---

Idiot. The Grand Inquisitor evidently tolerated something he shouldn't, because this guy's gloating was just going to get them both killed at this rate. Selling Lyra out to save his own skin was nothing compared to the stain Quinn had already inflicted on his family, and it wasn't like this guy was the type to play it safe; Count Astorio was eyeing them both like a choice cut of meat even before the inquisitor went and pissed him off.

So now Quinn was soundly back in the rebels' camp. Not that it mattered because one of these people was going to kill him and he'll go down as a cautionary tale for his nephews and grand-nephews about what happens when one doesn't do as they're told. The rebels would probably lament his heroic sacrifice or some other disingenuous garbage. Not even the mercy of a death unmourned and unremembered would be granted to him. Quinn dared to take his eyes off the vampires long enough to shoot a resentful glare down at the blue-haired prisoner. Didn't look like something worth dying for.

Whatever self-pity he could wallow in was cut short as Lyra dashed forward recklessly. The violet-haired boy wasn't sure if he should shove her back or stand dutifully still like the inquisitor had wanted. At least the vampire would've put him down clean. Despite how badly he wanted to meet his end with dignity, Quinn winced as she neared, clenching his eyes shut and tearing his gaze away. She screamed some incantation and suddenly the crackling of lightning near his ear erupted into the explosive death throes of unstable magic. Something shoved him, and he simply reacted on instinct. The earth's tug on his body shifted, and Quinn flung himself along a random vector as he flailed an arm at the limb that had restrained him, aiming to bat Hasgad away before he could grab something else. He smacked unceremoniously into the floor, probably a wall in reality, a cough escaping him as the impact knocked the air from his chest.

His eyes blinked open as a wave of heat reached him from afar, finding himself now gazing up (sideways) at the conflagration of the two grappling mages. Waves of pain throbbed across his back and side as surely as the searing lashes of an unmade spell still stung in jagged lines across half his face. The temptation to simply lay there and catch his breath was strong, but he had enough lucidity to realize he was essentially strung up on the wall like a giant target at the moment, and he promptly dropped back to the actual floor as gravity corrected itself, collapsing first to his knees and then to his hands.

"Ba- back up... you idiot," he wheezed, probably nigh-inaudible over the roaring flames. She had no reactionary gap. If he warded her attack, there wouldn't be time for Lyra to avoid the next bolt. Was she just gambling that she was too valuable to kill? That'd be worse; she'd be the new hostage and they'd have to play the same game over again.

---

Roan’s chest burned, the gaunt and frightened prisoner reluctant even to breathe in the midst of a standoff with a hostage-bearing Inquisitor. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing; no way this bitch was actually taunting an Inquisitor! If the situation wasn’t so tense, Roan might have actually laughed - with balls like that, maybe she really was the general’s daughter.

To his credit, the purple-haired hostage was taking it like a champ. His bluff didn’t seem to have worked, but he was keeping his cool much better than Roan would have in his shoes, especially considering that Roan himself saw absolutely no way out of this that kept everybody in one piece. Sun and stars, he felt so helpless! Not that he was ever some combat master to begin with, but at least with magic maybe he could have done something more than twiddle his thumbs while Lyra gambled with a dude’s life!

And time was running out. Without magic, Roan struggled to hear much over the thundering of his own pulse in his ears, but even he could hear reinforcements making their way down to their level. Hasgad’s trap was snapping shut fast, and as far as Roan knew, that was their only egress point.

Some kind of silent communication must have passed between his rescuers then, because all of a sudden, the room burst into a flurry of motion. Lyra rushed forward screaming a spell, and flames erupted in Hasgad’s direction; meanwhile, the hostage went flying to the side, and Roan himself hit the deck as an intimidating wave of heat flashed back at him.

He covered his head on instinct, falling into a protective pose - or a cowardly fetal position, depending on your point of view. From there, having lost track of the confrontation in the chaos and powerless to do much about it anyway, Roan shouted a warning: “Watch the door!”

This was the first time in what had to be months where a simple sentence elicited a curiously raised eyebrow. Hasgad was displeased with Dionne’s assessment. Donovan was inclined to agree. He wouldn’t call the man courageous or intelligent by any means, of course. The current situation was akin to a small dog that had barked once too many times at a breed much bigger than he. He was not bright nor talented and only had confidence in situations he was more probable to win. The ordinary would call him practical. Donovan agreed with the little Dionne; this Inquisitor was little more than a petulant bully who was surprised his prey had a fighting chance.

He watched Lyra with curiosity and a little concern. Her taunt didn’t work. Unsurprising. The introduction of a breeze on the back of his neck brought byt no comfort. Another problem? Or a potential savior? He would have to leave it to the oddball mage. Normally, he would have left the Inquisitor to the capable Astorio. Until the little Dionne acted. He could not have predicted that she would forgo negotiations altogether. A bleeding heart she was, but she must have had a lot of confidence. The results were explosive and he would say was a step in the right direction as Contarini was out of the Inquisitor’s grasp. Yet Lyra had charged in on her own. This simply wouldn’t do.

Donovan took off immediately and avoided stepping on anything metal should Hasgad recover on time. The goal at this instance was the safety of the much too spirited fire mage. She certainly likes to leap into things. And if I were to play the part of rescuer, would it annoy her more? he pondered. He leapt over one of the fallen mages and joined Lyra at close range, one hand acting to plunge the dagger into Hasgad’s side and the other forcing itself between Dionne and Hasgad with the intent to separate them at the next sign of danger.

---

The audacity of this petulant little worm. Short of Lord Pieron, no man could command the fealty of this 'good little minion', least of all a mage barely on the cusp of womanhood whose only claim to fame was emerging from the womb of an Eve's pet. If this inquisitor thought Chad could be leashed long enough to get away, he was sorely mistaken. He used the time bought by the remainder of Hasgad's pathetic coping to eyeball an optimal angle of attack through the purple kid's gut that would be most likely to avoid eviscerating all of his vital organs while still popping the inquisitor's bubble of delusion as surely as it ruptured one of his lungs. This proved to be a mistake, as the Dionne girl actually called the pompous fool's bluff.

Normally, an act of bravery like that wouldn't have been an issue, but the Eve descended upon Chadwick's rightful prey shortly after, evidently no longer willing to hang back as he had been. Ever the gallant bodyguard, was he? Or was the name Donovan synonymous with traitor in the halls of the Astorios for more reasons than one? It briefly crossed his mind to rip the other vampire away and finish the man himself, repercussions be damned, but their useless prisoner - the first one, not Cavatappi - croaked out some inane warning about reinforcements while he cowered hard enough to wedge his head up his own ass or something. This inquisitor must have a grudge against hair dye. Chad couldn't blame him.

"No, no; it's fine! I'll get it," he hissed, muffled under the roar of flames and chaos of battle. To think someone had honestly considered this backwater worthy of his talents.

And so, with everyone's attention stuck on the more infuriating threat, it fell to him to pick off the chaff. How utterly degrading. He turned his back to Hasgad flippantly - he was willing to risk one petty last attack from the man as he was reduced to ash - and crossed the room toward the other entrance with measured strides. The door would open and the reinforcements would find not the chaos of a battle in progress to launch their spells into at their leisure, but a hungry predator staring down at them. If Donovan wanted to claim the (dubiously) fine dining for himself, Chad would have to content himself on the buffet rather than wrestle for scraps. Teamwork and whatnot.

---

"What the f-" The Inquisitor screeched in pain as his electricity blew up in his hand, grabbing wildly at Quinn as he was snatched away from him. Hasgad hadn't expected her to turn herself over but he'd been banking on her being some shell shocked, worrisome girl rather than a fire spitting solider. He managed to get a shield up just in time, most of the fire hitting it but the heat on his face told him how lucky he was. She'd have turned him to ash if he'd been half a second slower. He flung a net of lightning back out in retaliation, and maybe that's why he didn't see the dagger in the other hand, still blinded by the flames.

The pain took a second to register, and he swore viciously as the elevator doors opened and his soldiers rounded the bend. Two vampires on the elevator paused a moment as they took in the look in Chadwick's eyes, the confidence and hunger. A volley of arcane lances hurtled their way from either side of the hallway, sacrificing accuracy to get more in the air, and one vampire, a short sword in hand, lunged with the intent of burying his blade in Chadwick's chest.

In the main chamber, the far door creaked open and the sounds of the wind in the trees creeped into the killing chamber.

Hasgad grabbed Donavan's arm, the one holding a dagger in the inquisitor's side, with loathing twisting his face. "If I'm not getting our of here alive, you aren't getting out of here alive, leech. None of you are!" He spat. Everyone's hair stood on end as lightning coated Hasgad and he channeled every volt he could into Donovan, the small of burning flesh as the lightning ate at Hasgad too. Arcs of it leapt out of Donovan's back, surging towards Quinn, Lyra, Roan, and Caspian.

---

As the elevator doors parted, Chad stared down his nose imperiously at the two vampires that emerged. Their brief hesitation spoke volumes; he'd already won. As expected, the entryway soon became a hail of spells, and the Astorio played his hand at evasion rather than rush right in as he'd initially planned. Immaterial torrents of energy sheared across his extremities in glancing blows, such was the volume of their shots and his casual dismissal of the threat posed by them, but he dared not commit to a charge in full before the vampires had been taken care of.

One of them foolishly went for a lunge - predictable - and Chadwick slumped downward to mirror him, confident that the mages wouldn't dare spear through one of their betters just to get to him. Blood spurted from his fresh wounds as the relative warmth of flowing blood circulated through his limbs once more, and he braced both hands on his sword in a determined guard in front of him, as if he intended to parry and clash like an idiot, giving the vampire's backup ample opportunity to slice him to ribbons while he was tied up in a melee.

"You're not some throwaway mage," Chadwick grunted through gritted teeth, hoping it came off more as intense focus than the annoyance it was. When the opposing vampire's elbow shifted in preparation for his thrust, Chadwick took his dominant hand off his sword and sidestepped to the left as he rose back to his full height, letting the blade pass under his now-free arm.

"Nor are you a threat, unfortunately."

Said arm lashed out like a striking cobra as soon as the vampire extended, slithering around his enemy's arm and chopping upward into his armpit with enough force to give a mortal at least a nasty bruise. Chad's fingers latched onto the man's tricep and he tugged as hard as he could, with intent to exploit his opponent's momentum and arm drag the man past him to expose his back. From there, he hefted his sword up with his left hand and drove it between the other vampire's shoulderblades.

"And now I'm hungry," he spat, his attention now returned to the other occupants of the elevator. He'd assumed the acrid stench of singed flesh in the air was the inquisitor, but the static in the air implied it might not've been. Which meant Chad needed to be quick before he ended up pincered.

---

Roan shrank into the floor away from the heat and the oppressive whoosh of the fire overhead, a stark and sobering reminder of the raw power the Empress herself was smart enough to fear. But more than that, above the roar of the flames came a sound that he never thought he’d be lucky enough to hear: Inquisitor Hasgad shrieking in pain.

The sound was so shocking it made Roan pause, and despite the surrounding danger he lifted his head, eager to see what horrible fate befell the feared Inquisitor to make him scream like so many of his victims had done before. The sound was hauntingly familiar, so oddly close in pitch and tone to the shrieking laughter that usually accompanied vicious torment that Roan almost wondered where the hapless victim was. But he was right there: frozen by his own magic with a vampire’s dagger in his side, screaming bloody murder and vengeance on his enemies.

Hm. Didn’t that look familiar.

Enraptured by the sight, Roan rose to his feet, staring in disbelief at the frozen sculpture of his tormentor, reveling in his unbelievable luck for what felt like an eternity before an arc of lightning popping in his direction brought him back to his senses.

“Agh!” he recoiled as the bolt caught his forearm, hopping back a step as further lightning groped for contact. Right, that vampire wouldn’t last long getting fried like that. Roan knew from experience trying to separate the two would only get him paralyzed along with them… but maybe that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey!” Roan shouted above the din to the purple-haired hostage that had since regained his footing. Possessed of a conviction not present before, he pointed to the belt of daggers girding the vampire’s waist. “Grab one for me!”

It took Quinn a moment to realize he had even been addressed, with his eyes locked on the mess of a melee that had erupted in front of him. Logic told him he should’ve moved first and gawped like an idiot later, but his body hurt and his thoughts weren’t yet caught up with the events that had transpired in the past few moments. A stray arc from Count Eve finally urged him into motion, though his limbs cooperated much more sluggishly than his magic, which hoisted him back into the air.

Roan’s frantic look caught his eye, and Quinn finally processed what it was he’d been asked to do. Had he been shocked too many times before they got here? Rushing into that mess with a knife was suicide! Not that Quinn wanted to sit by and let Donovan be cooked, but shooting into that mess seemed like a good way to hit the vampire on accident too. Better the prisoner take the fall than him, he supposed.

Quinn swiped a finger upward, dislodging one of Donovan’s knives from its sheath, before he flicked his wrist aside and sent it floating in Roan’s direction. Knowing nothing about the other mage’s reflexes, it’d be a gamble to speed up the knife at the risk of cutting Roan, but the motion of the knife still felt painfully slow compared to the tension of the last couple minutes.

Roan caught the knife on reflex, or maybe luck, since Roan looked just as surprised as anyone else to find it actually landed in his hand. He didn’t acknowledge the mage who threw it to him; instead, like a magnet, his gaze was pulled back to Hasgad.

He turned the knife in his hand to grasp it with the blade pointing downward, fingers curling awkwardly for purchase around a knife made to be thrown. His grip and posture belied an utter lack of training, but his white knuckles testified to his zeal; gone was the timid prisoner the rescue party found begging for death. His body seemed to move independent of his mind, driven by a singular calculation: if he couldn’t detach the vampire from the lightning, just turn off the lightning.

In contrast to before, when the cacophony of battle overwhelmed his starved, exhausted mind, everything now seemed to slow down for Roan. The urgency that should have accompanied his bold new plan didn’t quite breach the surface of his mind. The din of the reinforcements being torn to shreds in the entrance didn’t reach him; only the pulse in his ears, the crackling of lightning, and the twisted expression of rage frozen on the Inquisitor’s face.

Maybe this was how Hasgad felt in his victims’ final moments.

“AAAHHH!”

Roan’s own scream brought time rushing back to him, and he was already moving; he rushed forward with vengeful fervor, dagger in hand, numb to any bolts that fell upon him. Somewhere in the far recesses of his mind he had probably predicted that he was in for a hell of a shock once he made contact, but gambled on the electricity stopping soon enough not to stop his heart; in the moment, however, any consequence to his actions were far-off and insignificant compared to the righteous justice he could finally mete out for his friends and comrades by putting the son of a bitch out of his misery.

When Roan reached his target, only a few steps away to begin with and only a handful of seconds after the whole affair began, he threw all of his weight behind the dagger, bracing as he moved to plunge it deep into the Inquisitor’s neck.

---

Time seemed to slow down around Caspian as the tensions grew higher and higher. He couldn’t tell who would bend first, Lyra in an attempt to give herself up for Quinn or the Astorios patience which would end with him giving up the mages life for the sake at one singular blow to the Inquisitor. Seconds stretched like hours and it had felt as though three months had passed since they had entered this chamber, yet in an instance that all changed. Lyra dashed forward towards the Inquisitor, casting a spell Caspian hadn’t quite caught before erupting in flames herself. Quinn was now free of the mage’s clutches, the Eve had run towards Lyra’s aid, and the Astorio had gone to meet with the wouldbe intruders that descended down upon them. There was a slight breeze that tickled at the back of Caspian’s neck making his hairs stand up as the cool air helped to replace the scent of humid mold and ozone that suffocated the space before him. He took one step in an attempt to grab the prisoner when a stray bolt of lightning had arced towards him. Eye’s wide, Caspian quickly jolted to action as short bursts of water erupted from beneath his feet putting several feet of distance between him and the attack, only a stray spark having had the luck to strike him as it burned a small hole in the sleeve of his shirt. Everything was moving so fast now, even the prisoner had begun to act, jumping towards the rescue of the two fighting off the Inquisitor as if they weren’t just here to save his own skin.

The door behind them opened up wider, as the sounds of the outside world came calling forth from just beyond the threshold. It seemed that he and Lyra were of the same mind. They needed to get out of dodge and fast. He watched as she moved with such speed and grace, accompanied by a flurry of fiery butterflies that mimicked her graceful dance up towards the opened door that begged for them to leave. ”Quin, can you manage several vectors? To keep them from reaching us as we get him out of here?” Caspian called out as he nodded towards Roan. He broke into a sprint, following behind Lyra. He didn’t know if the Inquisitor had any further tricks up his sleeve, but the least Caspian could do is throw a wrench into potential further plans just in case he wasn’t finished with them yet. He stopped short of the opened door, standing at a cross section of metal plates that had previously allowed the magic to arc around and cage them in. Now he had time, and the threat of electrocution was far less than before as their friend was kept busy by the combined might of a vampire and delusional prisoner. Caspian placed his hands down onto the metallic surface ”Potesa Illictum” The floor began to take a new shade of color as the metal began to shift and change.

Gone were the dark grey slates that sat before them previously. The metal began to shift into several different hues of yellow, green, blues, purples, and pinks. The once flat pattern of the metal shifting into angled coils as Caspian changed the cross section to Bismuth. Even if the Inquisitor had attempted to cage them in once more, the doorway out would be safe as ever to make their escape. One spark of lighting or flash of heat and the metal would melt upon contact rendering it useless for conductivity. ”Get your ass’s in gear, now!”

The blade acted as a lightning rod, lightning twisting out of Hasgad's control and coursing down Roan's arm, searing its spindled path into his forearm. The blade struck true, the inquisitor's screams turning into a hacking, blood cough. The lightning flickered as it faded away, Hasgad grabbing at Roan's wrist uselessly as the light faded from his eyes and the hatred in his face melted away as with one last spit of blood, the Inquisitor slumped to the ground.

Chadwick's blade passed smoothly into the vampire's back, a scream cut short as the creature fell unconscious. The other vampire hesitated, his foot holding open the elevator doors, and decided it wasn't worth the effort. He pulled his foot back and slammed a button inside, throwing his weapon at Chadwick as the Inquisitor hit the ground. However, the mages paused where they had been charging down the hallways and changed tactics. Shields covered the hallways and bolts of lightning and ice flew haphazardly down the halls, the ones that missed crashing safely against the other group's shield as they turned every bit of magic against the rebels.

The other door opened to the outside, a long dirt road leading down into the forest. There didn't seem to be anyone outside and the quiet of the night was only broken once the facilities alarm started screeching. Along the edge of the woods, a shadowy silhouette separated from the pervasive darkness and the faint moonlight revealed Commander Ryan Agavee making the universal hand signs of Get the fuck out of there!

---

Chad couldn't help but sneer as the remaining vampire routed in record time. Not that he was fond of leaving witnesses, but one less body in between him and his meal was certainly nothing to complain about. He hoisted his previous victim's body upward into the path of the thrown weapon as a makeshift shield - what's one more hole in him, eh? - and then, after ripping his own weapon free, unceremoniously dropped his prey and turned his attention to the next hunt. The sudden onslaught of spells put him on the defensive immediately, though before Chad could take any evasive action, a wall sprung up in his path to soak the blows.

Yet another obstacle to his meal, and now they were making their escape. How anticlimactic. A hiss of annoyance escaped his fanged maw as Chad opted to retreat toward the exit rather than take his chances with the fireball-strewn hallway.

"How long will this exit take?" Chad questioned as he eyed the commander beyond the threshold of the door. He was unfamiliar with the man, but he knew his usefulness neared its end and he certainly wasn't going to be the victim of some dissonant portal failure. "They'll take another defensive position at the doorway and blast us to bits if we let them." Well, he could just drag them on a wild goose chase through the forest, but that sounded very annoying, and he'd had his fill of annoyance for the day. Twicefold. The enclosed space they were in was as much hinderance as help - the mages couldn't run away, but they also had the ability to set up staunch battle lines with only limited directions for the rebels to approach them from. Out in the woods, they'd at least have the opportunity to divide and conquer.

---

---

Quinn drew his gaze away from his blue-haired compatriot as that idiot jammed another blade into the inquisitor. Just as he'd feared, the other mage had ended up in much the same position as Count Eve, but without the vampiric resilience to accompany it. To think he'd almost died for someone that tried to throw his own life away minutes later. He dared not peek, even after the light show had died down and the crackle in the air had ceased and been replaced with the thunderous eruption of spells from the other end of the room. At least until Lyra yelled at him.

Which one was Dylan again? Was that the one that stabbed the inquisitor? Or... no, that was the dead one - no, the girl died, girls weren't named Dylan. What was the girl's name? Mary? No, Marie. She didn't matter. Well, she did matter, but she was gone - or was she? Did anyone check? No, Dylan. Which one was- this wasn't the time. The room was spinning. He was spinning. Quinn quickly righted himself in midair after he'd begun to lull to the side. Something struck a barrier. It wouldn't hold forever. Did he have a shield up? No, that had to be Lyr- Dylan, right! But then what about the other prisoner?

Whatever. Let the medics sort them out.

Quinn's feet found purchase on the ground again and he immediately pushed both hands together, his fingers curling into claws as spacetime deformed like putty in his grasp. The breeze from the outside that filled the room gradually changed course, the air streams now converged on a rippling confluence that spiraled to life over Roan's head. The pull soon grew to extend beyond mere air; Hasgad's lifeless body shifted from where it sat on the floor, a bloodsoaked trail smeared behind it as it slid toward the expanding gravity well. Roan - and Donovan, should he lack the strength or desire to resist - would likewise find themselves being tugged between the ground and the oscillation that fluttered above them, pulling them ever-so-gradually upward into its hungry maw.

Before they could reach it, Quinn shifted his weight back and threw his arms aside to send the confluence hurtling over the other prisoner on its path toward the exit, along with all caught in its orbit. "Grab onto something!" he warned, barely giving the other rebels by the door a chance to comply. Chains rattled and half-melted pieces of ice from spells that had shattered against Lyra's barrier took to the air, unintended victims of the gravity well's passing as it picked up a train of corpses and rebels alike. It was a grotesque and potentially dangerous procession with the veritable asteroid belt of debris that was on its way to forming as Quinn's singularity crossed the room, but it served its purpose of dragging everyone out.

Just as the mages by the exit would find their clothes and hair sucked upward into the encroaching spell and their feet threatened to leave the ground entirely, the well dissipated and all in its wake slumped unceremoniously back to the floor as Quinn rushed to follow. "Sorrysorrysorry! Just keep moving," he bumbled as he neared for lack of a cushier landing. One by one, the trash was sorted from the treasure, and Dylan was plucked from the mound of dead imperials to be sent weightlessly floating out the door.

---

@Everybody, get black holed losers

The satisfaction of metal slicing through flesh and throwing the scent of blood into the air was immensely gratifying. Donovan watched Hasgad's expression morph into one of shock. Why were they always surprised? Mages were far too confident, they often forgot how fragile they were past their magic and spellcasting. Donovan was too eager to remind Hasgad that despite his title, his power, his prestige, he was nothing to his superior. He would be remembered only for his failure and mocked beyond his death. Perhaps any family would mourn him if the fates were kind. Of course, the poor fool had no idea that his sole purpose was to fall now, so it was a kindness on Donovan's part to end it quickly. Alas, his kindness went unappreciated. Much like a cornered wild animal, Hasgad lashed out by making an attempt at bringing down Donovan with him. An anticipated move, but theory only carried so far without practice. The vampire was stuck in place, the lightning tightening his grip. Any command his mind made to his body was wholly ignored, much to his frustration. Any mortal who was in his situation would have likely perished by now; the sheer amount of voltage Hasgad drew into their bodies was substantial. It would almost be impressive were it not so cumbersome.

His rescue came in the form of an either brave or stupid ploy by the same boy meant to be rescued. This must have been what they called dramatic irony; now it was the prey attacking the predator. Hasgad crumpled shortly after and Donovan was freed. Shaking off the effects of the lightning would not come easily. His fingers twitched without cause, much to his annoyance. He looked down at the injured mage with vague amusement for a second before assessing the situation around him. Victory was at hand and the rebellion princess declared that it was time to leave. Donovan knelt down and pulled Roan to his feet.

"I owe you my thanks," He said.

Donovan found his foot hitting air to his confusion. Contarini did like his little tricks, didn't he? What Donovan saw, however, was beyond a simple gravity pull. His hand immediately snatched Roan to prevent the injured mage from floating up too much but he made sure to move them with the flow instead of fighting it. They were conveniently pulled towards the exit. He made no comment as Contarini pulled along Dylan in the moment but he did watch him. There was little point to that, he felt; if the mage lived, he would be robbed of most of his motor abilities, he reckoned. But that was a loose thread easily cut. Donovan had both feet planted firmly on the ground once the magic was gone. He could see the commander in the distance and wondered how long he had been there.

"They're certainly possessive of our charges," Donovan said. "If we had something to block the door, I assume we would have enough time to leave, if need be. Unless we ambush them in the trees."

Roan’s body exploded with pain the very instant he made contact with his captor, but he was eerily silent. The electricity coursing through his every cell rendered him completely immobile, unable to scream or even exhale as his eyes, glued open, remained fixed on the pained and dying face of the Inquisitor, clawing helplessly for mercy Roan couldn’t give even if he wanted to. Fortunately, his electric captivity only lasted a few seconds, and soon Hasgad’s grip on his magic loosened as he breathed his last wretched breath and collapsed. Roan went down with him, as soon as his body relaxed, falling in a disorganized heap over the bloodied corpse of a beast neither Roan nor any of his compatriots ever thought it possible to slay.

With that, Roan thought he’d never move again. He wouldn’t have especially minded it, to be honest. His mission was over; he avenged his friends, and even beyond that, hit back at the Empire in a way more meaningful than all the petty supply raids his motley group had ever done. Taking an Inquisitor out of the equation was no small feat, and doing it with a tiny blade? They’d sing about him for generations.

Was it worth it? Eh, he really could have done without the torture part, but if it had to be this way, he supposed there were worse ways to go out. He could have suffered the same fate as poor Marie, to die in terror and pain looking at the same four walls and the same fucked up face, sickeningly only hours away from rescue. Yeah, getting back at that freak for her sake was worth it, he’d say. And dying here would cut down on all the PTSD he’d have to deal with later on from this whole ordeal. Honestly, it wasn’t starting to sound too bad.

But the fighting didn’t stop for him, and as Roan dreamily reminisced about death in his stunned stupor, the situation around him continued to deteriorate. Notably, Hasgad was moving, and Roan’s small heart attack at the sight was only partially dispelled by the realization that he was moving too. As a kid, in breath holding competitions with his sister, he always lost because he could never stay on the bottom of the pool; the same seemed to be happening now, though Roan turned not to see water above him nor a beckoning light signifying his demise, but the face of the vampire he’d been trying to help escape from Hasgad, kneeling over him.

"I owe you my thanks," he said.

“Uh, mhm,” Roan mumbled stupidly, accepting his help only for the both of them to be haphazardly dragged across the room by whatever was pulling them along. Naturally, Roan feared the worst, but once they were unceremoniously dropped and the purple-haired floating kid ran by apologizing, he put two and two together.

The kid carried Dylan and ran, and it was only then that Roan notice the now-open door leading outside, where the night air and trees and sky waited impatiently for them - along with a rapidly gesturing figure at the treeline he struggled to make out in the dark. Lyra seemed to be the leader here and beckoned everyone out, and the purple-haired mage already followed suit, but the vampires seemed hesitant, discussing their options. Scrambling to his feet, Roan spared only a quizzical glance between the vampires and Lyra before making for the door.

“Come on!” he called over his shoulder as he made his long-awaited escape, hobbling as fast as he could on the gravity mage’s heels toward the treeline.

---

Caspian waited by the exit as he watched everything unfurl before him. He'd hoped that the rest would be quicker about moving out of here, but it seemed the Astorio was still intent on his murder spree and one of the captives had jumped right into the fray they were trying to save them from. As the lightning arked into Roans arm, the scent of burnt hair hit the air once more. He watched intently to see if he'd move after the blast, to see if they had failed to rescue another or if perhaps the newcomers' risk wasn't a total wash. Roan moved once more, and Caspian was able to breathe easy, watching as a shield charm had erected itself between the Astorio and his prey while the butterflies that once guarded the exit now fluttered down into a storm of death towards an occupied hall.

Lyra called out for them to grab Dylan, and for the life of him Caspian had forgotten about the other soul. The one he'd been guarding before all hell broke loose. He silently cursed to himself for having left him behind and defenseless. He was about to break into a sprint to grab the captive when he began to feel a lurch in his stomach. An uneasiness tugging at him like nausea as he suddenly began to move backwards towards the exit. Quinn had yelled for them to grab something, but there was nothing around for him to grab. He grasped aimlessly at the ground before finally giving in and allowing himself to be pulled to the point of Quinns spell. Only for the strange mage to make a run for it past him with fast apologies and even faster legs.

As everyone finally made it out through the door, Caspian followed behind them. He'd made sure he was the last one through, pulling the door closed behind him as he knelt on the ground. He'd have loved to have Lyra weld the door shut, but they didn't have that kind of time. They needed a way to seal them in, and Caspian didn't know of any spells yet to fuse the two materials together into one. So he decided to go with plan C. "Figrius Laispi" He felt his magic course into the stonework beneath him, bending the shape to his will as the stonework on the other side of the door began to rise up right against the door. "Hopefully that'll hold them for a while. Let's go."

The fireball crashed against the enemy's defenses, the flash and heat of roaring flames giving their front line just enough pause to have their back line slam against them. More than a few mages hit the floor in a mad scramble, more focused on preventing the rebels from escaping than paying attention to their allies. The door between them shut firmly, wedged shut by transmutation magic, and the rebels would have a bit more breathing room, if only by a minute.

Extraction hadn't been thoroughly covered - a simple command: Get to the treeline. But this wasn't an oversight. Those with the company long enough knew the Commander's magic and it was on full display as the escapees broke into the dense woods surrounding the holding facility. Writhing and twisted, shadows casted by moonlight shifted underfoot and the Commander's voice seemed to echo from everywhere as an indistinguishable chant cleaved shadow from tree and bush and gathered it around the escapees. The world lengthened and stretched and shadows filled in the spaces between matter until only darkness, deep and frigid, remained. Silence reigned, even snatching voices from those ensnared in the spell, and yet the presence of others was tangible, the hairs on nearly everyone's nape rising.

Until the world snapped back into shape and the forest they'd left behind was replaced by sprawling prairies and a quaint stone cottage with a wrap around porch. An older woman, wrapped in a deep green shawl and nursing a steaming mug, watched the group with mild interest as she rocked in a well loved rocking chair. The Commander stood, sweat on his brown and a deep frown of concentration, fifteen paces off the house with his shadows retreating beneath him. His chest heaved with the exertion of transporting so many people and his hands shook violently as he took a moment to lean heavily on the younger mage next to him. The mage offered them a sunny smile, all dimples and neatly coiffed hair, and a wave of his gloves hand.

"Welcome, friends, to… Well, here! This place shall be unnamed until we've had an opportunity to shift through our new friend's heads and confirm they aren't imperial spies meant to identify us, betray us, and slaughter us in our sleep!" The new man explained cheerily to an irritable grunt from the Commander. He just laughed, smoothing out the black trench coat as the Commander elbowed him sharply in the ribs."And in the meantime, the others we did pull a few strings to get a Life Mage here so go get checked out inside and then feel free to grab some stew on the stove."

Commander Agreve shoved himself off his cheery counterpart. "We debrief as soon as these two chucklefucks are cleared by our mind mage. Central command…" Agreve's eyes flickered to Lyra and back. "Procured some additional supplies for a halfway decent meal after this so enjoy. Vamps, you got a bottle on the counter too if you need it. Apparently, it's from some dead, snooty nobles supply so I guess it's good? Don't fuckin' know, don't fucking care. Drop the unconscious one on the ground, Roan follow me. Agreve barked his orders out, still shaking but shoulders straight and his stride even as he headed back for the house.

---

With the extraction point in sight, Quinn couldn't help but be relieved he at least had tangible orders to fall back on now - it felt like the entire operation had been a string of him being tugged in every direction at once. Watch the door, Quinn. Handle the reinforcements, Quinn. Rescue the prisoner, Quinn. Pick me up, Quinn. Get everyone outside, Quinn. Let the crazy man electrocute you for the greater good, Quinn. It wasn't a new experience for the mage, but it was the first where he needed to react in milliseconds rather than minutes and the consequence of failure was death rather than shame.

Quinn's pupils blew wide as he broke from the building into the night, eyes adapting to the darkness preternaturally quick as the door behind him slammed shut to cut off the light from inside. A horrible grinding noise drew his attention back briefly, in expectation of one less threat to bar him from escape, but he saw only the door's frame writhing against itself to seal off the path they'd come from. He wasn't sure who did it, and at this point, he didn't care; he simply drew Dylan close and tugged his weightless arms around his neck to carry the unconscious mage like a cape on his back as he kept up his retreat. He didn't dare stop moving until forest coiled around him and even magical vision pushed to its limit couldn't pierce the shadow that held them in its cold embrace.

And then it was gone, and he was getting more orders.

Just drop him on the ground? Just like that? Quinn couldn't say he'd been particularly gentle with the prisoners beforehand himself, but without the threat of magical retribution hanging over his head, he'd expected a bit more dignity would be warranted. It was almost an insult to all the trouble they went through to get him out of there. Freedom for mages, what a joke; he was less disposable back home.

Delicately, he lowered Dylan onto the ground and propped the mage's arm underneath his head. Shouldn't the prisoners have been the life mage's first priority? Quinn finally took the opportunity to look around. Everyone was accounted for, fortunately, and nobody seemed to be bleeding out. The vampires looked a little worse for wear, but they carried themselves with all the tenacity he'd expect of a noble hunter of the night and the life mages wouldn't be able to fix that anyway. Quinn himself was a bit battered, and he suspected the other mages faired much the same, but soreness and bruises could be managed with rest. They didn't need to make it sound like they'd done him a favor by involving a life mage in this operation.

Food didn't sound very appetizing either. He knew he should eat, that he was exhausted and that he'd regret it the following morning, but even something as inoffensive as stew turned his stomach when he thought about it. Quinn gulped down the saliva pooling in his throat. He'd throw up if he thought about this too much.

"Look at the prisoners first, 'm not hurt. Need to sit down," Quinn mumbled in an attempt to ward off any unneeded attention as he staggered toward the cottage. Every moment out of danger made his body feel heavier, as whatever panic chemicals had flooded his body moments ago now exacted a toll for their services. He had a feeling that a glance into a mirror right about now would reveal the pale, disheveled Quintus he'd grown used to over the past few months. Once again, just like home. But worse. Was their silly little grudge against vampirekind really worth this?

---

The symphony of battle had come to an end and all Donovan was left with was dissatisfaction. He had hoped the enemy would have been more organized and caught them off guard on their exit. Certainly a disappointment from his perspective. Where was the challenge, where was the effort? They must have known that failure wasn't tolerated, and yet they skipped right out into the trees and were promptly whisked away. How shameful. The only solace he had was that what awaited the ones that hadn't passed were in for poor time with their Head Inquisitor. Their extraction was flawless and everyone arrived in one piece. Chadwick, the rebellion princess, the little purple one, the one who was content to let him fry, and the rescuee. The fact that they arrived with an extra was a small wrinkle that needed to be corrected but otherwise Donovan was pleased with what he saw.

The vampire swiped some dirt off his sleeve and clicked his tongue in disapproval. He would need to replace his clothes. The lightning had seared his buttons and a quick self-inspection revealed that his outfit had numerous burns. He half-listened to Commander Agreve's gruff instructions and looked to the man of the hour. Roan was safe and in need of an inspection as was routine. With any luck Julien would be the one to inspect him. Otherwise, he did not anticipate any further problems. The take over would likely occur later on and they would rendezvous then. Overall Donovan would consider his mission a resounding success.

He watched the princess make an attempt at raising everyone's spirits. Adorable, he thought to himself. Baby's first mission being a success must have raised her spirits. Good. It's no fun to tease if she lacks self-confidence. He matched her cheeriness with a bright smile and hoped it would annoy her but held back from talking just yet. He watched silently as she gave Roan assurance and gave the young man a nod of his own. He then turned his attention to the mage on the ground before looking to the Astorio for his opinion.

"What are the odds this one pulls through?" he asked. "I've heard electrotherapy is some primitive form of torture, but I can't imagine any mortal surviving much of it."