Dampness greets my senses as the world turns from light to dim. A glowing blue cylinder rests in the center of the high domed ceiling, as if we’re underwater. Bronze-colored walls glimmer in the warm lighting radiating from lanterns. Pockets of bookshelves pave the way, each loaded with enchanted, floating books. Behind me is a swirling doorway glowing brightly that same blue that’s above.
“Just set me down and go find what you’re looking for,” Alyssa grunts through gritted teeth, her words slurred with pain as she verges on passing out. The blood from her leg dribbles onto the floor, the wooden planks split down the center with a mosaic blue stained-glass pattern. Symbols stretch down it, two I recognize: Paws and Claws and Mount Rook.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I return quietly, darting into the first archway and ducking behind the wall. I take my shirt off and rip the hem, wrapping it around her thigh like a tourniquet. The long strand of fabric won’t do much to help, but it’s a start.
She muffles her scream with my balled-up shirt, her eyes rolling back into her skull. She lets out three heavy, ragged breaths before I sit her upright.
“I could scratch you and you’ll heal,” I offer, grabbing her wrist.
With a weary shake of her head, she whispers, “It doesn’t work on me.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I sigh. “But I’m not leaving you here.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. These are Daemon’s friends. They’ll treat me well.”
I tilt my head in doubt, recalling the times I’ve come across her. She’s been tested on, and she was in a Hum-fight against Mikey and lost. There’s no way Daemon treated her well, and I doubt a violent, secret cult would treat her any differently.
“I’m not leaving you,” I say, gathering her in my arms as gently as I can.
“What a hero,” she sings, pushing at me with all her might. “But I don’t need a hero, zombie. You can’t fight if you’re holding a cripple. Leave me. But if you happen to find a health potion, I wouldn’t refuse it.”
I hear shuffling in the hallway.
“Fine. But stay here and be quiet. From the layers of dust in this room, it looks unused.”
There’s a singular table with a few chairs. It’s not a large room. It looks to be more of a waiting room than anything, but I can’t imagine who would be waiting to see the vilest beings on the planet.
“I’ll be back,” I promise as she taps the crown that’s grown out of my skull.
“Okay.”
Nothing waits for me in the hall, so I move as quickly as possible. There are a few more archways leading to smaller rooms, books everywhere. Other than that, this place seems deserted.
At the end of the hallway are two large doors with bars of electricity extending from one side to the other, but there aren’t any potions from what I see. On the left is a large electrical switch labeled ON/OFF. I mentally note to myself that it looks too fancy and important to enter stealthily, so I step away, ready to search through the magical bookshelves on either side of me.
But the doors have other plans.
A tendril of light wraps around the switch and yanks it down, the electricity barricading the door evaporating. Creaks echo through the hall as the doors fling open, the wind coming from it cool and tinged with decay, as if a hundred dead bodies were sealed inside. But of course, the over exaggeration could merely be my Bleeder senses combining themselves with my growing panic.
I turn to bolt when a voice booms through the air with fervor.
“Step inside, Mr. Mahelona.”
Hair all along my skin rises as tingles flash across my skin. Before I turn around, I take in every ounce of information I can gather without my sight.
I hear people shifting in seats, the ground creaking beneath them. There’s the sound of slowly running water, soft chuckling barely making it over the current. The hints of dog slip through the rot in the air, accompanied by old wood and fresh coats of paint. The atmosphere glimmers slightly with humidity, the slight stench of fish drifting inside. But above all, I fail to miss the familiar clicking and shudders overwhelming my system.
When I turn around, I take in a massive room, the dark wood below me groaning as I struggle to move.
Up where the ceiling should be are clouds. Amidst them are fifteen figures of various creatures upon a floating platform, Mount Rook’s logo hovering tall behind them in painted marble. In a pillar of eternally flowing water at the center is Daemon, but he appears unconscious. To his left is a familiar man with milky white eyes and a gray sheen to his skin, his white-blonde hair slicked back. He closely resembles the shapeshifter that had come after me, so I assume he’s one, himself.
The clicking grows again, coming closer as I sweep my vision downward, doing a quick scan of the rest of my surroundings.
“We’ve been expecting you,” that booming voice says again as a figure to my right stands. My nerves alight as I recognize his long white beard and pale blue irises, a smirk glinting with bad intentions on his face. His deep purple robes move as if there’s a light breeze, but the air is stagnant.
The necromancer, Samuel.
Immediately, I switch into defense, my knees bending and my fingers spreading as I prepare for a fight. Clicking resonates around me, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. The clouds drift like waterfalls over the brown partitions before me and down onto the stained glass floor decorated with constantly rotating creatures from the constellations. They could be hiding anything behind the mist.
“This is the boy who woke you, Samuel?” the changeling asks, rising from his seat as well. He bores down at me with unease, soft whispering filtering over the clicking and rushing of water.
“It is. And this is the girl who accompanied him.”
Out from the mist appears a tall figure, his black shoes kicking up the mist. Tight black pants and a loose black t-shirt follow, his dark brown eyes falling on me. A smirk tugs at his mouth as he rights himself, showing off the unconscious person over his shoulder. He drops her to the ground, the metal forever-crown around her skull cracking the glass.
“Nathan,” I hiss, panic heightening in my throat as my clicks join the ones around me.
“Nice to see you again, Zeke,” he sneers as he raises his arms, a sphere I recognize hidden within his fingers. “But this will be the last time.”
From the mist emerges fourteen Bleeders, their feral movements telling me they’re Mindless. As I sweep my gaze over the lot, I notice the two children at the end. What are they doing here? They’re supposed to be at the bunker, safe.
Nathan must have grabbed them.
As the flashback of my father giving them a piece of brain created by Aurora crosses my mind, my heart shatters, and it takes everything I have to stay still and be smart about this.
I lock onto Nathan and grimace. “You hate me this much? All because you have a little crush on Mikey?”
Nathan snorts. “Yeah, right.”
He presses a button on the sphere and the Bleeders around me shout, pain piercing through the air before their heads jarringly turn toward Nathan. He points in my direction with all the satisfaction in the world saturating his features.
“Kill the King of Bleeders.”