Chapter 1: I Wanna Go Home, Sweet Home
Chapter Text
"We'll wait for you."
Oliver stood silently, his eyes following his friends as they left. Every part of him longed to follow them. He wanted to go back to Eveningstar. He hadn't had a home until he met those people, Eveningstar was his true home and the nobles had become his family. Despite this urge, however, his feet were still rooted to the ground. He didn't have the strength to tear them free. Marcel sensed his urge to leave.
"Oliver please, go with them," He said softly. "You don't have to do this." He could feel Oliver's pain, the loss he was feeling. He didn't want Oliver to sacrifice all this for him. Sure, Marcel yearned for his body back, but not this desperately. He could wait, he didn't want to watch Oliver suffer to help him. Oliver didn't respond. Oliver knew he couldn't turn back. He was so close to his goal, he couldn't give up now. He couldn't let this opportunity escape him. As his friends disappeared from view, he knew for certain that he was stuck. Once again, the brothers were trapped together with these gods-forsaken people. The room around him suddenly had an uncomfortable air in it, causing Oliver to feel uneasy. His grip on the sword tightened. The High Sister entered Oliver's view, turning to him. Her lips were pulled into a smile. Not a malicious smile, but a genuine one. She seemed almost happy to have them both back here with her. It sent a chill down Oliver's back.
"What a handsome young man," Her gaze shifted to Oliver's scar before making eye contact with him. "We are going to do such wonderful things together."
Oliver furrowed his brows in disgust. The only thing he was doing with these people was saving his brother. Nothing more. Then, he would be finding his way out again. Oliver didn't respond, he just watched her. When he noticed she wasn't looking he slipped his mask back on, covering his scar once more. The High Sister didn't acknowledge Oliver's look of disgust. She continued speaking. "I never introduced myself, I am High Sister Triumph." She held out a hand, an offer to shake. Oliver kept his glare. Her smile remained unwavering, but there was something dark behind her eyes. When she spoke next, her voice was sharp. "How do you plan on bringing your brother back, Oliver ?" She hissed his name, causing him to tense.
"Oh, I'm not gonna be the one to fix him. You will." He snapped. His grip on the sword didn't let up. The room was silent for a moment, then the High Sister burst into laughter. Oliver felt a wave of anger rising in him. How desperately he wanted to kill her, to put an end to all this right here and now. But he couldn't. "You did this to him. You reverse it."
The taller woman looked at Oliver with an amused expression. She leaned closer to him, "And you will be helping, my dear." She whispered. A dark smile flashed over her lips so quickly that Oliver almost thought he imagined it. But he didn't, he knew he didn't. He raised his sword protectively. She began to walk off. "Come now, we must-"
Before she could finish, loud footsteps echoed through the cavern. Shouting quickly followed. Both looked towards the entrance and saw Hadley and the heroes emerge. Immediately Oliver relaxed. He began to approach the group, glad he was with at least one person he trusted who had an actual body.
"How could you?" Hadley boomed, causing Oliver to freeze in his tracks. Hadley was fuming as he stormed towards Oliver, "You were just going to leave us?"
Oliver was stunned. Hadley grabbed his collar, Oliver unable to pull himself away in time. He just stared, trying to find the right words. He was struggling to make sense of this. Finally, he forced himself to say something.
"My mission is to get my brother back. I wasn't risking losing this opportunity." He managed to say, his voice remaining calm. His voice shook slightly as he spoke. "The nobles were heading up to see you, they were going to see you and tell you I was down here." He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. He felt himself start to get angry, but he didn't want to let that show.
"You're selfish," Hadley grunted as he let go of Oliver. "You don't even care about the rest of us, do you? You were so ready and willing to drop us for what? The smallest chance you may be able to save your brother? And you think you can trust these people to just fix him and everything is back to normal?" Hadley's voice grew louder as he spoke, eventually ending with a shout. Hadley looked back towards the others. Oliver tried to repress his anger, but some began to spill out.
"I'm selfish? I'm not the one that dragged all of the others here. You did that. And, you would have done the same. You all would have done the same." Oliver snapped back, causing Hadley to look back at Oliver again. The surprise he felt was apparent on Hadley's face, as Oliver was not the type to raise his voice. His outburst had even shocked himself. But Hadley could see the steaming coming out of his ears. Oliver took a breath, calming himself before finishing his thought. "If you have the chance to even try to reverse what happened to Aurey, you would. I know you would." He and Hadley stared at each other, Oliver shaking from a mixture of fear and anger. No one spoke, the tension in the room was so palpable you could cut it with a sword.
The High Sister had had enough of these people, and considered killing them all right here and now. But with this many past experiments, this much value and knowledge in one place? She knew she had to keep them around. So she put on a happy face. She clapped her hands together, getting everyone's attention. "This location has been compromised. We must move quickly. An older location we once used is only a week's travel from here. That is where we will be heading."
"Oh no, we're not leaving," Hadley spoke up as he took a few large steps forward, putting himself between Oliver and the woman. "We're staying right here so everyone knows where we are. Just in case you decide to pull something."
The High Sister laughed and closed the gap between her and Hadley. Hadley was tall, but so was the High Sister. They were at eye level with each other and met each other's gaze. The High Sister smirked. Hadley's vision started to focus only on the High Sister, the rest of the room falling away. Her eyes gleamed with an emotion he couldn't quite place. He could see the power in her eyes. Her voice seemed to echo inside his head when she spoke.
"You decided to stay with me, and now you all will do as I say. If you want your loved ones back, then you shall obey me." Her voice was darker, calming but more terrifying. Hadley couldn't break eye contact. He could hear Aurey speaking, but her voice sounded distant. Finally, he tore his gaze away from hers. He put a hand on his armor, turning away from the High Sister. His face softened, his mouth moving slightly as he mentally spoke to Aurey. After a moment his stoic, angry look returned. He looked back at the High Sister.
"Only for Aurey." He said, his voice flat. The High Sister's smile changed to one of joy. She looked over the rest of the people around her. The failed experiments, mutations as she may call them. Her eyes shifted to Oliver and Hadley.
"Excellent. I already have people packing everything, and I have some people already at the location. We shall leave now, and we will stop early to wait for the rest of my people." She ordered, turning on her heel and starting off. The army followed her, a cloud of anxiety over them. Oliver and Hadley led them, walking side by side into what was to be their new life.
They began their trek to this new base. The High Sister led them all, the rest in a sharp match behind her. Oliver and Hadley walked silently side by side, leading the heroes. Neither said a word, tension still between them from the fight earlier. But they both knew there was no good in continuing the fight. They were all here now, that's what mattered. Hadley's words still echoed in his head, though.
"You're not selfish, brother," Marcel said, sensing his brother's discomfort. Oliver smiled to himself, comforted by the opinions of his brother.
"Thank you, Marcel."
The group walked for a few hours, the dark of the night not stopping them. Barely an hour before sunrise, they stopped to rest. A fire was lit, but there were no tents. Thankfully, most people had bedrolls from their time in Eveningstar. As everyone settled in, eating and relaxing, Oliver went up to Hadley. He was sitting alone, farther away from the fire, eating in silence. Oliver took a seat next to him. Hadley spared him a glance.
"I apologize for shouting earlier. But I am getting close to the answers I need. Fixing Marcel has been my mission from the start, and I just couldn't let this opportunity go." Oliver was trying to keep his tough, angsty persona up, but he was too tense and overwhelmed to even think about doing that. Hadley looked over at him, his face still tough. But he quickly softened his demeanor upon seeing Oliver. He was anxious, unable to even look at Hadley. Hadley smiled softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"And I apologize for losing my temper." He said, gently squeezing Oliver's shoulder in a comforting way. Oliver looked up at him, smiling slightly. Though, he quickly realized that with his mask, Hadley couldn't tell that Oliver was smiling. Oliver didn't tend to show his smiles with his eyes. So he scrunched up his eyes a bit to imitate other people's smiles. That seemed to get his point across. Oliver focused on trying to make sure people knew he was smiling, and not the fact that such a simple gesture almost drove him to tears. Rarely did he experience kindness from someone other than Marcel and the Nobles, and he had only recently come back into contact with Hadley. Someone apologizing was rare for him. The nobles may have said it, but truth be told they rarely needed to apologize. As his mind drifted back to his friends, he began to miss them. He hated to admit it, but over time he had grown to like them. Sure, they could be annoying on occasion. But that's just how people are. He was grateful for all the assistance they had given him. And he had even begun to consider Eveningstar his home. The first home he had in a while, one he was forced to leave. He thought about his friends for the rest of the night, eating a small meal before drifting off into his trance.
While all the heroes slept, the scions trickled in. By the time they left late the next morning, most had caught up. The next seven days went similarly as the group made their way to this new lair. The majority of the day was spent walking, stopping to set up camp hours after the sun had gone down. Their travels took them over a lake and past the Stormhorn mountains. With each step, Oliver got farther and farther from Eveningstar, from his true home. And with each step, Oliver got more and more homesick.
They were led into a small, densely pact forest. Hidden underneath this forest, so they were told, was this lair. They were all exhausted, as they hadn't been allowed much sleep. Through their travels, they had all begun to realize how truly cruel the High Sister was. She didn't care about anyone but herself, allowing others to suffer just for her selfish gain. She took many rations and forced Scions to carry her while others walked for 16 hours a day. It didn't surprise anyone that she was the leader of these people.
The entrance to this new lair was the same as the last, with the weird speaking orb and maze-like tunnels. The tunnels seemed slightly different in their twists and turns, and the magic surrounding them seemed fresher. It was still easy to spot fake walls and other such illusions, however. Hesitantly the group followed the High Sister through these caverns. Oliver and Marcel tried to mentally take note of as much as they could, having pieces of a map in their head. Eventually, they ended up in the new lair. This place seemed much smaller and homier in a way. It seemed more like a place normal people would live in rather than a place this terrible cult would hide out. Though, despite that, it was much worse. Skeletons littered the floor and a lingering scent of death and decay was prevalent throughout. It put Oliver, as well as everyone else, on edge. They all hated this place. The Scions, on the other hand, loved it. Of course, they would enjoy this, Oliver thought to himself. They all made their way through the halls, groups of scions splitting off occasionally to set up their new workplace in a different section. Though, most stayed with the group as they made their way through, seemingly going towards the back of the lair. As they walked through this place, Oliver took note of what he noticed. There were more rooms and it didn't have walls made of fleshy material for starters. This place looked and felt more like a place to stay instead of just some monster den the Scions hijacked. Oliver couldn't tell if that was better or worse. The group was led inside a room near the back of the lair. All the heroes filed into a room full of what looked to be old church pews. The rest of the Scions moved past them deeper into the lair. The benches in the room were decrepit, some moldy and falling apart. On the back wall, a wide hallway opened up, doors covering every wall. Oliver had his sword unsheathed, The High Sister let everyone come in before she began to speak.
"This is where you will be staying at night. The door will be locked, and if any of you are caught outside after curfew you will be killed instantaneously. You are to make no attempt to leave this building. Any found attempting an escape will also be killed." She said, her voice showing no sense of remorse. She let everyone process her statement before approaching Oliver. "Follow me, darling." She made his way past him, back out into the hallway. With much hesitation, he followed. He watched her lock the door. A soft click came from the lock.
The two made their way down the hall, Oliver oblivious to where they were going. The halls were silent, so the High Sister decided to fill the void with speaking. "This is the first scion location I was ever at. The first I participated at, and the first I ruled. I have very fond memories here." She shot a smile at Oliver. She didn't flinch at his unwavering glare. "I have some people fetching records from the location you escaped from. They should be swift, as they're using magic. They should be here shortly. Until then, we will be waiting in a separate room where I can keep a very close eye on you." The duo came to a new room. This one was small and had a large, wooden, bloodstained table in the middle. There were bloodstains scattered around the room as well. A stench of death hung heavily in the room. Unfortunately, it wasn't very dulled by his mask. The High Sister gestured for him to sit. Oliver sat at the least bloodstained part of the room he could find, which was thankfully on the other side of the room from where the High Sister sat. She watched him, silently observing his body language. Oliver didn't want to look at her, but he had nowhere else to look. So he closed his eyes.
Over the week they'd been with the Scions, Marcel had been very quiet. Oliver let him have his space. He didn't want to pry. Both brothers were trying to cope with being back here, back with these people. Oliver decided to check in on his brother, seeing as how it had been a while. Plus he didn't want Marcel to think he was simply ignoring him. Oliver laid the sword in his lap.
"Marcel? You alright?" He said mentally to his brother. As soon as he finished speaking. he could feel Marcel was not okay. He didn't know how he didn't sense the despair from his brother earlier, but now he definitely could. Marcel was still quiet, but now the silence was terrifying. "Marcel?"
"I'm scared." He said softly. His voice was shaky, but he managed to keep it together. He couldn't exactly cry in this form, but he could still feel emotions. "I hate this. I don't want to be back here, brother."
"It's okay, it'll be okay. We don't have to stay for long. We're leaving as soon as we can and getting the hell away from here." Oliver reassured. He put a hand on the sword. Oliver wished there were other ways he could comfort him, but this was the closest Oliver could do. He could feel the High Sister's eyes on him as she looked at him curiously. Oliver ignored her. "We'll be okay. I promise."
After the brothers spoke, Oliver slipped into a short trance. He was still very aware of the room around him and the woman sitting across from him. The exhaustion of the days prior had begun to catch up with him, and he needed a break. Some time passed before a figure opened the door. Oliver's eyes shot open, practically yanked out of his trance. His eyes were drawn immediately to the figure, who was robed and hidden to be unidentifiable. "The files you requested are ready in the library, ma'am." The figure said. The High Sister grinned, getting to her feet.
"Thank you." She gazed down at Oliver, a wicked smirk on her face, "Come now, Oliver. We have a lot of work to do."
Chapter 2: Shattered Pieces Make Me Sharp
Chapter Text
"We have a lot of work to do." The High Sister looked at him with a grin. Hesitantly, Oliver stood. His eyes drifted between the robed figure and the High Sister. The figure left first, then the High Sister led him out of the room and down the hall. The High Sister began to cheerfully hum as they approached a pair of large double doors. Oliver looked in and saw walls lined with books, as well as a table littered with files and papers. Three figures, who looked similar to the robed one who had spoken to the High Sister a minute prior, stood around the table. Oliver couldn't make out their faces past their robes and the shadows in the dimly lit room.
"You may leave now." She addressed the figures. The three figures shuffled past Oliver. "Come, sit." Her voice was silky smooth as she gestured him over. He made his way to the opposite side of the table. Hesitantly, he sat down and set the sword on the table, reminding the High Sister that he could and would kill her. Then he looked over the papers, trying to figure out where to start. The High Sister seemed weirdly eager or cheerful as she looked through the files. Oliver, on the other hand, felt sick as he began to read the papers. He only had to skim the reports to find what he needed, but he couldn't stop himself from reading more. The horror of how many trials these monsters had done began to hit as he read these reports. He put a hand on the sword, taking a moment to steady his breath.
"It's okay, Oliver," Marcel said softly, reassuringly. Oliver wanted to quit this, to drop everything and walk out. But he couldn't. He needed to help his brother.
After a few hours of searching, Oliver was feeling nauseous. Reading all of this was not good for him, nor would it be good for anyone for that matter. The reports were extremely detailed, talking about every single thing the Scions did to their experiments. Right when he was about to quit, a particularly thick file caught his eye. He grabbed it. A single word was written on the front in ominous red ink.
"Successes."
Oliver opened the file and his blood ran cold. At the top of the page were their names, Oliver and Marcel. His breath caught as he slowly scanned the first page. He took his time reading through the papers, his hands shaking more and more with each page turn. Pages and pages of papers covered in ink scrawling detailing everything the brothers have been through. He couldn't stop reading it. What made it worse was that Oliver only knew the processes he'd been through, Marcel had never told him what he'd suffered through. Their experiments weren't always done together, especially toward the beginning of their time with the scions. Now, as he red these pages of experiments and torture, Oliver realized his brother had gone through worse than he could have ever imagined. And, judging by the reports Oliver had read already, Marcel had been through the worse of anyone.
"Marcel..." Oliver breathed, pain obvious in his voice. The realization set in that he didn't protect his brother as much as he though he did. He began to flip through the pages quickly, but then came across what appeared to be another title page in the mix. He moved the papers about him and his brother aside to look at this new page more clearly. The top of the page read "Hadley and Aurey." Oliver managed to tear his eyes away from the report and, after returning all the papers, snap the folder closed. He was still shaking as he looked across the table at the High Sister. "I found it."
The High Sister's head shot up, her eyes wide with what looked to be excitement, or maybe intrigue. Whatever it was, it made Oliver cringe. She snatched the folder out of his hand, a wicked grin on her face. Oliver recoiled. He began to say something to Marcel but was interrupted.
"You're going to say you're sorry, aren't you?" Marcel said softly. Oliver hesitated before nodding. "Don't. You have nothing to be sorry for." Oliver grabbed the sword, trying his best to be comforting. Marcel did find his efforts comforting, and smiled. The High Sister looked up from the file after awhile, seeming to remember he was there.
"Very good, we should be able to... fix your brother." She seemed hesitant to say it, but Oliver didn't pay much attention to it. All he cared about was fixing his brother, and after waiting so many years, he was getting desperate. Marcel, on the other hand, was on edge about all of this. He hated working with these people again, and he hated that he had to take part in another ritual. He'd rather be stuck as a sword for longer and work solely with his brother than have to be anywhere near the scions again. He kept to himself, though. He couldn't change Oliver's mind, and even if he did it was too late to leave. They were stuck here, and they had to tough through it.
They two made their way back to the room Hadley and the heroes were in. A few were relaxing in the pews, but most had gone down to the connecting hallway to their sleeping quarters. The relocking of the door rang through the chamber, and caused a few people to glance back at Oliver. The room was dark, having only a few candles to illuminate the place. The ceiling was high and had dark walls. In front of pews lay a stage raised about a foot off the ground. Other than that, the room was very empty. Just standing in this room put Oliver on edge. He took a glance down the hall. On one of the first rooms was a piece of parchment, and upon closer inspection Oliver saw his name. He looked over the seats, where a few bodies sat. His eyes landed on Hadley, who was sitting alone towards the front of the room. Oliver approached him, making enough noise that Hadley knew he was coming. But he didn't turn around. As he approached, Oliver heard him muttering softly. He stopped, realizing he was talking to Aurey. Not wanting to disturb him, Oliver went to leave.
"You can come, Oliver," Hadley said, finally turning to face Oliver. Oliver quickly took a seat beside him and drew the sword, laying it across his lap. The two sat for a moment in silence before Oliver spoke up.
"I found it. The file on Marcel and I." He heard his voice shake as he remembered what he read. Hadley looked over at Oliver, a look of sorrow on his face. He put a hand on Oliver's shoulder, in an attempt at comforting him. Hadley didn't know what else to do, how are you supposed to comfort someone through this?
"Did you... did you find a file on Aurey and I?" Hadley asked hesitantly. Oliver didn't look at the man as he responded.
"Yes."
That was the end of it. The two fell silent. Hadley moved a hand to his armor while Oliver held his sword loosely. Oliver felt exhaustion catch up to him as his eyelids began to droop. He yawned,pulling his mask down and letting fall around his neck. Letting his eyes close, he leaned his head back.
"Are you not going back to your room?" He heard Marcel say. Oliver shook his head, his hand still gripping the hilt of the sword. "You're gonna wake up sore, sleeping like this."
"When don't I wake up sore." He mentally muttered to Marcel. Marcel sighed, but Oliver could tell it wasn't an upset sigh.
"Alright. Goodnight brother." And Marcel went quiet.
"Oliver?" Hadley's voice was the next to interrupt him. Oliver peeked an eye open to look at Hadley, but said nothing else. A soft smile cracked Hadley's face. "You're tired, sorry."
Oliver lazily smiled back and closed his eyes again. He let out a heavy breath as he was finally allowed to relax. After a few short minutes, he felt himself start to slip into his elvan trance. Though, he wasn't fully there yet when he felt Hadley shift and stand up. He left, returning a few minutes. Oliver felt a blanket get draped over his body, as well as the sword. Hadley had taken the blanket from Oliver's room and put it over the boy. They both knew this place was cold temperature wise, as well as emotionally cold. Oliver, half asleep, cracked a smile.
The High Sister had been reading through the file. She poured over every word again and again, and then went back to the library to read the files she hadn't gotten a chance to finish earlier. She was intrigued by this magic. She had seen all the rituals, she had seen Oliver and Marcel's ritual. Ever since then, she has had this itch to learn more. She didn't want to reverse the work that had been done on the boy, she really didn't. But Oliver could be a valuable asset to have on their side if she played her cards right. Plus, the intrigue was too much, and to perform these rituals better she would need a reversal. So she began to create this ritual. She read through her notes on the documents, quickly writing out a ritual. But as she wrote it, she felt she was missing something. She kept that thought in the back of her head as she wrote. As she finished this ritual, however, she still hadn't figured out what she was missing. She just pushed that feeling aside, deciding it was nothing. She read through the finished results and decided it would work. In all honestly, she truly didn't know if it actually would work. No one had ever thought to make a reversal, let alone attempt to make one. The High Sister was a little proud of herself for this accomplishment, but it was quickly replaced but guilt. The Scions worked so hard, put so much research into these rituals, so much time and effort, and blood, sweat, and tears. She felt bad making this plan to reverse it. She looked over the page, rereading her words. A line stuck out to her, one about souls. She slowly reread this line in her head as he reached for her quill. This was the most crucial lime of all. One mistake here could mess the whole thing up. The High Sister was interested in this magic, and she's seen plenty of rituals fail. She wondered what a failure here would look like.
Oliver woke up in the same place he had fallen asleep. There were no windows in this room, as it was all underground, and any candle or lantern light from the previous night had gone out completely. So the room was completely dark. It had been a dreamless sleep, for Oliver at least. Marcel had a different experience.
He dreamt he was back home. His real home, the one he and Oliver ran from as kids. It'd been years since he'd been there, the place long since faded from his memory. And yet, here he was. As he wandered the house, he found it void of any life. It seemed to have been that way for some time. As he touched some books on a shelf, a lay of dust coated his fingertip. He wiped it off, before opening his and Oliver's bedroom door. The rest of the house was very well lit, candles making sure it was cozy. But the bedroom was unnaturally dark. Every inch of the room was cloaked in magical darkness. Marcel's feet carried him inside the room. As soon as he stepped into the darkness, the ground of the room fell away. He was left floating in this nothingness. As he drifted, unable to see his body, he felt a light tingling flow through his limbs. It didn't hurt, and it wasn't scary. Marcel had felt this many times before. He laid there, this tingling in his body the only sense as he floated through this magical darkness. And then he was awake. And that's what he focused on, the now.
"Oliver?" He said softly, seeing how awake his brother was. He knew he was awake, but he didn't know if he was awake enough to respond. Oliver stirred, recognizing Marcel was now awake.
"Good morning Marcel." He mumbled in return, his voice still gravely from sleep. He hadn't woken up that much earlier, and had just been sitting with his eyes closed. He had pulled his mask back up, and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. "You woke up later than me for once."
Marcel laughed, which caused Oliver to smile too. The two spoke for a while longer, beginning their day in as nice of a way they could in a place like this. Marcel was was glad he got this chance with Oliver. There were only so many fears a body in this form could have, and his brother dying was the main one. As they spoke, they heard the door unlock and open. Turning around, Oliver saw the High Sister enter. Light streamed in and illuminated the room behind her. She held a stack of papers, along with other objects and wore a smirk. Approaching Oliver, she handed him the papers. At a quick glance, Oliver realized it was the ritual.
"Already?" Oliver raised an eyebrow as he looked up at the High Sister. Oliver had his doubts about this, considering how quickly she seemed to make it. The High Sister kept her smile.
"I know more about these rituals than you, I've watched far more. It wasn't very hard to make." Her voice dripped with condensation. Oliver took the papers cautiously. It was short, which made Oliver even more uneasy. Something was wrong with it, something he couldn't quite place. The High Sister was right, she did know more about these rituals than he did. But Oliver had been in one, and he knew something was wrong.
"You have the same feeling I do," Marcel mumbled, practically to himself. Oliver sighed, shaking his head as his brother spoke. "I don't know about this, brother."
"Do you know what's wrong with it?" He asked. Marcel shook his head, or at least conveyed the notion of doing so. "Do you want to try it?"
Marcel hesitated. No, he really didn't. Oliver felt his brother's uneasiness.
"Why don't we get started?" Before he could protest, Oliver was dragged out of the room. The High Sister's grip on his arm was tight. Oliver tried to pull away, but that only caused her grip to tighten even more. He kept his face flat, but he knew a shred of fear was clear in his eyes. He didn't dare speak a word. All the previous confidence he had vanished, and suddenly he felt like a scared child all over again. He was paralyzed with fear, and this allowed the High Sister to easily drag him into an empty, isolated room. The door to the room closed with a loud thud and caused Oliver to snap back to the present. His eyes shot around the room. His dark vision allowed him to see that the room only held an ornate wooden table. It was covered in runes, the same type as the ones engraved on the sword. The High Sister walked past him, approaching the table and setting the materials down on it. Turning back to look at him, she began to instruct him. "You will lay your sword on the table, I will begin to speak. You are not to interrupt the process. We don't know what it could do."
A bad feeling arose in Oliver's stomach. He managed to swallow back his hesitation and set the sword on the table. He didn't let go of the hilt just yet.
"I don't know about this." Marcel repeated. He was scared, he didn't want this at all. He tried to push back his worry, say it was irrational. But it just kept coming back.
"I don't think we have a choice anymore." Oliver's hand was still wrapped around the hilt of the sword. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "It'll be okay brother. I'm here." He said, forcing himself to let go of the sword. The reassurance was both for himself and his brother. He stepped back, managing to contain his anxieties. He could still sense Marcel's fear. The High Sister stepped in front of him, approaching the table. She set a candle on the table at one end of the sword, lighting it as she spoke some words in a language Oliver didn't understand. She moved down the table, still speaking as she placed another candle at the other end of the sword. She finished her phrase and turned back to Oliver.
"We may begin." She took a spot next to Oliver, looking down her nose at him before turning back to the sword. She held the papers containing the ritual in her hands and she quickly skimmed the words, re-familiarising herself with the words. She spoke without looking up from the papers. "You may want to stand back."
Oliver didn't move. A flicker of a frown flashed across her face, something barely visible to Oliver in this dim light. She took a step forward, focusing for a moment. She took a few slow, steady breaths, eyes closed. Then, she began to speak. Her voice flowed from her lips with ease. She was loud, confident, powerful. Her voice projected through the room, filling every nook and cranny before seeping out. There was an anxious, fearful tension between the brothers, and it heightened with every second. Oliver could feel a power growing in the room, and as it rose the sword did too. Before his eyes, Oliver watched as the sword began to levitate off the table. It rose a couple feet in the air, shaking as it lifted. Oliver watched in shock, the High Sister's voice even louder than before.She sounded commanding, almost angry. Oliver could sense that his brother was scared. The High Sister finished speaking, opening her eyes to observe what had happened. She watched the sword with amazement, surprised she was able to actually do this. The room was quiet for a moment before Marcel spoke.
"Oliver I don't like this." There was an air of urgency and panic in his voice. A low rumbling began to fill the room, and ever so slightly could Oliver feel the floor beneath him begin to shake. He tensed, eyes fixated on the sword. Before Oliver could speak, the sword runes on the sword pulsed a bright magenta light before beginning to glow. The candles snuffled themself out, leaving the light from the sword as the only light in the room. It illuminated the room ominously. For a minute, the only sound in the room was the low rumbling.
"Marce-" Oliver began, but was cut off. A loud scream, Marcel's scream, echoed through the room. Oliver thought he had imagined it at first. But no, he heard his brother's voice outside of his head for the first time in years. His eyes widened, confused and concerned. "Marcel!"
Oliver reached out, trying to grab the sword. The High Sister harshly grabbed his arm, stopping him, "You'll interrupt the process." She hissed, pulling Oliver away. He desperately looked between the sword and the High Sister. He tried to summon the sword back to him, but it didn't work. Only a faint tingling was felt in his palm.
"Stop!" He heard Marcel cry, a sob making his voice crack. Oliver felt a strong wave of anger flood through every part of his body as he watched the small, fascinated smile on the High Sister's face grow. That was when it clicked, that she only viewed them as experiments. Both of them were just little lab rats for her to experiment with and then throw away. She didn't care whether they lived or died, just the information they provided. She looked back at Oliver, that same expression still plastered on her face. Oliver grimaced, his face contorting into a look of anger.
"To hell with your process."
In one swift motion, Oliver pulled his arm free of her hold and grabbed the sword from the air. As his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword, a string wave of pain washed through him. A burning originated at his palm and pulsed through his body. Oliver fell to his knees at the side of the table, sword clutched tightly to his chest. Is this what Marcel had just felt? Oliver could still hear his brother's cry, although quieter now. The pain subsided after a moment, but there was still a phantom pain lingering on his bones. He slumped forward, trying to stop his body from shaking.
"Marcel?" He said mentally to his brother. Marcel didn't reply, but Oliver could still hear the sniffling. "Are you alright?"
"It hurts." The boy whimpered, breathes staggered from sobbing. "I... I feel..." He stopped. He could feel, though Marcel didn't know what he was feeling. He could feel his arms, and they felt like arms, and there was a bull pain like he had been sliced or cut. Like he had gone through many battles without a shield. Throughout the rest of his body, a faint tingling could be felt, like the one in his dreams. He felt his body again. He couldn't see it nor move it. But he knew it was there, he felt it. And more-so than ever before, he felt trapped. The sword was a prison, had been for years. And now he was going to break out. Oliver could sense all the emotions coming from the boy, and didn't know what to say. He just hugged the sword closer to his chest, and this time Marcel could feel it.
Footsteps approached to where Oliver was slumped on the floor. He didn't want to look up, he didn't want any of this to be real. But slowly, he forced himself to look up at the High Sister standing over him.
"You ruined it." She spat, a look of disgust on her face. Again that anger was back boiling inside of Oliver. He shot to his feet, sword now in his hand dropped to his side. The High Sister was forced back a step. It took everything inside of him to restrain himself from swinging his sword at her.
"I ruined it? He was in pain, I had to save him you... you..." So many things he wanted to call her, all crashing together at once. He couldn't get the words out before she laughed a sick, twisted, poison-soaked laugh.
"If you want a ritual that won't cause him pain, make one yourself." She sneered.
"Oh, I will." Oliver spat, snatching the papers out of her hands. Gripping the sword with his other hand, he stormed out of the room.
Chapter 3: These Trials Make Us Who We Are
Chapter Text
Oliver made his way to the library, slowly opening and closing one of the big doors. He was careful as to not make a sound. He saw the table the High Sister had been at the previous night, still littered with books and papers. A lantern was sitting on the table, one that was quickly relit as Oliver sat down. He looked over the research she had done, the work she left. He reorganized the space, realizing how unimportant half these books were based on titles alone He set those in a pile on the floor. Oliver then picked up a seemingly useful book and began to skim through it. He took notes as he read, filling page after page as he read book after book. A few hours into his note-taking, the file caught his eye again. Its red ink stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the white page attempting to conceal it. Part of him knew he shouldn't read it again, but he knew he needed to, Hesitantly, he grabbed it. He readied himself before opening the file. Many pages detailed the torture they'd been through, those were the worst of all, and more than once he had to take a break to stop his hands from shaking. But he forced himself to look through it. He needed this information. He finished reading the info in the file before going over his notes. Taking the information from the only two true successes they had, as well as the other notes he had taken, he wrote a ritual. And then he rewrote it. And then he scrapped it and tried again. And again. And again. Hours he spent, pouring over his notes and trying to perfect a ritual. And before he knew it, those hours turned into days. Days on end with little rest and only having lukewarm meals brought to him by Hadley. He barely left the library. He slept in the library, getting the bare amount of rest needed to think straight and keep reading. But he was determined to write this, he needed to write this. For Marcel. Through his days on end of research, he figured out what the High Sister did wrong. She hadn't taken into account the fact that Marcel didn't have a body. A body needed to be made, and thankfully Oliver managed to create a way to not only do just that but also transfer the soul into said body. He worked until sundown of the fourth day trying to perfect this ritual. A pile of balled-up papers was forming under him and he was starting to run out of ink. But finally, he had it. Finally, he was confident in the ritual he had created. He read it over and over again, running it by Marcel to make sure they both felt okay about it. He set the papers on the table in front of him and leaned back in his chair. His body deflated, the tension in his body faded. Exhaled heavily, he letting his eyelids fall closed. He was tired. Hyper-focusing on the spell writing, reliving those traumatic memories, having not slept more than 4 hours since he started writing this spell, they all were taking a toll on him.
"You sure it's good?" Oliver asked Marcel once more. He was unsure of himself but trusted Marcel's judgment. Marcel smiled.
"Yes brother, it's alright. Get some rest please." Marcel said in response. Oliver smiled to himself, drifting off to sleep. A feeling of accomplishment accompanied him into his rest.
While Oliver was asleep, Marcel focused on the body he now felt. He still couldn't move it at all, and that tingling was still there, settled on his bones like dust. Marcel tried to focus on moving a finger. He hoped for anything, even a twitch. Nothing. He grew frustrated quickly and decided to shift his focus to something different. The library was huge. It was old and well used, as well as well taken care of. This was probably the cleanest room in the entire place. The books that Marcel could see were well worn, but not falling apart. Marcel continued to look around.
Oliver slept peacefully for a while, still in the library. The longest sleep he'd had in a few days. It was calm, quiet, and peaceful. A nice way to forget about the horrors outside this room. Though, this serene mood was disturbed by the High Sister busting in. The door slammed against the wall, awaking Oliver with a start. His eyes darted around the room, face falling when they landed on her.
"What are you doing sleeping?" She huffed, marching up to him. Oliver tensed, pulling away towards the back of the chair. It was almost involuntary, him recoiling from her. The High Sister stood at the opposite side of the table, leaning over towards him. She didn't get too close to him, but just enough to make him uncomfortable. "You're supposed to be working on the spell, remember? Or do you not care about your brother all that much anyway?"
Oliver didn't respond, a twang of anger pulling at his heart. His eyes drifted down to the papers that held the finished spell. The High Sister followed his gaze. He saw her face shift when she saw the spell, "It's done." Oliver managed to force himself to say. The High Sister read it again and again, her eyes moving over the page as she processed the spell. Her face changed again, now displaying a look of confusion.
"Do you really think this will work?" She asked him, more curious than concerned. She didn't even look up at Oliver when she spoke. Despite her tone and his previous thoughts, Oliver didn't have a shred of doubt in his mind.
"It'll work."
This time, it was Oliver that lead the duo to the ritual room. With each step he took, he became more and more unnerved. An uneasy, anxious feeling arose in him, but he managed to repress it. He stepped into the stony room, it looked the same as when they previously left. Oliver walked towards the center of the room, up to the messy wooden table. Hesitantly, he placed his sword upon it.
"It'll be okay." He whispered to Marcel, before letting the hilt of the sword go. He heard his brother sigh.
"I hope so."
Oliver began to set up his spell, which was more detailed than the High Sister's had been. It required candles still, among the other things scattered around the sword. He also removed his cape and ceremoniously placed it over the sword. When the final piece, a large amethyst set near the point of the sword, was in place Oliver was ready to begin. He took a step back, but still stood reasonably close to the sword. He took a few slow, steady breaths to calm his nerves. Skimming the spell once more, he familiarized himself with the spell and knew he was ready. Finally, he began speaking.
Oliver's voice was confident and clear, echoing through the small ritual room. He spoke warmly, a comforting difference from the High Sister's cold tone. He spoke as if he were speaking directly to Marcel. While his words weren't as elegant as the previous ones had been, they worked better. They were more personal, more comforting. Oliver got more comfortable with every passing second, relaxing more as he spoke. As the ritual went on, he saw the sword begin to glow the same purple light as before. but it didn't pulse. It glowed softly while staying firmly on the table. Marcel listened intently, feeling the sword heat up. Not enough to burn, but a comfortable heat. Or... was he heating up? Marcel could feel that tingling in his body grow fainter and fainter with every word Oliver said and began to believe this spell wasn't going to work either. He believed, in fact, that the spell was doing exactly the opposite of what they were looking for. As his mind spun with thoughts, he felt his finger twitch ever so slightly.
He felt it twitch.
Marcel went wide-eyed, focusing all his concentration on that finger. With as much strength as he could muster, he managed to move the finger. It was an odd sensation, as he still couldn't see his body. He still didn't know if he truly had a body. But what he did know is that very slowly, he was moving his finger up and down. He laughed, shocked.
"Brother!" He said through a grin. Oliver could hear the excitement in his voice. He kept focus on the spell, now with a slight smile tugging at his lips. He got to the very end of the spell, watching the sword on the table eagerly. Their excitement lasted for only a moment, however, before another scream of agony erupted from Marcel. The warmth had quickly become too hot. His body felt like it was burning. The light grew brighter and brighter before it cloaked the entire room. The sound of pieces of metal hitting the ground clanked through the room in a disorganized harmony.
"Marcel-!" Oliver shouted, trying to make his way towards the table. But the light was too bright, and both Oliver and the High Sister had to shield their eyes from this light in the room. A minute passed, and the light finally dimmed. The two stared at the scene before them. On the ground lay the shattered remains of the sword, and on the table lay a man who looked to be either asleep or passed out. He was partially covered by Oliver's cape, but most of his features were still visible. He looked only a few years younger than Oliver, with a messy head of pastel purple, almost white hair. He had pale skin, pointy elven ears, and resembled Oliver. Not only that but the figure was covered in scars, his outer arms showing the most damaged areas. Most of the scars looked simply like sword slashes, however, carved deep in his chest were scars that resembled the runes on the sword. Oliver was frozen in place, he couldn't believe what he was staring at. He knew this was Marcel, he felt it. Aside from the scars, he looked like an aged version of the boy Oliver knew. He was much older than he had been, no longer that sickly child Oliver had once taken care of. Oliver finally managed to get his feet unstuck from the floor, closing the distance between him and his little brother. He put a hand on Marcel's shoulder, gently attempting to shake him awake. Slowly, he watched his brother wake up again, his eyes fluttering open. That's when Oliver noticed the other new thing about this recreated body of his brother's: Marcel's eyes matched the light that had been shining from the sword only moments ago. Hie eyes were now a bright purple, so bright they almost glowed. Though, the brightness dimmed a bit as Marcel looked around. His eyes landed on Oliver, the curious look they once held now replaced with joy. The brothers stared at each other for a moment, neither truly believing what they were seeing. Slowly, Marcel extended his hand towards Oliver, his eyes widening when his hand met Oliver's chest. He was solid, he had a body. He could feel the fabric of Oliver's clothes and the chill in the air and he could feel again.
"Is this real?" Marcel breathed, looking between his hand and Oliver. Oliver, on the other hand, was speechless. He couldn't stop staring at Marcel, a shocked smile plastered on his face.
"Yes," He forced himself to say, meeting Marcel's gaze again. "Yes, this is real."
Marcel found himself laughing, just too happy to put it into words. He sat up slowly, Oliver keeping a hand behind him in case he was to collapse. But Marcel felt fine if a little dizzy. As he looked around the room, getting a feel for his body again, he noticed a different feeling in his body. Something was missing. Not quite wrong, there was no pain or discomfort, but there was something different from the last time he had a body. He looked himself over and felt his arms, his fingers running over the new scars. He cycled through what could possibly be missing. The room was silent, but Marcel's mind was running. Oliver and Marcel shared a quiet bonding moment. Finally, it clicked, and Marcel's smile somehow got bigger.
"Oliver-" Marcel grinned, looking back up at Oliver, "-I'm cured."
Marcel's sickness, the one that had brought them to this place and had gotten them mixed up with these people, was cured.
Still trying to make sense of everything, Oliver hugged his little brother. Marcel hugged him back, leaning his head against his chest. The first actual hug the two had shared in years, the first time Marcel could actually hug back in so long. Oliver felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. He did it, he'd actually gotten his brother back. He completed his goal, after so many years.
"How interesting." The High Sister hummed, interrupting their sentiment moment. They both looked over at her to see her staring curiously at Marcel, more specifically his scars. Oliver's face dropped and he tensed up again, "Those scars, did you have them before, boy?"
"No," Marcel said simply, watching Oliver get between him and the High Sister. Neither brother trusted this woman, and both made sure that she knew it. Despite Oliver's defensiveness, however, she just smiled. She took a step closer and tried to take another step before being stopped by Oliver. She paid him no mind, her eyes still on Marcel. Marcel pulled the cape over his chest, covering himself and the scars as much as he could. Her gaze made him uneasy.
"Curious. That state must have made your soul more vulnerable to scarring." She said, cocking her head as she looked him over.
"What the hell does that mean?" Oliver snapped, still keeping her a fair distance away from marcel. She looked at Oliver, her lips pulled into a smirk. With the lighting of the room, she looked almost evil.
"They're scars on his soul, projected onto his new, physical body. They can't heal, they won't go away." She looked back at marcel, still smirking. "They're a constant reminder of what he is: A tool, a weapon-"
"Shut up." Oliver snapped, glaring daggers at her. The High Sister didn't seem affected, however, and looked back towards Oliver.
"You've done it, Oliver, you're a real scion now." The High Sister's voice dripped venom when she spoke. She placed her hand on Oliver's shoulder, but he tore himself away from her touch. He was disgusted by her words. The mere thought of being one of these people made him nauseous. The fact that he could ever say he was one of them raised every hair on the back of his neck.
"You're wrong, you sick bastard. I'll never be one of you." He shook his head, face contorted to display his feelings of aversion. The High Sister didn't stop smirking, however. She took another step toward Oliver. He took a step back, away from her. This repeated a couple of cycles until Oliver was pressed back against the table. The High Sister closed the gap between the two of them, her face in Oliver's face.
"You've done a wonderful thing for us, Oliver." She purred, forcing eye contact with him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from hers, no matter how much he tried. Marcel had gotten off the table, the cape wrapped around him like a towel. He leaned on the table, using it to support his legs. He wasn't completely used to standing again. Physically, he felt like he slept for a very, very long time. He watched this confrontation in fear, fear for both himself and his brother. Marcel knew he couldn't wield a sword or use magic, not yet anyway. He had no way to protect himself. Oliver was his only defensive right now. But even Oliver looked defenseless at the moment. Both could sense the fear from the other, the bond granted by the scions still in place. The High Sister spared a glance at the boy, and Marcel could see the darkness behind her eyes. The candlelight flickered on her face, making her seem taller and scarier than she was before. Slowly, the High Sister raised her hand, extending it out towards Oliver, "Give me the ritual."
Oliver hadn't even realized he was clutching the papers still, but now that he was reminded his grip on them tightened, "No."
In the blink of an eye, the High Sister's face fell flat. Her once playful smile turned to a glare that felt like it was burning through Oliver's skull. She grabbed the arm that held the papers. He once again tried to pull away from her touch, however, her grip was too tight. And it was only getting tighter.
"Give me the papers. I have no use for you anymore. I will not hesitate to kill you." She spat, squeezing Oliver's arm even tighter. They kept eye contact for a moment, neither saying a word. Finally, Oliver's hand loosened enough on the papers that the High Sister managed to snatch them out of his hand. Her pleasant, devious smile returned to her face as she held the papers. Oliver didn't try to take them back, there was no use in fighting her. He could get himself, or anyone else hurt. He could get his brother hurt again. He didn't want to risk that. He glanced back at Marcel, who was very visibly shaking. He was frozen in place, eyes darting between the High Sister and Oliver. Without a word, the High Sister turned on her heel and left. The brothers were alone, which allowed Oliver to truly relax. He sat next to his brother, his eyes drawn to the floor. His mind was swimming with too many thoughts. All of this had been too overwhelming for him, and he was struggling to wrap his mind around it still. Marcel moved closer to him, still able to sense how he was feeling. When Marcel was first turned into a sword, the scions had created a soul bond between the brothers in order for them to truly work together. And as it seemed, that bond hadn't broken.
"Oliver?" Marcel said softly, surprised when he heard his voice bounce off the walls of the small room they were in. Oliver looked over at him, feeling tears begin to well up in his eyes again. He smiled, before pulling him into another hug. This one was tighter, as it finally clicked in Oliver's mind that his brother was back. He held the boy close, and Marcel hugged him back. They shared a quiet yet sentimental moment. No words were spoken, but no words were needed. Oliver felt tears begin to stream down his face.
"I won't let you get hurt ever again," Oliver whispered, finally breaking the silence. His voice was soft, emotional. A huge change from the normal Oliver everyone knew, but the same Oliver that Marcel knew. He had repressed these emotions for too long, and they all began to come out in one big flood. And Oliver cried for the first time in over a decade. And Marcel hugged his brother again. And finally, they were together again.
Chapter 4: My Heart Won't Break Now
Chapter Text
They sat together for a while, both calming down from the ritual and leveling their emotions again. While they sat there, both picked up a piece of the shattered sword to keep before putting away the rest to be disposed of later. They spoke quietly to each other, afraid that if they spoke too loud, this would all turn out to be an illusion. A knock on the door interrupted their moment. The door cracked open, and Hadley stood in the doorway. A lantern was held in one hand with a stack of clothes in the other. The sudden light caused Marcel to squint and look away. As Hadley's eyes landed on Marcel, a soft yet stunned smile appeared on his face.
"You actually did it." Hadley laughed as his gaze shifted to Oliver. "Honestly, I always knew you would be the one to make the reversal. But never this soon." He entered the room further, setting the light on the table before holding the clothes out to Marcel. "The High Sister found these for you. She hopes they fit. You two are wanted by her. I'll wait outside and bring you when you're ready."
Hadley stepped out of the room, leaving the lantern to illuminate the room more. Marcel gladly slipped on the tattered clothes. The top had previously been a long sleeve turtleneck, but now the arms were ripped off, making more of a high-necked muscle shirt. It was odd, but Marcel didn't mind. The turtleneck fully covered the scars on his chest, the worst of the scars. His arms were left exposed, however. As he dressed, he let his eyes adjust to the light level in the room. He kept Oliver's cape, attaching it to his outfit.
The two stayed alone in this room for a moment longer. They knew they'd have to come to face all the others. The others that wanted what Marcel and Oliver now had, to be almost normal again. The thought made Marcel uneasy, and he could sense the same feeling of uneasiness from Oliver. But neither said a word. They knew that no one would try anything brash. And even if they did, they had Hadley. They were as safe as they could be. Together, they made their way out of the room, and, accompanied by Hadley, they made their way down the hall. As they walked, Marcel couldn't help but touch everything. No matter how gross it looked, he couldn't resist. Not being able to feel or touch anything for so long can do that to a person. Despite the fact that this place was disgusting, Marcel took in everything he saw. He was fascinated by everything. The vision he had in his previous form was dull and faded. The world has been boring in that form. But now, being back to normal, even a place like the scion's lair looked bright. He could see clearly, but he could also feel. That was his favorite part. He kept running his hand on the cape, feeling the thick fabric between his fingers. He had his senses back. He could experience the world again. Marcel continued to look around in awe as Hadley brought the brothers to the room with the church pews, which had been dubbed the common room. Inside, everyone was waiting. When Marcel came into sight, all eyes were on him. Some whispers arose through the crowd as everyone stared at the brothers. Anxiously, Marcel stepped behind Oliver. The High Sister was in front of everyone, a smirk still obvious on her face. The whispers quickly elevated. Questions upon question trampled over each other, all directed towards Marcel and Oliver. People began to crowd around them, the room getting louder and louder. Oliver and Marcel shared a feeling of panic, before bolting off to their shared room. Hadley's voice called their names, but neither reacted. They managed to slip in and lock the door before many of the others could even react. They knew they meant well and were curious, but neither was equipped to handle confrontation like that. The brothers sat together on one of the beds. The beds in the room were barely beds, however, no more comfortable than sleeping on the hard floor. They looked like they belonged in a horrible prison. The blankets and sheets were stained and full of holes, the pillows flat and half empty. Still, it was the sentiment that counted, and Oliver was thankful to have some sort of bed, even if it was rock hard. Oliver put an arm over Marcel's shoulders, trying to comfort him.
"Are you alright?" He asked, to which Marcel nodded in response. Oliver smiled, making an attempt to show his smile with his eyes. Marcel smiled back, before yawning. "Tired?"
"Exhausted." Marcel corrected, leaning back against the wall. He sighed as the feeling of not having had a proper sleep in well over a decade suddenly caught up to him. He laid down in the bed, his eyelids so heavy they felt like weights on his face. Sure, he was an elf so he didn't technically need sleep, but this was a special occasion. He didn't think he could trance in this condition anyway. Oliver moved off of Marcel's bed and sat down on his own. Marcel quickly fell asleep, sinking into a deep sleep. Oliver stayed awake, keeping watch of the room. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the piece of the shattered sword he had picked up earlier. As he held it in his palm, it was warm. Oliver assumed it was from being in his person and disregarded it. He pulled a piece of leather cord and wire out. With the little craftiness he had, he fashioned those items into a necklace of sorts. As he sat there, watching over his brother as he slept and holding his new necklace in his hand, he noticed it never cooled.
This time, Marcel dreamt he was in the ritual room he had previously been in. He was laying on the wooden table and could hear shouting from outside of the room. Getting to his feet, he moved across the room and peeked out the door. As soon as the doorknob was turned, all sounds from outside the room froze. The door swung open to reveal a void outside. The only thing visible in this void was what looked to be a humanoid. They were standing unmoving in the center of this pitch-black void, being illuminated from behind by a bright white light. None of their features were visible from where Marcel stood. Their form was only a silhouette. They turned, presumable to face Marcel. As this figure turned, however, Marcel could see a sword stuck through their chest, the blade poking out of their back. Marcel couldn't help his curiosity and leaned forward in a desperate attempt to make out anything about this figure. In turn, the figure began to approach Marcel. Their gait was slow and staggered. They looked pained. As they approached, Marcel began to make out more details about them. Shaggy, unkempt hair, pointy elvan ears. They advanced further, about to come into full view-
A knock on the door awoke Marcel, tearing him from his dream. Oliver was also startled into an alert state, shooting suddenly to his feet. Both glanced at each other hesitantly, watching the doorknob as it jiggled from an attempt at being turned. Oliver pocketed the metal in his hand, the shard still emanating a comforting warmth.
"Oliver? Marcel?" Hadley's voice called from behind the door, immediately putting both at ease. Oliver unlocked the door and silently welcomed Hadley in. He entered, and Oliver swiftly shut the door behind him. Hadley looked over to Marcel, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you two alright?'
Both hesitated, sharing a glance. Were they okay? Truth be told, they didn't know. But they had each other, so that was what mattered. Marcel nodded at Hadley.
"As okay as we can be," Oliver said with a half smile, glancing over at Marcel. Hadley put a gentle hand on Oliver's shoulder. As he felt Hadley touch him, Oliver felt the stress and overbearing negative emotions come crashing down all at once. He closed his eyes and leaned into Hadley for a hug. He happily obliged, wrapping his arms around Oliver in a very comforting dad hug. Oliver began to cry again, something wasn't used to but had been doing quite a lot lately. Hadley comforted the boy. Despite everything happening, things felt closer to normal than they had in such a long time. Although the armor made the hug slightly uncomfortable, everyone there knew that was just Aurey hugging Oliver too.
Oliver kept his word to the High Sister and stayed in that place. All the heroes did. Even if they did escape, they had no clue where they were or where they'd go. Oliver frequently daydreamed about escaping, about going back to Eveningstar with his brother and finally being able to relax. But he couldn't go back there, he knew he couldn't. The scions would immediately know where he went and track him down again. He didn't want to bring all of that to Eveningstar. So he waited. He waited a couple of days. And then those days turned to weeks. Quickly, Oliver realized that Marcel needed to know how to defend himself. Thankfully, training swords had been provided. The Scions wanted to once again attempt to make these people soldiers. All they wanted to do was use them. So the brothers spared and trained, Oliver teaching Marcel as many tips and techniques as he knew. Marcel wasn't entirely strong enough yet to do full damage with his sword, so the two focused on defense instead. And as the weeks turned to months, Marcel got better and better at wielding a sword. He also just started generally feeling better. He regained some of his strength through a lot of training. He didn't quite get as good as Oliver, though. Despite the fact that Oliver always won, however, Marcel could still hold his own for a while. He knew enough tricks to defend himself. Oliver noticed through their training that Marcel could take a hit. He could take quite a few hits, in fact. And he'd always get back up. Oliver always had to knock Marcel's sword away for the boy to finally stand down. Oliver couldn't help but smile to himself seeing his brother's courage, his determination. After all he's been through, he'd still never give up.
The beginning of their time in this place was okay. Sure, it was a hell hole filled with terrible people, but at least they weren't getting hurt. The only experiment during that period was getting Aurey her body back. It seemed to go smoother than the first, with Oliver again allowed to cast the spell. Marcel and Oliver had known Aurey before her soul was forced into the armor. Then, she had been about 4. But now, after the spell had been cast, she was older. Alike to Marcel, the body that was created for her knew how old she truly was. She looked very similar to how she did before, almost as if she had never been in the armor at all. As she and Hadley shared a hug, everyone seemed to notice that she didn't have the scars that Marcel did. The High Sister especially took note of this difference.
The time of no experiments didn't last long, however. And of course, the greatest success and biggest mystery, Marcel, was the first to be picked apart. The scions were all curious about his new body, his scars especially. It started as stares and whispers, pointing and talking behind his back. And then those words turned into actions, experiments. Things ended up physical like they always did with the scions. Marcel was back where he started, only this time the experiments weren't an attempt to turn him into a sword. No, they wanted to find out everything that form had done to him. They picked apart everything about him, focusing mainly on his scars. They tried to heal them or make new cuts and then healing those. Then, those experiments spread to Aurey. Why did she not have the scars that Marcel did? And despite Hadley's efforts to keep his daughter safe, he didn't have his armor to keep himself safe. Like a virus, these experiments began throughout the entire facility. The reversal spell was performed on everyone, and each time it failed. Their bodies were examined, a few even being dissected and then healed back up with magic as if nothing happened. Oliver and Hadley didn't experience the experiments as quickly as the others did, but soon the scions grew curious about them too. Very quickly, Oliver had enough of these experiments. He grew tired of watching everyone get dragged off to only come back hurt and traumatized even more than they had been.
"Hadley, I need your help." Oliver went up to him one day. During the past few days, Oliver had been making a rough plan to escape. It helped give him something to focus on during the experiments. He told this plan to Hadley, and Hadley's grin widened with every word Oliver said. Oliver needed to rally everyone, to get them all in one room to relay his plan to them, and he couldn't do it alone. Hadley agreed to help. He had a similar itch to escape, to get out of this place. When Oliver had brought up that they weren't killing every scion, Hadley didn't like that idea.
"We'll leave a bold statement when we leave! Let's show them not to mess with us." Known only to Oliver, Hadley wanted every scion dead, and wouldn't walk out until they were all bloody puddles on the ground. Oliver didn't say it but, secretly, he did too. For what they did to Marcel, to Aurey, to everyone, they deserved it. But he managed to convince Hadley to agree to only killing as many as necessary. As much as Oliver hated these people, he couldn't will himself to kill all of them, and he couldn't allow anyone to do the same. No matter how much he hated them.
So Hadley, Oliver, and Marcel went around gathering as many people as they could, as quietly as they could. They didn't want the Scions to get wind of this, they couldn't let them. The trio told everyone they could to meet them in the common room. And that's what they did. After sundown, when the Scions had gone quiet for the night, everyone was in place. Hadley locked the door, even though it wouldn't do much. Many Scions carried the key to unlock that door, but the lock provided a well-needed feeling of safety among everyone gathered there. Oliver and Hadley stood in front of the crowd, with Marcel and Aurey off to the side. Oliver looked over the crowd of people, a nervousness settling in the pit of his stomach. There was a soft chatting amongst the crowd, everyone sharing a similar sense of nervousness at why they were gathered. Hadley shared a glance back at Oliver before clearing his throat to get everyone's attention. The chatting was quickly silenced, everyone's full attention now on Hadley. They all knew him, they all trusted him. Oliver couldn't help but admire Hadley's ability to lead and command all these people, while simultaneously holding their trust.
"Welcome everyone, I appreciate you joining us here. It's late, and I bet a lot of you are tired, so I'll try not to talk for too long," Hadley's voice was loud and confident. Oliver was glad Hadley was the one doing the speaking, he never could have done that. "I know we all hate it here. I know none of you ever wanted to come back here. And I apologize for bringing you along with me." Hadley paused, having to look away from the crowd. Oliver could see the shame evident on his face. A ping of guilt pulled at Oliver's heart, remembering what he had said to him when Oliver had first decided to stay with them. Oliver saw Hadley look back over the crowd of people, his face once again stoic and calm. "That is why Oliver and I have set up a plan to escape."
At that word 'escape' the room fell silent. All stared at Hadley in wonder. He spoke the words they had been waiting to hear since they arrived here. And suddenly, they erupted into excited chatter. A smile grew on Hadley's face, satisfied by the emotions he provoked from the crowd. He quickly quieted them down again before continuing.
"Our plan is that we'll wait. Make them think we're staying for sure. We'll make them think we don't ever plan on leaving, that we're hopeless. In that time, we train and prep. Get as many weapons as we can, just get as prepared as we possibly can. And then, we fight our way out. And we take down as many of these bastards as we can when we do."
There was a grin plastered on his face as he let the chatter in the room swell up again. He looked over to Oliver, gesturing for him to take the stage. But Oliver shook his head.
"You're the voice of this plan. Keep speaking." He said softly. Hadley chuckled before turning back to the crowd. Oliver glanced back at Marcel and Aurey. Aurey couldn't help but stare at her dad, also amazed by how he commanded all these people. Marcel, meanwhile, looked over the crowd. He was taking in everyone's expressions and emotions. Oliver turned his attention back to Hadley.
Hadley described the plan in more detail, and how they planned to execute this all. They would try to request better, hopefully real, swords for "training purposes" so they could better arm themselves. They would train and train, sword fighters training anyone who needed it and magic users trying to teach anyone they could to use simple spells. A few individuals were tasked with figuring out where they were, and where they could go when they escaped. And with all the roles set, the meeting was adjourned. Very quickly, everyone got to work.
While the sun was up, the scions ran this place. They filled the halls and bossed people around. But when the scions turned in and the sun went down, Hadley's heroes were the ones that ran this place.
Chapter 5: For All The Wounds That Are Ever Gonna Scar Me
Chapter Text
With a steady plan in motion, everyone got to work. The plan to get swords had worked, their dull wooden training swords were swapped for old yet usable steel swords. There wasn't much of a selection, just a few short and long swords with one or two other random weapons the scions had found lying around. There wasn't enough for all of them, so only non-magic users got a weapon. Marcel picked a shortsword and continued training with Oliver to adjust to the weight of it. Oliver didn't get a physical sword, as he had plenty of magic to use. Oliver also helped to train others, both with a weapon and with magic. Some had no way of defending themselves, no magic or sword training. Others just hadn't held a sword in a while. Whatever the case, Oliver helped. Very few picked up spell casting, many being unsuccessful. Marcel was one of the unsuccessful ones. As much as he tried, as hard as he concentrated, he just couldn't get it. Not even a simple cantrip would spawn from his fingertips. So he focused on physical weapons. Marcel and Oliver continued to sword fight, Oliver working with Marcel the most. But even there, Marcel wasn't getting much stronger. His previous form had weakened his form permanently. Marcel swapped between trying to use magic and training with a sword. Every night Marcel would try to cast, for anywhere between a few minutes to hours. He was desperate to feel any sort of magic inside of him. And eventually, he felt something, but that feeling didn't instantaneously spark anything magical, so he disregarded it.
The group tasked with finding a place to get to also succeeded in their goal. That was one of the more difficult tasks, as the library was monitored during the day and locked down during the night. They would draw suspicion by researching during the day but had no way to get in during the night. They began to plot and make their own special plan. After a few days, however, someone found a key. That key not only unlocked the lock on their door but also unlocked every other lock in this place. So, with their newly acquired free roam key, they could sneak into the library long after sundown to do their research. They managed to find out they were somewhere in The Reaching Woods, and there was a town not far from here that they could retreat to for a day or so before making their way up Trade Way. That way, they could get to a big city, somewhere they could hide among crowds. The group made a few maps and spread them to the others. Oliver and Hadley, being the heads of this mission, both got one. Marcel was to look on with Oliver and Aurey with Hadley, naturally.
Eventually, when everything was gathered and ready, the day to escape had come. The pieces were just about to click into place. Everyone was antsy, waiting for the right time to come. Everyone was desperate to get out, desperate to escape this god-forsaken place. Marcel, however, had a bad feeling about all of this. And no matter how hard he tried to repress it, it kept resurfacing. He pulled Oliver aside, away from anyone that might hear. Marcel needed an encouraging word from his brother, even if he didn't believe it. He trusted Oliver, he trusted Oliver more than he trusted himself. But Oliver had the same bad feeling as Marcel did.
"Are you really sure this will work?" Oliver hesitated. No, he truly wasn't sure that this would work, but he didn't want to let his brother down. He couldn't. They've come all this way, gotten this far together. With all the trauma and pain they've been through, what's the worst that could happen?
"This'll work," Oliver said simply. He put a reassuring hand on Marcel's shoulder. Marcel relaxed, smiling at his brother.
"If you say so. Thank you, brother." He tried to let go of the negative thoughts in his head as he pulled Oliver into a hug. If Oliver said it would work, Marcel trusted that it would work. And Oliver, upon seeing his brother's faith in him, had more faith in himself.
The day went by as normal, everyone suffering through one last day of torture. Even Oliver couldn't seem to stay still, finding himself bouncing his leg or tapping his foot. He was nervous, he couldn't deny it. But there was also an undertone of excitement to finally get out of this place, to attempt to live as normally as possible. He hoped that one day he'd be able to go home to Eveningstar. These thoughts were a constant in his head as the day dragged on. Those were the thoughts that distracted him during the experiments. The minutes began to feel like hours but eventually, the time did come. The sun was preparing to dip below the horizon, and the last group of the day was finishing up their experiments. Everyone stood around the common room, chatter scattered throughout. Oliver, Hadley, Marcel, and Aurey stood near the front of the room. Everyone was prepared and at the ready, occasionally stealing glances in Hadley's direction. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the signal, and they knew Hadley would soon be the recipient of a sending spell. Once the group that was currently going through experiments was done, they would ambush the scions and send a spell to Hadley. A few more minutes of chatter passed before shouting began to echo in the halls. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on Hadley. Even before the signal was given, they all knew. Hadley heard the spell go off in his head, alerting him that this was it. The voice of the spellcaster came through clear as day in his head. He stood up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He couldn't help but smile.
"Now." A single word was all they needed. Everyone now wore a smile of their own as Hadley raised his sword. Everyone began to flood towards the door, bursting through to surprise the scions in the hall. The confused and panicked shouts of scions could be heard now from the hall mixing with the cries of battle from their allies. Oliver and Marcel shared a look. Both could feel the other was scared, but neither said a word. Instead, they smiled at each other and made their way into the hall, Hadley and Aurey close behind.
When they entered the hallway, they could immediately see their plan unfolding. A group of fighters was holding off as many scions as they could on one end of the hallway. Others were going down the other end of the hall, making their way towards the exit while also fighting off any scions that came from that way. The four slipped into the crowd. Hadley and Oliver made their way towards the back to fight with that group. Marcel and Aurey, on the other hand, made their way toward the group leading everyone to the exit. Marcel had been tasked with protecting Aurey, and there wasn't as much fighting towards the front. He was able to help fight off scions while also keeping an eye on Aurey. Marcel still hadn't mastered sword fighting but, at the moment with all the adrenaline coursing through him, he felt like he could do anything. His sword felt light in his hands as he swung it. After many numerous minutes of fighting and inching their way through the halls, the spell casters managed to clear a path that gave everyone almost a straight shot towards the exit. Some were still taking down scions, but the others that were free made a dead sprint towards the exit. No one paid any mind to the bodies scattered at their feet. They didn't have time to. The scion that Marcel had been fighting fell, allowing him and Aurey to book it. Marcel felt a sliver of pity for these people. Maybe they had been roped into this, maybe they wanted to escape as much as Marcel and everyone around him did. But that pity quickly dissipated as he remembered what they did to him and everyone. The exit was in sight, and the path was clear. Oliver felt a sense of excitement from Marcel, and could only assume this meant they were at the escape.
"The front is at the exit, we shouldn't be too far behind." Oliver alerted Hadley, who grinned wildly.
Marcel and Aurey stepped off to the side by the exit, allowing others in front of them. They were waiting for Oliver and Hadley, wanting to be together as they left this place. He looked over the carnage, seeing the bodies left and the fight still raging. As Marcel watched everyone squeeze out of the lair, however, he heard a voice shout over the sounds of battle.
"Now what do you all think you're doing?" The High Sister's voice boomed. Some scions paused to look at her, allowing Oliver and those with him to cut quite a few of them down. This only furthered the High Sister's anger, and Marcel watched her approach the escapees. None of them stopped or even spared her a glance. Her face contorted into a look of frustration and anger as she raised her crossbow. She began to take aim at people in the crowd. A crossbow bolt screeched through the air and stuck someone through the chest. They stumbled but were caught by someone nearby before they could completely fall. As he watched this and his anger grew, Marcel felt something growing inside him. A power surging that he had never felt before. He felt his fingertips begin to buzz and threw his arm out towards the High Sister. He watched in awe as a beam of lightning-like energy shot from his hand. The energy hit the High Sister in the chest, causing her to stumble and fall back. With a tight grip on his sword, Marcel told Aurey to exit with the others and wait outside. It would be safer there. She did just that. Marcel made his way through the crowd, over to the High Sister's body. She was laying on the ground, clothes sizzling slightly. Marcel looked down at his hand, which had returned to feeling normal.
"Marcel!" Oliver's voice stopped him from thinking too much about it, and he whirled around to see the last of the heroes at the exit. Marcel slipped back into the crowd next to his brother. Together, the last of Hadley's Heroes squeezed out the door.
The sun had gone down, yet the forest around them was illuminated like day. Casters had lit up the battlefield to allow everyone to see, so they could easily finish the battles out there. Aurey ran to Hadley, who immediately scooped the girl into his arms. As Oliver looked over the battlefield, he smiled. The heroes had a clear advantage, the number of scions being greatly outnumbered. Oliver laughed, slightly shocked at how well the plan, HIS plane, had worked. As the last scion fell, time seemed to stop. For a moment in time, things were calm. Before any celebration could occur, however, a chorus of footsteps echoed out of the lair they had just exited. All eyes shot towards the entryway they had just escaped from, where the shadow of an army was becoming visible. An army that was twice the size of the scions they had just fought, and an army even bigger than the heroes were. Everyone backed away, tempted to run but too overcome by adrenaline and revenge to do so. Everyone shared the same feeling as Hadley, the urge to kill as many of these horrid people as they could. But they all knew they also had to stay for each other, to keep everyone else safe as well. So, once again, they readied their weapons and spells. As the army came out of the shadows, the High Sister also came into view, leading the massive amount of scions into battle. She still wore a cocky smirk on her face, her clothes no longer sizzling from the magic.
"If you're going to plot an escape, make sure theirs no spies in your midst." She announced, her voice still as sweet as ever. As she finished speaking, the Scions roared and ran past her. As they all came into view, everyone saw now that they wielded better armor and weapons than the Heroes would have ever imagined. Oliver looked over at Marcel, sharing a glance. Marcel felt Oliver was scared, sensing genuine fear from his brother for the first time in a long time. And that only heightened Marcel's fear. Oliver took a breath and faced the scions rushing for them.
"I love you, brother," Oliver said, sparing one last glance and a smile at Marcel before closing the gap between him and the Scions. His mask had slipped down during the previous fights, and Oliver hadn't bothered to pull it back up. Marcel couldn't help but watch his brother. He was frozen in place, fear overtaking him as he watched the battles split off all along the battlefield. He was pulled out of his thoughts, however, when he heard his brother's voice shout in agony. Without thinking, Marcel unstuck himself from the ground and made a beeline straight for his brother. Sword still in hand, he began swinging as hard as he could at any Scion he could reach. Every ounce of fear and anger was pushed into these swings, and he managed to knock enough Scions down that Oliver could regain his footing and fight the rest off. More began to surround them, but the brothers fought them off with ease. Marcel was barely thinking as he swung, all his focus being on protecting his brother and friends. Oliver was the same, focusing on the enemies in front of him as well as the energy of his brother behind him. They could hear shouts, at one point Hadley's voice rose over the crowd for a moment, but they paid it no mind. They couldn't lose a moment of focus. Finally, the last of the crowd of Scions they were fighting fell. That's when the brothers saw her again. The High Sister stood at the front of the battlefield, watching the carnage with delight. They started towards her, determined to take her out. She turned to them, her face still calm. She held out her sword and slowly began to close the gap.
That was the hardest fight out of them all. She was very easily able to fight back against the brothers. She wasn't even attacking them, just defending herself. Oliver seemed to notice this and signaled for Marcel to pause. He took a step towards her, anger apparent on his face. He snapped at her.
"You damn coward. If you're really so powerful, then swing your sword." Oliver shouted over the sounds of battle. The High Sister threw her head back and let out a terrible, high-pitched laugh that sent chills up the brothers' backs.
"Fine, you want a fight? Then a fight is what I shall give." She raised her sword.
Her first swing was at Oliver.
The brothers fought long and hard against her, their efforts to try and take her down seemingly fruitless. They were an equal match for each other, and she wasn't even trying. She managed to get a few hits on Oliver, at one point delivering a pretty severe slash to the arm. He barely acknowledged it, straining himself to defend his brother and take this woman down. Finally, after several long, strenuous minutes, the brothers managed to knock her down to one knee. With a shout, Oliver drove his shadowy sword through her stomach. She gasped, watching blood pour out of the wound as Oliver pulled his sword out. She fell to the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming under her. The brothers shared a quick smile, before looking over the battlefield. Both felt their heart drop. They were losing. So many allies had fallen, only one group remained. And they were severely outnumbered. The two shared a look before racing toward the group. Oliver's sword blinked and disappeared as he began to conjure spells. He threw a beam of blue energy towards the crowd of scions, impacting one in the chest. The energy created an arc between Oliver and the enemy, but it quickly dissipated as they dropped dead. Adrenaline coursed through the two of them, and they became unstoppable as they worked together. They managed to use their soul bond to know exactly how to match the other's moves. They were like puzzle pieces, Marcel defending where Oliver couldn't and vice versa. But even with their efforts, they watched their allies fall around them. They saw Hadley and Aurey go down together, Aurey still clutching onto Hadley. That only pushed them to fight harder. Finally, Oliver and Marcel were standing in the center of a pile of bodies. Without hesitation, Marcel stumbled over to Hadley and Aurey. He immediately knew it was too late. Both had large gashes in their chests, all the blood already seeped into the ground. And even then, Hadley was clutching Aurey close, trying to protect her. Oliver sidled up next to him, putting a hand on Marcel's shoulder. The brothers took a moment of silence for their friend. Then, they glanced over the carnage. Bodies were scattered across the clearing. The bodies of Scions along with the bodies of their allies, all piled together. The forest was quiet. The brothers looked at each other, eyes meeting. They shared a silent feeling of misery. Marcel felt tears begin to well in his eyes, but before he could cry he spotted movement off in the distance, behind Oliver. Though, before he could speak-
Twang.
"Oliver!" Marcel cried, seeing an arrow now sticking through Oliver's chest. Oliver paused, slowly looking down at said arrow. Blood began to trickle from the wound, making a new stain in his clothes. Oliver lost his balance and fell to his knees. He kept his eyes on the arrow, pain filling his veins. He was confused, his brain was too fuzzy to figure out what to say or do. Marcel, whose eyes were wide with fear, eased Oliver to the ground. He grabbed Oliver's shoulders, panicked as he tried to think of how to help. Oliver winced. "Oh, gods oh no..."
"Marcel," Oliver muttered, grabbing the boy's arm. His grip was tight, but Marcel could feel it slowly faltering. Marcel was struggling to steady his breath, his vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes. Oliver forced a smile. "You are... You are so much stronger than you know. Please... go kill that bastard for me. For everyone." Oliver sounded strained, trying not to show too much pain. Oliver could sense the fear from Marcel, but Marcel couldn't sense the feeling of acceptance that washed over Oliver. Marcel felt a familiar feeling rise in him, that same feeling that had come earlier upon casting magic. He stood up, eyes focusing on the figure that had done this. The lights that had previously lit up the entire clearing were now significantly dimmed, but he didn't even need his dark vision to recognize the High Sister's face. Slowly he raised his arm towards her, that feeling of magic inside him building up at his fingertips once more. This time, he focused on this feeling. Every sliver of fear, anger, frustration, sorrow, all of it was pushed into this spell. He felt the power building, growing until it was ready to burst. With a simple mental switch, the spell released and rocketed out of his hand. He watched as his spell impacted the High Sister yet again, but this time it was far more powerful. Energy crackled and sparked as it collided with the woman on the other end of the battlefield. The spell illuminated the battlefield, illuminated the bodies of his friends and allies. In this light, Marcel spared a glance toward his brother. Oliver was watching all of this, an overwhelming feeling of pride filling his last moments. Oliver smiled one last time towards his brother before the arm that propped him up gave out. Marcel felt the final tie to his brother, the final thread of the soul bond, break. The scars on his chest began to burn. Marcel let out a scream, causing the light of the spell to brighten and flicker. All of the hatred he had towards this woman, mixed with the emotions of the fight was too much to bear. So he let them all out. As the energy finally started to die down, the High Sister fell. His feet carried him to her corpse, his brain barely thinking about anything other than Oliver. Marcel reached the corpse and knew that this time, she was really dead. The energy had completely fried her, and Marcel saw burn marks all over her exposed flesh. Though Marcel wasn't going to risk it, he couldn't. She wasn't coming back again. He picked up her sword that lay next to her and impaled it through her chest, pinning her to the earth. She didn't flinch. Marcel let go of the handle and turned to look across the battlefield once more. Bodies lay scattered everywhere. Everyone he could see, dead. He was alone, and this time he was alone without Oliver.
He drifted back to his brother and collapsed next to them. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and suddenly he was exhausted. He felt tears start to roll down his face and before he could stop them, he was sobbing. He pulled his knees to his chest, scream-crying into the night. As many times as he tried to stop himself, he just couldn't. He didn't know how long he was there crying, it could have been only a few minutes or it could have been hours. Time seemed meaningless at this point. Sometime into his breakdown, however, Marcel was interrupted.
"He was right, you know," A masculine voice rang from behind him. Whirling around, Marcel saw a figure standing before him. They appeared masculine, with dark, swooping hair and dark eyes to match. Their presence wasn't intimidating, despite their dark appearance. They took a slow step towards Marcel before kneeling beside him, "You are far more powerful than you know."
"Who are you?" Marcel asked, his voice unintentionally hostile. The figure didn't seem to react to the hostility. They were more watching Marcel, almost studying him.
"My name is Dateus. I am a... a being that works with the undead," Marcel recoiled a bit at that final word, already having had more death in the last few hours than anyone needed in their entire lifetime, "I caught wind of death and came to observe the battle. I am very sorry for your loss." Dateus said, their face displaying a look of sympathy. It felt real, like they truly were sorry.
"And what do you want?' Marcel's voice cracked as he spoke. He could tell this being wasn't intent on killing him, or he would be long dead. Dateus smiled.
"You cast magic, yet are not a magic-user. You have great potential, I can see that. I am offering to help you reach that potential," They held out a hand, "I will grant you magic, I will help train you to become better at spellcasting. In turn, you simply tell people about me. Spread my name. Make me known again, and you may wield my power."
Marcel hesitated, trying to rationalize this. But, as he stared at the figure, he realized he had nothing left to lose. He shook Dateus' hand. He smiled a soft smile. Marcel felt a familiar feeling swell in him, one he had felt when he was trying to learn magic from Oliver. The feeling that had come when he cast the magic. Only this time, it was stronger. Much, much stronger. He gasped, to which Dateus chuckled. It swirled in him like a whirlpool, before quickly settling. There was something new inside Marcel, something different. He could feel it. They stood, helping Marcel to his feet. Dateus turned to leave, before pausing and looking at Marcel once more.
"Oh, and I wanted to give you a little something more. A thanks for helping me." Dateus waved their hand, a white glow momentarily emanating from their palm. A light formed behind Marcel, and curiosity got the better of him as he turned to see what it was. A confused-looking, ghostly figure stood in front of him, a familiar one at that. Marcel's heart wrenched as he reached a hand out towards the figure.
"Oliver?"
Chapter 6: See You In The Future
Chapter Text
The brothers stared at each other, dumbfounded. Dateus had made it so Oliver's spirit would freely roam this plain, and Marcel could see his spirit. The brothers weren't separated yet. Upon seeing Oliver's ghost, Marcel crumpled back to the ground. He was too overwhelmed by emotion to think properly. He was confused, emotional, alone, and had no clue what to do next. He could feel exhaustion start to creep in again as Oliver sat beside him.
"Marcel?" His voice was soft, scared almost. Tiredly, Marcel looked over at him, "What did you do?"
"I... I made a deal with someone. They said they'd help me with my magic and spell casting if I just... talked about them." Marcel looked back towards Dateus, but they were gone. Marcel shook his head and sighed, "Oliver, I'm tired. I'm so tired."
"Don't sleep with the corpses," Oliver joked, trying to lighten the mood. Marcel gave a half smile as he pulled his cloak closer to him. He didn't move yet, he couldn't. He didn't believe any of this was happening, he hoped it all was a dream. A breeze picked up and chilled the air just enough that it became uncomfortably cool. Leaves rustled overhead, and the sounds of animals filled the previously silent forest. Oliver tried to put a hand on Marcel's shoulder, but his hand just went right through the boy. The two sat quietly for a while, appreciating each other's company. Then, Oliver spoke up, "Get the map from my pocket."
Marcel looked at the ghostly form of his brother, before hesitantly turning to the body beside him. He reached into Oliver's pocket, being careful as if it would come alive. Though he knew it wouldn't. At first, he pulled out the bag that held the shards of the sword. He set that aside, before reaching in again and pulling the map out. Marcel also took Oliver's necklace, slipping the sword shard around his own neck. Marcel grabbed the map again. It was bound by a thick leather cord because 'Oliver was all fancy like that' as Marcel put it. Marcel smiled to himself as he remembered watching Oliver tie it up, remembering him playfully picking on him and Oliver's remarks back. As he held the cord, he took his necklace off again. Untying the leather cord that was already in place, he replaced it with the one he had removed from the map. He smiled as he held it close to him. Something to tie him to his brother for as long as he lived. Marcel took a moment before picking up the map again, unrolling it to reveal the contents inside. It was handmade and showed where they were and any nearby towns. A red line of ink showed the route they would take to a town through the forest. But Marcel's eyes were drawn elsewhere. Near the top of the map, the word "Eveningstar" was scrawled. It was much farther away than the town they were originally destined for, but he knew he had to go there. Slowly, he got to his feet. The ghost of his brother followed. As Marcel took a step, waves of exhaustion washed over him. He stumbled over to the treeline, collapsing against a tree. His back was to the bodies, refusing to look at them anymore. At first, he fought sleep. But he gained comfort in the fact that Oliver was there, watching over him. After that, he very quickly fell asleep.
Marcel awoke to sunlight on his face. He opened his eyes and saw the beams of light peeking through the leaves, illuminating the forest. Marcel sat up, seeing Oliver beside him. That's when he remembered everything, that's when he knew this wasn't just a nightmare. This was real. He took a shaky breath, steadying himself once more.
"Good morning." Oliver smiled. He didn't have his mask on in this form, so Marcel could more clearly see his smile. In fact, in this ghostly form, Oliver didn't have his armor or anything. He actually looked to be wearing something casual for once. Marcel couldn't help but smile.
"Only in death are you not wearing your armor." Marcel teased. Oliver rolled his eyes but kept his smile.
"Would you rather me be wearing my armor?" He said, but before Marcel could respond, he blinked away. A second passed, and he returned. Now he was wearing his armor, causing Marcel to playfully groan. "Yeah, apparently ghosts can change outfits."
"Who knew?" Marcel laughed. He let his smile fall a bit, "You alright?" Oliver nodded.
"Yeah, it's just odd. Something I have to get used to, I guess." Marcel smiled again and relaxed back against the tree. The brothers sat in silence for a while, letting the peacefulness of the forest wash over them. Marcel never once looked back at the battlefield, he wasn't sure if he could handle seeing it. He didn't want to see the bodies in the daylight. He pulled the map out again, now knowing the plan of where they were going. But he didn't know where to start. He looked around the forest.
"It's to the left," Dateus said as he appeared beside Marcel. Startled, Marcel recoiled before realizing to whom the voice belonged. In the light, Marcel could make out his features more clearly. He wasn't at all intimating, especially given the fact that he wore a casual, friendly smile. He seemed very gentle unless provoked. Marcel smiled again.
"Thank you," He hesitated, unsure if he should add a 'my lord' or even a 'sir' to the end of his statement. But Dateus didn't seem to mind as he smiled at the boy.
"I'll make sure you get home safe, no need to worry." And in the blink of an eye, Dateus was gone again. Marcel and Oliver shared a glance. They smiled at each other before getting to their feet. Without looking at the carnage of last night's bloodbath, they began to walk towards Eveningstar. Towards home.
Mousestar369 on Chapter 1 Fri 24 Jun 2022 08:24PM UTC
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Jackir30 on Chapter 3 Thu 21 Jul 2022 06:46PM UTC
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Jackir30 on Chapter 5 Fri 22 Jul 2022 01:43AM UTC
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