Chapter 18 - The Harrowing

A strangled breath drew into Aven’s lungs as pieces of stone crumbled to the floor. For a moment, he couldn’t see anything, bleary gaze blinking against the glow of torchlight. Ghoulish wails lifted from the walls like a ringing in his ears. He continued to blink away the harsh glares of the room before brown eyes casted over dark plated walls. Not alone. Among the hexagonal room were several other figures dressed in stone, Lucian among them.

Tending to them, several wizards cowled in robes hid behind masks. A wand touched to Lucian’s forehead and alike himself, cracks began to split out over his form. It fell away in chunks from his figure. Aven felt his heart twist and turned his gaze to one of the wizards. “Where am I..?”

His voice cut through the room and the other imprisoned mages drew desperate looks his way, seeming to shrink back as a wizard drew forth. His face came level with Aven’s, hellish reptilian eyes burning into him from behind a mask. He didn’t answer, letting his silence speak its warning and turning back to his work.

From beside him, Lucian drew his first breath. A look of panic leveled on the barbarian.

“Welcome to Spellhold Asylum,” a Cowled Wizard spoke up. His voice echoed above the tortured cries resounding in the walls. “You are here due to an affliction that runs through your veins. Magic.”

Aven drew himself back, coming to press against the wall aside Lucian. He didn’t reach for the prince, didn’t look his way. It was too risky.

“Magic upsets the balance of our world. It opens portals to the planes of hell. Sets gods free. Raizes cities and flattens mountains.” The wizard’s mix-matched gaze pushed over the gathered mages as he continued to speak. “Here at Spellhold Asylum, we will purge you of these afflictions so that you may return to society as civilized beings. But first,” he nodded to two other wizards, “we must test your magical aptitude.”

He waved his hand and a young mage was pushed before them. One wizard wielding a rod stepped forth, pushing it to the woman’s temple. Immediately she froze, a shiver seizing her body as eyes snapped shut. It took seconds for the rod to burn a faded, dark red and a collar quickly clasped around her neck.

As she stumbled back, grasping at the collar around her neck, a spindly finger shot out towards Lucian. “You, boy,” the wizard commanded. “Come forward.”

Aven tensed. He watched Lucian’s jaw slide forward before the young prince gathered to his feet and stepped before them. The rod touched to his forehead and a flare of light much brighter than the woman’s burned red on the rod.

“Interesting,” the wizard purred. His gaze lingered on Lucian. “Collar him.”

The black collar clamped around his neck. Aven could see the line of tension holding Lucian’s muscles and the distinct wrinkle of his nose. As before, he was shoved back into line with the rest. More of the mages are called forward and Aven dared a look to his left. He crept closer, the tips of his fingers idly brushing over Lucian’s knuckles before parting.

Finally, it was his turn.

The Cowled Wizards watched as Aven stepped before them. He stood out from the other mages in size and physique. They eyed him suspiciously and brought the rod to his temple. For a moment, the glow of red sputtered at its tip, and then flared red. It pulsed like a heartbeat and withdrew with the snap of a collar matching the others. Unlike the way the others staggered back, Aven felt nothing but its weight.

Wearing a collar yet again. It felt as if he’d just gotten his former off.

The wizards finished screening and separating the mages into their respective groups. Those more potent, and those less potent. “This group,” one called, a finger pointing out the weaker mages huddled towards the far corner, “Take them to the Harrowing. I would like them to be made tranquil immediately.”

Some of the mages put up a struggle, their begs and resistance futile as shadowy visages snaked down the walls. Aven’s chest wrenched, a cold dragging up his spine. The shadows herded the mages around a corner and they disappeared from sight. There was nothing else they could do for them yet. Perhaps not even at all.

“As for the others,” a woman spoke, “take them to the dungeons. Let’s see what they’re made of, shall we?”

———————————————————

With weapons drawn at Aven’s back, the remaining group was led from one room to the next, entering a series of long halls in the process. None of them matched the visions K’tall had bestowed upon him. The room bore a similar resemblance to the last - dark stone walls and floors. It was what stood erected in the center that held the barbarian’s breath captive in his throat.

Looming over the group sat a wicked, obsidian portal. Hues of gold and red swirled at its core, two wizards sat on either side. No one dared move. The same woman from before folded robed arms over her chest, cold reptilian gaze sliding over the mages. “Would anyone like to enter first?”

Aven passed his weight from side to side as he eyed the portal. Something was off. The silence drew too long and the silver spearheads held behind them pushed sharp against skin. “I will.” A younger boy from the group stepped from his place and advanced towards the portal. He didn’t look any of the wizards in the eyes, his legs shaking with every step. The woman’s lips curled maliciously and she stepped aside, allowing him to pass through.

Several ticks passed with no sign of trouble, but the cage of claws around Aven’s chest only tightened. He tore his gaze from the portal, searching the group to find Lucian among them. There. Brown eyes locked to the tail end of a messy blonde braid as he parted from the others. No.

Aven went to surge after him, his heart kicking up in panic when a cold slipped down his spine. Aven froze, looking wildly around the room. A shadow untethered to any one body in the room stretched at his side. It seemed almost sentient. Watchful. He swallowed his suspicions. If he moved now, they would both be in danger.

Lucian went none the wiser, shoulders straight and head tall. Just like the boy, he disappeared the moment he stepped through.

No one else followed.

Aven stared towards the shifting hues of the portal with bile burning his throat. He tore his attention from the shadow crawling at his side, shifting a gaze over the woman who waited patiently at the front. She didn’t so much as look at him before hands slipped from her robes and she began to clap.

“Very good,” she purred. “Those of you who remain have passed the first test.” She waved a hand towards the portal and the deep red center bled to a cool-toned blue. “Only those confident in their own prowess would dare to enter.”

The guards from behind pushed their spears forward at the backs of the mages once more in urging them towards the portal, but it was Aven who stepped up first. Lines of tension had fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “What was that,” he demanded.

The Cowled Wizard turned to regard him, written irritation crawling mostly concealed features. “Fate. Those who entered of their own volition have paid a price for their misguided confidence.”

Aven didn’t get a chance to respond. Choked up by the rapid beat of his heart threatening to spring from his chest, guards corralled him through the portal. Immediately his feet swept out from under him. Faded lighting turned to black, spiraling and falling until he crashed against the floor on the other side.

He blindly threw a hand out, swallowing the taste of bile that’d scorched his tongue, and pushed himself up. Lucian. What did they do to him. Aven barely had a chance to sit up before he was tearing his gaze across the room. Most of the mages were gathered around a figure, gasping and wailing for help. He could see blood crawling through the cracks in the stone floor.

Forcing himself onto his feet, he staggered over and pushed between two of the other mages. Eyes befell to the boy that’d entered first. He lay on his side, gripping a bloody stump where his arm had previously been. Wails tore from him, but Aven only felt relieved.

Not Lucian.

Aven grimaced, pushing a hand onto the shoulder of another. “Strip a piece of your clothing and tie it around his shoulder tight. Someone else needs to burn the end to stop the bleeding.”

The man turned wide-eyed and panicked, but Aven had already parted from the crowd to return to his search. He found Lucian on his hands and knees at the center of the room, half leaned against a chest of random trinkets. Bowing down to a knee, Aven’s fingers reached out to grasp the Prince’s arm. “Lucian.”

A hiss drew from the blonde, nearly recoiling back until he recognized the voice. “Aven. Where are we? What’s that sound?”

“The portal was a trick, Lucian. We’re in a room with… with lots of statues. A chest. It took that boy’s arm, he’s not going to make it. Are you hurt?” Aven spoke too fast. He could see the confusion mar Lucian’s features as a ragged breath drew in.

“What do you mean.”

The way he spoke was like ice and Aven shuddered, slowly helping the prince sit up. He didn’t care anymore. A hand molded to his cheek, bringing them face to face. His brown gaze searched Lucian’s and his heart stalled. “…No.” Both hands took hold only for Lucian to wrench back, the color drained from him.

“Am I blind, Aven?” he demanded.

Another grimace. His heart twisted in agony as he stared down a milky gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should have-”

Lucian drew a breath, his face shrouding in shadow as he turned it towards the floor. “Okay,” he put simply, the faintest waver to his voice. “Then I need you to describe the room to me.”

For the first time, Aven gave the room his attention. It shot up nearly one hundred feet tall, no doors, traps, or secret passages to be found. Only ten statues erected in near perfect spacing around the edges, each with empty platters connected in front of them. Writing was etched into each statue base. “We have a problem. It looks like a puzzle but I can’t read.”

“Perhaps not on your own, sit still, let me try something.”

Lucian placed his hand upon Aven’s shoulder, brows knit in focus. A bloom of magic seeped from his fingertips and he quietly pulled away. Sweat lined his forehead with strain. “You should be able to read now. Let’s hurry.”

Aven moved quickly to test it. An arm curved at Lucian’s waist, brandishing his weight into his side as they stood. The prince sunk against him like a doll to be led. Surely enough, as Aven touched down to brush fingers over the writing, he could read it. Barely. The letters swam across the plaque at the base of the statue in attempts to flee. He blinked them back to place and blew a breath.

“Okay, I’ve got it. It says… ‘Here in this place, you swallow me. Yet, were I more, I could swallow you.’” Aven leaned back to comb a hand through dark brown curls, grinding his teeth in thought. Riddles weren’t his thing. Magic wasn’t his thing. None of this was even remotely in his element, and yet the way Lucian clung to his arm sparked determination in him. He had to do this for them.

Before Lucian could comment, Aven detangled from the blonde and raced back to the chest. He dropped, digging through its contents, and summoned a small jug of water. “These objects go on the platters,” he informed Lucian. “I have a jug of water. I think it’s talking about water.”

“Then place it and let’s find out,” Lucian replied. His fingertips slid up Aven’s wrist.

The barbarian flushed, feigning a nod that couldn’t be seen and put it atop. When nothing happened, they deduced the rest of the objects would need to follow. So one by one, Aven moved back and forth between statue and chest. He read each riddle and connected each object to it. A sword, an hourglass, a mirror.

By the time he finished, only one item remained in hand. The sun medallion. He twisted it around his fingers before settling it in its place. A click and whir sounded from the far end of the room, light flaring down the hallway that built itself before their eyes. The mages had all gathered by then, minus the boy who’d lost his arm. He lay unseeing in a pool of blood. Aven didn’t miss a beat, turning to regard them with a grim nod of his head.

“Follow my lead. We can get through this if we work together.”

He fished for Lucian’s hand again, threading their fingers and leading them down the long hallway. It was almost too dark to see, Aven squinted through faded torchlight to peer around any turns or ends. The hall led into a series of other halls and doors, fashioned into a winding maze. Already, his skull pounded with effort, but the subtle squeezes of a hand in his urged him onward.

Time escaped the group. What could have been minutes felt like hours in the grueling halls. Ghastly moans echoed in the walls, smears of blood from previous occupants scarcely cleaned. Aven led with waning certainty, finally stopping at the edge of another dead end. He swore beneath his breath, passing over a torch into his hand to gaze down. The faintest glint of gold caught his eye.

“Wait here,” he hissed. Making his way down to the end, Aven knelt before a corpse, nothing but rags and bones. Upon its finger rested a golden ring shaped in the mold of a ram’s head. He blew a breath, daring to glance back to the group of mages that teetered on their feet. It could help them. They didn’t need to know.

Aven twisted the ring from a boney finger and slid it over his own. Before his eyes, the ring magically shaped to fit snug above his knuckle. He clenched and unclenched his fist with the new jewelry and made his way back.

“What was it?” Lucian prodded. His hand fumbled out to catch Aven’s tunic, fingers twisting in tight on their hold.

“A body.”

“Body? As in dead?” One of the mages stumbled a step back. A woman, perhaps in her thirties. Panic flared in her eyes and the moment her boot hit the tile behind her, a pulse of magic burst across the group.

Chaos.

The cold scrape of fear pitted anxiously in Aven’s stomach, clawing its way up before he quickly shook it free. His grasp turned to iron on Lucian. “Everyone stay with me!” he lashed out. But it was too late. The spell trap took its hold and several of the mages scattered. The same woman from earlier disappeared around the corner, her scream cut off by the slice of another triggered trap. Another shot the other way, his screams fading down the hall.

Even Lucian wrenched from Aven’s grasp, only instead of running, his fist crashed against the barbarian’s nose. There was a crack and he staggered back.

“Lucian!”

Aven whipped around, pinning the smaller boy’s arms at his sides. His gaze tore towards the other mages. “Move! Now!” he snapped, garnering the remaining few’s attention. With struggle, he dragged each one down around a corner, pressing his back firm to a wall in exhaustion. Blood leaked from his nose as he wiped it on his sleeve.

The spell’s effect slowly dissipated with the distance they’d covered, but the damage had been done. Mages cowered against the wall, fearfully darting their eyes around as cruel, bubbling laughter shot down an offshoot of the current hall. Something was watching them. Aven grated his teeth. He knew that laughter from K’tall’s warning visions. An unseen assailant picking them off one by one.

He gripped Lucian tight to his side and this time the prince didn’t object. “That was a trap, wasn’t it?”

“It’s okay, we got out of it.”

“After losing two of us!” A man interrupts. “We’re all going to die down here, aren’t we!?”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” Aven locked eyes with the man, then every other mage. “They’re trying to pick us off one at a time. If we close ranks and stay close together I will lead us out of here. You have to trust me.”

Lucian stepped up at Aven’s side. “He’s right. Those of you who can, cast Mage Armor on each other. We’ll do this together. I trust Aven with my life.”

Dark skin deepened to a shade of red as a jolt sparked in Aven’s chest. The mages came around, casting their spells on another and forming ranks behind him. He loved that boy. That boy who trusted him. Aven swept down, his lips grazing Lucian’s cheek before he shifted his axes back into his grip. “Then let’s go.”

—————————————————————————-

Wherever they went, something followed. Whether the other mages had clued into it or not, Aven’s muscles pulled tight with tension. His eyes burned down every turn and every new hall, ears straining to pick up the faint sound of footsteps that followed on occasion. Nerves had the blood pounding in his skull, threatening to burst.

Aven paused at a cross. Two paths shot north and south from their eastward position. He just barely caught the blur that swept past in an echoing trill of laughter. Fingers twisted at the hilts of his axes. No more running. “This way.”

He picked up his pace to follow north and tore around the next corner with an axe raised. The laughter cut off. Gone. A snarl rolled between clenched teeth and narrowed eyes glared past the gloomy lighting. It could have only gone two ways. Continuing north or hooking a hard left and moving west.

Lucian’s hand brushed Aven’s arm in warning. “What are you doing?”

“There’s something following us,” Aven insisted in a hushed whisper. He moved to surge forward and the grip tightened.

“And you have a group of exhausted people that are relying on you. Think, Aven, it’s leading you.”

His jaw tightened knowingly and he lowered his axe back to his side, but his gaze remained locked on the west hall. “Okay, but we should at least check it out. It could try to sweep behind us.”

A nod. Lucian’s grip loosened as he pressed close to Aven again. His hair had fallen mostly from its braid, blonde locks stained with grime and blood. Nearly unrecognizable as the Prince of Aeliorn. Aven hugged him close and signaled back to the mages behind them, quietly creeping up around to where the path split off.

He glanced down first, shining torchlight to estimate how far it stretched on. A hiss came somewhere from along the left wall and the light quickly withdrew. Nobody had to be told to stay put anymore as Aven took the lead to investigate. He crept soundlessly down into the darkness, the steel of his blade glimmering in faded lighting. The closer he neared, the more distorted the hiss became until it was hardly a hiss at all.

But breathing.

Faint and ragged. Aven watched as a hunched over form rose and fell subtly to strained breath. He couldn’t make out any features, the figure shrouded by a large, tattered hat. His grip tightened on the hilt of his blades, his next step cracking on the remnants of bone that littered the floor.

A head scarcely lifted towards the noise, the rasping breath growing silent before a young, scratchy voice spoke. “…You’re alive?”

“I am,” Aven replied, letting the light cast down over the form. Wiry blonde hair fell around pale, sunken features, a hollow gaze lifted up to watch. “Who are you?”

The boy turned his head away, slumping back against the wall. “Just another corpse.”

His gut wrenched and Aven saddled his axes back over his shoulders, moving to kneel aside the boy. Carefully he reached out, offering him a hand. “You don’t have to be,” he soothed. “My name is Aven. I’m leading another group out of here, too. If you’re hurt, we can help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” the boy sighed in return. He turned his head to the side, brandishing a fresh set of bite marks at his neck, blood just barely dried around them. “She got me.”

She. It all began to align. Like a lance of ice piercing his chest and crawling over his flesh. Aven’s eyes danced over the boy knowingly and the hand fell to his arm lightly. He was like a ghost beneath his grip, nothing but skin and bones. “You were with K’tall. He got out, I met him.”

“He left me.”

The other mages were beginning to make their way down the hall curiously now, Lucian aided at the lead. One of them circled around to drop at the boy’s other side, nodding at Aven. “I can heal his wounds,” she spoke calmly.

“He may have left you, but I won’t. What’s your name? Can she heal you?”

The boy bunched his knees tighter to his chest, looking between the group nervously. Then feebly hung his head in submission. “My name is Camlen.”

“Alright, Camlen, we’re going to get you out of here.” His gaze snapped to the woman in approval and a soft glow thrummed from her fingertips. It spread warm over Camlen, restoring some of the color to his face, but not all was healed. Once the light faded, the woman frowned, drawing back wearily.

“That… those marks, I can’t heal them,” she whispered.

“What are they?”

“They belong to a vampire. He will need a proper healer before it takes him.”

Vampire. That’s what she was. The thing following them. Aven bit the inside of his cheek, jaw tense as he helped slowly gather Camlen up onto his feet. “It’s alright. We’ve made it this far. We need to keep moving then.”

————————————————————

No one was keen to plunge right back into the winding halls knowing what lurked in the dark. Only Aven wasn’t leading alone anymore. With Lucian at one side and Camlen at the other, the boy proved to be more resourceful than anticipated. He knew the halls well, helping the group narrowly avoid traps. Guiding them, not aimlessly, but with purpose towards a great set of doors that harbored the only way out.

“They’re just ahead,” Camlen informed in a hushed voice, waving Aven around the next turn. He was beginning to act weird again. An easily spooked fawn creeping towards water, almost, where unknown beasts lie in wait.

Surely enough, seated to the north was a set of gilded doors. The handles were shaped as great draconic maws, stretched outwards with sharp fangs. Aven stopped before them, skimming the outside wearily. Great, billowing breaths could be heard shuddering against the doors from the inside.

“Camlen, what’s on the other side?”

The boy shrank back, shaking his head in refusal. “Please,” he begged.

Aven winced, feeling the way fingers wound tight with Lucian’s for any ounce of comfort. He didn’t like the fear in Camlen’s eyes. Something about it tied his stomach in knots trying to decipher. He’d seen fear on the faces of many and none quite as similar without facing the threat of death that loomed over.

“Is there any other way?” Aven asked, meeting Camlen’s fearful gaze as the boy clutched his tunic in fists.

“No. It’s the only way.”

He regarded the door one last time, swallowing the threat of his own lingering fear. Gold inlays, intricate carvings. The handles. Aven had a sinking sense of what waited behind the locked doors and he turned to Lucian. “Can you get us inside without us making too much noise? Lucian, I think whatever is in there is a-”

“I know,” the Prince cut him off. He swept past Aven uncertainly, fingers flattening to the door, feeling over it. Hesitance. The hand drew back and Lucian took a careful step back. “It’s asleep for now, I may have a spell that can get us in without noise but… after that…”

Aven didn’t need to be told to know. Darkness clouded around Lucian’s eyes in rolling exhaustion. They had been at this labyrinth of halls for hours, dodging traps, warding off lurking creatures. Even he was beginning to feel drained. His mage wouldn’t be able to hold up after this spell. “That’s okay,” Aven decided firmly. “Get us in there and I’ll carry you out myself if I have to.”

Lucian set to it. Gathering the mages around in a close formation, far too snug for comfort. Everyone looped hands with one another, the flux of magic opening beneath their feet in a column. His features pinched with effort, sweat boiling at his forehead as he directed the spell around the massive group. It was nearly just beyond his capabilities.

But the spell swallowed them. A rip through time and space, bodies coiled and pooled around another before spitting out on the other end. Lucian immediately crumbled, staggering into Aven’s open arms as they latched around him.

The room spun for only a moment. Aven swallowed the nausea, his body seizing up rigid. Brown eyes locked on the sleeping mass of black scales and wickedly curved horns. Easily three times his own size, gurgles of heated breath blew from a long snout as the black dragon slept undisturbed.

“Nobody move,” Aven wavered. He kept his voice low, daring to signal Camlen towards the far end of the room where their exit lay.

It took a moment for the boy to break from his own fear, shaking like a leaf as he quietly rounded the dragon on tiptoes. He was halfway across when Aven waved the other mages to follow, helping them around and passing Lucian over to another man to lead him.

They didn’t make it far before a bone split beneath a boot.

In such a vast, empty space, the sound echoed like thunder and the breaths of the dragon halted.

Aven’s heart threatened to beat right out of his chest, lodged in his throat. He could feel a reptilian gaze lock to his back. Numbly, fingers wrapped around to reach for an axe. In a split second, it drew and he spun around to face the dragon gathering onto its feet. “Run! Camlen the door!”

Acid began to surge in the pit of the dragon’s stomach, cruel maw parted in a malicious grin. A stream of the frothing green fluid sprayed out towards Aven and the mages, and Lucian spun on his feet with a snarl. Hands charged with mana and a surge of water came pouring from the ceiling in a great wall, stopping the acid before it could reach them.

It didn’t last.

As soon as the wave appeared, it crumbled with Lucian’s agonizing screams. The mage staggered back, gripping at his head. Fingers curved and pulling at blonde hair. One of the other mages surged forward knowingly, catching the prince before he could hit the ground unconscious.

Horror stole Aven. “Lucian! Dammit!” His grip on his blades shuddered with strain as he grit his teeth together. “Take him to the door, now!”

He broke from the group as they ran to meet Camlen who fumbled to pick the lock. An elongated metal wire jumped in trembling hands. “Aven I need more time!” he wailed out, tears pricking in the backs of his eyes.

They didn’t have time. The dragon lunged forward with a shattering roar, the inside of the chamber shuddering. Teeth gnashed just aside where Aven stood, the barbarian rolling to his feet at the side and lashing out with an axe. Steel raked across scales, sparks flying up in the dim light. He staggered back into the line of a tail swinging beneath him.

Legs swept into the air as he hit the ground rolling. Pain exploded in his shoulder, the rake of claws narrowly missing him to tear across stone flooring.

Aven quickly regained his footing, feigning to the right, and lept to bring an axe down again. That time, it sank past scales. The dragon roared out again, a dark spray of red splattering across the barbarian’s face. It only seemed to anger it. This wasn’t a fight he could win. They needed to go, now.

“I’ve got it!” Camlen shouted over the chaos, throwing the door open and pushing out the mages. “Aven hurry!”

Aven dodged another lash of a tail as he spun on his heel to flee. Diving beneath one set of claws, another tore into his side. He felt skin split beneath its daggers, a cry pulling from his chest. He barreled out of the open door just in time for Camlen to slam it shut, colliding at the other end of the wall with a heavy breath.

His entire body shook. Some of the mages had been reduced to tears, sobbing into one another as his gaze made its round.

“What would you have done if I couldn’t open the door?” Camlen asked, approaching wearily.

Aven grimaced, a hand pressing into his side to stop the flow of blood. “I would have thought of something,” he lied. “…Lucian?”

Camlen pressed a glass bottle into Aven’s free hand and stepped aside to give the man a good look. The prince was held unconscious in another man’s arms, entirely unresponsive. Aven dropped his attention to the potion. He knew what these were. The liquid inside glowed with a warm energy and as it pushed to his lips, it flooded him with newfound energy.

A potion of healing. Back at the arena they’d never bothered with such expenses, but his time with Lucian had taught him much about the reaches of magic. Turned out mages weren’t the only one that could wield magic after all.

While it didn’t heal him fully, the pain washing at his side faded if only briefly. “We can’t stop yet.” He motioned his head down to the end of the new hallway where another door rested. Unlike the other, this one stretched to the ceiling, carved from obsidian. Writhing lines shot over it in tendrils of red. Evil in all manner of speaking.

It filled him with dread.

The others looked solemn, but determined nonetheless. They had faith in him after he’d led them so far. And with Lucian already stirring, it was time. Aven shifted over, bowing aside the mage holding his Prince and pushed a heavy kiss to Lucian’s forehead. “Don’t quit on me yet, I still need you,” he whispered tenderly.

“Of course you do,” a voice purred back. Tired. Pained.

Aven drew back as Lucian’s eyes fluttered open, still painted a milky white. “Always. Can you stand?”

As if realizing a stranger had been holding him, the prince stiffened and immediately found his footing, swaying on his feet. “I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Aven hadn’t the faintest idea what could be beyond that door. It could be another dragon. A demon. Perhaps the figure in the dark, hunting and plucking the mages up one by one. With utter care - he nudged it open with his shoulder. The room was utterly massive. Easily three hundred feet long, and nearly just as high.

Great pillars held up the ceiling, and carved along their obsidian surfaces were horrific visages of death, torment and enslavement. The marble floor was cracked, old and weathered. And in the center of the room…. was an empty portal arch, a demon carved into the top. The demon boasted long, cruel horns and empty eye sockets, seeming to be gripping the arch.

Aven described the room. Lucian grabbed his arm. “It could be a trap,” the mage murmured. “Or it could be our way out.”

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

The mages advanced on the portal. He was faintly aware of the mist rising up around them, the suffocating tendrils of shadow that reached for them in the dark, shying away from the little balls of light several mages had conjured.

They were almost there. Aven nearly sobbed with relief. So close to being done with this nightmare…

Until a woman shrieked.

Aven spun about, axes brandished just in time to watch her be dragged into the mist, kicking and screaming. “What was that?!” Another woman cried, stumbling back into a man who trembled like a leaf.

“It’s the beast!” He whimpers. “The beast that’s been following us!”

“Beast,” laughed a voice in the mist. Feminine. Cold. Cruel. “That’s quite rude. Silence.”

The man suddenly choked, staggering forward as he grasped his throat, eyes bulging. Aven snarled. “Stop it!” He roared, lifting his axes. “No more hiding. Show yourself, you coward!”

“Oh, I haven’t been hiding. Merely… observing. But as you wish.”

A section of the mists cleared. A cloaked figure stood in the open at the base of a pillar, and he could see red lips against pale white skin smiling gruesomely beneath the shadow of her hood.

Aven charged forward, ignoring Lucian as he called after him. His feet sprinted against the dark marble floor, and with a mighty roar leapt and swung his axe downwards.

It passed through an empty cloak that fell harmlessly to the floor.

Where?! His shoulders heaved. His blood pulsed through his veins as he snapped his head left, right… then up.

In the darkness above him, clutching the edge of the pillar, an ashen white face split into a hideous, blood red smile and the vampire shrieked with a laugh as she leapt down towards him, fangs brandished.

Instinct controlled every motion and spasm of muscle in his body. He tore to the side as she dropped beside him, immediately crushing his shoulder against her.

The vampire slammed into the pillar, blood at her lips and she hissed - an animalistic sound, nothing that should be coming from the throat of a beautiful, crimson haired woman - and she lunged at Aven, claws slicing down his arm.

Blood.

It burst along his skin and he could see the dilation of her eyes as she zeroed in on the red trickling down his arm.

The moment she lunged - a blast of cold had her staggering back as Lucian stumbled forward, face white with effort.

“Only one allowed to suck that man off is me,” he snarled, eyes seeking out Aven’s assailant sightlessly. “Back off, bitch.”

“Been waiting to see you around,” Aven heaved. His fingers tightened around his axes. “You’ve been tracking me.”

The vampire smiled as she stood, pushing a tangle of fiery red hair over her shoulder. “A handsome man like you?” She purred. “Who wouldn’t chase someone like that. You look utterly divine.”

“Too bad my skin is tougher than those pretty little fangs.” His eyes locked on to the wound he’d caused in her side, and watched as pale skin pulled itself together, as if the injury had never been there. Damn it. She can heal herself.

The thought barely crossed his mind when the vampire shot by again, blood spurting across the ground as her fangs cut into his side. Then again, rushing by and slicing open his arm. His leg. The side of his head. She dashed around him, moving so fast he couldn’t keep his eye on her.

He followed his gut. With a roar, he swung his axe hard and fast and felt it connect with the vampire’s chest, sending her flying backwards and crumbling against a pillar. Cracks and rivulets crawled up along the side and she lifted shocked, blood red eyes up to Aven who grit his teeth, lifting his axes. “You can’t bring me down,” he hissed.

The vampire was breathing hard. Her body shook and bled a black ichor from the ruts his axe had made in her fair skin. “Maybe so,” she exhaled.

Her gaze snapped over towards the mages and her mouth curled upwards. Without another word, she shot towards one of the mages, and like a striking viper her fangs cut into the woman’s throat and she collapsed, holding her bleeding neck.

Panic surged in Aven’s chest. “No!” He snapped. “Leave them alone!”

He crashed his shoulder into the vampire and she staggered backwards, a laugh bubbling at her red stained lips. “Oh, what fun!” She laughed, surging towards another.

Aven was there in front of the mage, lifting an arm and her fangs sliced into skin, making him grunt out in pain. “Well, well,” she purred. “Aren’t you the hero!”

The panic, the utter exhaustion, the adrenaline - it put him off balance. And she lunged at that advantage like a panther in wait. She struck him more times than he could count, claws and fangs slashing and raking across every inch of exposed skin. He could hear Lucian shouting his name as the mage tried to stagger towards the sound of his servant, the other mages cowering.

Aven could see red. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Perhaps it was the blood dripping from slices on his head down into his eyes. He crumbled to one knee, breathing hard and as the vampire moved to strike him down, to sink her fangs into his neck…

A tiny little bolt of lightning hit her in the back.

The vampire spun about furiously.

A little mage, white faced in horror swallowed the panicked lump in his throat and lifted his hands, guarding his neck from her fangs as she flew towards him when a jet of fire suddenly slammed into her face.

A young woman stepped forward, her mouth set in a grim line as she lifted her hands. “You wretched wizards,” the vampire seethed, stalking towards her. A ray of ice shot her in the pack and she staggered forwards in shock, twisting her head around to glare at the wizard.

All of the exhausted mages surrounded the vampire, peppering her with spells. She staggered about, lifting her hands to shield her face from the fire, the acid, the ice and the lightning that struck her in tiny rays all across her body while others crowded protectively around Aven.

Sweat and blood dripped down Aven’s face. He grit his teeth, fingers coiling around his axe. This was it. He surged from their side and with a roar, slashed his axe across the vampire’s back. She shrieked and fell forward, her palms pressing into the marble floor, her hair stained with tar like ichor.

Aven glowered down at her furiously. “You enjoy this, don’t you?” He hissed furiously. “Hunting mages. Making them suffer, panic, picking them off one by one… well no more. You don’t get to terrorize these mages. Run.”

Her hateful gaze burned through him. Her red eyes flashed hellishly in the flickering torchlight and after pulling her lips back from her fangs - was gone, dashing into the darkness.

Aven’s shoulders heaved. His hands trembled. Blood rushed through his skull and he moved to advance… when Lucian touched his shoulder gently. Aven’s head snapped towards him. His eyes were still wild, enraged - like a hound released into a pen to claw to the death. Aven let his gaze soak up the mages. They stared at him in utter shock. Like Aven was terrifying.

Aven grit his teeth. “S-so. This portal.”

For a long moment, no one said a word. Aven, the man who lead them through chaos and darkness. Aven, the man who defended them against a vampire at his own expense and sent it running. They didn’t quite know what to think of the man.

Finally, Camlen cleared his throat, and stepped forward. “I believe something is to be inserted into the eyes.”

Lucian swayed and lowered until he was kneeling, a hand at his head, eyes pinched closed. The mage looked utterly exhausted. “…what’s the situation.”

“Portal,” Aven said. “Camlen thinks we need to put something in the eyes of the evil dude.”

“I think… I have what will help.” Camlen stepped forward. “I found these….I thought if I ever escaped I could sell them but… then I got bit…” He opened his palms. Two glowing red gemstones gleamed in his hand and Aven exhaled.

“That’ll do it,” he murmured. “Everyone stand back.”

Once all the mages were clear, Aven strode up to the portal. The demon’s hellish visage seemed to snarl at him, and Aven grimaced and sank the crystals into its eyes. They glowed red hot. A steam of arcane warmth billowed forward - and a portal emerged in the space of the arch. Camlen immediately crumbled to his knees in a sob. The mages stood in stunned silence, hands over their mouths.

Then, one by one, they entered. Wishing with all their hearts to be anywhere except the harrowing maze. All but Lucian, who knelt on the ground, eyes pinched closed and trembling. Aven lowered beside him. “Are you okay?”

“So tired,” Lucian exhaled. “This maze… it took everything out of me.”

“It was designed to break mages,” Aven soothed. “It’s no wonder you feel exhausted… here.” Without another word, he lifted Lucian up into his arms and held the man against his chest.

Lucian bore no complaint. His fingers twisted into Aven’s shirt, and his sightless eyes sought out Aven. “Together?”

“Together. Let’s finish this.”