Envy chuckled softly. "They're rare to find, nowadays, but they're large, flat-footed horses. Hardy beasts that hunt for desert shrews and cacti alike."
As she repeated his observation, he nodded slowly. "Relentless." he repeated. It was strange, Envy noted as she rose and declared she'd rest. So few days they'd been around one another, but Envy had this feeling, this shadow in his head that said they knew one another. Perhaps, in another lifetime, she had been one of his many adopted daughters. She felt like family.
"I shall." Envy promised, remaining where he sat.

It was nearly two hours later that Ruli prodded Kire on the leg with his foot. "Hey." he grunted down at her. He looked sleepy, but clear-eyed. "Envy said you wanted me to find you." Not that it was hard, considering he'd been sleeping beside, a few bedrolls away, her not half an hour ago.

Kire woke with a grunt, then cursed in her own tongue, rubbing her face. "Fuck. I did say that." Nevertheless, she sat up promptly, took a few breaths, then got up. "Alright. Let's go outside."

The moment they were alone outdoors, Kire turned to him, arms crossed. "Ysaryn told you she was going, right?" She filled him in on what she had been told about Ysaryn's capture and escape. Kire had a momentary urge to ask him about his earlier conversation with the elf but decided against it. "How did your practice with Envy go? I was hoping to test it out and see how far I could track you."

Ruli arched an eyebrow at her when he heard her swear, but he made no remark in response. It seemed she felt the same way Envy often did about waking or being woken. He studied her in silence as she sat upright and coaxed herself into waking further, then demanded he follow her outside.
Chieftesses. He grumbled, but followed anyway.

"She did." Ruli answered her shortly, feeling cold as Kire explained to him what she'd been told by the pink-haired elf. So much detail to take in, so much to remember. The half-Kartaian may very well have helped her get out. Why Ysaryn? Why not the many others?
"Oh." Her follow-up question about his practice brought him back to the present. He frowned, though, when she said she wanted practice.
"You ... want to..." Of course she did. Practice made sense. Was logical in the face of what they needed it for.
Didn't make him any less reluctant.

"A strong memory, then." Ruli said, rolling his shoulders and neck, as if he were about to climb a wall. He inhaled, held it, then breathed out before he slowly held out his hand for Kire's.

Her skin was warm. Ruli blinked at the soft, soft-tanned skin that coated her real, paler palm. So similar, yet so different. The sun to the dark moon.
He had considered carefully what memory he would share. For it should be a memory, something he held dear, in order to make the magic stronger, carry his signature. Showing her some false image, or making a telepathic order that took over her mind, rather than connecting to it, wouldn't be the same.

So Ruli inhaled, squeezed her hand gently, and reached out to her, pouring his memory in.

It was warm. The sun shone brightly, baking the traffic-worn path that made up Ziad's street. The city stretched upward, tall and sun-bleached. The off-white and tan structures were neatly arranged along the edge of the street which curved like a snake in either direction. The figure, Ruli, stood in the shadows between two of them, the air filled with the smell of spices, tart wine, and baking bread.

"Ruli!"

A girl's voice called, and Ruli's head turned to see a woman rushing down the side of the street. She was young, perhaps no older than thirteen, her bright gold hair cut short. She wore a sun dress of soft green, the sleeve of one side hanging off her gangly shoulders. She'd grow into her body one day, Ruli's thought recalled like an echo. And with hair like a crown and those beautiful, soft hazel eyes, she'd turn heads.

Lucky Zeke.

"You found him!"
Speak of the minion, Ruli's amusement raised its head as a second figure approached. He was barely older than the girl beside them, his dark black hair a wild mess atop his head, curls that refused to be tamed and grew like wild ivy. His silvery-grey eyes were bright with more than sunlight.
The girl turned her head as Zeke stopped beside her, her gentle gaze taking in the sweat that covered Zeke's brow, and she gently swiped a finger across his forehead to pull the unruly hair from his sharp face.
Even when they'd been young, Zeke was good looking, already striking as a young teen. But he only had eyes for the blonde girl beside him, and she for him.

"What are you doing out here?" Zeke asked Ruli, his voice higher in tone than what Ruli knew now. The cusp of manhood, his voice still changing.
"Dara's going to open soon." Ruli said, his voice sounding the same in his head as it did years after. He turned his gaze on the shop across the street, to the bakery that had yet to open its doors. He could smell the baked goods inside, and waited impatiently.
"You don't even like sweets." Zeke argued, furrowing his soft brow.
"He likes the baklava!" The girl argued for Ruli, she turned from the dark haired boy to the blond, her bright eyes glinting. "She had the ingredients for pistachio baklava, you know. I may have asked her to make some for you." Her voice was teasing, playful, and Ruli chuckled.

"Are you sure you're not hiding up here from her?" Zeke asked instead with a wicked grin.
"No." Ruli said too fast, his grin fading.
The blonde clicked her tongue. "Is she picking on you again?" Her thin, bony arms folded over her chest. Ruli noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Zeke eyed her chest, the subtle curves pressed against her arms hinting that her body was also changing. Zeke's stare amused Ruli all over again. "I swear, I'm going to shove her into some mud. Who does she think she is?"
"If I toss her into any more mud puddles, Envy is going to make me do laundry for the next month." Ruli's voice answered, disappointment coating it.
"Doesn't mean I can't do it." She responded, sniffing.
Ruli smiled, ever grateful for his friend. She'd taken Ruli and Zeke to her side like siblings, and even if she and Zeke had progressed to the promise of something more than that, Ruli never had a doubt that would ever stop her from being his best friend. Never stop taking his side if she decided Zeke was in the wrong.
She caught his grin and smiled back, the emotion so bright on her beautiful face. She unfolded her arms and extended her hand to him. "Come on. Just because my mom hasn't opened the bakery yet doesn't mean you need to wait out here. I'll take you in through the house, and she'll give you first pick of the baklava!"
Excitement boiling in him, Ruli grabbed her hand without hesitation as she pulled him into the warm sunlight and across the street to the bakery.

Ruli blinked, dropping the memory. Kire's hand was pressed against his palm, just as hers had been. Warm. Friendly. Ruli furrowed his brow, chest aching some as he pulled his hand free. "I'll start with a few yards. Every time you find me, I'll move further away." Was all he said before he vanished, Walking away to test how well she could track him.

Just as the memory flooded into her mind, a warm, tingling sensation emanated from her hand, radiating up to her head, filling her senses with the smell of cinammon. Just as her body registered the sebsation, however, her mind was preoccupied with the memory Ruli pushed into her. Everything about it was warm , a sharp contrast to the first time she had set foot on Ziad. It had life and light, and through this memory she could feel it within Ruli, too. That cloud that always hung over him wasn't here, as if she were looking through the eyes of a totally different man. It made it even stranger to hear his current voice through this memory, though it didn't quite surprise her that Ruli didn't like sweets.

She could see that the girl was someone dear to him. Her easy manner, her brightness, reminded her of Etta, who was just a little younger than this girl. And Zeke! Speaking of different. Kire could see the man he had been through the boy before her now in this memory, and she could see the brotherhood that bound them together.He had been happy once, and in each other's company. All of that, destroyed by Akuma and Ikegai. It made her chest ache, Ruli's sentiments seeping into her own.

However, when Ruli withdrew the memory, his hand still holding hers, another image remained in her head. Even as he pulled it away and gave her instructions before disappearing, Kire's mind saw something else: Ruli as he was now, a grown man, smiling at her, hand laced together with hers, as they stood in the streets of Ziad, about to enter an inn. Or a house? A blue house? When Kire realized she was alone, the image faded quickly. "What was that?" Kire muttered, leaning against a nearby tree, overwhelmed both by what Ruli had shown and the other, strange image that didn't to belong anywhere.

But she had a task to do. Kire shook her head, slapped her cheeks to wake herself up from the visions, and instead focused on pinpointing Ruli's location. He had chosen the memory well; it gave her a strong sense of his signature, rather than the slightly confusing aura she would feel from him, now that her mind had sorted it out. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply to calm herself, and followed the trail of his signature. It was easy enough, given that they started with a few yards, and that there weren't other strong signatures nearby. The next three times went much the same, but by the fourth she needed to concentrate harder.

"I have a question. About the Touch. Does it have any lingering effect, if you share a memory? Like, other images or some such?" Kire asked after the fourth time she found him.

It wasn't bad work. Ruli crouched beneath a tree, first, his back toward Kire, until she had to walk around it to declare she'd found him. Without a word, he rose and vanished again, keeping his eyes on her as he moved away on foot, the terrain too abnormal for him to comfortably Walk repeatedly, but enough to put distance between them she couldn't trace by footprints.

The second time, he'd been sitting in a grove in the rocks, the third, he'd climbed a tree. The fourth, he'd picked another bend in the rocks, hidden from view until she all but squeezed in to find him.
So it worked. That was good news.

"No." he said quietly. "Not unless I make it so. The mind is a tricky thing, though. If by 'other images', you're asking about something I haven't shared? No. I showed you a street across from a bakery. Your mind, after I sever the connection, may pull up your own images of a bakery. Or friends you spent time with. Your own memories. Is that what you saw?" Ruli asked, gazing steadily at her. "I didn't root around, if that is what you're trying to ask. I only shared."

He rubbed the back of his neck, finding an insect bite. Mosquito. Damn blood-suckers. "Do you think to wards and magic of the warehouse will intercept with this at all?"

Kire's brow furrowed. His answer made sense, but the vision she saw didn't feel like anything from her memory either. Might be a trick of the mind. She shook her head, frowning when he asked if she thought he had looked into her own mind. "No, it's not that, just--Hm. Yeah, probably just a few images my mind jumbled together. It's my first experience with something like this, after all." She rubbed her face, resolved to forget it. It wasn't important for their current task, anyway.

"I'm not sure. They might interfere with it, as they would have a signature of their own, like Envy's wards. I had a sense of them and you, back when we first crossed paths, but at least my mind can interpret the auras better, now that it's gotten a better sense of your magic."

Then, unable to resist, she asked, "What did Ysaryn ask you to do that you turned down?"

Her answer, likewise, made sense. Like being able to suss out the scent of a particular food in a festival laden street crowded with food vendors. It made him wonder what sort of signature he had, and what she sensed when she was trying to single his trace out. Probably mud, he thought inwardly with some amusement.

"She asked for me to make her look like you." Ruli answered. "Not, you, you. But, human." He glanced to Kire, noticing the trail of questions that swept across her face. He sighed.
"She said that, since I had hidden your face, I needed to do the same so she could join more easily. I pointed out that the whole city is going to know your face, we now know. Whether or not she looks like an elf won't make a difference." Not to mention he sort of liked Ysaryn's face the way it was. But he couldn't say that to Kire, as it would only emphasize the fact that he genuinely did not like her face.

"Although. If I made you look like her, I wonder how much power that would give you."

“Hmm. I suppose. Though, like you so gracefully tried to explain earlier, it’s hard to have freedom of movement around the city if you have an elf’s face. Not without courting some sort of trouble.” She remembered what she was told about Zeke and Ysaryn’s supply runs and why she and Ruli had to replace them for the meantime.” She thought over his other suggestion. “Well, I’m sure Ysaryn would find that entertaining,” she put in, smirking briefly. “And perhaps it might help assuage her fears about being spotted. But, I suppose, elves are their targets. It’d be more likely to see elf faces where we’re going. Maybe.”

She huffed. “So. The plan. We return to the warehouse, and—you make yourself a target? Now that they’ve been seen during the day, they’d be more cautious, I think. Ysaryn was taken during the early hours, before dawn, so they may be more active during that time. Should we try for that time? But they may also have the drugs with them, like what happened with her.” Kire rubbed her face, frowning.

"We're not strolling through town with her." Ruli pointed out, defending his decision. "We're jumping into the heart of their slave den. It won't make a difference what she looks like, they see either of you walking around, they're going to attack. It would be safer to give you Akuma's face, because then, Ysaryn would be invisible. Or would just play the part of docile doll."

He hated the sound of her name, now. Hated speaking it. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the grit of sleepiness under his lids. While he would get zero rest if he agreed, he wondered if he should oblige and make the enchantment anyway.

"If she was taken early morning, then that would be our best bet. They might be too busy to notice us. I can make my magic known easily." Ruli said, lowering his arms again. Then he sighed, thinking. "I can use the Touch magic to get in. Lower the men's awareness that I, or we, shouldn't be there. It would get us inside. From there, we could split. You and them. And me drawing attention. Once I have it, you three get to work."

Kire blinked when he explained what he meant by her face, the late hour already slowing down her mind. She had only been half-serious when she mentioned the possibility of showing her own face, but this was something else. “If you can manage it, and if Ysaryn would be willing to play ‘docile’, it would probably get us far enough in.” She looked at him, seeing the same exhaustion on his face that was probably on hers, too. “It’ll take you all night to do, though, wouldn’t it? And if we’re making our move right before dawn, that leaves us with a narrow window. Would it be as difficult as giving me this face, though? Change my hair, remove my scar, change my eyes, and you’d basically have her. Though it looks like she frowns a lot less. Besides the obvious labor that goes into the enchantment though, are you alright with doing that?”

Well, fuck.
As the idea struck her and she considered it, Ruli immediately wanted to devour the words. He'd realized too late that, if he made Kire look like Akuma, the very obvious side effect would literally be staring him in the face. Walking beside him.
The string of sweats that paraded his thoughts were much more colorful than his initial.

As she went on to ask about the time they had, or he had, rather, and if he was actually willing, Ruli stared at her and considered. No sleep wouldn't kill him. He functioned on no sleep often. But to look over and see her looking back...
Just to kill the real one.
Or the fake one, however that was technically true.

Sighing, he held out his open hand, demanding her ring. "Fill Ysaryn in. Tell her I'll make her one, too, but it may not be by tomorrow."

Kire looked at him, frowning, not convinced that he was alright with staring at his nightmare and the source of all his conflicted feeling. This is a terrible idea, Kay, she thought, looking at his outstretched hand. An ally who was unstable was just as much of a potential problem as an ally with wavering allegiance, especially in the thick of battle. She cold not only hear Janes’s scolding in her head, but Envy’s annoyed glare. “If you accidentally kill me while I’m wearing that face, I am going to haunt you for eternity,” she said, dead serious. Then again, he did say he probably wouldn’t be able to kill Akuma, but who could say what would happen in the middle of a fight? She sighed, finally handing over her ring. This wasn’t an ideal situation all around; she’d have to refrain from wearing the silver ring until they needed her to be the “imposter”, and everybody else would just have to bear with her real face for the duration. “But the sooner we accomplish this mission, the sooner I’ll finally leave, right?”

She found Ysaryn not long after she had returned to the caverns, and she told her about their proposed plan: that she would wear Akuma’s face in the hope that this would get them far enough inside without both her and Ysaryn needing to fight, at least not immediately. “Ruli will serve as a distraction, draw them to him with his magic to get him inside. He would draw most of them away, and presumably he might be taken to where the Gemini does his—experiments. You and I, and Bolym, would be led to where the captives are, and hopefully where the other targets are. Are you two willing to pretend to answer to me? I know you probably have had enough of pretending while in Cordon.”

"Please." Ruli said, his voice low. "You are clearly too stubborn to die." When she handed him the ring, her Ziadi appearance melted into her genuine one. The Amrian Chieftess with the doppelganger. He blinked at her, then turned to return to the caves when she spoke. He didn't slow down, only speaking over his shoulder. "Sure. Go punch your own trees."

Ysaryn nodded along to the plan, looking grim. Beside her, Bolym glared, the expression only deepening as Ysaryn translated for him in her lilting language. He broke into an argument. Or criticism, really, but Ysaryn didn't bother to translate. Nor did she feel the need to placate him. She let him vent his toughts, giving a nod to Kire.
"Pretending once more will not kill us." She said, still ignoring Bolym. "Do not allow fingers to be laid, or I cannot promise his pretend." Ysaryn pointed a thumb at the warrior male beside her, teeth bared and eyes narrowed.
"We should rest." Ysaaryn said, finally turning and barking the translated order at Bolym, who went quiet instantly. "You should, too." She added to Kire before she slinked away.

Ruli found Kire in the early hours of dawn, long before the sun would rise. He reeked heavily of coffee, and his eyes still heavy lidded as he handed Kire the silver band. "Don't wear it here." He said pointlessly, knowing full well she knew better, but deciding he needed to say it, anyway. "Try not to punch anything while wearing it, its flimsier. The erasing the old enchantment wore out the metal." He rubbed at his eyes. "Coffee is by the fire. Whole pot. Are the other two aware and ready?"
Almost as if summoned, the other two appeared. Each was armed, wrapped in their silent, fighting leathers. Ysaryn's hair was plaited against her head, her pointed ears tucked beneath the thick cords of her hair. Why, Ruli wasn't sure, it wasn't as if it made her look like less of an elf.
He gave her a patient grin. "The weapons may not work, if you're going to pretend to be dolls."
Ysaryn bent her chin to her chest, looking down. "Body guard?" She asked, looking to Kire.

As Kire had suspected, she had barely gotten any rest before it was time for them to move. At some point she had vaguely sensed Ruli make his way to the kitchen to make coffee while she was lying down, trying to rest. Once Ruli had slunk back to his work, Kire got up to put her own cup together. Her whole body was too excited. Anxious, yes. But she looked forward to getting her answers, and her revenge. Hopefully, before anything terrible happened at the wedding. By the time Ruli had found her, she was fully awake, wearing her armor, her sword by her side. Ikegai and Akuma would know these, but by the time those two would see her it would be too late, anyway. Preferably for them, not Kire.

“I won’t be punching,” Kire pointed out, tapping the hilt of her sword as she pocketed the silver ring, securing it. She nodded at his other question just as the two elves joined them. She gave both Ysaryn and Bolym a grim nod of acknowledgement, though she knew the latter probably wouldn’t return it. She pondered Ruli’s observation, and Ysaryn’s counter to it. “We can pass them off as bodyguards, yes. If Ikegai had used the Kartaians, it might not be too far-fetched for my doppelganger or him to be looking for similar fighters to control. I can imagine it would be hard to keep his hold on them.” It occurred to Kire then that this may be another reason behind the enslavement of the Cordon elves.

“Alright. Are we ready to go?”


**

Gavin had not slept. Wedding jitters? He let out a snort. Akuma’s voice in his mind had calmed him from his destructive, rebellious thoughts as he clutched the Gemini brooch in his hand. A mark of his birthright, Ikegai said. And so, even if he knew, because of course he did, that this gem helped him stay tethered to his current masters, he couldn’t yet muster the strength to let it go. Destroy it. Not that he could; every time he thought about it, he was flooded with painful feeling, reminded of how close he had been to getting killed back in Ziad. He still couldn’t sleep though. And he still couldn’t quite let go of the dragon knife in his other hand. Soon, he would have to attend to his other duties. He would have to go down to the warehouse.

Akuma needed blood to maintain herself. Maiden’s blood used to suffice, just barely, but after discovering elves, Gavin’s master had found it best to use theirs. More potent, he would say to Gavin, through Akuma. And perhaps, even better dolls would come of it. Every night, ever since they had come to this region and had ensnared Itallo in their grip, Gavin would stand by Akuma as she bathed in blood. The more magical potential, the better material. They had used the warehouse because of its proximity to the city and to their new resources, but ever since one of them escaped, they had to move it, which was just as well. The wedding would install Itallo’s bride as queen of Cordon—or, well, once they have their army of dolls. That would take a while, but once they had achieved that, they would have total control, and they may not even need Itallo anymore, the poor fool.

Gavin rubbed his face. These dreams, these ambitions—sometimes he couldn’t tell if they were his, too, or just another of the many worms they had put in his mind, eating away at his soul. No more. Please. No more. He stared at the knife again. He was to attend to the warehouse, see to it that there were no loose ends. Further away from the warehouse were cairns, rock formations, similarly hidden by the wards he had cast, as instructed by Akuma and Ikegai, that led to a passageway underground, to chambers near the sea used by slavers to hide their ‘wares’. But first, there was one other thing Gavin needed to do.

Itallo’s people had questioned why they were keeping the half-Kartaian around. “He is needed. His blood. His potential.” He kept repeating that bloody answer like a parrot, his mind blank as he recited it. That isn’t it, though, is it? He didn’t know why he kept him around, either, besides curiosity. He had been around the day of the escapee’s flight from imprisonment. He should sooner surrender him, have him made into another doll. Or feed his blood to Akuma. She hadn’t had much of a taste of Kartaian blood. He is needed. Why?

His mind could already feel the haze, the fog that would take over, that allowed him to perform tasks that would have made him vomit. Gavin closed his eyes before he made his way to the lord's stables. It was like sleepwalking, even though he could make replies, do his job, function. He clutched the knife. Somehow it kept the fog from totally taking over, even if it wasn't enough for him to completely defy the soothing voice of his masters. After a few deep breaths, he rode out.

Bodyguards. Ruli inhaled as he nodded. She would know better than he, he supposed, what sort of company would be around their enemy. Akuma, while in Ziad, had entertained no bodyguard, but she hadn't needed one. Not then. Not when she was the apex predator and only she knew it. Here, while still dangerous, there were many factors that would remain a threat. Caged or no.
He smothered down the portion of himself that felt the need to protect her, reminding himself that she wasn't real, she was a monster of the worst kind.

As Kire asked about their being ready, he nodded, glancing to Ysaryn. "Just Walk with me." He said, extending his hand.
The elf didn't hesitate in taking it, turning to grab Bolym's in silence. With his other, he grasped Kire, and after another deep breath they were gone.

Into the cold shore. Ruli immediately clamped his jaw as the frigid air wrapped around him. The silver lining, of course, was that the gnawing cold woke him, the burn fading from his eyes and instead filling his cheeks before he pulled his cover over them. He muttered a soft swear before he started for the warehouse.
Behind him, Bolym made repeated questions in their native tongue; why were they not fetching the tribe? Why allow this one [Ruli] to lead? They should include the tribe, this was their fight. Why follow the woman who had continuously failed? -It was then that Ysaryn silenced him with a firm command, earning an appreciative glance from Ruli. He was glad Kire didn't understand. Bolym, for the rest of the trek to the warehouse, only glared.
At least he looked more than ready for a fight.

When they were just beyond the warehouse, Ruli turned to the others, hidden behind one of the slanted shacks that had once served as a home. "Ysaryn. Bolym. Shake your shoulders. Unclench. You're loyal to Kire, who will take the appearance of Akuma. Obey her every word. It is not like being a slave, this time. You're armed. You're her protector. One step behind, flanking. Watch everything that moves, and size everyone up if you are approached and spoken to. Understand?"
They both nodded in sync, then each glanced at Kire; Bolym in barely contained ire, Ysaryn in expressionless preparation.

"They'll flank you." Ruli said, looking back to Kire. "I'll get us to the door and we'll slip inside. Move quickly in case there are men out front or just within. If there are, I'll handle them."
Bolym pointed to him, muttering some salt-soaked observation.
"I don't need a sword, and it'll be more effective if I don't have one." Ruli argued back, forgetting the language barrier, and pausing as Ysaryn translated for her companion. Bolym sneered, but said nothing more. Ruli closed his gritty eyelids and sighed before opening them. "If you feel at all like your life is threatened, get out. This is not a fight or die situation. It is a win or try again another day." Again, Ysaryn translated, her voice steady and low. "I'll drag as much attention as I can my way. I won't be able to help you much." His piercing blue gaze fell onto Kire. Her face was still her own, but the echo of Akuma's lay beneath that scar, behind those blue eyes. Slowly, he reached out for her hand, his thumb brushing over the knuckles. "I'll look for the ring." He said. "If I don't see it, be careful." And he poured in his memory again, refreshing his signature in her head.

His mouth filled with the butter-crisp flakes of the baklava, the taste of the pistachio nuts making his tongue water enough to not require the glass of milk Dara set before him. He looked up and smiled broadly, earning one in return.
"I knew you'd like that." She said sweetly, reaching out to pat his cheek from where she stood across the small, square table, the wood so worn it was shiny.
"Never known a lad who didn't like cakes and sugar." Said a deep, male voice. Ruli turned his head to spot Xavier, Dara's husband, as he squeezed into the kitchen. His face was wrinkled and weathered from years of outdoor work, his skin dark in contrast to his wife and daughters creamy complexion. "But I knew my Dara would find something you'd enjoy."
"I don't back down from a challenge, easily." Dara boasted, lifting her chin. Xavier grinned and flicked his finger beneath her jaw before swiping a kiss.
"Ew, dad! Mom!" Their blonde daughter wrinkled her nose. "Don't be gross!"
"What, like you're never going to kiss a boy?" Zeke asked, sitting beside her with a half-eaten plate of maple cake before him.
Ruli grinned. Subtle, Zeke.
Xavier, catching the hopeful tone in the young man, turned to arch an eyebrow. "No, she will not." He said firmly, and Zeke almost shrank in his chair.
"Don't worry, Zeke." Ruli whispered. "You don't count as a boy."
The sharp pain from the punch to the arm Ruli received was answered with laughter from both Ruli and Zeke's beloved, who in turn sent a punch into Zeke's arm.
"Lree!" Dara gasped, putting her hand over her full bosom. "That is not a very lady like thing to do!"
"But I'm not lady like!" Lree answered defiantly.
"You better start tryin' to be, or no man will want to marry you!"
Zeke only smiled at Lree, looking very much like he'd marry her even if she was the furthest thing from a lady imaginable. Ruli grinned at the family, his family, as he took another bite of the baklava.

He withdrew, his expression somber as the memory left him feeling empty and colder still despite the coastal breeze. Dual purposes, that memory had. To offer Kire his signature, and to remind himself of what he was fighting for. What he'd lost. What he hoped for again, sometime in the far future.
If they survived.

When Kire slipped on the ring, her scarred face morphing into that beautiful face that haunted Ruli's dreams, he stared. She looked flawless. That was the word they'd used. That was what Kire was, now.
I hate your face. I hate your face. I hate your face.

Ysaryn cleared her throat gently, and Ruli tore his eyes to look into the elf's deep fuchsia stare. She met it, and he knew she'd read his thoughts and hatred. Ruli looked down, unable to bring himself to look into Kire/Akuma's gaze again. "Don't laugh while you're wearing that face." Ruli warned, pleading, before he held out his hand again for the three of them.

There was no one outside the warehouse, which Ruli both liked and disliked. He Walked them to the door, and Bolym opened it, using his elven hearing to gauge how near danger was. Not near enough, he deduced, as he turned to wave them inside. Once the door was shut behind them, Ruli moved away, slinking through the shadows, letting the three of them work their way on their own.

The warehouse, or what Ruli decided could be considered the uppermost level, was empty. Odors of sweat and piss filled the room, a testament to the amount of bodies that had passed through here, tired, labouring, too busy for a proper toilet break. Or they were just crude men who didn't care what they pissed on. Frankly, neither would surprise Ruli.
He found the way down by following the footsteps that tracked in dirt and dust, hidden inside a small room that could have served as an office were it not filled with wooden crates meant to obscure the winding stairwell down. KNowing Kire and Ysaryn would be able to follow his scent, magical or bodily, he went down.

And down.

The stairwell was poorly made, made to fit the tunnel that had been crudely dug out. It spiraled neatly at first, then sloped to the side as the tunnel curved. The ground evened out after a time, Ruli had lost track of steps down after breaching seventy. The room he'd broken into was full of narrow, iron cages. All the doors were open, the inhabitants removed not too long ago. The stains on the soil inside, urine, blood, or who knew what else, were still fresh. Ruli's nostril's flared, and he followed the path through them all, delving deeper into the underground.

He didn't meet the first unsuspecting footman until clear on the other side. Ruli strolled past a break in the cages only to double take, realizing there was a corridor behind it. A figure moved out of it, thickly built, arms laden with a bundle of blankets. He and Ruli spotted one another, and the footman dropped the blankets with a heavy thud, and the gasp that sounded from within told Ruli there was someone in them.
Without hesitation, Ruli flew at him. The footman went for the blade sheathed at his hip, but Ruli grabbed his face. Sit down. Don't move. You don't remember seeing anyone. He forced the order into the man's mind, feeling the subtle shudder as his conscious fought it before the man went slack and sat himself down. Ruli made sure he listened, ensuring his magic took hold, before he crouched down to pull at the blankets.

Coiled within was a semi-conscious elven female, her dark ebony hair cut at her collarbone. Her throat and forearms, which were held around her face, were covered in tiny pinpricks similar to Ysaryn's. Drugged. Ruli uncovered her face enough to pull at her eyelid, peering at the brilliantly golden irises, the pupils dilated.
Definitely drugged.

He hefted her to the side of the corridor, tucking her against the wall so she wouldn't be trodden on, and he kept going, further underground.

Kire was silent as they prepared to enter the warehouse. Ruli was taking the lead for now, and she let him instruct their companions, especially Bolym, who would perhaps be more likely to take instruction from somebody who wasn’t her. She didn’t need to understand his words to interpret the acidic glares he threw her way. She was glad Ruli told their companions not to fight their way to the death; she was going to say as much to all of them, anyway, though in her case, it was mostly applicable to just everybody else. When Ruli offered his hand, Kire took it, nodding at his reminder and anticipating the push of memory into her mind.

Happiness flooded into her once again, a continuation of the childhood scene she had witness last night, even smelling the aromas of a bakery, tasting the dish Ruli was eating. She would have enjoyed the experience—she hadn’t tasted anything like that before—if not for their present circumstances. Afterwards, just like last night, her confused mind lingered on a different, unintentional jumble of images: she and Ruli, laughing together around a table, with Dara sitting with them, her sweets in front of Kire. The mind is a strange thing, Kire thought, turning to Ruli, blinking the traces of false memory away.

She glared at the silver ring, knowing what it would transform her into, as she slipped it on. She knew it worked, because she could see the look on Ruli’s face. Kire almost smirked back in defiance. His handiwork was too good. She didn’t need to be told not to show any kind of real mirth, or any outburst of emotion, while wearing Akuma’s face. That otherworldly calm still had to be stolen and twisted from somewhere, too; Kire had known to put on a false face before, as Empress. She hated to admit it, but when the situation requires her royal façade, it would be like putting on a glove.

The smell inside the warehouse, though absent of the reek of burning bodies, was no less pleasant. Kire followed Ruli down the hidden stairwell, noting with disgust how a city that already had a system in place for slavers would be perfect for Ikegai’s intentions. When, finally, they had left the long stairwell, she braced herself for what she would find. Empty cages, the smells of inhumane captivity. Save your anger for later. Kire kept going, looking out for danger ahead even as she kept track of Ruli’s signature. Ahead of them, Ruli seemed to have spotted another way right before running into some trouble. Kire stopped, kept her hand on the sword, in case Ruli couldn’t handle this, ready to step in. But the confrontation lasted only a moment, with Kire feeling the flare of his Touch, which he must have used to end the fight before it had even begun. After he had stopped, Ruli had gone on to the other passage. So far so good.

Kire went over to inspect Ruli’s handiwork. The man was practically catatonic while sitting down, and not far from him was an elf woman, most likely drugged. “Can you take her to safety as fast as possible?” she asked Ysaryn. “We’ll stay here.” As Ysaryn Shadow-Walked out with the barely-conscious elf, Kire looked at the man Ruli had Touched and wondered how long the effects would last. She wondered, too, if this was one of the two men she had seen before, or if he was taking her “upstairs” to do the same thing as they had. She almost dared the fates to let him wake up so she could end him.

Once Ysaryn had returned, and trusting that Ruli would hold his own until their paths converged again, Kire directed her companions down the current path. On the other side, more empty cages. Where were the men? After a while of going through them, the current room opened up to other crudely dug out caverns. She could see the faint flickering of torchlight in the distance. The stink of Gemini magic was faint, but nevertheless present. Instinctively, Kire touched her nose; in the presence of a strong ward cast by a full-fledged blood mage, the side effect for this for a Wyvern like her would be a nosebleed—followed by whatever booby trap the blood mage had waiting for her. No blood.

She could hear the sounds of men laboring, the echoes coming from the corridor opposite them, perhaps carrying more contraband for transport. Kire made her way towards it, doing her best to look calm, emotionless, in case some other passageway opened up and they encounter more men. Just as she was about to inspect the corridor, Kire stopped, then turned her head sharply to the left. The Gemini, Kire mouthed. He was somewhere in another chamber, and from his current trajectory she knew he was heading for where Ruli was. Fuck! Ruli’s signature remained steady, so for now he was still alright, though most likely he had drawn the muscle to him. And they had barely gotten what they needed.

With a quiet curse, she proceeded down towards the corridor— and found herself looking down what looked like a shallow, circular arena. There were remains of a rune circle, signs of a ritual. Tables—stained, dirty, with bloody rags on them. Ahead of them, the sounds of weeping, weak cries. An older man—the one she had seen with the half-Kartaian—entered the chamber from which those cries had come and barked at them, before turning to give orders to speed up their work. Men holding soaked rags in gloved hands, others with syringes, went ahead to carry out his orders. Kire hissed softly between her teeth, then stepped out from her vantage point, walking calmly towards them, letting go of the sword hilt. She trusted that Ysaryn and Bolym behind her would heed Ruli’s instructions and follow her lead.

At once, Itallo’s men swarmed them, though upon looking at her face, they kept a healthy distance, wary and confused. “M-milady?” The older man almost tripped over himself as he headed towards her. “Milady…Akuma?”
“Am I not allowed to visit before my wedding?” Kire asked, smiling.
“Er—well—milady, we had thought the Lord Itallo had given orders for the, ah, chosen chattel to be moved to the lord’s mansion grounds. We are in the middle of this, milady, while the others are to be disposed.” The man’s eyes darted to her armor, sword, and then to her armed companions. “Are these--?”

“Security,” Kire replied with a wave of a hand. “Elves have more than one use, it seems. These were hard to procure as they are, so I would rather they not be harmed by your men, unless you want them harmed back.”
“Yes, milady.” She could tell he was still uncertain. “I—suppose now you would like to inspect them?”
Kire gave him a look that told him it had been a foolish question. The man nodded quickly and led them inside.

There were a few elf women, some in cages, others outside, but drugged and bound. “Most of the ones Gavin had found suitable, the ones we haven’t disposed, are already on the way to the lord’s mines. These, I am told, are more suitable for you. Are—are they to your liking, milady?”
Kire could imagine what that meant. A doll still needs sustenance after all. “They will suffice. Worth every coin? We shall see.” It didn’t sound like these people knew who Ikegai was, but this Gemini really was the key to finding him. She bent over one of the drugged elves, holding her by the jaw, turning her head one way and then the other as if looking at the woman’s features. “Unlock the cages, I wish to have a better look at your wares.” Kire didn’t really expect them all to obey this; indeed, even the older man she was talking to was hesitant to echo the order. And the men have begun to eye them more closely, going nearer now. But at least could see which of them carried keys, and for those keys that were missing, Kire had more direct ways of opening them, anyway.

A man ran in just then, alarm in his voice. “Someone got in! Found the blasted warehouse entrance,” he said in between curses; a couple of the men ran towards the direction he had indicated. “Search the other corridors and see if he’s got friends. Come—” The man stopped, seeing Kire and her two ‘bodyguards’. The older man Kire was talking to turned to her, shock in his face, suspicion dawning on his face.
Kire grabbed him by his collar, lifted him, and slammed him down onto the ground. The remaining men rushed at them then, but Kire was already lunging at them. The chamber made it hard for them to take advantage of numbers. Kire slashed at her first two opponents, who had gone down easily. Her Ring flashed blue as she beheaded another, then used his knife to throw at the henchman behind him. They may have the numbers, but they were common thugs, and Kire had a lot of rage to spare on fodder today.

--

When Gavin had arrived at the underground caverns earlier, he had asked that the half-elf man be brought to him. Gavin wasn’t particularly tall, and standing in front of this half-breed made him even smaller. “What do they call him again?” he had asked one of Itallo’s men.
“Rab.”
“Leave us.”
He knew some of these men wondered why some green boy like him was throwing orders around, but others would quickly remind them that he directly answered to Itallo, and that his strange magic, whatever it was, was keeping them secret from prying eyes. The fear that surrounded his presence, helped by the fear of Akuma, Itallo, and whatever horrid fate lay in wait for them, would keep them in check. This, at least, Gavin was thankful for. No more Briars to beat him within an inch of his life. Besides—Akuma never needed to lay a finger on him, not since the day they had ensnared him. Gavin gripped the hunting knife hard as he stared up at Rab.

“Were you the one guarding the passage the day that elf woman got away?” Gavin read his expression and gave only a nod of understanding. “Whether or not it was you, it is really suspicious, you know. People around here, I bet they’d jump at the chance to accuse you of something. They’ve also told me that you were stationed at the warehouse yesterday when something unusual had happened. Soon, they will distrust you completely.” Get it all out, before you lose your nerve. He gripped the hunting knife so hard he thought the dragon etching would dig into his skin. His other hand itched to touch the Gemini brooch, and it took all he could to resist this impulse. “When that happens again, when—when something—someone unusual comes again, you come to me. Nobody else.” He paused, searching Rab’s face for any resistance to the idea. “There will be a reward for you, if you do this.”

Now, that time had come. They're here.

Ruli kept moving, jogging through the man-made tunnel system beneath the slums, the paths winding and curving. He came across another footman, his back turned as he bent over the crate he was nailing shut. He didn't see the dark-skinned man appear, barely turned when ht felt Ruli grab him. He'd be hammering for the next hour, the same nail, unable to thinking about anything else but how that nail just didn't look secure enough. Unable to help the alerting shouts of his fellow work men as they were infiltrated.

Further he went, coming across a group of men, all piling crates onto thin, hand-pushed wagons. He flew at them, taking advantage of their egos as they saw his empty hands. They drew their blades, Ruli's skin burning from the few pricks and cuts he had to accept to break into their guard. A quick grasp of the wrist, a push to the face, and they knelt, their eyes on their knees, unable to shout.
One got away, Ruli noted. Good. Let him spread word, draw their numbers towards him.

So there was another way out, somewhere. They couldn't get those wagons up those stairs. Ysaryn's recounting had mentioned that her tribe had never seen boats leave the slums. But what if they were emerging further south along the shore? Or through Itallo's mines?
"You." Ruli said as he heard voices call further away. The alarm was being raised. He tapped the nearest man on the top of the head. "Where are all the slaves?" Answer me.

"To the Lord's manor, mostly." His emotionless voice answered as the footman raised his head to gaze at Ruli. "The good ones are being sent along, the rest are disposed of."
Anger swelled through Ruli at the words. Pointless deaths. Hundreds taken. For what?
As the shouts grew louder, Ruli moved away, slipping through the chamber and into the next corridor, the path wider here to allow space for two wagons side-by side.

---

Ysaryn nodded grimly, taking the elf out of the underground and to the entrance foyer of her tribes den. Her appearance was unexpected and welcomed with gasps. A few of the nearest soldiers pushed their way toward her as she handed over the female wrapped in her blanket. "Help her. She's been drugged, just as I was. Bolym and I are likely to bring more. make room."

And in a blink, she was standing in front of Kire again, Bolym steady just beyond the woman's shoulder. It was difficult to look at Kire in this guise. While Ysaryn had never met Akuma, and only heard tales, her very appearance was unnerving. The glint of the red eyes, even to the elf, was unnatural. And not just because it was an enchantment.
Ysaryn wondered how often Ruli had gazed into the real Akuma's eyes to be able to replicate them that accurately.

With a nod, they were off again, Bolym and Ysaryn falling into measured steps behind Kire, their eyes shifting and alert, their ears straining. Bolym, hearing the shouts in the distance that they both knew meant Ruli had been noticed, glanced at Ysaryn in silent dislike. Ysarn only gave a shake of her head. They had orders. They needed to follow them. Leaving Kire to aid Ruli would jeopardize the whole thing.

And, seeing the arena and feeling her knees go weak, this was where they were needed. Even Bolym inhaled silently, angrily. They could hear the cries, a few of the females spoke in their native tongue, praying to Gods and uttering things that made Ysaryn's heart twinge sharply. How long had they been here? What had been done to them? What was still being done?
It was Bolym's turn to catch her eye and remind her of their assignments. As Kire strolled forward casually, each of them lowered their chins. Though their eyes searched hungrily, warily, their expressions held nothing. Blind obedience. Even as the men surveyed them in question, they didn't react. Didn't move. Not even when the older man, the one Ysaryn knew from memory, looked her way suspiciously.
They weren't convinced. Beside her, on Kire's opposite side, she knew Bolym sensed it, too.
Ysaryn glanced to the back of Kire's head, wondering if she did, as well.

They moved forward, into the next chamber. Ysaryn could have sworn Bolym stopped breathing. Or was that her? Ysaryn made herself flex her fingers, flare her nostrils, fill her lungs, just to make sure her body still responded after the shock of this. Of them. She swallowed, eyes moving from elf to elf, having trouble ensuring her expression didn't change and give away anything. Look scared. Ysarn told herself. Don't look angry. Look like you're lucky you escaped this.

Their voices, though. The few who could speak were praying, begging. One recognized Ysaryn, and she the elf, and their eyes met. One straining to be blank, empty, the other almost naturally so. Ysaryn knew she was giving up hope. This elf, many of them, did not expect to survive.

The male voice that rang out sent both hers and Bolym's hands to the hilts at their sides, but they barely turned, their eyes surveying once before returning to Kire. She flew into action, answering Ysaryn's unasked question on if she sensed their suspicion. If she didn't before, she did now. With the sing of metal as their swords left their sheathes, Ysaryn and Bolym flew into action, turning to keep their backs toward Kire as they unleashed their pent up fury.

---

Rab merely blinked slowly at Gavin as he implied that his behavior had been suspicious as of late. There was no proof. The incident yesterday had been shit luck. Rab hadn't known what to do against a man that could move like that. Impossible. Fatal. He had known better. Even if death would be better than this. Better than what he was ordered to do on threat of torture.
But yes, he'd let the one elf go. The one with eyes not too far from his. Hair not too different from his shade. Dozens of elves had been hurt and brutalized here, but for some reason, some push from Gods he had long since given up on praying to, he felt the need to help this one. Wolf smile. That had been what the strange disappearing man had said. Rab could recall the grin on the elf female, and while he had no idea what a wolf was, he had been captured by that smile.

So many of the women here, they were broken. Giving up. But her smile, the way she bared her teeth. Rab knew she'd fight if given the chance.
And as he bound her to that table that night, making sure her bindings were just loose enough for her to pull free if she yanked hard enough, he hoped that she would take that chance.

She had.

Rab missed seeing that grin. Wolf smile.

And the Gemini boy was correct. Soon, people would look his way. He'd let the female slip away, but now heads pointed to him. Another slip up, and he'd be tortured again. He didn't like the thought of that. And when, minutes before, Rab had begun to hear shouts, and swords being unsheathed, he knew the disappearing man had returned.
Followed by this conversation. The Gemini knew something was happening. This was a test.
Don't fail it.

Rab opened his mouth and grunted softly, pointing down the corridor, through which, after a turn and a slope, they'd find Ruli fighting, the sound reaching them seconds later. Convenient, as it made it seem Rab had only heard it seconds before.

---

More of them.

Ruli spun again, hissing that he was unarmed, his hands raised. They made the mistake of reaching for him, his bloody arms. He pushed his commands through their rough touch, and was surrounded by men kneeling, their swords pressed into the dirt between their knees. How many were there?

His arms had been pricked and slashed enough times that his long sleeves were torn and soaked, but not enough that it slowed him down. Adrenalin and determination. Maybe a little bit of his ego. He knew he outmatched them. Even when a dozen more came rushing in, Ruli didn't blink. He took a step, vanishing for a second before he emerged, awashed in their alarmed cries, behind a group of them. He grabbed two by their necks and shoved them together, knocking their skulls against one another. On the ground for an hour. He ordered in the seconds he had his hand against their flesh. Then he vanished again as the others turned and swung their blades.

When he reappeared, more had joined. Ruli let out a colourful swear and yanked a sword out of one of their hands before he was gone, appearing anew before the exit. He needed to get them out of here, bottleneck them so he could more easily manipulate them. Ruli threw the sword, though it was deflected seconds before it would have sunk into a torso, the blade wobbling midair before clattering at their feet.
"Come get me, assholes." Ruli taunted, raising his arms.

More coming. With the three of them, it was easy to deal with the men who had remained within this chamber, but Kire knew reinforcements were on the way. Just as she had anticipated, more men with blades came. Kire met them head-on. The first man to cross blades with her only stared in surprise as Kire, with the force of her dragon-strength, knocked his sword out of his hands before giving him an almighty blow, sending him crumpling to the ground. The others didn’t fare any better. One of them managed to get a slash in while Kire was preoccupied with two others, an attack she barely dodged. She felt the man’s weapon graze her cuirass, and in anger at having missed him, she turned and hacked off his limb right before finishing him off.

After she had dealt with the last immediate threat, Kire took the keys to the cages from him and unlocked the nearest ones. She found the body of the other slaver who had another set and tossed that to Ysaryn. Need to buy time. Kire headed for the empty cages and pushed them up against one entrance from where the reinforcements had come earlier.There has to be another entrance here. The warehouse must have been for exits and disposals. She heard a gurgle and a cough; the older man, the one she had spoken to, was struggling despite his broken body to move. Kire bent over him, pressed a hand against his mangled chest. “Where’s the other entrance?” She pressed harder, making the man cry weakly in pain. “Quickly.” The man lifted a trembling, feeble hand back out at the arena, towards another passage that led out of it, from where some of the men they had killed today came. “Will that take us to the mines? Or Itallo’s manor?” The man merely barked out a bloody laugh. Kire’s lip curled in distaste as she stood up, glancing at her two companions. “He’s all yours,” she said, turning away to count how many captives they were dealing with.

“Ysaryn, how many can you take to safety, how many times without exhausting yourself?” she asked while, as quickly as she could, she went among the women who were bound and tore their bindings loose. There were about a dozen that were outside the cages, the ones on the floor. Another dozen from the cages; they, at least, seemed like they could stand on their feet. As much as Kire wanted to help, she needed to reserve her dragon-strength, saving the portals for when things go dire for them. “Take the ones too drugged to move. The rest we’ll take with us down that way. Can you tell them to hold onto weapons?” she asked, gesturing to the men they had slaughtered.

While Ysaryn Shadow-walked as much of the captives as she could, Kire guarded the entrance, partly barricaded with cages. Like an annoying itch, she could still feel the Gemini here, somewhere, and along that, Ruli’s signature. Don’t die, you stubborn fool, or Envy won’t forgive me. More came their way, but hindered by the cages, Kire and Bolym would be able to pick them off. With captives, however, she knew the going would be slow, though she also hoped they all had the same fire as Ysaryn, now that they were being led to escape. The moment Ysaryn returned, Kire took a deep breath. Here we go.

Kire pushed over one of the cages, her Ring glinting, and it landed on some footmen that had been trying to shove their way in. She leapt at the next men, taking them down as fast as she could go, knowing they needed to protect more people now. Not fully trusting the dead man’s instructions, Kire ran ahead to scout. The path sloped upward; up ahead she could see the faint light of day, smell the sea—and hear slavers with wagons and horses. Faint traces of Gemini spellwork, too. She could see just enough of what lay beyond the entrance to have an idea what the surroundings might look like. There looked to be a path facing the sea and shielded by rock formations that would have made the way invisible to casual observers from the surface.

“Anyone there?” called one voice. Likely a ruse; Kire suspected these were slavers remained behind to wait by the entrance to slaughter those who came through.
She stepped backward, gestured behind her for the procession to stop. “I’ll draw them away. When you hear fighting, that’s your sign,” she whispered, before disappearing in a blue flash.
She reappeared in front of the entrance surrounded by men. As she had thought, they were waiting in the entrance. Kire didn’t linger long. She disappeared again, but when she appeared, the men would have had a dead body or two of their comrades thrown their way. Kire took advantage of their surprise to mow them down. Three portals down. She would have to wait to use the next one.

--

Gavin didn’t need to be a sorcerer of any sort to know where the trouble was. The whole cavern had erupted in fighting, which told him there was more than one. And the hunter is with them. He felt this in his marrow. Trusting Rab, Gavin followed him, and entered the scene to witness something extraordinary. Gavin didn’t know who this blonde man was, but he clearly was very skilled, with magic of his own. The brutes, for whom Gavin didn’t have any particular sympathy for, crumpled at a touch. It’s almost like them. Like her. But not like her; this one could disappear in a blink. Didn’t Ikegai say the hunter could do that? Was this the man behind the strange “visit” to the warehouse? Powerful magic. A powerful ally. But, more importantly, Gavin noticed he hadn’t killed these men yet. “We need him,” Gavin whispered, handing Rab a leather pouch. Needles. “Do that, and you’ll be free. He will help us be free.” He hoped the word was enough to motivate Rab.

There were more men coming. Gavin urged them forward. Good; as good as this man is, he was alone, and Gavin hoped the fight would distract him enough to get knocked out.

Ysaryn bared her teeth as the men as they went for her. They underestimated her. Her people. With so many in cages, helpless, bound, raped, sold, broken, they underestimated all of them. They were going to pay dearly for that. They were paying dearly for it. Within minutes, so many men lay lifeless on the ground, the air filled with the metallic scent of their useless blood. Kire took down twice as many in a mixture of anger and unnatural brute strength. Bolym, finally able to let loose and spill blood, was getting his fill. Ysaryn, too, was letting go, losing herself in the mesmerizing dance of death.

When she heard Kire speak her name, Ysaryn twitched her head slightly to the side to announce she was listening. "I haven't tested that yet, but I will go until I can no longer."
Fuck, wrong language.
Ysaryn looked toward Kire swiftly. "We will see." She said, retreating from where she'd been standing her ground. Bolym shifted, closing in, as Ysaryn hopped over body after body.
"We are getting you out. If you can fight, we'll need you to. Fight back. Take blood. If you can hold a weapon and stand on your own, you're with her. Follow her lead." She shouted, a few of the elf females looking her way. "Those of you who cannot stand and fight, don't worry, I'm taking you home."

She had never been so proud to see so many angry eyes as she bent to scoop up the first of the immobile elves. They wanted to stand and fight. That they were being carried and delivered home, deemed too useless, was an insult. Ysaryn grinned kindly at the first, a female a few years her senior with soft brown-gold hair and deep black eyes. "Recover. Then we'll put a blade in your hand. We will shed blood for you."

The first half a dozen were easy. Ysaryn took one at first, then tried two, and found it pulling at her limbs, and dared no more than that at once. She delivered them just inside the den, where more of her people were waiting with open arms and medicine, before she vanished again. By the tenth and eleventh, she was groggy, her body slower, and pushed herself to take the last one, a female she knew and had fought with before. Bruising was healing across her face and throat. Ysaryn's blood boiled even as she smiled. "I bet whoever was on the other end of that fight looks ten times worse."
The female only smiled back before behind handed away to her awaiting kinsman.

When she returned to the warehouse underground, Ysaryn swayed. Instantly, there was a hand on her elbow, and Ysaryn was glad she saw it was Bolym before she'd found the energy to strike him. "Cover. I need a breath."
He nodded, putting his back to her and fighting on. Ysaryn breathed deeply, her limbs heavy, but functioning. She glanced up when Kire called out, though the elf didn't know why. Why would anyone answer? Humans.
Their new instructions were given, and the two of them nodded in sync with one another. Bolym did not insult Ysaryn with a questioning glance, and for that, she was grateful.

They moved in one fluid motion; years of fighting beside one another visible in how they balanced one another out. They rushed down the passageway, toward the sound of swords meeting flesh, to continue their hunt for blood.

---

So, it was him. Rab's eyes followed the disappearing man through the chamber as he did just that, moving so fluidly it was like he was less human and more God. Rab's head tilted, trying to remember all he'd said about sharing blood, and Rab looked down at himself in a swift glance. No, that could hardly be it. But he had said something about sharing sires, right? Can I move like that?

The Gemini's voice rattled him, and Rab turned his head, listening. Need, Gavin said. Need, in order to be free. He had to obey, to earn his freedom. He'd never really been sure what he would do with freedom, but he was hardly going to learn if he was forever tethered to this underground hell.

Rab didn't hesitate.

He stepped to the side, pulling from his pocket a small, hollow wooden tube. Opening the pouch yielded needles, filled with a concoction that Rab had seen fell numerous targets with ease. He settled one just inside the lip of the tube, and poised it against his lips, taking aim.

Across the room, Ruli had only vaguely become aware of the two new figures, their movements more observant than the others. They didn't leap into the fray, didn't shout demands, so Ruli paid them no mind. The growing army of armed men before him seemed far more pressing. Ten. Fifteen. At least thirty swarmed against the opening into the tunnel, Ruli's feet slowly retreating back into it.
Lure them in. Get them tight together. Then Walk behind them and stri─
He blinked, feeling the prick of something bite into his neck. Quickly as he could, Ruli reached up and yanked it from his flesh, feeling the skin tear against the hook near the end. His vision swam slightly as he looked from the needle to who had cast it. The half-breed.
It was his only thought before the men grabbed him. Somewhere, someone shouted, but the words jumbled together as Ruli's vision continued to blur, and the chamber ahead began to spin, spiraling. Drugged. Shit.
Their hands dragged him down. Ruli barely felt the blade that sunk into his arm. Became vaguely aware that his back had hit the ground. The weight of so many atop him, hands clawing. It was like they were scratching at him through water. Everything moved so slowly.
Get out. Ruli heard a voice say. His voice? Maybe. Or was it Zeke's? Was Zeke here? What he who was shouting?

Inhaling, Ruli twisted as best he can, sinking himself into the empty shadows. The men who had been grabbing at him shrieked in shock and agony, their arms severed in a mess of blood, their newly exposed flesh black and cracking. They retreated, their screams echoing, as Ruli resurfaced not too far from where Rab stood.
"You." He spat at the half-breed, who looked far too surprised that Ruli still stood. He looked toward Gavin, uncertain, and Ruli's gaze followed. "And the Gemini." He grinned, his teeth bloody from some now-armless fool's last punch. Those piercing green eyes, and yet, not as much emptiness as Ruli had expected up close. What was that, deep in his eyes, like the rest of him was trying to snuff it out?

Another prick, and Ruli turned to look back to the half-Kartaian. He held the wooden tube to his lips again, eyes on Ruli with a nervous hope. Ruli's vision darkened at the edges. He wasn't even sure that he reached up and pulled the second needle out. He couldn't feel his arms. His legs. Maybe he'd fallen to his knees. Maybe that was why the Gemini suddenly seemed so tall. "She'll kill everyone." Ruli said, his voice barely audible, before the blackness swallowed his vision and he felt nothing else.

Rab exhaled as the disappearing man crumpled onto the ground. The men were holding ground, giving enough space, though their willingness to obey the Gemini's orders were withering as they leered at the blond on the ground. He bled here and there, and while the one gash on his arm bled heavily, none of his injuries looked fatal. Rab tightened the string on the pouch again, offering it back to Gavin before he bent to lift the man onto his shoulders.

They were gaining ground. Kire used one dead slaver as a shield and struck down more. Not far from her, she could see Ysaryn and Bolym unleash their bloodlust on their adversaries. The freed elves, the blades of their captors in their shaky hands, matched their resolve, if not their strength. She could hear the distressed roars of horses hitched to the slave wagons on top of the cries and yells of agony. Just as she was about to join the elves, she saw another henchman climbing the top of a wagon, about to take aim with a dart. “Ysaryn!” Kire yelled, pointing to him, just as she felt Ruli’s aura flicker and fade. No. Kire was seized with a great fear that he had been struck down, until she realized it had merely flickered. It was still there, but faint. The moment’s distraction allowed one footman to slash at her head. Kire ducked only just in time, the man’s blade grazing the side of her head. With an angry cry, Kire answered it with a slash at her opponent, the force enough to leave a deep gash across the man’s middle, almost slicing him in half the way she had the Kartaian in Ziad.

Her head throbbed, but when she straightened up she saw many of the slavers lying dead around her. Ahead of them, the elves had gained possession of the wagons and horses. Kire took deep breaths as she pressed a hand to her head, jogging over to the nearest wagon, her Ring glowing a faint blue as she focused its energy to heal it, only enough for it not to inconvenience her too much in battle. She would be lightheaded for a few minutes, and it wouldn’t be completely healed, but she’d rather not be bleeding and distracted with pain in case there was a bigger fight later. She peered at the vehicles around them. Some were fitted with cages the one she looked into now was loaded with crates. When she pulled the lid off one of them, she saw, nestled within the hay that lined the box, glass bottles filled with dark red liquid. She didn’t need to remove the stopper to figure out what these were, and given the older slaver’s remark earlier, she also knew what purpose they had for Akuma.

“Are you two alright?” she asked Ysaryn and Bolym, surveying the freed elves to see how they were. “We can take the wagons and horses, though we’ll need to unload this one first.” She turned, already working on discarding the crates. “The Gemini has him,” she told the other two. “This way would lead to where the slavers have taken the others, but that would mean more trouble. We’ll probably also see the way out along the way. I can help see you to it, and then I’ll go follow Ruli.” She glanced around as they spoke, on guard for any more reinforcements. “They are your people. Do you want to lead them to safety now, or will you follow me to Itallo’s manor?” Better make sure they can’t follow us this way, she thought, looking at the entrance. “Let’s block this path off first.”

--

Gods. This man was like an ox. For a moment, Gavin thought that would be the end of him when the blonde man disappeared and reappeared, even after taking a potent needle to the neck. What kind of demon is this man? And yet, why did Gavin’s heart beat so fast in his chest in excitement? Rab had loosed another dose upon the enemy, and Gavin watched the maniac sink, finally, succumbing to the drug. She’ll kill everyone, he said. “I know,” Gavin muttered. Which is why I need you. Akuma was stockpiling as much blood as she could before the wedding. It was a test, to see if Ikegai, through her, could cast a glamour upon a whole city. It was one thing to charm individuals, or even groups. The next step would be this. Of course Gavin had contemplated fighting back, but the urge hadn’t presented itself as strongly as it did now, when everything seemed to come together: the coming of the hunter, Rab, and now this man. That flicker of himself that still fought against the mental hold on him latched onto this one fortuitous moment, because otherwise, Gavin knew his fate was sealed, that he wouldn’t get the resolve again, and he would keep staining his hands with the blood of innocents.

“The chattel are gone! They’ve sealed off the way to the wagons!” shouted a man, breathless as he joined them. “Elves, and some—some monster—er, woman—”
Gavin narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
The man paled, realizing what he was about to say. “S-she looked like the Lady Akuma.”
Gavin’s eyes widened. His suspicions were right. “Go back up to the warehouse entrance. Send word to the lord—”
“Already sent runners back up there, Gavin.”
Blast it. “Good. Some of you, go join them. The others, work on unblocking the exit.” The men all looked wary in their presence already, though this messenger was similarly haunted by what he might have witnessed. They obeyed his word, all too glad to put distance between themselves and their adversary, never mind that he was still out cold. Monster was right, if this was indeed a twisted version of an already twisted woman. “Come on, Rab.”
“Do you need us to watch this one?” one of the last men to exit the cavern asked, gesturing at the unconscious man.
“No, Rab could handle it.”
The man looked uncertainly at the half-elf, not just because he mistrusted the creature, but after seeing this stranger fight he knew how formidable he would be when awake. Gavin stepped closer, whispering. “We’re going to drain his blood, take some of his organs and anoint the caverns with it to strengthen the wards. It’s a delicate procedure, and things might go wrong when my concentration breaks.” He looked up seriously at the man, who might have lost the rest of the color on his face then and there.
“Fine. If he kills you, don’t blame me.” Despite his bravado, the man ran out the room in a hurry.

The Gemini had his own ways around the tunnels. He led Rab the way he went in earlier, through the hidden entrance only a few knew about. Once he, Rab, and the unconscious blonde were alone down this path, he broke into a faster pace. “Hurry,” he hissed at the half-elf. It was eerily quiet, his heart pounding in his ears and against his chest so painfully he thought he would burst with every breath. What are you doing, Gavin?a sweet voice in his head, the one that told him to obey without question, to obey in exchange for the possibility of finally seeing where his real world was, making him halt abruptly, as if someone had yanked him bodily back.

Gavin crouched, head in his hands, his whole body shaking. He couldn’t remove the pendant now, even if he had his full resolve, because he knew they would know. She would know. Your mother wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger, wouldn’t she? crooned Akuma’s voice. Gavin, you are a Gemini. Are you really going to help a hunter sent by the Wyverns? The sworn enemy of your blood?
“I…I….” He sounded like a boy, then, a bleating orphan. Gavin, still clutching his head with one hand, drew the dragon-knife with the other, and with a shaky hand drew it across his palm. He stifled a cry of pain, but he pressed his wounded hand into a fist, focusing on the pain, his breath hissing with each shaky inhale. “C-c’mon, Rab,” he muttered, and he picked up the pace again. In this silence, it felt like forever, but Gavin dared not stop, afraid of losing precious time, and afraid that he might lose his nerve and turn back. Finally, he came to a bend in the path which would take him to where he had left his horse earlier. “Set him down, Rab, I want to rouse him.”

He wasn’t sure how strong the two doses would be, or how long they would affect the man. But Gavin bent over him, slapping his face several times. Still out cold. Gavin unfolded the pouch once more, selecting a different needle this time. Carefully, he pricked the blond only very briefly. The drug would wear off a little, enough for him to vaguely comprehend what was happening around him but would still be potent enough to keep the stranger from moving. He lifted the eyelids, inspecting, before slapping his cheeks again.

“I will drug you again. Keep you behaved. And I will present you to Akuma as a gift before the wedding begins. Before that though, I will give you an antidote. It’ll make you awake enough to be able to act. And—end her. I can’t do it; she would be protected, and her—her glamour would be too strong when I’m that close. But you can, and you could even get away after you do it. Do that, and I will lead you and the hunter friend of yours to our master. If the hunter is still alive by then. Blink twice if you understand what I just told you.”