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The first thing he felt when he came through was his own body dropping.
Snapping his wings open, Phil snapped open his eyes. Far below him, the slope was swept away into a sheer cliff. Rocks dotted across the river shore some several kilometres beneath him. Gasping, he snapped his wings down. Something shot through his wing with a sharp punch . Crying out, he glanced to the side. A crossbow bolt had shot clean through his wing, staining the normally iridescent feathers with red. Even the whites along his coverts were spattered with small drops of blood.
Damn! Turning, Phil looked down. His mind snapped through what had happened. He and his group were on the way to speak to Dream. Bad and Eret were leading the guards. On the way, they had been forced to detour to a side route due to a landslide in the mountains…and now they had been ambushed. This was planned. Someone knew we were coming this way. I bet they caused that landslide, too.
Looking down, he swallowed. Flashes of metal, armour and swords and shields, glinted in the sunlight. One of the Antarctic warriors screamed and went down, clutching at her shoulder. Phil swooped, kicked his feet forwards. Landed squarely on her attacker’s shoulders. With a twist, he kicked at another’s head. They dropped to the ground, jaw dislocated and head at an awkward angle. Maybe he’d killed them, maybe he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he cared.
Opening his mouth, Phil sucked in a breath and let out a sharp cry. There was a warbling tone to it, one that the others would understand. Turning, Bad nodded. Made a gesture to some of the others. Instantly, two of their runners tried to flee, short wings fanned out as they darted in between the sunlight.
Something punched Phil in the back. Stumbling forwards, he gasped. In the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching the wounded soldier he was trying to save. “No, don’t—“ There was a flash of something else, and he dodged to the side. A net crashed down and he just barely managed to avoid it. A shrill scream filled the air. Turning, he skidded to his knees at the poor soldier’s side. Blank eyes stared past him, and he glanced around. Eret was on the ground already. Blood pooled around them.
No. No, no, no— Fanning his wings out, Phil leapt into the air and let the razor blades inside them show. “Get away from us now!” He shouted. It was one last ditch effort. If he had to kill, he would, but he didn’t want to. He hadn’t been in a fight in a while, not since long before they had found Tommy.
One of the men threw a net at him. Dodging to the side, Phil moved for who he assumed might be the leader. A hand locked around his throat in the middle of his flight. Gasping, he clawed at their arm. Stared at them as they smiled lightly, tipped his head to the side.
“Well, hello there, little bird.” They announced. Then, they smashed Phil into the ground. The wind rushed from his lungs. Gasping, wings twitching, Phil stared up at the sky. White clouds trailed through the expanse of blue. “Tie him up.”
“No.” Phil choked out. Weakly, he tried to reach up. Then, the person pressed a foot into Phil’s stomach and pushed his weight down. Gasping, he reached for their leg. His fingers couldn’t even get off the ground. They, meanwhile, didn’t seem to care at all.
Looking around, they pointed at Bad. “Take that one.” Then, their gaze clearly fell on Eret. The rest of the guards laid slain or dying on the ground. Tipping his head to the side, Phil stared, horrified, as the person atop him strode over to Eret. Leering over him, they smiled coolly. “We’re going to leave this one.”
Then, they drove their sword into Eret’s back.
Choking, Eret jerked once. “No!” Phil yelled. Tried to struggle away from the others. Hands locked in his hair. Then, he was shoved into the ground again, cheek crushed into the dirt. When the sword was ripped out, Eret was kicked back across the dirt, leaving a pool of blood behind them. Rolling a bit, they laid there in the dirt, head dropping to the side. Bad screamed through the gag that had been wrapped in his mouth. Both Bad and Phil were then dragged across the ground towards…something.
“Knock them out.” The leader ordered. Bad was slammed into the ground again. His head fell back limply, and the people who’d bashed him into the tree scooped him up. Then, the leader approached Phil and grinned slyly.
Something bashed into the back of Phil’s head, and everything went dark.
+++
Phil was never late.
Swallowing, Dream made his way to the stable. There was some crashing in the woods outside, and he froze when he saw a flash of blue and brown feathers. Two of the Empire’s shoulders shot out of the woods. One of them, the one with the sparrow wings, collapsed to the dirt as she landed. The bluejay stumbled over, one hand clapped over her arm as she moved. “Dream! Dream—“ Stumbling forwards, she dropped. Dream lunged and caught her as she fell. Swallowing, she looked at him, brown eyes gleaming with tears against the dark tones of her skin. Deep bruises darkened her neck and around one of her eyes, too. “They attacked the king.”
“What? Where?” Looking down, he realized there was a deep slash across the young woman’s stomach. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.” Shoving him, she added, “You need to go save the king! I don’t know if they left anyone alive, we had to take the mountain pass and we were ambushed. You have to go!” Looking up, she added, “Please!”
Nodding, Dream let her go and stumbled to his feet. Then, he raced back inside, leapt into the saddle with a step on the closest block. Then, he spurred the mare into a sprint. “Stay safe!” He ordered as he galloped past the soldiers. He wasn’t sure either of them would make it through the night. If it was an ambush… think, Dream. Who was with the king?
Bad. He wouldn’t be a traitor. He’s not one. Pausing, Dream glanced to the side. Eret. But they wouldn’t be a traitor, either.
Why are you thinking either of them would dare be traitors? A voice in the back of his mind demanded. By that logic, you’re a traitor too.
Shrugging it off, deciding there had to be another reason—after all, Phil was the king of the Antarctic Empire, there were plenty of enemies who would want him captured—Dream leaned closer to the mare’s neck. Pushed her as much as he could. Thankfully, this was one of his horses who loved to run.
By the time he reached the mountain pass the soldiers had described, maybe a five minute full-speed gallop (of course Dream used some of his own magic to keep his horse from dying; he wasn’t cruel and maybe he didn’t understand the full extent of his powers, but he knew basic stuff), he found the massacre. Twenty different bodies, mostly their own soldiers, were strewn across the battlefield. But there was one person there.
Eret.
+++
“Eret.”
Everything hurt. Everything was pain and there was nothing else. It hurt, it was the kind of burning heat that he couldn’t get away from it. Wheezing, they opened their eyes just a crack. Beside him, leaning over him, was Dream.
Touching their neck, Dream shook their shoulder gently. “Eret, you need to wake up. Come on, eyes open. All the way.” Weakly, Eret let out a soft groan. Sucked in another breath, managed to get their eyes open. “Hey, hey. You alright?”
“Phil…Bad…they took them both. You need to go find them.” Glancing around, Dream sucked in a breath. Then, he slowly picked Eret up and started walking. Taking the reins of what Eret guessed was a horse, Dream started carefully walking along the path.
“You’re our best lead, Eret. We need to get you to the capital.” Closing his eyes, Eret let out a shaky breath. Pain struck through his stomach and he tried to ignore it.
They must have passed out for some time. When they stirred, they were being moved through the castle gates. Now, they were on Dream’s horse, still in his arms. Tipping their head to the side, they looked around. “I didn’t see where they went. Bad and Phil are alive. Otherwise they would have left them to die, too.” He mumbled into Dream’s chest. There was a gentle nod and he was shifted around a bit.
Eventually, they were being moved again, but they weren’t conscious enough for it.
+++
When Phil stirred, he was lying in a bed.
His wrists and ankles were tied down, and his wings were bound to his back. Frowning, he tugged at the bindings. “I wouldn’t.” A familiar voice said. Freezing, Phil paused. Turning his head to the side, he found someone sitting on a chair a couple feet from him. The room was oddly civil for something where he was tied to the bed. Small windows that he wouldn’t be able to squeeze through, but they let light into the room. Wood plank floors with carpet, and nice walls with light brown paint. The only sign that something was off, other than the lack of furniture and the bed, was the door. It was a legitimate cell door, with barbed wire at the window.
And then there was the person sitting in the chair by him. It was just a wooden thing, something he’d expect at a dining room. As for the person themself, Phil swallowed and took them in. They remained silent the whole time, waited patiently for them. A white cloak wrapped their shoulders, linking at their collarbones with a gold chain. The hood was pulled up over their head, hiding their features. Along with the hood, to mask their appearance further, was a white mask made of what Phil had a bad feeling was dragon scale. Under the cloak, a gold-lined white shirt clung to their form. The sleeves extended down to their wrists, poofed out just a slight amount as they leaned forwards and let the cloak spill back over their forearms. Dark trousers, a deep brown tone. Then there was a pendant, a golden chain with the mark of Essempi sitting on it. The waves were polished to the point that Phil could see his own reflection. Then, there were the golden bracers hanging around their belt, and Phil swallowed.
Holding out their hands, the person kept looking at him. “I see you remember me, Philly. What do you think? After stealing my brother from me and our country, you just…abandoned me to die. I think I’m doing a bit better now.”
“You’re dead. You were dead.” Phil said, staring at him in horror. “You died, you can’t—“ Pulling at the bindings, he looked around. “What did you do to Bad?”
“Your friend? Don’t worry about him. I don’t care what happens to him, the wizards can play their little games with him. Like they did with your friends. What were their names?” Running a finger along the arm of the chair, they leaned back. “Velvet, Skeppy? I believe. And then you had your little informant. The one who knew who your precious Theseus was. How’s he doing, by the way? Last I saw him, he’d been impaled.”
“You did that.” Phil mused. Getting up, they walked over. Pulling the mask away, they let out a soft laugh. He stared at them with wide eyes.
“Terrified?” Leaning down, they said, “Come on, Philly. What’s my name?” A burst of sharp, stinging pain bloomed in his stomach. Gasping, Phil twisted away at the familiar feeling of a knife sliding into his body. Dropping the playful tone, they continued, “ What’s my name?”
And that was when it hit him.
“Efiáltis.”
+++
There was a knock at Techno’s door.
Shoving himself upright from the sofa, where he and Tommy and Wilbur had been resting, Techno strode over with a heavy sigh. “Did you order anything?” Wilbur asked. Next to him, Tommy was leaning into his side. The young man was dead asleep. Meanwhile, Wilbur had an open book in his lap. Techno’s own book was sitting on the table, closed, beside the platter of little pasties that Tommy absolutely loved.
Shaking his head, Techno walked over and slowly opened the door. There, standing in the hallway in his writing clothes, was Dream. His mask was off to the side, showing his face. “Dream?” Techno asked, softly. Taking a breath, Dream paused and looked up. Their gazes met.
And that was when Techno knew something was horribly, horribly wrong.