an ancient demon. Not to mention his friends consisted both of a Tranquil bard and a possessed... Sparrow. Well, with the death of this being, there would be one less item on that list. He drew his string taut and lifted the bow, firing the arrow in a singular fluid motion. Not that it counted for much, as the arrow was intercepted midair by a stone fist-- shattering the shaft and continuing unimpeded at the Archer. A tumble to the side ensured that he wouldn't be clocked in the head by a rock.
Like Sophia before him, the horror followed up with a lightning bolt. Ashton responded by drawing a specific arrow from his quiver, one with a smoky colored fletching. Instead of aiming this one at the horror, Ash dipped down and aimed at his fit, letting it go. The arrow followed a short trip into the rock at his feet and was immediately enveloped by a gray smokescreen. The lightning bolt entered the expanding screen, but considering the lack of pained howls or the thump of a body hitting the ground, the bolt must have missed, with Ashton vanishing from the fray proper.
Lucien, not quite able to get out of the way quickly enough, was caught in the initial Hex of Torment, his muscles locking him in place reflexively as phantom pain seemed to tear open his flesh to the boneâthough of course, nothing of the sort was actually happening. Heâd been hit by magic like this before, but it was clear that whatever mage had hit him so wasnât nearly so dangerous as this creature. He watched Rilien trade lightning bolts with it, and its command of stone seemed to shield it from most of the attacks Sophia and Ashton leveled. Forcing himself forward, Lucien did his best to endure the lingering aftershocks of the hex and push forward, perhaps not with his usual alacrity but just as inexorably for all that.
He noted with some surprise a blooming burst of heat at his side, and looked down from the corner of his eye to see that the head of his axe was on fire. Courtesy of Rilienâs regained magic, no doubt. He wasnât exactly sure how to feel about this overallâhe had become friends with the Tranquil, after all. The person Rilien had been before his Rite was a near-stranger to Lucien, but he wasnât about to overthink the boon he was currently granted. As he advanced, a stonefist flew straight for him, and Lucien twisted to the side, so that it glanced off his shoulder rather than pummeling him directly in the chest, which might have taken him off his feet.
Once he was within melee range, though, the advantage was his again, and he cleaved downward with a mighty swing. A hastily-cast misdirection hex swerved his aim sideways, and where heâd meant to cleave the arcane horror in twain, he instead caught it between shoulder and neck, the axe-blade crushing as much as it sliced. Knowing heâd probably miss if he tried to strike again, he moved instead, dragging the creature with him to present its back in Sophiaâs general direction.
Somewhere off to the side the shadows shuttered and shifted, dancing around behind the horror. Ashton had used his smokescreen to fall back into the shadows and step into a more preferable position. Currently, that would be the one behind the creature. Ashton had decided to forgo his plinking arrows and drew his heavy machete. It was sharp enough to cut the limbs of tree off, it wasn't that much of a difference between the fleshy kinds of limbs. While Lucien was connected to the horror via big fiery axe, Ashton stepped out of the shadows and approached the exposed back. Eyebrows were raised by the fire that was now engulfing his machete. It wasn't too much of a surprise, most of his friends were mages. It's just something he didn't expect from Ril. Still, he was thankful for the gift, and swung his machete, looking to lop off an arm or something.
Sophia didn't take her beloved sword being lit on fire with quite as much ease, and it had certainly never happened in a fight for her before. She knew the source had to be either the horror or Rilien, and considering how it wasn't actively trying to cook her, she assumed Rilien was the source. After forcing herself to move again, she found that Lucien had managed to land a strike to the thing's shoulder, and turn it such that she had an opportunity. As she advanced, she found Ashton at her side doing the same, his own machete engulfed in flames as well. Whatever they did, it would need to do quite a bit of damage, as Abraxas undoubtedly wouldn't take kindly to it. She ducked in on Ashton's right, leveling her sword forward and attempting to skewer the arcane horror through the back.
The triple barrage of hits had clearly done the creature quite a bit of damage, and its reaction was violent. Gathering a cone of raw force about itself, it pushed outward, the powerful magic sending all three of its assailants sprawling, pinning them to the floor much as Lucien had been pinned when he entered the tunnel systems. Knowing that he couldnât allow it to follow-up on his prone allies, Rilien charged in, launching a quartet of orange fireballs at the mostly stationary target. They didnât seem to do very much damage, and he determined that the arcane horror must be particularly resistant to magic, something that irked him considerably.
So he needed to get in its face. He was perhaps three steps from it when he met the same solid wall, though he managed to land on his feet when it sent him flying. âStop,â it entreated, its voice much less sonorous and demanding than before. âI gave you your magic back, and I can take it away.â Rilien froze to the spot, looking torn. âIf you kill me, it will all disappear. Youâll be nothing but a hollow shell of a person again. Do you mean to tell me you want that?â
It was impossible to say that he did. That statement would have been the most outrageous lie heâd ever told, and for a Bard, that was saying something. Rilien swallowed thickly, and a gleam of triumph appeared in the dead magisterâs burning eyes. âI thought not. These people donât understand. They canât. Theyâve never felt the power that you have. They are ignorant of its sublime qualities, of the feeling of having the natural forces of the world at your command. They would urge you to give it up without knowing what they ask of you. I will make no such demands.â Abraxas paused, to let that seep in. Rilien glanced to each of the others, held immobile by the demonic magic. It was true, and that was the worst part about it. Everything it was saying was true.
âTheyâd ask you to go back, to being less. Less than they, and much less than you are in this moment. Your power is feared, as it was feared then, and those men took it from you, condemned you for trying to save an innocent girl. They who call themselves your friends, your allies, would ask you to give it up all on your own. I would rather let you all leave, never to return. This is my place, my domain; can you really blame me for seeking it out? For desiring that something be mine, a place where I can exercise my power freely?
Rilienâs callused hands curled into fists. âDonât compare me to yourself,â he hissed, eyes flashing in the uneven lighting. âI am no demon. I dealt with no demons.â But still, heâŠ
âAnd yet you were condemned. And they would have you be condemned again, for the sake of what? One foolish enough to actually deal with demons. Why does she deserve to have her magic, her freedom, when you have neither? What makes her worthy of what you may never have?â Abraxas ventured a few steps closer. The arm that Lucien and Ashton had mangled hung only from a few sinews and some bone, and blood dripped freely from the wound Sophia had dealt it, but it appeared not at all concerned with the disintegrating state of its body. It was intently focused on him, and he could feel how right it was. In what just world was he Tranquil where Sparrow went free? In what world could anyone ask him to go back to that, a state he had earned foolishly trying to act for the sake of someone other than himself? And here he was again, acting in her name, to save her, and it was going to damn him twice.
But it had still been the wrong thing to say. Another feeling welled to the surface, smothering his anger in the gentle way a spring rain smothers a fire. Heâd been nothing but fire, once, and a little bit of brimstone, but that had changed. He had changed, and there was no going back.
It hurts to grow. Hadnât he said that to her, bare and without irony? It was true, and yet⊠all he wanted right now was to go back. Back to what he had been. But this⊠this reckless boy who thought only of himself and took what he wanted, who laughed at demons and marched only to his own tune⊠he didnât exist anymore. He couldnât.
âNothing in particular,â he admitted, and he could see the welling of satisfaction in Abraxasâs face. âBut IâŠâ His left hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, at the center of his chest. His heart hurt. He was sure, that as far back as his memory of feeling extended, heâd never felt anything like that before. âI wonât be able to love her tomorrow. But I love her right now, and thatâs enough. Thatâs why this me will choose her.â A sardonic smile overtook his face, and Rilien drew his knives, launching himself at Abraxas with all the sudden brutality that had been trained into him. He was leaving it behind, he was giving it up, and it killed him. But it would have rent him just as surely to do otherwise. He could be Tranquil again, and then he wouldnât feel any of it, good or bad. This ache in his heart would go away, and he would lose his laughter and his anger and his power and his fire, and everything that he was or could be. Heâd empty out like a cracked earthenware vessel, but it would be all right. Once he returned, he wouldnât miss it, not any of it. Heâd not be able to.
Rilien mourned what heâd had for only a little while, and then his knives slid, twin motions, into Abraxasâs throat, and he ripped them out to either side, decapitating the creature and causing its body to fall to the floor. Rilien felt himself being submerged in icy water, and then nothing at all. Blinking dully, he did not see the light recede from his eyes, nor feel his face smooth into its customary porcelain neutrality, but it did. The binding spell on his allies snapped, and he looked over at them mildly. âI no longer have the means to burn it. One of you will need to set him on fire with your weapon before the spell vanishes.â It likely wouldnât be long.
Sophia rose from the ground where the demon's spell had pinned her on her back, looking at Rilien with no small amount of shock. What she'd just seen... Rilien had regained his feelings, regained everything, and then willingly thrown it away again because of love for Sparrow. It was... confusing, to say the least. As far as she knew, Rilien had been Tranquil for quite some time, and had met Sparrow as such, meaning that his feelings for her had developed while being Tranquil. Otherwise he would not have done all this for her, right? That was the best explanation she could give for it. Either way, she didn't feel like it was her place to comment on what she'd just seen, but she had no problem putting this arcane horror to the torch. Before the fire spell wore off on her sword she placed it to the corpse's body and held it until it caught, sending the body up in flames. She took a few steps back, planting the tip of her sword in the ground as the flames left the steel.
Lucien rose as the spell over his body released, more than a little surprised by what he had witnessed. Rilien⊠heâd always known his friend wasnât quite like other Tranquil, that on some tragically-stunted level, he could feel, but he never would have imagined⊠he couldnât imagine what it must be like to give up so much out of what appeared to be nothing but love. For surely, that had to be the only reason. Justice would have served the one whoâd done nothing wrong to earn his condition, and Abraxas seemed to imply that of the two, Rilien was less responsible for his own Tranquility than Sparrow was for her possession. Lucien had seen itâhad known that his friend cared for her, but he would not have expected it to manifest itself so strongly. The chevalier was not shocked that his friend had done the right thing⊠only at how much he was willing to pay to do it. To give up not only the power that had been his from birth, but even the ability to feel the full depth of the emotion that made him act in the first placeâŠ
Seeing that Sophia was taking care of the fire, Lucien replaced his axe at his back and approached the Tranquil. That heâd already faded back into this state was heartbreaking in its own way, and it was all the knight could really offer to place a hand on the elfâs shoulder and squeeze in reassurance that was no longer needed or perhaps even desired. âYou humble me, Rilien,â he said slowly, and very much honestly. Lucien hoped he never had to find out if he could go so far for the sake of another. âIt is not the first time, and I doubt it shall be the last.â He didnât deserve this. It was so far unfair to make these demands of him, but heâd answered them with so little hesitation, discarding his very self for this. No⊠not his whole self, but what he could have been, maybe.
Heâd thought he understood sacrifice. Seeing this, he was no longer so sure he ever would.
âI should not,â Rilien replied steadily. âI suffer no pain for what I have done.â It wasnât quite the truth, in just the same way that Rilien wasnât quite Tranquil, but the acute agony of it, that unsubtle heartache and the warmth that lay beneath it, all of these were gone from him now, and only memories of them remained. Perhaps it was better that way.
The body burned, and once it was ashes, Rilien moved carefully to the head of it, taking an empty glass flask from his bandolier and borrowing Ashtonâs machete to crack open the skull like a coconut, at which point he scooped the ash inside it into the vessel, corking it carefully closed and replacing it. It had to be the burnt brain matter, which was the reason why there wasnât plenty here for more than one potion. Theyâd have only a single chance to get this right.
He just hoped, in his distant, detached sort of way, that she was up to it.
Well, if theyâd come from the right, and he and Ashton had emerged from the left⊠it looked like theyâd have to go straight forward after all. Rilienâs bird-shaped magelights led the way, followed shortly thereafter by the man himself, who, despite a slight dose of worry, was still more pleased to be here, like this, than anything. Joy was⊠incredible. Did other people get this all the time, all these little bursts of relief and happiness to be near people that they liked? Satisfaction from helping them in small ways, resolve from having such folk at their backs and a goal in front of them? It was all almost overwhelming really.
The passage before them wasnât terribly unique or interesting, save that the shadows on the wall seemed to move independently of the light Rilien was casting, contorting into horrific shapes and seeming almost alive. The Tranquil paid them no heed, though he did wonder if he could call himself that anymore. Was this change permanent? The thought that it might not be sent a cold sliver of fear licking at the base of his spine, and even this was so new he scarcely understood it. These ashes⊠they were the key ingredient in more than one brew, but⊠there would only be enough for one. Heâd never really given it much thought before, never considered the other option, but⊠he could. He could fix himself forever, have these feelings, his magic, back, and never need to give them up again.
All he had to give in return was the chance to free Sparrow from a demon sheâd invited into her soul.
The emotions this thought produced were far too complex to decipher, and he pushed the thoughts aside for a moment. Now wasnât the time, was it? Was there ever a time for a decision like that one? Rilien had once been a very self-interested individual, and he essentially still was. He did what was required to keep himself alive and whole, and the times he didnât were the incidents that resulted in him becoming Tranquil in the first place, in losing everything heâd ever been. The only one after that had resulted in his death sentence, something that he thankfully managed to escape. No, he did much better when he thought first of himselfâthe consequences of doing otherwise were always steep.
His feet were silent over the stone of the cave floor, and when he looked up, he could see the pitch of the ceiling increasing. He could also feel something getting closer, something that put a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach and sat there, like a fat cormorant, mocking him. You donât know what you want, now that you can want anything at all. And he didnât, it was true. He knew this was a decision heâd have to make. He knew which one the others would want him to make. But he had yet to decide what he was going to do.
âWeâre close,â he said, more to stave off his uncomfortable train of thought than anything, though he supposed it would also be good if they were aware of what they approached. He made no move to draw a weapon. Everything heâd ever needed was at his fingertips. Knives and blades were the tools of the Tranquil, the one who couldnât even dream. A lesser being than he.
The tunnel opened into a roughly circular chamber, the vaulted ceiling of it indicating that they must surely be directly under the mountain now. At the far end directly in front of them sat an ancient altar, to one of the old elven gods or another, but the design appeared to have Tevinter-like influences as well, a most curious fact that Rilien nevertheless ignored. Standing in front of the altar was the target: clad in the remnants of robes of red silk and dark velvet, the creatureâs flesh was twisted and warped, but it still appeared more human than the average arcane horror. Perhaps the strength of the demon inside had prevented the corpse from rotting overmuch. Perhaps it was the blood magic of the magister. Initially facing away from them, the creature turned, staring across the chamber with eyes like burning coals in deep sockets. âI am Abraxas,â it intoned. âWhat mortal fools dare appear before me?â
Rilien just barely suppressed the urge to snicker. He always had thought these things took themselves far too seriously. Ashton lacked no such compunction, chuckling at the demon's superior dialect. He lifted a finger from his bowstring, arrow still kept in place with the others, and pointed at Rilien. "I think he just called you a mortal," Ashton pointed out in a mock air of seriousness. Sure, the whole episode may have been deathly serious, but with what he was just put through, he was going to make a joke dammit. Maker, he loved the sound of his own voice. Not to mention that there friends around him now? He was estatic comparably. "Ugh," Rilien replied with an affectation of disgust. "How dare he? I'm not mortal, I'm Orlesian!" Granted, those were two entirely differently-applicable adjectives, but to hear some of the courtiers talk, completely contradictory all the same. Either way, Ashton liked this Rilien.
Lucien, having known Rilien only as the Tranquil fellow heâd always been, was rather more surprised. Granted, he didnât think amusement was really the proper reaction to all of this, but it was certainly quite a bit better than blind panic, as heâd been experiencing earlier, and it was some combination of this perhaps unbecoming humor and his simple relief to be alive and beside friends that had him smiling as well. Well. Perhaps it was also the fact that Rilienâs joke was very on-point. Nevertheless, he hefted his axe anyway, raising a brow. âWhenever you two are quite ready?â he inquired, tones laced equally with mild admonishment and good-natured levity. Let this creature come. It would find them harder targets than it seemed to think, mortal and foolish though they might be.
Rilien sighed. He supposed the chevalier had a point. How ever ridiculous it might be, this thing calling itself Abraxas was not going to kill itself, now was it? âYes, yes, very well. Have it your way, Ser Lucien.â Rilien flicked his eyes overhead, and the two flame-sparrows wheeled, diving at the creature in twin resounding explosions. Modified fireball spell, and damn if this didnât feel good. For all the showiness, however, it wasnât a very heavy attack, more a signal than anything else, and when the smoke cleared, Abraxas appeared mostly unharmed, moving his hands in a familiar conjuration pattern.
âHex of Tormentâmove.â His warning delivered, Rilien himself darted forward. The spell was designed to simply cause severe pain, and cloud the mind with it. Not something one wanted to be on the receiving end of, certainly. The hex landed, catching one of his legs in its radius and Rilien went down when it suddenly seemed not to want to support his weight anymore. Though he might have been aware of its coming, that did not equate to quite being prepared, and he swore under his breath in his mother tongue when he rolled to his feet, only to feel as though his bones were splintering. âMerde,â he spat, throwing a bolt of lightning at Abraxas in retaliation.
The attack blasted violently off of the demon, but seemed to do little to deter him, and Sophia darted in behind it, not even close to being in a laughing mood about any of this. It was quite a turn of events that Rilien seemed to have regained his magic and his emotions, but there was quite the Arcane Horror to deal with here, and Sophia did not intend to take the foe lightly. Abraxas, as he named himself, seemed a largely motionless foe, not doing a great deal of maneuvering about the room, preferring to take and receive attacks from his central location. From what she knew of these magister-demons, however, they were very poor at melee, but incredibly strong magically. If she or Lucien could get in close, under whatever guard it was able to put up, it looked frail enough.
She reached it from the demon's left side and threw a downward slash at what appeared to be an unprotected flank, but Abraxas reacted with a wall of rock appearing in front of her, and her sword clanged harmlessly away. He turned swiftly, casting a hand out, sending a stonefist spell into her, catching her across most of her torso and taking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard and rolled over backwards away from him, her wind gone, but all serious damage was avoided. A lightning bolt of his own was lined up immediately afterwards, and Sophia dove sideways just as it cracked down beside her, kicking up a large burst of dirt and rock. Impressive magic indeed.
It seemed the action was kicking off without him, and with the obligatory banter out of the way, he turned his attention to the task at hand: The arcane horror. There was something to be said about Ashton's knack for finding the dark secrets of magics, from being in one mage's dream, to hunting down an ancient demon. Not to mention his friends consisted both of a Tranquil bard and a possessed... Sparrow. Well, with the death of this being, there would be one less item on that list. He drew his string taut and lifted the bow, firing the arrow in a singular fluid motion. Not that it counted for much, as the arrow was intercepted midair by a stone fist-- shattering the shaft and continuing unimpeded at the Archer. A tumble to the side ensured that he wouldn't be clocked in the head by a rock.
Like Sophia before him, the horror followed up with a lightning bolt. Ashton responded by drawing a specific arrow from his quiver, one with a smoky colored fletching. Instead of aiming this one at the horror, Ash dipped down and aimed at his fit, letting it go. The arrow followed a short trip into the rock at his feet and was immediately enveloped by a gray smokescreen. The lightning bolt entered the expanding screen, but considering the lack of pained howls or the thump of a body hitting the ground, the bolt must have missed, with Ashton vanishing from the fray proper.
Lucien, not quite able to get out of the way quickly enough, was caught in the initial Hex of Torment, his muscles locking him in place reflexively as phantom pain seemed to tear open his flesh to the boneâthough of course, nothing of the sort was actually happening. Heâd been hit by magic like this before, but it was clear that whatever mage had hit him so wasnât nearly so dangerous as this creature. He watched Rilien trade lightning bolts with it, and its command of stone seemed to shield it from most of the attacks Sophia and Ashton leveled. Forcing himself forward, Lucien did his best to endure the lingering aftershocks of the hex and push forward, perhaps not with his usual alacrity but just as inexorably for all that.
He noted with some surprise a blooming burst of heat at his side, and looked down from the corner of his eye to see that the head of his axe was on fire. Courtesy of Rilienâs regained magic, no doubt. He wasnât exactly sure how to feel about this overallâhe had become friends with the Tranquil, after all. The person Rilien had been before his Rite was a near-stranger to Lucien, but he wasnât about to overthink the boon he was currently granted. As he advanced, a stonefist flew straight for him, and Lucien twisted to the side, so that it glanced off his shoulder rather than pummeling him directly in the chest, which might have taken him off his feet.
Once he was within melee range, though, the advantage was his again, and he cleaved downward with a mighty swing. A hastily-cast misdirection hex swerved his aim sideways, and where heâd meant to cleave the arcane horror in twain, he instead caught it between shoulder and neck, the axe-blade crushing as much as it sliced. Knowing heâd probably miss if he tried to strike again, he moved instead, dragging the creature with him to present its back in Sophiaâs general direction.
Somewhere off to the side the shadows shuttered and shifted, dancing around behind the horror. Ashton had used his smokescreen to fall back into the shadows and step into a more preferable position. Currently, that would be the one behind the creature. Ashton had decided to forgo his plinking arrows and drew his heavy machete. It was sharp enough to cut the limbs of tree off, it wasn't that much of a difference between the fleshy kinds of limbs. While Lucien was connected to the horror via big fiery axe, Ashton stepped out of the shadows and approached the exposed back. Eyebrows were raised by the fire that was now engulfing his machete. It wasn't too much of a surprise, most of his friends were mages. It's just something he didn't expect from Ril. Still, he was thankful for the gift, and swung his machete, looking to lop off an arm or something.
Sophia didn't take her beloved sword being lit on fire with quite as much ease, and it had certainly never happened in a fight for her before. She knew the source had to be either the horror or Rilien, and considering how it wasn't actively trying to cook her, she assumed Rilien was the source. After forcing herself to move again, she found that Lucien had managed to land a strike to the thing's shoulder, and turn it such that she had an opportunity. As she advanced, she found Ashton at her side doing the same, his own machete engulfed in flames as well. Whatever they did, it would need to do quite a bit of damage, as Abraxas undoubtedly wouldn't take kindly to it. She ducked in on Ashton's right, leveling her sword forward and attempting to skewer the arcane horror through the back.
The triple barrage of hits had clearly done the creature quite a bit of damage, and its reaction was violent. Gathering a cone of raw force about itself, it pushed outward, the powerful magic sending all three of its assailants sprawling, pinning them to the floor much as Lucien had been pinned when he entered the tunnel systems. Knowing that he couldnât allow it to follow-up on his prone allies, Rilien charged in, launching a quartet of orange fireballs at the mostly stationary target. They didnât seem to do very much damage, and he determined that the arcane horror must be particularly resistant to magic, something that irked him considerably.
So he needed to get in its face. He was perhaps three steps from it when he met the same solid wall, though he managed to land on his feet when it sent him flying. âStop,â it entreated, its voice much less sonorous and demanding than before. âI gave you your magic back, and I can take it away.â Rilien froze to the spot, looking torn. âIf you kill me, it will all disappear. Youâll be nothing but a hollow shell of a person again. Do you mean to tell me you want that?â
It was impossible to say that he did. That statement would have been the most outrageous lie heâd ever told, and for a Bard, that was saying something. Rilien swallowed thickly, and a gleam of triumph appeared in the dead magisterâs burning eyes. âI thought not. These people donât understand. They canât. Theyâve never felt the power that you have. They are ignorant of its sublime qualities, of the feeling of having the natural forces of the world at your command. They would urge you to give it up without knowing what they ask of you. I will make no such demands.â Abraxas paused, to let that seep in. Rilien glanced to each of the others, held immobile by the demonic magic. It was true, and that was the worst part about it. Everything it was saying was true.
âTheyâd ask you to go back, to being less. Less than they, and much less than you are in this moment. Your power is feared, as it was feared then, and those men took it from you, condemned you for trying to save an innocent girl. They who call themselves your friends, your allies, would ask you to give it up all on your own. I would rather let you all leave, never to return. This is my place, my domain; can you really blame me for seeking it out? For desiring that something be mine, a place where I can exercise my power freely?
Rilienâs callused hands curled into fists. âDonât compare me to yourself,â he hissed, eyes flashing in the uneven lighting. âI am no demon. I dealt with no demons.â But still, heâŠ
âAnd yet you were condemned. And they would have you be condemned again, for the sake of what? One foolish enough to actually deal with demons. Why does she deserve to have her magic, her freedom, when you have neither? What makes her worthy of what you may never have?â Abraxas ventured a few steps closer. The arm that Lucien and Ashton had mangled hung only from a few sinews and some bone, and blood dripped freely from the wound Sophia had dealt it, but it appeared not at all concerned with the disintegrating state of its body. It was intently focused on him, and he could feel how right it was. In what just world was he Tranquil where Sparrow went free? In what world could anyone ask him to go back to that, a state he had earned foolishly trying to act for the sake of someone other than himself? And here he was again, acting in her name, to save her, and it was going to damn him twice.
But it had still been the wrong thing to say. Another feeling welled to the surface, smothering his anger in the gentle way a spring rain smothers a fire. Heâd been nothing but fire, once, and a little bit of brimstone, but that had changed. He had changed, and there was no going back.
It hurts to grow. Hadnât he said that to her, bare and without irony? It was true, and yet⊠all he wanted right now was to go back. Back to what he had been. But this⊠this reckless boy who thought only of himself and took what he wanted, who laughed at demons and marched only to his own tune⊠he didnât exist anymore. He couldnât.
âNothing in particular,â he admitted, and he could see the welling of satisfaction in Abraxasâs face. âBut IâŠâ His left hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, at the center of his chest. His heart hurt. He was sure, that as far back as his memory of feeling extended, heâd never felt anything like that before. âI wonât be able to love her tomorrow. But I love her right now, and thatâs enough. Thatâs why this me will choose her.â A sardonic smile overtook his face, and Rilien drew his knives, launching himself at Abraxas with all the sudden brutality that had been trained into him. He was leaving it behind, he was giving it up, and it killed him. But it would have rent him just as surely to do otherwise. He could be Tranquil again, and then he wouldnât feel any of it, good or bad. This ache in his heart would go away, and he would lose his laughter and his anger and his power and his fire, and everything that he was or could be. Heâd empty out like a cracked earthenware vessel, but it would be all right. Once he returned, he wouldnât miss it, not any of it. Heâd not be able to.
Rilien mourned what heâd had for only a little while, and then his knives slid, twin motions, into Abraxasâs throat, and he ripped them out to either side, decapitating the creature and causing its body to fall to the floor. Rilien felt himself being submerged in icy water, and then nothing at all. Blinking dully, he did not see the light recede from his eyes, nor feel his face smooth into its customary porcelain neutrality, but it did. The binding spell on his allies snapped, and he looked over at them mildly. âI no longer have the means to burn it. One of you will need to set him on fire with your weapon before the spell vanishes.â It likely wouldnât be long.
Sophia rose from the ground where the demon's spell had pinned her on her back, looking at Rilien with no small amount of shock. What she'd just seen... Rilien had regained his feelings, regained everything, and then willingly thrown it away again because of love for Sparrow. It was... confusing, to say the least. As far as she knew, Rilien had been Tranquil for quite some time, and had met Sparrow as such, meaning that his feelings for her had developed while being Tranquil. Otherwise he would not have done all this for her, right? That was the best explanation she could give for it. Either way, she didn't feel like it was her place to comment on what she'd just seen, but she had no problem putting this arcane horror to the torch. Before the fire spell wore off on her sword she placed it to the corpse's body and held it until it caught, sending the body up in flames. She took a few steps back, planting the tip of her sword in the ground as the flames left the steel.
Lucien rose as the spell over his body released, more than a little surprised by what he had witnessed. Rilien⊠heâd always known his friend wasnât quite like other Tranquil, that on some tragically-stunted level, he could feel, but he never would have imagined⊠he couldnât imagine what it must be like to give up so much out of what appeared to be nothing but love. For surely, that had to be the only reason. Justice would have served the one whoâd done nothing wrong to earn his condition, and Abraxas seemed to imply that of the two, Rilien was less responsible for his own Tranquility than Sparrow was for her possession. Lucien had seen itâhad known that his friend cared for her, but he would not have expected it to manifest itself so strongly. The chevalier was not shocked that his friend had done the right thing⊠only at how much he was willing to pay to do it. To give up not only the power that had been his from birth, but even the ability to feel the full depth of the emotion that made him act in the first placeâŠ
Seeing that Sophia was taking care of the fire, Lucien replaced his axe at his back and approached the Tranquil. That heâd already faded back into this state was heartbreaking in its own way, and it was all the knight could really offer to place a hand on the elfâs shoulder and squeeze in reassurance that was no longer needed or perhaps even desired. âYou humble me, Rilien,â he said slowly, and very much honestly. Lucien hoped he never had to find out if he could go so far for the sake of another. âIt is not the first time, and I doubt it shall be the last.â He didnât deserve this. It was so far unfair to make these demands of him, but heâd answered them with so little hesitation, discarding his very self for this. No⊠not his whole self, but what he could have been, maybe.
Heâd thought he understood sacrifice. Seeing this, he was no longer so sure he ever would.
âI should not,â Rilien replied steadily. âI suffer no pain for what I have done.â It wasnât quite the truth, in just the same way that Rilien wasnât quite Tranquil, but the acute agony of it, that unsubtle heartache and the warmth that lay beneath it, all of these were gone from him now, and only memories of them remained. Perhaps it was better that way.
The body burned, and once it was ashes, Rilien moved carefully to the head of it, taking an empty glass flask from his bandolier and borrowing Ashtonâs machete to crack open the skull like a coconut, at which point he scooped the ash inside it into the vessel, corking it carefully closed and replacing it. It had to be the burnt brain matter, which was the reason why there wasnât plenty here for more than one potion. Theyâd have only a single chance to get this right.
He just hoped, in his distant, detached sort of way, that she was up to it.