The icy look was expected, but Aaron shifted uneasily when Varis followed the length of his arm and dug his hand into his coat pocket, yanking the medallion out and running his thumb over the face of it. The Count looked absolutely livid; Aaron could feel a slight tremor in the hand on his arm, unpleasantly reminding him of the last time he’d seen Varis literally quaking with rage. Fortunately, Aaron could tell Varis’ ire wasn’t directed at him, though that cold, collected tone he spoke in next—easily worse than any scream of rage would ever be, in Aaron’s opinion—ran a familiar chill up his spine all the same.

When the Count called him by his name, Aaron froze, eyebrows shooting up. Was… was that the first time Varis had called him by his name? He admittedly hadn’t kept that close track of how he was addressed—really it was context cues he responded to more than any one belittling nickname, as much as Aaron loathed to admit it—but he was sure he would have noticed if it had ever happened before. His name sounded so odd coming out of Varis’ mouth that he didn’t really want to dwell on what that might mean, and thankfully he was given a task to distract himself from it.

He did as Varis instructed him, though he couldn’t help the strange look he gave his master (not that he’d see it) as he took the jacket. Don’t look no matter what he might hear? It was odd for sure, but he wouldn’t question it, doing as he was told and turning away, working on beating the dirt out of Varis’ jacket as best he could.

Until a deafening CRACK tore through the air, that is, and Aaron reflexively dropped, heart beating a mile a minute. He almost looked back, but managed to still his head; as a veritable cacophony of wood cracking, metal screeching, and of course, Varis screaming, filled the air behind him, Aaron wasn’t sure he even wanted to see whatever was going on back there. He felt something land on his hair (which upon investigation was a large splinter of wood) but kept his eyes down, flinching now and then at a particularly loud noise as he did his best to do as he’d been instructed, until finally the chaos ended. Varis sighed behind him, and eventually found his way back, though with some difficulty by the sound of it. Aaron had to bite back a painful hiss when the vampire clung back onto his arm.

“If you’re done boy, help me get this back on and we’ll be on our way. I’m quite ready to quit this place as quickly as possible.”

“Yes Master,” Aaron replied quietly, automatically, as he dutifully helped Varis back into his coat. He was only half-listening to the Count’s complaints, wondering what on earth he’d just borne witness to and ready to kneel and pick him back up when commanded, when his attention wandered to Varis fiddling with something. Or, rather, fiddling with nothing; he looked like he was trying to remove his gloves, but they were nothing but tattered scraps clinging to his wrists now. Aaron bit back a gasp, however, at what he saw in their place.

Varis turned soon after he realized his gloves were gone, but one look was all Aaron needed. His stomach turned at the sight of Varis’ hands, which had before been pale and pristine just like any vampire’s, now cross-hatched with a terribly organized grid of scars like Aaron had never seen. His nausea only worsened when he realized they morbidly reminded him of grill marks, and his breath caught in his throat.

That was Solaris Pius.

It seemed impossible, but there was no other explanation; scarring a vampire was no easy task, and Solaris Pius was the only way to do so so cleanly, and in such a neat pattern. Aaron was terribly reminded of the illustrations he’d seen when he’d done some research into the topic, sketches of vampires twisted in agony and burning alive in neat lines through the slats of some nightmarish torture box. That had never been taught to him—and for good reason, it was meant to disappear from history altogether—but despite his initial horror when Varis had revealed its existence to an entire lecture hall full of strangers, Aaron’s curiosity had overtaken him by the time he got home on break, and he’d gone to the library in search of information himself. He’d been shocked to find a chapter in a volume on historical punishments featuring the topic, totally uncensored and unguarded, where anyone with access to the palace library could view it. But seeing it here, in the flesh, still appalled him; it was Lady Sinnenodel herself who had single-handedly outlawed the practice for its barbarity, so why on Earth was her heir and favourite bearing its scars? Varis wasn’t nearly old enough to have suffered it in the days when it was legal, had committed no crime besides (at least, none that would be prosecuted) and if he’d been kidnapped and tortured, Aaron was sure the world would have known about it.

So… did she order it herself?

No, that was absurd; Aaron nearly slapped himself for such ridiculous speculation. But what other conclusion could he draw? The scars were new; Varis’ hands had been fine when he left for break, and he’d worn gloves at all times since his return. He knew Varis would be called to see her at some point in the break, and what else could have happened in that time? If anyone else had done it, they surely would have been executed with much bravado, but no such thing occurred. Varis hadn’t even uttered a word about it.

A biting chill gripped Aaron as he took Varis’ arm and led them left of the trees, as the medallion’s chest had instructed. He hardly even registered the destruction; he was too busy being mortified. He was sure he’d vomit if he opened his mouth, so he led his master silently, absently keeping an eye out for obstacles even as his vision swam. Was Lady Sinnenodel truly torturing her heir? Her reputation as a monster was plain, but the Sinnenodels abhorred violence, preferring mental and emotional avenues of torment instead—with the milder of which, he now realized, Aaron was quite familiar. Could her mandate of nonviolence be a cover-up? Was Varis too wily to be controlled by manipulation alone? How deep did his new Lady’s sadism run?

And if this was the sort of thing she was willing to do to her heir, what the hell happened to her mages?

Another wave of nausea washed over him as Vanessa came back to mind, with her back full of holes with a ribbon woven through them and her eyes all but melted out of her face. It was all too sickening to think about, though even as Aaron shoved the thought violently into the recesses of his mind, he knew it would gnaw at him until it was dealt with. But he couldn’t very well deal with it now, so he had to swallow his nausea and get on with things, even if he figured he’d probably be looking a bit shell-shocked for some time—he didn’t know it, but he’d already gone pale. In that way, the maze of the forest was a blessing; no one nearby to ask him why he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

As he scanned the forest for instructions, clues, or anything else that might mercifully distract him, he began to notice that the flora around the path was thinning; on closer examination, it looked like the plants were sick, dead and dying, or stunted at best. He followed one twisted and leaning tree with his eyes for a moment as they walked, and when he turned the other way, he almost physically jumped at the sight of… himself.

Walking next to him like everything was perfectly normal was what Aaron had to assume was an illusion of himself, eerily silent with eyes trained forward. The illusion wore a carefully constructed court expression that Aaron knew well, but his eyes were unsettling to say the least, entirely black like glassy marbles and trimmed with red and swollen flesh, as if he’d been crying. Aaron wondered absently if he looked that unsettling when he covered his emotions with a smile, noticing how tensely his clone held himself and his white-knuckled grip on Dawn.

The illusion didn’t seem to notice him, and peering suspiciously at it, Aaron reached out and waved a hand in front of its face, receiving no response; in fact, part of his hand brushed the clone’s shoulder by mistake, feeling nothing but air and confirming the thing’s status as mere illusion. Impressive illusion, though. Aaron briefly wondered if he’d someday be able to use his magic to craft one that looked so real.

Turning to report this… newcomer to Varis revealed yet another illusion, this one a copy of Varis walking alongside the Count. That one looked more like the original, characteristically impassive, though what caught Aaron’s eye even before the weapons was the dried blood veritably painted all over it. The weapons, though, were almost equally surprising; not only was it strange seeing Varis carrying a weapon of any kind, Aaron recognized the arrows (interestingly absent a bow) and daggers as tools dating back to the formation of the Treaty, weapons designed for the express purpose of killing werewolves. The illusion seemed to notice Aaron’s attention and caught his eye, misstepping a bit as if surprised and silently trying to speak, though Aaron couldn’t tell what it tried to say.

“Master, it would seem we have company,” he finally reported, his former horror replaced with an eerie curiosity as he eyed Varis’ clone. “Two illusory copies of ourselves are walking alongside us, though they aren’t identical to us. For one, their eyes are entirely black; mine looks tense, like it was recently upset, and it has a death grip on Dawn. Yours is covered in blood and carrying weapons for killing werewolves; if I didn’t know any better I’d say it recently bit something’s throat out.”

As he spoke, Aaron waved curiously in the direction of Varis’ clone, expecting it to be unresponsive and for its little miming trick to have been pre-programmed. To his surprise, however, its glassy black eyes (as far as Aaron could tell) seemed to follow his hand, and the clone silently laughed in response. “As far as I know, both are incorporeal, but while mine is unaware of us, yours seems to be able to see us. It tried to speak to me, and it’s surprisingly cheerful.”

As Aaron watched Varis’ clone, its attention snapped away from him and to something in front of them. Following its gaze, Aaron found that they’d entered a clearing, devoid of all plant life and home to nothing but a pedestal in the centre holding a skull. It looked to be made of ceramic, but Aaron couldn’t see its face; it was turned opposite them, looking in the direction of—Eris and Max?

His surprise at having crossed paths with another pair was shelved as his and Varis’ clones approached the centre. As he watched them walk ahead, Aaron was struck by the strangest sense of deja vu, though it was no mere nostalgia; rather, it settled in his gut a stone of potent dread, though Aaron couldn’t for the life of him understand why. His own clone freely touched the skull and vanished, but the feeling in his gut grew stronger as Varis’ clone resisted, silently cursing and swearing before training its gaze firmly on Eris and Max and disappearing altogether.

“A prize you wish and prize you’ll get when the demons of others you completely vanquish. Any trick and any way, to win the fight and save the day, you may employ but don’t forget, more often than not it’s simpler than this. A hand you lay upon my head and into others you’ll fall instead.”

Ominous words ringing in his head and unsure what to think of what he’d just seen, Aaron turned to Varis to explain the situation; though, upon seeing the vampire blinking and looking around, he inferred that he must have gotten his vision back for this challenge, and probably saw everything Aaron did. Grasping weakly at where Dawn’s handle should have been, the thoroughly unamused expression he’d been wearing when the night began came back in full force as he gradually realized what it was they were apparently meant to do.

A tired sigh escaped him, and his hand rose to his temple. “Great.”

---

This whole thing was cryptic and weird. Magic skulls and evil clones weren't the type of thing he'd been expecting going into this test, but in hindsight Max didn't know why he expected any less from the wackjob that tried to spear him with an energy bolt on the first day of classes. At least the riddle seemed to make perfect sense this time. The demons were obviously the clones, though it seemed a bit unfair that the mages had to disarm before the test while his duplicate apparently got to hurl bowling balls around with impunity. Touching the skull was clearly how they activated the puzzle, which would take them to the 'others', most likely. That meant 'others' implied... he'd be fighting Eris and Eris would be fighting him? He could work with that. Armed or not, he wasn't going to turn down an excuse to beat up his capto- ahem, partner. The riddle made it clear there was a gimmick for an easy win, though.

He felt the interlopers before he saw them. It was subtle, but something metallic had definitely stepped inside his range. Probably a vampire's tracking pendant, but given that... sound he heard in the distance earlier, he wasn't taking any chances. Max swiveled toward the approaching figures as his vambrace disassembled itself into its components, the pieces fanning up like a posturing animal as he prepared to shoot. It looked like... Cinnamon and the Retriever? No, that wasn't where the metal was. Those were illusions too, which meant the real ones were likely not far behind. Must be the 'others'. Not-Cinnamon was trying to say something, that was probably their clue on how to win.

Going? Going where?

"Did we get a coin? He mouthed it before he vanished--"

Oh; coin. That was still useless.

"No idea what that means, maybe ask them," Max grumbled as he fanned his arm toward the approaching Sinnenodel duo. Why did they have to meet up with possibly the worst pair to run into out here? Why couldn't he get... uh... hmm... Okay, so he didn't exactly like anyone here, but Cinnamon was still the worst.

At least Eris kept his pleasantries to a minimum before he got to the point. Max unlocked the vambrace he'd left on Eris, smoothly and unobtrusively returning it to his own arm while the vampire talked. If he was going to have to fight, he was at the very least doing it as armed as he could be.

"I don't think they come back, I think we go to them," The mage corrected as he pointed to the creepy skull, "I wager it's either a pair fight or they're matching mage with mage and vampire with vampire." Even though this test seemed like a giant excuse to humiliate the vampire population of the academy, Max doubted they'd go so far as to allow lowly mages to kill vampires, even if they were just illusionary clones.

---

@Hero

“We’ve only completed one of these and already I’m sick of this place.” Varis snapped, his hands still tucked firmly in his pockets. Clones? Poorly made if the boy’s description could be trusted. Even the Salem brat with his quarter of a brain could figure out anything remotely resembling ‘cheery’ on Varis was about as far from his personality as possible. Add in weapons and feeding and it sounded like he was painted like an Astorio.

“Remind me to have a word about the accuracy of these with Ryner on top of every other insult I’ve suffered tonight.” Varis instructed. Incompitent illusion mages. Weapons and happiness. Clearly, they’re far too wrapped up in their own asses to realize Varis had neither of those. The thought vanished as something he thought wouldn’t happen until he had to look at the Princess’ smug face again.

He could see.

He would absolutely never admit it but it nearly moved him to tears. He blinked, even the little bit of light provided by the moon and stars alone too much for his sensitive eyes, and he squinted as the skull shone in response to his own image resisting where the boy had complacently vanished moments before. Well, at least they got that right. Like he’d submit to some unintelligent piece of human anatomy. Although, humans were idiots by nature so perhaps that it was only a fraction of one was better.

Varis startled at Eris and… Alder-something. Varis’ attention was snatched away before he could bother insulting the mage or consider the riddle they were presented with when the boy sighed. Varis wanted to strangle him considering they were no longer alone and he reflexively snatched the boy’s hand away from his head and yanked him down to his level, whispering furiously.. “Do. Not. You are an Sinnendodel mage and a Starag. We have been through one challenge. Remember when you look weak, you make me look weak.”

Varis remembered he wasn’t wearing gloves and immediately took the glove off the boy’s hand. “I’ll be taking these as well since your mistake in the last challenge cost me mine.” Varis lied coolly, only betrayed by the trembling of his hands that stilled in one as he slipped it on. It was… a size or two big but it would get the job done. He held out the newly gloved hand for the other one before he turned back to Eris.

“No. We weren’t given a coin at any time. It probably has something to do with the “simple way” to get out of this inane challenge.” Varis said. “If we’re going to have a contest of strength, I’ll have no choice but to sit this out. I have no interest in indulging Ryner a chance to provoke me into breaking my family’s traditions. However... “ VAris looked at Aaron and gestured at the skull. “We have a willing test subject. Go touch it, boy. We’ll watch.”

Interacting with: @Obscene Symphony @Scribe of Thoth [Hero]

Aaron resisted wincing when Varis yanked him down to his level (and not at all gently - Aaron was starting to suspect that the Count really didn’t know his own strength), triggering both another pang of deja vu and a considerably stronger wave of his former irritation. Yes, it was all coming back to him now, his former horror and sympathy taking a backseat to a good twinge of indignation. He might have been a tad more embarrassed and taken Varis’ reprimand a tad more seriously if not for the multiple tantrums the Count had undertaken over the course of one challenge, but truth be told, with his returning headache, new audience and storm of… whatever raging in his stomach, Aaron wasn’t all that affected.

Silently handing over his remaining glove, he had to bite back a scoff at Varis’ profession on breaking his family’s traditions. Ha! Aaron was sure that every other pair in the forest could have heard Varis tearing those trees apart back at their last challenge, but yes, he had to preserve the precious Sinnenodel tradition of nonviolence as he rent trees in two with hands scarred from illegal in-House torture.

That thought, though, brought Aaron back to earth. Okay, okay, he needed to relax, his irritation was getting a little out of hand. But surely even Varis could see the hypocrisy. Aaron wouldn’t argue the importance of composure, and he’d probably agree that his little sigh had been uncouth, but after all that happened tonight what gave Varis the authority to pontificate on the subject? Yes, okay, he was his master and yes, he supposed the Count’s own shortcomings didn’t change his obligation to live up to simple expectations, but the man set a very poor example for his underlings. Aaron had been raised with the ideal that it was as much a vampire’s responsibility to be worthy of service as it was a mage’s responsibility to serve, but he supposed that ideal must not have spread past the Noila Castle walls.

But he was getting off track.

As he tuned back into the conversation, he briefly wondered if he should suggest that their medallion might be interpreted as a coin of sorts. Of course, that was both unlikely and, with Varis in the mood he was in and his last reaction to the thing, liable to get him split in half just like that tree, Sinnenodel pacifism be damned. But there was no more time to ponder the puzzle as his decision was made for him, Varis generously volunteering him as living test dummy. While he was a bit apprehensive, Aaron had to admit to being equally curious. Once more he cursed Dawn’s absence—it was such a part of him even the illusion had it, and it certainly would have come in handy now—but painted on a neutral smile all the same, nodding to Varis as he stepped forward.

“Of course, Master,” he replied cordially, not a trace of his irritation showing through as he approached the pedestal. With no more than a glance at the others in the clearing, he laid his hand on the skull without hesitation, and vanished.


Anger. It welled up like fire in his veins, took over every thought, stained every memory like a wildfire through dry brush, but in its wake was something else: hopelessness. Fear. An overwhelming hurt at the things around him, at the injustice of the world, at everyone who let this happen. That it happened to him and everyone else who didn’t have a choice or a voice or any power to stop it. Because everyone before him was a coward, everyone around him was a coward, and he was just weak.

Though it was gone as quickly as it had come. The clearing glowed bright in the noontime sun, the welcomed heat brightening the grass and trees that stood tall. The skull had vanished and instead a tree took its place. Deep puncture marks littered the tree and the bark hung off unevenly like it had been shredded in places. Dawn jutted proudly from the center. It almost glowed in the sun and music seemed to float from it.

“Sorry, I don’t need my boots licked today.” A familiar voice said flatly from behind him. Max watched Aaron, the bored look on his face contrasting the hard set of his shoulders, and seven different colored metal orbs floated around him. “Go on, run back to your master, Retriever.” Max’s armor shifted and shimmered over his skin like liquid but two things remained constant: the magical glyphs on the armor that seemed to flow around, and the gold chain around his neck that glinted in the sunlight.

Half a gold coin hung on it.

Shaking his head to dispel the last of that unprompted little rage, Aaron eyed Max incredulously for a moment before approaching the tree, the sight of his Dawn embedded in the wood even more welcome than the warmth of the sun.

“Suddenly I’m not too upset about being sent in first,” he commented airily, gripping Dawn’s handle. The blade barely clung to the wood; hell, it practically leapt into its master’s hand, a smile forming on Aaron’s face as he balanced the blade with a little twirl. Not only did he get a moment away from Varis, but he got Dawn back too! And he was tasked with fighting Max, if that coin around his neck meant anything. Coin. Perfect. It had been too long since he’d had the chance to get back to his roots.

Of course, by the looks of Max’s get-up and those metal balls hovering around him, he wasn’t about to face the same clumsy kid who could hardly hold a wooden sword back in the practice room. Good. That’d be too easy for a proper catharsis. Though with that in mind, he recalled Max's earlier antics and took a moment to remove his earring and his belt, tossing the latter aside and tucking the former safely in an inner coat pocket. Dawn would still be susceptible to Max's influence, sure, but... well, the reunion was worth the risk, and he'd be a fool to rush in unarmed even if his weapon was metal.

Thus prepared, Aaron slid easily into a ready stance, unable to contain his smile. “Alright, come chase me back to him then.”

The countess froze as the sound of Madalyn’s voice filled the space around her. It didn’t seem to originate from anywhere in particular making it impossible to locate which of the boxes actually contained her partner. Even with her sight returned, her eyes could not be trusted down in these depths. She would have to play the game on her own and quickly, the panic laced through the mage’s tone was clearer than the words she had actually spoken.

Have you learned nothing since father? You cannot continue to lose focus over those that have been lost to you. Maddie needs you here, now. Don’t let her down too. Amaris berated herself silently, curling her hands into tight fists until the tips of her nails were digging into the flesh of her palms. She wanted to scream into the darkness, let loose all of her built up frustrations and feelings of helplessness but what help would it be? It wouldn’t change Minfilia… It wouldn’t bring Cassandra back… And it wouldn’t save Madalyn.

With a snarl, Amaris refocused her sights on the blue text that would serve as her choices but recalled the instructions spoken to her by the serpent. Four truths, two lies, but only three statements before her. So either she was in for a couple of rounds of true/false statements, or it was up to her to pick apart each line and find the more subtle lies within.

“I’m here Maddie, just try to stay as calm as you can ok?” She called out, hoping her voice would carry back to Madalyn just as hers had before. It was difficult to tell if her words would reach when her voice sounded so normal but she would have to trust that it wasn’t just some one way taunt. Though if her words were truly for Maddie or for herself had yet to be seen.

A riddle with a time limit. Not comforting but not unheard of, just have to tackle what I know and the rest will work itself out… hopefully.

‘A book with secrets of the lineage holds the name of a father slain.’ Amaris took pause with the first line, shaking her head to herself with disbelief.

“Ryner really knows how to pull her punches.” She read the sentence three times over to see if there were any particularly dangerous tells, but from what she could see there was little to be concerned about. ‘Secret’ could refer to quite a many things, all of which were perfectly legal and easy to explain away. As much as Amaris would have preferred to avoid acknowledging the book’s existence in the first place, she couldn’t see the hurt in admitting the riddle’s truth.

Amaris had hoped the second statement would be equally as obvious as its predecessor, however, such luck was not on her side. If the aforementioned raven was supposed to represent something, or someone, she hadn’t the faintest idea of what. Unfortunately, not immediately recognizing something that Ryner had put together didn’t mean the statement was inherently false. She would have to reinforce her established truth with the third statement.

‘One partner now, two partners past, lack all trust in you.’

Just reading the words packed a punch that Amaris had not been expecting. A cruel taunt reminding her of all the ways she had failed since the start of the semester. She recalled the sight she had been met with initially, with Casandra slumped over and Minfilia banging against the walls of her enclosure. The images sent a shiver down her spine unrelated to the cold that was permeating her whole body.

You don’t have time for this. Dwelling on the past will change nothing. There is a job to do, and you will NOT fail Maddie too.

Something still felt off to the countess though. According to the rules there was meant to be two lies but the second statement didn’t seem to be split. Without any idea of what the raven could be referencing it was difficult to tell, but from where she was sitting, it sounded like a singular thought. Would there be consequences for an incorrect guess other than time lost? There had to be something she was missing, a clue that would help filter out the necessary information.

“Wait a minute… ‘Four truths do bury two simple lies… things that hide within two minds? Hey Maddie?” Amaris called out, still holding on to the hope that her voice would carry to her partner the same way her partner’s had carried before.

“I think I’ve made some progress but there are still a couple of missing links. Is a raven meaningful to you in any way? It’s the only part of the three I don’t understand.”

---

Max regarded Varis coolly as the leech started barking thinly veiled orders phrased as simple musing. At least he hadn't said anything to Max directly; the mage would've had to ignore it out of principle and that's a whole nother argument. Still, it might've been worth it - he didn't like going in blind and he really didn't see the need for two sacrificial lambs to go scout.

Why would anything different happen? It seemed pretty simple to him. You touch the skull, you go in and fight... whoever, and hopefully just get thrown back out. The Retriever was unarmed, though, so whatever flashy fucking sword tricks he was so proud of would be useless. Maybe he was just getting beat up in there.

He stood motionless until Eris gave the order. It was a pointless gesture, given he knew it was coming, but like hell he'd give Cinnamon the satisfaction of bossing him around even offhandedly. Even with that, he made his approach as slow and casual as possible as he pretended to observe the skull. Outright disobediance would let him stall longer, but probably wasn't worth it in the long run. Reasonable discourse, then.

"I really doubt anything different will happen, and if it does, I especially doubt it'll look any different from the outside," He made it a point to direct his comment at Eris rather than listen to Cinnamon bitch about him speaking out of turn or whatever, "As much as I hate sitting here too, we're all better off waiting for him to report on what happened. If we know what to do, we can do it faster than if we're floundering around looking for the answer to the puzzle."

If anything, those two should be cherishing their time waiting around here; after this, they'd be back to stumbling around blindly. And Max was definitely going to walk Eris into a tree if he started nagging him all to impress Count Glove-Thief.

---

@Hero@Achronum

Max flashed a subtle smirk at his opponent’s remark as he shifted his stance almost dismissively, now facing Aaron off-center. He gave a little wave of his hand, as if shooing Aaron away, accompanied by two of his levitating orbs rocketing forward.

“I’m sure you’ll find your way back to him regardless of my interference. You’re a good little… what are you now? A bargaining chip from Ryner? A defective piece of cattle sold off to the Sinnenodels?” He taunted as his projectiles made their way forward on a deceptively simple trajectory. At the last second, the two orbs broke off-course, shifting their paths in an erratic dance around Aaron to obscure their true angle of attack. After a bit of showmanship, one orb shot for his right shoulder from above while the other dipped low, aiming for the light mage’s left knee.

Aaron lowered himself cautiously as the orbs came near, but didn’t move quite yet, following them with his eyes as they shot straight for him. As it turned out, his patience was rewarded when they veered off at the last second, branching out around him in no discernable pattern. He didn’t bother trying to reply to Max’s classless attempt at trash talk, head whipping around as he tried vainly to keep track of both orbs at once. Finally, one dipped, heading for his left knee; as he spun to get his knee out of the way, he caught sight of the second one coming down on him, and was barely able to get Dawn up in time to deflect it into the nearby ground.

Shit.

Those things were the size of his head, and Aaron had no doubt they’d break something if they landed a hit. He couldn’t keep up with this for long if that was how Max wanted to play it; more importantly, he had even less of a chance at this distance. Max’s insults were the last thing on his mind, and he offered no reply, instead moving to close the gap between them.

Max lifted his hand lazily, as if he were specifically choosing every movement to make it known he didn’t take Aaron seriously as a threat. The two orbs he’d flung earlier floated upward in turn, taking a stationary position in the air as they began to rotate in place like a basketball on someone’s finger. They didn’t seem to be doing anything - yet - but Aaron ignoring them completely could prove fatal if he wasn’t careful.

In the meantime, the remaining five orbs in Max’s possession took up a defensive orbit around their master, picking up speed in an obvious attempt at keeping Aaron from getting closer.

“You’re a lot less wordy now. Where’d that confidence go? Or was it never there to begin with because you’re a prideless dog that lives only for scraps off your master’s table?”

A single orb was flung from the series toward Aaron’s center mass, travelling much faster than the previous two after it had been given time to gain momentum. It had a bit of a horizontal curve to its path this time, but it kept true to its trajectory instead of employing any misdirection like the last ones.

Max seemed strangely content to let Aaron approach, albeit only to a point if that hula-hoop of orbs he was developing was any indication. Aaron was suspicious of that gesture - mainly because it didn’t do anything - and checked behind him, noting the orbs that rose out of the ground. Ominous. Unable to close the remaining distance between them, Aaron stopped several feet away, moving into a defensive stance that allowed him to keep an eye on both Max and the orbs behind him.

More mockery; it wasn’t unexpected, but certainly wordier than he was used to. It made Aaron bristle a bit in the back of his mind, but nowadays, what didn’t? He was sure his grandfather had been called much worse.

The next projectile came in much faster, but fortunately, Aaron was positioned better to deal with it, turning his trunk and deflecting this orb much more cleanly than the last.

“I suppose I’m not used to you spending so much energy on lap dogs like me,” he finally retorted, holding his ground.

Max snorted derisively as the orb he’d thrown levitated upward to join the other two in their ominous spinning. “Oh please, I’ve only just started, how ‘bout you?”

Two more orbs shot out, weaving back and forth in a spiral about each other as they flew toward Aaron. The orbs swooped at him one at a time in repetitive ‘cutting’ motions, each one cycling around to ready for another swing as the other was making its attack. They weren’t aimed in a particularly tricky way to deflect or evade, but the ceaseless onslaught seemed intent on hounding Aaron into backing up further from Max.

Aaron eyed the newly levitating orb for only a second, shifting again to keep all three in view, and hardly had a chance to reply before two more came at him. Their movements, thankfully, were predictable and easily countered, but Aaron knew their persistence would prove troublesome after too long. That made three floating and two fighting him; by his count that meant only two remained orbiting Max. But why was he so intent on simply keeping his distance? Was that strange liquid-looking armour not as strong as Aaron thought? Surely Max could deal with a close encounter as easily as a ranged one with the ease he threw those orbs around.

But Aaron wasn’t sure he could. Not for very long, at least. Unless Max only had one charge each in those orbs before they got rooted in place and started spinning, he could probably keep flinging them around all day; Aaron, meanwhile, had no doubt that if he didn’t finish this soon, it was only a matter of time before he’d miss. Max was using magic years more advanced than his; there was simply no way he could win. Surely whoever designed this scenario knew that, so there must be some other way to pass without defeating Max in a straight fight. If Varis’ reflection’s warning was anything to go by, it was that coin around Max’s neck that was the real objective. Maybe just touching or grabbing the thing would be sufficient to end the challenge, even if Max wasn’t defeated? That’d explain why he was so reluctant to let Aaron get close.

“Last time we fought you asked if you could just deck me,” he probed between deflections, “where’d that confidence go?”

The two orbs going at Aaron stopped their assault, floating up to join the rest. Max’s face darkened at the retort, then shifted into a very unsettling grin of condescension. Hell, Max grinning at all was unsettling.

“Because this time, I don’t have to be the weakling. Not like you. That’s why they don’t respect you. That’s why the Noilas threw you away. I could melt that precious toothpick in your hand down into a mercury rope and hang you with it if I wanted to, and you couldn’t do a thing except whine for your uncaring owner to save you!”

Max gave a grunt of exertion at last, dropping his previous nonchalance. The hovering orbs shot downward in unison, smashing into the ground hard enough to leave a small crater. But they didn’t stop there; the orbs rotated faster and faster, boring deeper and deeper into the earth like massive drills.

The remaining two orbs in Max’s possession shot out to the side, giving their master a wide berth. His armor writhed and slithered around his form until it solidified into a concrete shell, save for a tendril extending from his right forearm like a whip.

“But if you think you have a chance, by all means. I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

Aaron’s eyebrows rose as Max’s uncaring mask finally slipped off, though his first concern was the orbs burrowing into the ground. His feet started moving almost on their own, traversing a large, slow circle around Max. Whatever those orbs were up to, he wasn’t fond of the idea of them flying up underneath him when he least expected it; at the very least, a little movement would buy him some time.

He watched with interest as Max’s armour formed, but he didn’t change his course. “So you can smash those orbs into my head as soon as I step into range? No thank you,” he retorted. Although, he wasn’t sure what his other options were. He doubted he’d even be able to lay a finger on that coin with those two orbs still hanging around; maybe if he circled long enough, Max would lose patience and either charge him or throw his last two orbs? Then he might have an opening to get the coin. If those orbs in the ground didn’t do whatever they were doing first.

Frustratingly, Aaron wasn’t sure what more he could do, outside of biding his time. Damn, he was not a fan of waiting games. Searching his mind for any other clue as to how he could beat Max, he remembered the voice that rang out when the skull swallowed the reflections. Something about there being an “easier way” to complete the challenge. He’d originally thought that grabbing the coin without defeating Max was the easier way, but in truth, it really wasn’t any easier than landing a proper hit on the man would be. Which was to say, it wouldn’t be.

Damn, what else was there? He didn’t think there was anything notable in the clearing, no levers to drop a tonne of bricks on his opponent or anything similarly miraculous, and he certainly couldn’t check now. Honestly, the only thing out of the ordinary was Max’s attitude. Aaron was no stranger to the jabs and general rudeness, but he’d never seen the man so angry; sure, he lived in a perpetual state of pissed off but if Aaron didn’t know any better he’d say this was personal. Especially all that talk about him being a “weakling” - it just didn’t quite seem right.

“Besides, you’re not really one to talk,” he said, still circling at the same pace as before. “I might have been thrown away, but I hear your first master got rid of you for profit. Who would have thought you’d fetch a higher price than me? Frankly, I’m almost insulted.”

“And I’ve gotta say, the arrangement’s worked out swimmingly. Eric’s a pushover. Can’t say the same about Cinnamon though, can you?” Max taunted in return, though his expression had yet to fully shift into his patented mask of ‘I don’t give a fuck even if I kinda do’. “Though I don’t appreciate being talked down to by a tool.”

Without any advancing on Aaron’s part, Max took up the offensive again. His two remaining orbs rocketed up into the air, with the first immediately shooting down on Aaron like a metal comet with the second following close behind.

“So go ahead, have your hollow victory. Some newly-turned wimp handed me off to an overrated actor. I’m sure that’s far more damaging for me than you causing your new liege to torture your poor aunt for funsies.”

Without giving the mage a chance to rest, Max charged at his target, metallic whip swinging recklessly like a flailing snake. Though it maintained its mercurial form for the most part, the edges solidified into blades just before impact.

The low stance Aaron had been keeping worked to his advantage when the orbs finally fell, dancing out of their way as they pounded into the ground mere inches from him. Confirmation, then. As much as Max tried (though apparently without much success) to put up a tough facade, he’d definitely struck a nerve. And it seemed to make him reckless. In another situation, Aaron might have laughed; he’d always been encouraged to use any method available to him to gain the upper hand, but he had to admit, this would be his first attempt at winning a fight via vicious mockery.

At least he had a good role model for that.

Aaron sank low when Max charged him, raising his blade in hopes of negating as much of that whip’s impact as he could. But while he expected the whip to fetch up and wrap around Dawn, it did nothing of the sort; instead, he fairly sliced the thing in half, with the detached portion sailing away. Dawn, meanwhile, was splattered with silvery drops - apparently the whip was liquid.

He almost counter-attacked on muscle memory, but it would be no use; that armour was like a second skin, and he was sure he’d find no purchase if he tried to strike it. So, instead, he backed out of the whip’s range once more, doing his best to keep track of the craters.

“I’d beg to differ,” he replied. “At least me and my family are used to it. Coping is literally in our DNA. You’d probably shudder to hear what I put up with on a nightly basis, but even with a pushover of a master you still look like you struggle to get through the night without screaming.”

He had to goad Max further; maybe then he’d be aggravated enough to charge at him even more sloppily than before, or finally unveil whatever trick he was developing with those orbs underground. “Although I suppose I can’t blame you. I have no great love for the Sinnenodels, but I sincerely doubt I hate them as much as you hate vampires. How do you cope with being the fancy show dog in some overrated leech’s purse?”

“I don’t cope,” Max snarled back at him, “That’s the difference between me and you. Not everyone just lays down and dies for their bloodsucking masters. Don’t act like accepting your fate is some noble trait, you’re rolling over like a damn dog! And what does it get you?!” The flecks of flowing metal still stuck to Dawn began to vibrate and sizzle, causing the blade itself to start melting away in Aaron’s hands, “Nothing! You sit there and watch everything you care about disappear in some little game those leeches play to forget they’re little more than animals!”

Max curled his fingers inward as he raised trembling arms, looking as though he were fighting to lift some unseen weight. “You don’t win anything by giving up, and does this look like a loser to you?!” The ground shuddered underneath their feet, with only faint cracks in the dirt serving as Aaron’s warning to move as a brilliant torrent of fire erupted beneath him like a miniature volcano.

If he looked back in an attempt to fathom how that was in any way fair that this test allowed Max to supposedly break his affinity, he’d be greeted with the answer rather quickly. One of the metal mage’s orbs from earlier floated above the site of eruption, apparently having tunneled there during the discussion. But rather than the prior chromatic metal, it was now a flaming ball of molten lead; the previously-inert rune on its surface now blazing with an active enchantment that wreathed it in magical fire.

The now enraged Max didn’t seem to be giving Aaron any time to breathe, however; the splattered remains of his whip on the ground had slithered into a mound of razor-sharp shrapnel, which followed up the chaos of the explosion in a furious rain.

Having dropped Dawn when it started melting, Aaron’s attention snapped to his feet as soon as the ground shuddered, giving him precious little time to unceremoniously throw himself to the side before the ground beneath him exploded. He landed on his side, looking disbelievingly around at the spectacle until the whip joined the fray. In response to that, there was little more he could do than shield his head from the molten rain with his arms.

Hot shrapnel cut into his arms and legs; he’d have time to count the pieces later. At that moment, he was more concerned with a unique, searing pain like he’d never felt before, and extinguishing the small fire that had started on his coat sleeve as a result.

“Are you really going to these lengths just to feel like you’re winning?!” Aaron shouted his retort, newly incensed by the pain. “I’m afraid you have a long way to go my friend. In here you might be conjuring volcanoes, but out there in the real world you’re nothing but a scrawny little human who waves around designer gauntlets that his master bought him and can hardly swing a sword. Even Varis could probably kill you out there with a flick of his wrist and you think your insolent pouting is any more noble than my obedience? Is that your little act of rebellion? You know damn well you can’t break your leash, all you’re doing is amusing them by pulling on it!”

Max broke out into an uncomfortable half-sob-half-laugh. Any trace of composure was out the window, though his eyes still burned with their usual fiery petulance. “You think I’m doing this to win? You’re not that special,” He muttered in a poor imitation of what would normally pass for condescension from the mage. He lifted the coin from his neck, holding it up for Aaron to clearly see as the metal started melting just like Dawn before it. “This is what victory looks like. It’s knowing you’ll crawl back to Cinnamon with your tail between your legs, knowing he’ll punish you even further for a failure he barely has any stake in, just to see you squirm.”

“I’m doing this to prove a point! That I can kill you, and Eric, and Ryner, and any other fucking leech that thinks we-- fuck it, I should bow!” The other six orbs stirred with a seismic warning, bursting out of the ground beneath Aaron one after the other to keep him on the move - lest he end up immolated.

Aaron scrambled to his feet at the next shudder, and this time, he had to keep going. The new volcanoes burst up at his heels, another few pieces of shrapnel slicing into Aaron’s back as a reminder. He ran until he’d felt all six burst up behind him, and finally stopped a good distance from the last one, having created something like a crescent of volcanoes around Max.

He leveled Max with a dark look as the coin began to melt. “Vampires kill each other every night,” he replied, his voice more even than before. “It’s like a twisted game for them. I’m pretty sure Lady Sinnenodel sics different branches of her House on each other just to watch them destroy themselves. What chaos can one pathetic mage like you rend on them that they wouldn’t just initiate themselves? Hell, my grandfather killed dozens of them and he built the system we have today. You killing one will just do another a favour, and then you’ll be bowing very low when they chop off your head for it anyway.”

“So try it!” he finally shouted, “Kill me, kill Eris, kill Ryner if my mother doesn’t incinerate you first, and die under a guillotine knowing you were little more than a mosquito in their ear because nothing, nothing you can do has any hope of changing anything.”

Max dropped his arms defeatedly, all of his previous anger melting away with the tension in his frame. The flaming orbs circling over Aaron like predatory vultures simply stopped in place and began to lose their integrity, dripping scalding metal onto the ground uselessly. He looked over at Aaron with an empty, tired gaze; probably the most genuine expression the clone had put on so far.

Once all the orbs had been reduced to cooling puddles on the ground, Max spoke again as he raised his arm, the remnant of his whip forming into a mocking replica of Dawn in his hand.

“So that’s your choice?” His voice was bitter and weary, without any of its usual bite. “You’re taking your own advice and laying down to die in the face of defeat?” He stomped on the liquified remnants of the coin at his feet for good measure, then snorted in uncharacteristic amusement.

“You know, I like you when you’re being real. Well, not like, but I can at least respect it. Must be nice to do it once in a while instead of hiding secrets with Flower Boy.” Max kept the weapon raised aggressively, but he hadn’t stepped into a proper stance yet, nor did he advance to end things yet.

Aaron watched in muted awe as Max finally - literally - let his guard down, a twinge of bitterness colouring the pity he felt for the clearly broken mage in front of him as he watched the last of the coin drip formlessly to the ground. He eyed the blade forming in Max’s hand warily, but didn’t move just yet; Max surrounded with magic metal orbs was something to worry about, but Max with a blade he was pretty sure he had a handle on.

His eyebrows raised when Max laughed, though. Of all things, he certainly wouldn’t have expected friendliness, or whatever the equivalent was, coming from him. Was it nice to be ‘real’ once in a while? He’d probably usually say no. Most of the time he wished he could crawl behind his court manner and stay there, but he supposed he couldn’t deny the bit of tension he felt finally loosen in his chest.

“Once in a while,” he murmured absently. At least this replica got that one right; all his pointless espionage was exhausting, and he was sure he was keeping secrets on three sides by now. This fight, at least, was open; that alone was a welcome change. But watching Max, Aaron crossed his arms, shaking his head. “You’re not a swordsman, and I have no weapon,” he commented. “It’s an exercise in futility. But with that coin,” he gestured to the puddle of gold on the ground, “at least I could finally leave you alone.”

The various puddles of metal around them started literally bristling at Aaron’s words, coagulating into spikes and blades and other nasty implements of death. Even Max’s armor was starting to peel off into the beginnings of weaponry. There was a slight pinprick on Aaron’s chest beneath his coat, likely where his earring had gotten the same idea.

“You’ll shut up if I skewer you too,” He responded coldly, “Like you said, what’s the point?”

“There is none,” Aaron conceded, resisting the urge to adjust the newly-pointy earring in his pocket. “This whole exercise is just entertainment. I wouldn’t be surprised if Princess Ryner designed it just so she could get a kick out of watching the nobles stumble around blind.” While he was appealing to what he figured Max was thinking himself, Aaron wouldn’t be surprised if that was indeed the case. It seemed like something she’d like. “Even you were created for that purpose. I bet this has been quite the spectator sport,” he gestured around at the decimated clearing around them.

“Why give her a grand finale?”

Max dropped the sword at last, the rest of his veritable iron maiden following suit and returning to useless puddles on the ground.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” He sneered bitterly with a disappointed shake of his head. The defeated mage raised a hand in a lethargic motion, causing the golden puddle to rise up and shoot toward Aaron. By the time it reached him, it was an intact coin half again, with not a single engraving out of place.

“Crawl back to your master and be lucky you still have a head.” With that, the Max replica turned away to sulk, staring up at the sunlit sky in silence. That, or he was trying to burn his eyes out to punish himself for losing.

Aaron barely had time to watch him go; as soon as he caught the coin in hand, everything disappeared.

~ /// ~

The dead clearing reappeared, and Aaron was standing next to the skull, precisely where he had been when he touched it. Thankfully, though, the coin came out with him, though his earring and belt had both returned to their proper places. Mercifully, it seemed he came out exactly as he’d gone in; whatever injuries he’d gotten in there didn’t follow him out here, and the pain of searing hot shrapnel (not to mention the charred holes in his coat) was no more than a memory.

Varis was nearby - he must have come closer to examine the skull - so Aaron resisted his urge to sigh in relief lest he get a repeat of what happened before. Instead, he simply offered the Count a curt bow and held out the coin for him to take if he so desired.

Afterward, he looked around at the others. “It put me in a clearing and had me fight Max’s reflection, albeit much more advanced in magic than the real one. He was wearing this coin around his neck, and touching it was what got me out,” he explained before he could be chastised for hesitating. “Luckily, it looks like whatever damage you suffer in there doesn't follow you out, so you shouldn't need to worry about that. Was I gone very long, roughly speaking?”

Varis could only blink at how Max spoke back to Eris. He couldn't imagine a mage having the audacity to speak to him like that. Varis already considered the nonsense spewing out of the boy’s mouth and still decided this was the course of action he wanted to take. He gave Max an unimpressed look―He would have to talk to Eris about how he was going to handle this clear breach of proper conduct―but didn’t interfere. If he stepped in, he was undermining Eris’ authority and although the mage’s behavior was completely out of line, it fell to Eris’ to correct him. If he let it pass without a proper punishment however...

“No, you weren’t.” Varis replied absently as he considered the coin for a moment. He picked it up out of the boy’s hand and examined it. It didn’t seem like anything special but at least it wasn’t another crest. He pocketed it, though it took him a second because of the oversized gloves. He leveled his unimpressed stare at his own mage now as he finished considering everything the boy said. He pointed at the ground, not quite able to snap, but he was sure the boy would get the point anyway. “Eris, still your mage’s hand a moment. Now that we’ve confirmed you only need one person in the skull to clear a portion, perhaps his familiarity with himself will illuminate more than what the boy inevitably missed. ” Varis turned back to the boy, tone sharp. “That is a pathetic excuse of a report. This clearing, was it the one we were standing in or was it another? Were you able to recognize it and if not, what other details did you notice? Was fighting the only option or did you fall back on the only skill the Noilas bothered to invest decent resources in? Did you sustain extensive injuries and where? Show us.”

Interacting with: @Obscene Symphony @Scribe of Thoth [Hero]

The cloud from his eyes lifted and the world was revealed to Ben once more. There was much surprise to been seen when he saw nothing but blue waters all around him. Before he could properly access his surroundings, however, he laid eyes on the creature across the way. It rang all sorts of alarms for him, its ghastly features contrasting the gentleness of the plucked strings. He was a little uneasy approaching such a thing, slowly backing away. This must be the test of might, but why was he alone?

His question was answered when he backed into the coffin, a gasp escaping him as he looked at his mage. "Lilie," He said as everything else was forgotten at the moment. She did not move nor open her eyes to his dismay, her appearance only furthering his confusion. As he looked at the weapons within, however, everything fell into place. This was the challenge's way of testing her faith. The monster clearly had eyes on her; it fell to Ben to protect her. It should have been reassuring but the idea of having to protect a solitary target wasn't going to be easy, especially with a creature of that size.

Surely they could have accomplished this without putting her to sleep, Ben mused to himself for a moment before realizing the thought was incorrect: the riddle specifically mentioned her faith would be paid in sleep. Of course, Lilie completed the first half of the challenge and it now fell to him to finish their test of might. And with bow and sword in accord; the tools were given to him with only one thing left to do. So be it, then.

"Rest easy and wait here for me," Ben said despite unknowing if she could hear him.

With the sword at his side and the quiver on his back, he stepped away from the coffin with much confidence. He tested the string of the bow as he watched the creature for a moment. If it was waiting for him to make the first move then far be it from him to deny it. Readying an arrow, he stretched the string as he pulled the arrow back, a smirk playing on his lips. Aiming at the creature's left eye, he released the arrow, watching it fly into the air before pulling out a second from the quiver.

Aaron knelt on cue, actually a little glad to get a bit of a rest after his ordeal. Varis’ criticism did prick at him a bit, but it was to be expected; with the mood he was in, Aaron was pretty sure he would have been disciplined if his heart beat at the wrong pace.

“I beg your pardon, Master,” he apologized blandly, “the clearing was similar to this one, but the trees and plants were all alive, and it was otherwise unfamiliar to me. The only notable thing I saw was a tree where this pedestal would have been, full of puncture marks and with its bark largely stripped away on one side. If I had to guess, I’d say someone had been shooting or throwing something at it. It was day, about noon and sunny, and Dawn was stuck into the trunk of the tree. For whatever reason, music was coming from it; I believe it was a tune Princess Ryner often hums while she works, though I don’t know the name of it. Dawn came out of the tree much more easily than I would have expected; easier than it would have in the real world, I’m sure.” He wasn’t sure of the relevancy of that particular fact, but he was wary to leave out any detail.

“As for whether fighting was my only option, well… yes and no,” he posited. “At first, definitely. When I arrived in the clearing, Max’s clone was not happy to see me. He told me he ‘didn’t need his boots licked today’ and that I should ‘run back to my master’.” Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle. “So I told him to chase me back to him.”

He shook his head, trying to dispel his smirk. “The clone was happy to oblige. To call it a ‘fight’ would be an overstatement—it was completely one-sided. The clone was years more advanced in magic than I am, and had seven large metal orbs inscribed with runes and some sort of liquid armour at its disposal. I only managed to advance to within about ten feet of him. It was all I could do just to defend myself; attacking was practically impossible.”

Aaron shrugged out of his coat, standing for a moment. “I got a number of injuries, but luckily none were especially severe. I was hit with several shards of hot shrapnel in my arms, legs and back,” he gestured to each area as it was mentioned, turning so all three men could see. “I didn’t check at the time, but I imagine the cuts probably cauterized themselves; I don’t remember any blood, and one fragment set my coat on fire.”

“Fortunately, like I said, it looks like you come out as you went in.” To illustrate the point, he pulled up one of his sleeves; however, where he thought would be undamaged skin, a number of red, newly-forming bruises peppered his arm in the vague pattern of overlapping handprints. It wouldn’t be difficult to infer whose hand put them there, but Aaron had to admit some shock—Varis’ iron grip was painful, sure, but these looked almost as bad as the marks he’d end up with after a training session with Lucan. Not wanting to embarrass Varis any further, he pulled his sleeve back down promptly. “See, no new injuries—just what I incurred from my mistake in the last challenge.”

Hoping that would be enough to satisfy any curiosity Max or Eris might have, Aaron put his coat back on and sank back to his knee, clearing his throat. “Anyway, defeating the clone outright wasn’t an option. So, based on your inference before, Master, I figured that the coin around his neck was the real objective—the ‘easy way’—and that if I could get close enough to grab it, the challenge would end. The clone was very keen on keeping me at a distance, but luckily, there was a way around that.”

He allowed himself a second to recall the fight, doing his best to remember all that was said in the right order. “The clone was much more talkative than the real Max, and more… cutting than normal. It seemed intent on digging at me rather than just dishing insults offhand like the real one.” Max probably wouldn’t be happy to hear this, but, well, what else was new. “When I finally jabbed back—at a loss for any other method of attack—the clone was much more affected than I would have expected. Its attacks got more violent and erratic each time, and when I expected to have angered it enough that it would open up to a decisive blow, it just stopped.”

He hadn’t had the time to give it much thought, having been ejected from the skull’s reality before getting the chance to process it, but thinking back, the clone had been almost pathetic in its defeat. “It seemed like its will was broken. After that I was able to convince it to give me the coin, and as soon as I touched it I reappeared here.”

Just to be sure he covered everything Varis might take an interest in, Aaron ran through the encounter in his head one more time. In retrospect, it really had been shocking to see any version of Max, false or otherwise, react so strongly to… well, to anything. Did the real Max harbour those same animosities? It was clear he hated vampires, but did he really want to kill them, or did the clone just exaggerate his outward personality the same as it exaggerated his powers? Aaron often suspected that Max was unhappy—considering his circumstances, he’d be more surprised if he wasn’t—but did the anger and the abhorrence of weakness really pervade so deep?

“Oh, one more thing,” Aaron hurriedly added, remembering something. “When I was being transported, before the clearing appeared, I was totally overcome with anger. Or, not just anger. Anger and… hopelessness, I think.” He closed his eyes for a second, doing his best to call the feeling back to mind. “I was angry about everyone being cowards and me being too weak for… something.” He opened his eyes, ponderous. “Come to think of it, those were the general themes of the insults he used on me. He poked at me for being subservient, disrespected, and the like—” he left out the bit where Max picked at him feeling like he’d been thrown away—how did he know that, anyway? “—but it always circled back to weakness, that I was weak and he was strong, and that killing me somehow meant he was strong enough to escape all of this.” He gestured lazily, referring to their system in general. “When I told him how powerless he really was to change his lot in life, that’s when he finally gave up.”

The walls crept in closer and closer, Salem’s voice seemed to be getting further and further away. At the very least he got his answer he didn’t hesitate to repeat the name given to him to the girl sitting before him. “Alice Spellman.” His voice was quiet but filled with kindness, something one wouldn’t expect to use on something they thought was just an illusion.

He knew he was stalling, his reluctance to even speak her name to his mage was troubling. How she could affect him even now was troubling. He was sure it was because he hadn’t truly dealt with her passing. “Her-“ stopping for a moment before just yelling out her name, “Sarah Rift.” His hand clenched on the table to the point it nearly splintered the wood. This practical will definitely be something he has never dealt with and seemed intent on facing the things that haunted his dreams.

@Trainerblue192