@AThousandCurses@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark

IRIS RECORD, 3F, CATHEDRAL

The Umbralist hissed as the shield slammed against him, his body left wide open with the impact of solid steel against him. It left him vulnerable, in that state in which he no doubt saw stars, disoriented with the pain of a blunt object brought upon him with physicality surpassing an ogre. Staggering, he was wide open as Iraleth's sword struck true. Her blade would cleave the man through, and for a moment, that was that. The villain had been defeated, his blood raining upon the cathedral floor as the paladin stood proud above him. Were he a regular vagrant, that would have proven sufficient.

"Ethos are... truly troublesome things," his voice would ring out from behind Iraleth, the slashed body bursting apart into solid spikes of darkness that hurtled towards the paladin.

The Umbralist's shadows would dance and rotate around him, now numbering four. His new body had disconnected from the reptiles, who he now looked upon with arms crossed, disdain in his posture. He seemed to make no effort to save them, devoured in their own ways by Ciara and Chunji. He withdrew a kris dagger from underneath his robes - a ritual knife in many cultures and religions, especially Umbralism - and pointed it towards Iraleth, assuming she was not already skewered by the shadow spikes that launched towards her.

"I could have struck, but that last attack impressed me. That will be your one mercy, Astrite. I will have no more to give. Try it again, and I will run you through with the curse of this dagger. Your cardboard armor would fade to dust, trying to stand against it."

Leveling the blade towards the paladin, his hood would turn towards Ciara's escape, growling. There would be no movement, but an orb of pure force blasted out towards Ciara, honing in on her with the intent to kill. Or rather, the closer it drew, the more apparent it was that the orb was tracking towards Davil instead. The orb could only be described as a moving force with its own gravitational pull, drawing in and crushing anything it came in contact with. It had one target: Davil Wund.

In the midst of all of this, a figure emerged from out of the open cathedral doors, piercing through the shadows. Rushing past Ciara while giving her what could only be described as the most murderous side-eye that a woman with her eyes closed could give, she raised the wooden staff in her right hand and opened the tome in her left. "Windborne catalyst, take form!"

At those words, what appeared to be a solid ball of lead would emerge and intercept the gravity orb, seemingly stopping it in midair. She looked towards Ciara as this happened and nodded. "Leave now, and we will speak of things later, Ventura. Your final judgment is yet to come. Go!"

The orb would continue to move at a turtle's pace through the air towards Ciara and Davil, slowed by the conjured lead that Nicole had summoned, but it was clear that it would not be hindered for long with the rate at which the lead was being crushed. No doubt once it regained its speed, it would continue to pursue them.

With a click of the tongue, the Umbralist's attention turned towards Nicole, though with the kris dagger still pointed in Iraleth's direction as he looked upon the Undermage. For her part, she would shout while the pages of her tome flipped furiously, her staff slamming and cracking the cathedral ground. "Ms. Kyrios, Mr. Yi, I would encourage each of you to leave immediately! This is not a fight for children to partake in."

She would assume a stance of battle, staff pointed towards the Umbralist, who in kind was stretching the tips of his pale, gnarled, wrinkled free hand. The light that peered through the church's windows was fading, and it was clear that the essence of this place would soon take a turn for the worse. The Umbralist would not attempt to halt the escapes of Iraleth or Chunji unless they were to try to attack or hinder him in some way, his attention nearly fully focused upon Nicole. As this standoff transpired, a small projected screen of light was open at the Undermage's right flank, a phantasmal hand typing away on it.

---

@ERode

IRIS RECORD, 1F, ARENA

As Otis finished sending the message, it would be almost immediately that a response would be delivered across multiple shorter texts, which would read as follows:

"Currently engaging the threat on the third floor."
"Umbralist."
"Leyline Overcharge, or something similar."
"Ventura has left, student in arms."
"Ensure eyes remain on her when she descends."
"Can open up a camera via leylight to view the scene in here. Y/N?"

These texts would each rapid fire near instantly one after another, as if the Undermage were born for instant messaging systems. Were Otis to accept her request, an additional camera would join the others he was viewing, though of a lesser quality. Through it, he would see a first-person view through Nicole's levitating projection screen cast through her leylight. It orbited near her, showing footage of the cathedral and of Iraleth and Chunji, as well as the Umbralist that seemed eager for blood.

The battle would undoubtedly rage on once more in the next few seconds, so it was unclear how long the leylight screen would remain active in the midst of it; for now, though, it would capture footage of the battle should Otis wish to view it.

The growing tree seeked more nutrients and stretched its roots to dig around for anything. Chunji didn't bother to control its ravenous appetite and opted to follow with the newly arrived Undermage. "Understood, I will take my leave," And help Ciara and Davil went left unsaid as his eyes was drawn towards the homing sphere. The Undermage had slowed down the attack with a spell of her own, but it did not remedy the problem.

Chunji drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. The blood receeded from them though left reddened veins. His hand rested on the hilt of the sword. He did not want to take more than he needed, but unfamiliar emotions rushed through his mind. Essence condensed itself in his blade as he prepared to eradicate the disturbance. "斩!" Ethos bared, sword drawn, and essence flaring, Chunji's sword flew. His eyes had identified the weak point of the attack and now it was up to Chunji to meet the vision.

As if extending the blade itself, a tail of essence was slashed across the crushing orb. Whether it had any effect Chunji wasn't going to stay around and find. Chunji turned and ran out of the cathedral. A familiar miasma of darkness met him as he left the cathedral. "Ciara!" The essence of the Lotus Serpent faded away from his body as he released it. "Stay near me. We'll go down to the second floor and I can provide basic first aid to Davil." Chunji's eyes flitted back at the Cathedral. "And we need to be on the look out if the Umbralist had any more tricks up his sleeves."

With that Chunji would follow Ciara and though he moved sluggishly. While the adrenalin was still active, his body was still drained from everything. He didn't know how much time left before he fainted from excessive activity.

Iris Record, Third Floor, Mysterious Cathedral -> Second Floor
@Nanaya, @AThousandCurses

---

It worked. It had actually worked. Tasted awful, but had worked. The reptiles’ numbers decreased, and none were actively trying to eat them, having been eaten by Ciara. She ran her tongue over her teeth, making a face.

Gross.

Clutching Davil closer, Ciara kept moving as fast as she could towards the darkness of the entrance. Her skin pickled at the back of her neck, and she looked back just in time. An orb, crushing even the light rays towards its epicenter as it rolled towards them. Davil immediately felt pulled in her arms, as if he was magnetically attracted to the orb. She twisted, facing the orb head on as she backed up. Tentacles that were stronger than her arms wrapped around and held tight to Davil as she cursed under her breath, gritting her teeth. Its pull was becoming too strong. Rebound cut across her chest and face as tentacles increased their grip on Davil.

She refused to let go of Davil. Damn the rebound. Damn this power! If it was going to take him, it would take her too.

“I-I'm… sorry.” Ciara gritted out in a low voice to Davil, confident these were their last moments.

Until another object collided with the gravity orb, cutting off its power, rocking Ciara back on her feet with the sudden lack of resistance. The tentacles dispersed, and once more Davil was held merely by Ciara's clutching arms.

Ciara's eyes widened, catching the cold glance of the Head Advisor.

Instinctively, Ciara swallowed nervously.

"Leave now, and we will speak of things later, Ventura. Your final judgment is yet to come. Go!”

”...Right.” Ciara spoke low, her face held in an unconscious wince. With a quick glance to Davil, she spun on her heels and once again dashed towards the entrance, ignoring the blood seeping from her rebound cuts.

"Ciara! Stay near me. We'll go down to the second floor and I can provide basic first aid to Davil.”

Ciara's head spun, catching Chungi's gaze just as the both of them entered the darkness of the hallway once more.

”Got it!” Ciara growled out.

They were almost there. They were gonna make it. Davil was gonna make it!

Small feelers spread out from Ciara's feet, eliciting a groan from her as another cut slashed across her body. However, the feelers alerted her to the shapes of the hallway, and she was able to reach the stairwell after a minute or so. Abruptly, darkness fell away, and the blinding lights of the stairwell leading down into the second floor greeting them. Ciara’s feelers melted away, and she stumbled briefly, leaning against the wall with Davil.

Heavy breathing. Then gritting her teeth again, redoubling her efforts to carry Davil dutifully down the staircase.

Her eyes glanced to Chunji. He too, didn't look hot.

“Chunji…?” Ciara's voice had a slight panic to it. He looked like he'd pass out at any moment.

Her gaze dropped to Davil. His blood covered her. How close was he to death?

Making a desperate grunt under her breath, Ciara stared down the hallway and opened her mouth, yelling as loud as she could, nearly ripping her vocal cords out.

“Guards! Guards! We need a medic!”

"...!" It was difficult to gauge whether Iraleth's growl of frustration was directed towards the Umbralist for somehow evading her wrath, or towards Chunji for his nonsensical raving. At this point, she couldn't tell, either. Both, then. Of course the Umbralist had the temerity to not die when it was killed. Blights upon the face of the earth, every last one of them.

Iraleth raised her shield and crouched behind it as the corpse exploded, the shadow spikes pinging off. Chunji faded from her mind for the moment as she considered how else to approach this. Sheer force wasn't working, even with the amount of Essence her sword had redirected. Though that had been repurposed by the Umbralist for but a moment. Light, perhaps? Though she had one good spell left in her before rebound would hit. Iraleth didn't have the stamina left to see what worked and what didn't.

"Is that supposed to deter me?" She asked in response to the Umbralist's threat, though her eyes widened as he shot a spell towards Ciara and Davil. Too fast, and she was on the wrong side of the caster...!

Thank Astra that Undermage Nicole made it in time to halt the attack. Though it galled Iraleth to be ordered to retreat. She gnashed her teeth beneath her helm for a moment, seriously considering the merits of ignoring the order. But duty won out. The undermage was a superior, and Iraleth was one spell away from becoming a liability. She would have fought to the death were it down to her alone, but now...

"...Understood." Iraleth leapt over the Umbralist, her Ethos dissipating midair before she landed with it completely faded away, still sounding none too pleased. "Conventional assault isn't working. He simply formed a new body." She did her duty, reporting all she knew as she started to fall back. Though a glance back towards the ensuing duel had her thinking. With the fading light, Iraleth could provide one advantage with what she had left. The Essence came to her, and she spoke the words:

"Illumination unending." An orb of light formed in her hand, and she hurled it up high in the cathedral where it remained, emitting radiance to combat the oncoming shadow. By the time the Umbralist realized what she did, the paladin had already retreated, emerging out into the hallway where Ciara was calling for guards. Iraleth would have said something, done something, but the accumulated strain of having her Prime Essence leeched and chasing down Ciara before fighting at full tilt finally caught up to her, and she collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath as she stuck her sword into the ground to brace herself.

Interesting.

So one could simply walk into a Leyline Overcharge without issue? Or was this a special quality of this particular transformation into Ascendia? It was worthwhile to consider as well, whether or not a Leyline was truly being drained here, considering how...lacking the capabilities of the Umbralist proved to be, if a handful of already-fatigued students could ward off their advances. They could claim mercy, a small compassion afforded to children who knew not what they were getting into, but only the results mattered. And in this case?

The results were that they all managed to buy enough time for the Undermage to arrive. Enough, perhaps, that they could escape entirely.

Otis stood up from his chair, shooting off one last message to Nicole: "I'll bring them to the clinic."

No need to get the guards involved, not when Ciara was still an active threat in their eyes. And Davil's situation was dangerous as well, not the sort of work that first aid would benefit too greatly. The Strigidae would have preferred if Iraleth had enough strength left to simply carry and fly his roommate over, but well, no one was perfect. He set his Adapa to record the battle raging within the cathedral, made sure his gun was loaded, and finally entered the scene.

...

The Door opened, and Otis stepped out to the stairwell, his nose wrinkling slightly at the stench of blood and sweat that had seemed to congeal here. Unlike the others, he had remained spotless throughout all this, his amber eyes showing no particular strain. It had been a beneficial venture for him, after all, getting access to so much information, from the structure of the Iris Record to the capacity of its guards to the curious spellwork utilized by the Undermage to how Umbralists seemed capable of Leyline Overcharge despite how advanced and novel the technique was to the simple limits in capacity that his classmates had.

And now, though his holstered firearm was loaded, the Strigidae offered a vial each to the bloodied students. It was a dark liquid, a crafted potion that smelled bitter.

"Drink. It'll help with the pain and the adrenal dump. I'll bring you four to the hospital proper."

A screen of light illuminated the dark stairwell; in the corner of his eye, Otis was still watching the frenzied battle between Umbralist and Undermage.

"...Ventura," Chunji almost referred to his peer's first name but withheld himself from saying it. "As I've told you before, if you have nothing of use to say, then don't say it. Your worry is wasted on me." Though, Ciara's worry was rightfully placed. All of them knew that their limits were hit. However, he needed to redirect his worry toward Ciara's interest. "Remember why you are here. Even though you have helped Davil, your name still hasn't been cleared by a person of authority for the guards. So..." Chunji took Davil from Ciara and laid him down on to the ground as if he were made out of class.

"So, stay behind me. At least until we can ease the situation." Calmness soon settled into Chunji, and so did the waves of pain that shored up into his body. He looked over Davil's body, and his perceptive eye peered through him. A laceration to the stomach that's bleeding profusely. His stomach was churning with vomit, so Chunji quickly lifted his so that he would not choke on it. Though before he could say anything of note, another bright light manifested near him.

The damned Otis.

If Chunji had lost control of his emotions, he'd been sure that he'd give the owl some choice words, but nothing surfaced. A potion of sorts was offered to him. A frown filled with suspicion filled Chunji's face, but nonetheless, he took it. The taste of opioids washed over his buds as the pain began to soothe. Unfortunately, no potion or magic could help Davil, who was in pain at the moment. Any more foreign essence would prove detrimental to his recovery, and Chunji didn't want to fuel Davil's very apparent addiction.

"Dayin, to me." In a split moment, a carbon copy of Chunji manifested to his side. With a wave of Chunji's hand, the clone dispersed and revealed itself as his Adapa. "Assist me, Dayin." The Adapa glimmered before seemingly stopping.

"Warning: Essence Rebound imminent. The use of essence will have a detrimental effect on the user. Advice: Do not use essence at this moment." The Adapa hummed in his mind.

That wasn't an option, of course. Chunji cut open Davil's shirt to have easier access to his stomach. "Dayin, drain the blood." Without further wait, Dayin obeyed and began removing the blood.

What felt as if countless needles had pierced his skin, Chunji quickly worked on Davil. He did what he could by applying antibiotics and bandaging to his wound. It wouldn't be enough to fix Davil, but it'd be enough to at least transport him safely through Otis's door.

Without a word, Chunji carefully lifted up Davil and prepared to walked through Otis's door.

Iris Record, Second Floor
@Nanaya, @AThousandCurses, @ERode

---

Ciara's eyes immediately glanced to Iraleth, the back of her neck prickling. But instead of advancing at her, Iraleth near-collapsed. Reflecting what they all were feeling.

Calling the guards… Did Iraleth think she had given up on running?

Ciara's lips pursed, glancing down at the barely breathing Davil in her arms. Her every instinct was screaming to get away from here. Even the voices. But… Davil could die. And despite what the group thought of her, Ciara wasn't the type to sacrifice the weak for her own salvation. Davil needed a doctor. Then, and only then, would she worry about herself.

"Remember why you are here. Even though you have helped Davil, your name still hasn't been cleared by a person of authority for the guards. So…”

Ciara reflexively sucked on her teeth, cursing quietly under her breath as she allowed Chungi to take Davil from her arms. He was right. If the guards saw her, right now, would they try to kill her? The thought made her stomach knot.

"So, stay behind me. At least until we can ease the situation."

Ciara pursed her lips, before she curtly nodded, eyes tight, and silently moved to stand behind Chunji.

It was in that moment a Door manifested, and out stepped Otis. Ciara's eyes immediately narrowed, and her teeth clenched. He had led her in the direction towards Davil but… It was like he had known her every move. Even now, he knew they had retreated from the third floor. Somehow, he must have had access to the cameras.

Did that mean… He was the one who cursed the cameras with that fate-awful light?

If she was right, it meant his presence was a bane, not a boon. Of course, she had overheard Otis’ desire to capture her. Her own predicament was alive and kicking. She had, after all, dragged some unwitting guards to hell in her attempt to flee.

Otis had a gun strapped to him. The same that he had used to scare her before blowing Mannekins back. Another red flag. And, as ridiculously as it felt, given her physical circumstance, she felt herself slipping into fight or flight.

Until Otis offered a vial. Ciara took it without her eyes leaving the gun on his side, waiting for him to busy himself with the others before her gaze dropped to the dark liquid inside.

"Drink. It'll help with the pain and the adrenal dump. I'll bring you four to the hospital proper.”

“It's from the darkness, what could possibly go wrong?” Said an adoring Voice.

“Yes, don't we trust the darkness?” Another Voice chimed in agreement.

“He's not here to help me.” Ciara thought flatly.

“Let's see! Drink it!” The Voice replied eagerly.

Ciara's heart thrummed in her ears, impossibly quick. Would he use his gun to force it down her throat? Not like she could fight him off, or anyone off at this point.

The potion glinted in her hand. A dark look crossed her face, before she cursed quietly, popped the cap, and downed it in a gulp.

The effects began almost immediately. A reduction in pain. More of a… pleasant feeling swirling around her. Ciara watched Chunji administer bandages, feeling the euphoria only increase. It increased to a comfortable level… then went far, far beyond that.

Ciara looked up at the Door, forgetting why they were traveling through it in the first place.

“A… hospital?” A Voice said listlessly, confused itself.

Ciara's pupils were tightly constricted, blinking in confusion as she saw Chunji’s figure slowly recede. Him and Davil. Where were they going? She should follow. It made sense to follow, she thought. She didn't want to be left here alone.

One step, before Ciara took in a sharp intake of air, and collapsed. The floor was cold. Her limbs were tingly. The heat of euphoria warmed her insides, sent her mind spiraling a mile away.

Something was wrong.

Ciara slowly tried to crawl onto her hands and knees, her limbs feeling like noodles.

Was she… drugged?

Slowly, her head raised, her breath low and haggard. Her eyes latched onto Otis', burning with weak, betrayed fury.

“You… you bastard, what did you do to me?!”

@ERode

IRIS RECORD, 3F, CATHEDRAL

The fight within the conjured cathedral, beheld only through Otis' screen, continued on. The orb of gravity gained in speed, but not fast enough to pursue its intended target with the haste it needed. Nicole raised a brow towards the Umbralist, staff trained on him, taking up a firm stance as if anticipating recoil on her next cast. Beforehand, however, a scoff escaped her. "Surely the upkeep on that spell is not worth what it now offers you. Why continue it?"

The Umbralist's head turned to the side, and then towards the orb. With a severing motion of his hand, the orb dissipated, and the remaining lead trapped within slammed into the cathedral ground as useless, discarded rubble. The haze under the hood prevented any estimation of a facial expression, but that void simply stared towards the Undermage with a lingering that could only be assumed to be wrath. Even still, he didn't respond, apart from to tighten the shaky grip around his dagger as Iraleth's light suppressed the encroaching dark.

"I can only imagine the chain of command you had to slither up to plan this, such that it would align with the chaos of an arena bout. And for what?" Nicole would question this while flames began gathering at the end of her staff. "The death of one boy? No true Umbralist remnant would reveal themselves for such a trivial thing, even were it for an Ethos user. Either it was for some grander purpose, or... you are not quite who you assert yourself to be."

Fire spiraled in a crackling sphere around the staff in her right hand. The Umbralist crouched low in an instant, extending his free hand as multiple blasts of shadow hurtled towards Nicole. In response, the pages of the tome in her left hand fluttered as she simply uttered, "Shield Array," and a wall of phantasmal heater shields materialized in front of her. Not one bolt pierced the defense as she smirked, her face painted with condescension. The Umbralist took a stomping step backwards in hesitation, fear coursing through his body. "A twincaster?!"

Nicole's left eye opened as her grin spread ear to ear. It was an unremarkable grey, but in the next blink, a flash of gold spread across the cathedral emanating from it. It was as if a sun resided in that eye for a moment, and it stared right through the cultist before her. "A mystery that you will perish with. Rebound nearly reached, yes? I suppose that means your essence was not saved purely for this battle. A shame."

It was as if the Umbralist had slowed after the flash of gold, and the flames circulating around Nicole's staff had reached a blinding high. "Ms. Kyrios informed me that conventional assault will not work, and judging by the Revolver Shadow at your feet, that is true. Though that is only true so long as the shadows remain."

The Umbralist dropped his dagger and desperately raised his arms in a cross guard, his Personal Barrier becoming reinforced beyond reasonable limits, as if realizing something. But he'd only realized it too late as Nicole circled her staff and opened her mouth to speak the incantation.

"Fireball."

Wrath incarnate shot from the staff towards the Umbralist, flames potent enough to turn the target to ash. However, it became apparent quickly that the fireball wasn't heading towards the cultist - rather, it was shot at an angle such that it was curving and spiraling upwards towards the light that Iraleth had created within the cathedral. As this happened, Nicole dashed towards the Umbralist, two more fireballs conjuring rapidly atop her staff and tome respectively. At the midway point towards him, the initial fireball impacted with Iraleth's light; and the Undermage's expression once more returned to a place of cold neutrality.

"I will end you instantly in a world without shadows."

As flame and light met, the view of the camera went entirely blank, engulfed in an explosion of light so blinding as to paralyze any who relied on sight. Soon after, the feed would cut entirely on Nicole's side; and by extension, Otis' perspective on the remainder of the fight.

---

@AThousandCurses@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode

IRIS RECORD 3F

The darkness of the halls was beginning to fade. If it was brought upon by the Umbralist's pull over this place through the cathedral, it was a clear sign as any that said pull was loosening. The fluorescent lighting of the ceiling continued to remain off, and the cameras continued to malfunction, but the dark was not so oppressive any longer, and one might move at a normal pace through it now without struggle; apart from, of course, the struggle of battle. As that was noted by those present, footsteps could be heard stomping from further down, and the shouting of various people. "Advance," some of them would shout, pushing through their own fear, some clearly out for blood. They had their targets, and were they to run across them, there would be no mercy nor words. As the blood of allies stained the walls and floor of the Iris Record, it was only blood in return that would satisfy the masses who guarded this place. Terror and trauma had given way to rage, and it would soon be upon the third floor.

The hatred was almost tangible. Davil stabilized as he was worked upon, though he had fully lost consciousness by now. He wouldn't last for very long without proper treatment, but it was enough to ensure he'd make it through the next five minutes at least, assuming he were treated with care while moved. In a mutter before his eyes fully closed, mind cloudy from drugs and magic, he had simply uttered, "S-Sorry..."

Were Otis to check in about the state of the clinic, he would see a few students within the waiting room, huddling in corners or readying weapons in defense. The receptionist tapped away desperately at the establishment's Adapa, and mannekin stood on guard - presumably out into the halls and exterior of the building as well, but definitely at attention in the waiting room and near the entrance most prominently. It was clear that warnings had been sent out by now, and even cafeteria and transporter mannekin were being armed with some level of consideration for the situation. They were clearly given their orders, and now moved and scanned with mechanical efficiency.

It wasn't likely that these mannekin would attack suddenly if registered students entered, even via teleportation; unless, of course, one of those students was their target. Their usual crossbows, spears and cooking equipment were replaced by clockwork rifles, and they would wield those against designated threats with ruthless efficiency.

Otis looked down at Ciara, his amber eyes reflecting no guilt or glee.

“I gave you a potion, which you drank.”

Regardless of the situation, it was the guards in the Iris Record whose emotions burned the highest now. Iraleth was too burnt out, Chunji seemed completely unaware or uninterested in treating Ciara as a threat, and the undermage was still locked in combat with the second Umbralist. Bending down, the Strigidae hauled Ciara back up onto her feet, awkwardly hefting her over his back and shoulders, before trudging into the Door.

The galactic laboratory awaited him, but it was only a detour, for the Door on the opposite side of the universe was already cracked open. A one-way ‘mirror’ revealed the state of emergency in the only clinic that he was aware of. Students flocked together for security, skittish eyes reflecting none of the claimed heroism that had gotten them a spot in Wingram Academy. Mannekins of all positions were unified in a singular, lethal purpose, Rekordian longguns loaded and ready, their inhuman poise the only thing that gave them greater qualifications than regular guards. He considered the situation with the World Between Doors, then manifested a simple essence-shielding cloak into existence, draping it over the paralyzed shadow-witch.

Otis had taken apart those mannekins just a day before, after all. He knew what they were made of, which mechanisms they used to tell students apart. Simply scrambling the base essence that constructed a regular mortal would do enough to mess with their identification protocols. And for humans? Well…

He glanced towards the others. Considered whether it’d be better to strand Iraleth in here, because the paladin no doubt still wanted Ciara’s blood after all this. They may have fought a real Umbralist together, but that didn’t change the permanent damage that was done, the perverse act of essence-draining applied.

“Play nice, would you?”

And thus, the Door opened.

…

A group of haggard students, most of them bloodied and on the verge of rebound, stumbled into the clinic, the galactic void seen behind them the sign of someone’s Ethos. The one on the forefront, a Strigidae who carried a blanketed girl on his shoulders, called out to the receptionist, his voice the emotionless affect of someone clearly in shock.

“My friends were attacked by the Umbralist in the tower.” he spoke. “First aid was done, but one of them needs more medical attention, and the others need a room to rest in. Which rooms are open?”

The mannekins had yet to stir, their gaze seeming to recognize only Otis and the indistinct ‘lump’ of human essence on his back. Good, but he’d rather Ciara not remain long in the lobby, in public view. And it was true that Davil would die even with the best first aid in the world, so long as first aid was all he received.

Then, another thought crossed his mind.

Was Chloe still in the clinic, or had she already been sent back to the dorms?

Chunji paid no mind to Ciara's reaction to being drugged by Otis. With her impulsive personality and profoundly injured condition, calming her down with opioids was acceptable in Chunji's eyes. Part of that was attributed to the fact that he was carrying an injured Davil in his arms. The quicker that reached the clinic, the better. Chunji pressed his lips and spoke to Ciara.

"Rest easy, Ventaura. Arillo did not lie. Opioids help ease pain by triggering the brain to release endorphins. Although you received a higher dosage compared to mine or Kyrios's, you should save your grievances for tomorrow. Now is not the time to fight, again." Hopefully, that will be enough to calm down Ciara.

Then that entered through Otis's door.

A space most unfamiliar greeted Chunji as they entered the laboratory. This place must serve as an intermediary for Otis's portals. Chunji's eyes did not wonder all too much, though, as he followed Otis's path. Partly out of respect for privacy, lack of interest, and desire to see Davil get treatment.

Chunji did little as Otis checked the other side. He wanted to ask Iraleth and Otis a question so he could adequately quell the buried emotion but now wasn't the time.

Crossing through the door, Chunji appeared through the door behind Otis. He walked up carefully with Davil in his arms. "I am back, receptionist," Chunji stated. "What my classmate said is true, and the one in my arms needs urgent care. It would be prudent to take him off my arms as I will soon collapse from hypovolemic shock, approximately in one minute, after losing at least 25% of my blood from today's events."

Despite his words, neither Chunji's body nor his words wavered in front of anyone. When Davil were to be retrieved from his arms, Chunji would inadvertently collapse like a puppet cut from its string.

Iris Record, Second Floor -> The Door -> Wingram Clinic
_@Nanaya

---

“I gave you a potion, which you drank.”

Ciara spluttered drunkenly as she was picked up like a wet kitten. ”B-but-”

"Rest easy, Ventaura. Arillo did not lie. Opioids help ease pain by triggering the brain to release endorphins. Although you received a higher dosage compared to mine or Kyrios's, you should save your grievances for tomorrow. Now is not the time to fight, again.”

Opioids… Opioids. The name bounced around in Ciara's mile-wide head, but it only brought up visions of doctors in crisp clothing and wide, sterile smiles.

Before the world swayed as Otis stepped through the door a beat after Chunji. Within, Ciara found her eyes drawn up. The stars caught her head, floating as it was like a balloon, and cradled it. She felt as if she were on a boat, swaying serenely with every step Otis took, a mote among infinity.

Chunji… Chunji said something about the drugs being opioids. She didn't quite know what that meant, but. But she wasn't left behind. Otis could have left her behind, alone in the ivory tower, leave her to the screams. But he picked her up, and carried her through the nebula of stars. Surely, that meant, on some level, he cared?

Chunji's words were reassuring. Reassuring enough that Ciara stopped fighting the ride she was on, fighting the euphoria that threatened to split her mind, and instead… leaned back, and let the stars embrace her. It seemed he too, was not adverse to her breathing, to her living, free of the screams. Perhaps he too, was like Otis.

A blanket fluttered over Ciara's face, blocking her view of the stars. But that was alright, they lived within her now. The blanket had a warming effect, doubling the euphoria curling through her insides. Everything was soft and fuzzy, and with Otis’ measured footfalls, there was a lull, a serenity, a blanket of safety as her mind wheeled and whirred somewhere high up in the sky.

Yes.

Yes, perhaps she could talk with them. Negotiate. With the screams, that was. When they stopped screaming, when they found her, perhaps she could convince them that she was worth it.

Otis and Chunji seemed to believe so. And Iraleth had the opportunity to exact revenge, but… perhaps… she believed so too.

Shapes of light moved against the blanket as Ciara drifted through the air. She had no desire to move the blanket. Couldn't, anyway.

“My friends were attacked by the Umbralist in the tower. First aid was done, but one of them needs more medical attention, and the others need a room to rest in. Which rooms are open?”

"What my classmate said is true, and the one in my arms needs urgent care. It would be prudent to take him off my arms as I will soon collapse from hypovolemic shock, approximately in one minute, after losing at least 25% of my blood from today's events."

Ciara stirred limply under the blanket, trying desperately to listen to the conversation. But the blanket was too soft and fuzzy, and her head too light and disembodied. Scraps of conversation floated around her head, while most of it sailed away to the skies, far away from her. Far away from her properly grasping it and embedding it within her short term memory. Far away, within midnight stars.

So she hung there serenely over Otis's shoulders, and let the stars wash over her.

@AThousandCurses@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode

WINGRAM CLINIC

"Winds out of my sails, you all came directly from the tower?!"

The receptionist would recoil in horror seeing the wounded, exhausted group suddenly entering, setting his Adapa aside a moment to move over to them. The mannekin would react on instinct to the emerge of sudden essences with the preparation of rifles, quick head turns towards the new arrivals, and then a return to their regularly programmed guard duty. At the very least, the measures taken were enough to avoid a firing squad on one specific member of their party - for now. The receptionist shuddered at the reactions of the clockwork soldiers, but nevertheless moved to gently retrieve Davil. He'd nod towards Chunji gingerly, uttering, "At least you're composed enough to speak in such a calm- OH GOOD GOD."

The receptionist stumbled back a step as Chunji toppled over, almost dropping Davil. He'd summon the clinic Adapa to his side and scream into it, "DOCTOR KANN?! DOCTOR KANN!" A moment later, rapid paces from behind the doorway leading to the treatment rooms would approach, and a rather scrawny looking dwarven man in a white coat would burst out. He'd take one look at the group and sweat, clenching his teeth as he rushed towards Chunji's body with a panic. Withdrawing a crimson potion with all the shakiness of a caffeinated rabbit, he would cram it into Chunji's mouth unceremoniously - and only after another moment realized his mistake, shouting out a cuss instantly in reaction.

"Shit! I didn't uncork it! Uhhhh, sorry, buddy, one sec...!"

Pulling it out of Chunji's mouth, he would flick the cork off the potion and once more desperately cram it into Chunji's mouth, successfully healing the boy enough to where he at least won't bleed out. He'd then quickly sling Chunji over his shoulder and begin moving towards the door he entered in from, encouraging the group to follow. The receptionist would nod as well, following along with Davil in his arms. "Doctor Kann is one of our best practitioners here, studied right under Doctor Sylv herself! Though she's busy right now, so we need to make do with what we have," the receptionist would explain anxiously, following the dwarven doctor into the halls.

Were the party to follow, they would arrive in a room not too far from the waiting room, which was more spacious than the private treatment rooms - naturally, at the cost of that very privacy, with nothing more than thin curtains obscuring each of the four beds within. Kann would be muttering, "I can't believe they're bleeding so much, oh lord, this is horrendous. I should've just taken the internship at Strigari, guhhhhh..."

The receptionist would set Davil down on a bed, then give a brief nod to the rest of the group. "I need to stay in the front, but let me know if there's anything else you need! Until this matter is fully settled, I can't allow myself to stray. Doctor Kann will assist all of you, so I leave you in his care!" With that, assuming nothing stopped him, the receptionist would walk out; rubbing the sweat off his forehead and looking down at the blood on his clothes.

Meanwhile, Kann would stride over to Davil and begin casting various stabilizing and healing based spells. In between his first and second cast of a basic Astrite 'Heal' incantation, he would look to Otis who appeared the most able, and pointed towards a cabinet next to Chunji. "Healing potions're in there if any of you need some, owl. Emotional extracts too, if he's nama-deficient; which, based on how his face looks, I gotta assume he is! We've got conceptual extracts locked somewhere too, but I ain't got permission for that without Doctor Sylv's say-so. She runs a tight ship, unfortunately, but that's why I'm here. If anyone can handle this, I Kann!"

Inexplicably, near the corner of the room, what could only be described as a gargoyle given flesh and scales sat perched on top of the vacant bed across from Chunji. It stared across those within the room with a little grin, but otherwise stayed silent - the only reason to believe it was living at all being its slow blinks and the small chuckles escaping from it occasionally. It wasn't clear how long it was there, but it certainly was now. Those who held eye contact with it as it scanned the room would begin to slowly but surely feel their more superficial wounds close up, for seemingly no reason at all.

It was heavy. It was dark.

Chunji opened his eyes to see a familiar room. With a wooden roof, the grassy smell of the outside permeates through the window. He could hear the familiar sounds of the birds chirping as he removed his blanket off of him.

He was home, yet he wasn't.

"Chunji! Breakfast is ready!"

A masculine voice immediately made Chunji step out of his bed. His mouth hurt, and the cats eyed him oddly as he walked past them. Entering the family living room, he met eyes with his shadow-faced father. He was smiling(?) as he gestured towards the table. "Eat. You have a long day ahead of you."

Chunji looked down at the table. It was a simple rice dish with vegetables. Oddly enough, the room smelled of fried eggs. "Your mother is praying right now, so don't disturb her." Chunji looked back to see that his father disappeared.

He was dreaming. It could explain the inexplicable feeling that he was having right now.

Suddenly, the door that seemed so far away became so close. Something slithered between Chunji's toes as he looked over to acknowledge it. He could hear the faint yet loud murmurs.

"Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Ahhh..."

Chunji turned away from the door. A blink and he found himself outside the door. Something wet slobbered itself on his leg. An elderly dog looked up at him expectantly.

"Mutt." Chunji simply said as he reached out to him. The dog leaned his head forward for Chunji to touch its soft fur. As soon as he did, his hand was immediately smacked away by a wooden sword.

The wooden sword clattered onto the ground as he kneeled.

"Chunji... You have to be better than this. We can't be around you all the time." Came the disapproving voice of his shadowy father.

Chunji wanted to speak, but he couldn't. The words were trapped inside and failed to struggle to escape. Still, Chunji picked up his sword and turned to face his father.

A giant serpent eyed at him.

Otis’s eye twitched at that unnecessary bit of wordplay.

But the Strigidae kept his thoughts to himself as he lowered Ciara on one of the beds. Here, at least, there were no longer any mannekins to be concerned about, so he removed the blanket from the shadow-witch and moved towards the cabinets to pull out a few healing potions off the shelves. One he passed to Iraleth, the elven paladin somehow still moving and conscious despite her stony silence. The other he uncorked for Ciara, propping her up against the frame of the bed before tilting it gradually into her mouth.

Then, because he was economical and because he doubted Kann would care in such circumstances, Otis pocketed the empty vial, found a chair to drape his fur-lined jacket over, and then sent a message to the undermage’s Adapa:

Ciara Ventura is currently in the clinic, receiving treatment. She is immobilized and relatively calm. This would be a good time to reset dialogue and call off the emergency.

A nice, quick, clandestinely sent message, before the Strigidae turned to Doctor Kann once more, his amber eyes unclouded, perhaps even bearing a spark of curiosity.

“I’m good with my hands, Doctor. Put me to work.”

---

Wingram Clinic
_@Nanaya

---

---

The potion was lifted to Ciara's lips. She spluttered a bit, but drank it in full. In her delusion, she swore Otis asked her a question, and as she cleared her throat, she spoke, “Yes, if you start absorbing from the roots of the plant, it will eradicate faster.”

She was set back down on the bed, feeling satisfied she had answered Otis’ question. She saw Otis move from one side of the curtain to drop his coat, before crossing past the other side of the curtain, where she could only hear the sounds of healing going on.

Her eyes lazily stared at the curtain blocking her view, feeling the potion mix with the euphoria in her belly. Heat washed across her cheeks and chest, healing the cuts she had incurred due to rebound.

There was a gargoyle she spied across the room, but as she stared, black dots started to form in front of her vision. Before they congealed into one, two, three shadows. Manifestations from the Voices in her mind. Little did Ciara realize she was now in the full throws of delirium, subject to her own hallucinations. No one would be able to see what she saw, or hear the whole conversation. But Ciara would answer in a muffled voice, easy enough to pick up if anyone poked their head in past the curtain to see her.

The Voices hovered over her head, looking over her. One spoke, agitated. “It's the orphanages all over again.”

Ciara blinked, and remembered strikingly the scent of fire and smoke, of melted snow, the feel of ice under her feet, as she ran from a mob outside the orphanage.

“It's not like that.” She protested.

Another Voice spoke, their voice high and whispery. “Your friends will get you killed.”

“They believe in me.”

The last Voice, child-like. “You will die. We will live, but woe to you.”

Ciara tried to think past the euphoria in her mind, but the conversation was already slipping from her mind. “I believe they will let me live.”

The Voices carried on. “Remember when we tasted the light? It felt good. You enjoyed it.”

Ciara blinked. “Of course, why wouldn't I?”

“There's no way they'll let you live.”

“Say a prayer, say a prayer.”

Ciara felt another wave of euphoria shudder through her. Why did she need to pray? Wasn't she safe? Otis was looking after her. Iraleth didn't kill her. Chunji was on her side.

“I'm going to be fine.”

“There is no safety for the darkness. I bet that Umbralist is already dead.”

Ciara's head spiraled again. Umbralist… Yes, the one in the church. She wasn't sure why it was in a church, but she admired the darkness that poured off him, the inky substance of his aura, flickering…

Wait, there was no way.

“They wouldn't kill him.”

The Voices were quiet for a moment, or maybe they spoke. Ciara couldn't quite hear them over the euphoria. She could only stare up as the shadows staring down at her seemed to twist, buckle, and turn. It was pleasant to look at.

A Voice said something. But it was like listening to someone speak under water.

It repeated itself. “Darkness has to fight in this kill-or-be-killed world. Why aren't you fighting?”

“They're not going to hurt me…”

“They'll beat the truth out of you, and execute you in the most horrible manner.”

“N-no… You're wrong. The dark one wouldn't do that.”

“HE WOULD.”

No, she couldn't believe it. Otis wouldn't let that happen. The euphoria made it hard to think, and already, she was losing the logic to make Otis look like a bad guy. He had saved her hadn't he?

Ciara stared up at the ceiling, feeling the tingles and numbness float over and through her skin and bones. Somehow, lead weights were attached to each limb. She couldn't move them. Couldn't will them to move.

Flashes of the orphanage flared up in her mind. Flashes of eating plant essence. Flashes of the light; Iraleth, how she tasted. Of Chunji, Otis, mottled darkness.

It was impossible to feel fear with all this euphoria, but still, a delusional awareness settled over her. Ciara spoke not to the shadows, but to something else. Her mutterings low and slurred.

“They may kill me… They may end me, and I would have never got to meet you. Never got to learn from you, understand you.

“Please… Don't let them take me away…”

Forcibly placed into bed rest after barely managing to limp her way into the clinic, Iraleth could barely muster the energy to protest. Otis's damnable drug didn't help. Oh, it certainly did what he'd claimed it would, that was for certain. But she could barely feel herself think after taking it.

Iraleth laid in stony silence on the bed she was placed in, her armor stripped from her body by one of the attending staff. Irony of ironies, she hadn't suffered much in the way of real physical injury all day today. No, her hurts were all internal. Healing potions wouldn't do much for her. She stared up at the clinic's ceiling, trying to force her mind to focus through the opioid.

She hadn't let Ciara fall because the girl had been lugging Davil with her. Else, it would have been tempting to simply let the...second Umbralist? ...Actual Umbralist? Do away with her. But now what? She wasn't any closer to discovering what Ciara actually was, aside from capable of devouring Essence. And wasn't that a can of worms on its own?

It didn't matter that it was Iraleth's Essence specifically that was devoured. As far as she could tell, the vast majority of her power remained. The rest could be compensated for. But such an ability may as well have been Umbralism by default. There were no exceptions. They had to die. Every last one of them.

But the question still remained: was Ciara one? Evidently, she gave a damn about Davil enough to rescue him. And to go against that other, shadowy figure. Cultists of ruin didn't do that. Just then, the delusional ravings of a madwoman could start to be heard from the next curtain over. Ciara.

Iraleth grit her teeth, forcing herself out of bed. Clad only in her shirt and breeches, she limped one bed over, brushing the curtain aside to stare down at Ciara's babbling form. The paladin simply stood there, observing. Her half-lidded, exhausted expression resembling a sullen glare. This was the best chance she had to glean any unwilling answers from Ciara's ravings while she was still drugged.

@AThousandCurses@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode

WINGRAM CLINIC

As Otis would send his message to Nicole, he would receive an immediate response in text. It would read, "The recipient could not be found. This is the result of an invalid essence link, a cancellation of Adapa functionality, or the damage or destruction of the recipient's Adapa. In the case of damage, please retry in 24 hours. Thank you!" It was sent in reply quickly enough that it was almost certainly automated to account for such incidents. After receiving this message, Nicole Malthruse's name would receive a '(?)' at the end.

Kann turned to Otis and nodded, gesturing to Davil. "See to it that the boy maintains stability for a few moments. Whatever cut him, conventional methods aren't patching up the results as well as they should be. If I had to speculate, I'd almost say that the concept of stagnation was literally ripped into him. Which would normally be alright, but it's only affecting intake and not discharge; he's leaking essence and blood at the regular rate for an injury of this severity, while taking essence in at a much slower rate in comparison."

The doctor would withdraw a vial from his breast pocket and hand it over to Otis, walking briskly towards the door. "I'm heading to find Doctor Sylv for permission to access the conceptual extracts. If things get bad, that vial is a fleetness extract directly torn from the plane of wind. It'll certainly be enough to bypass the stagnating effect, but it'll go well beyond that, and the boy could die almost instantly if his prime essence is incompatible. You have my permission for its use if the boy's facing certain death before I return. In the meantime, uh... keep him alive! You've got potions and maybe a bit of healing, eh? Good stuff!"

With that, he would turn back one last time, nodding to the students as if sending them upon a grave task, and vanishing out into the hallway. As he did so, the gargoyle would chuckle as he looked upon the wounded in the room. "Doc's out, and das wot's gon' win y'all's the day, eh? Peachy keeeeeeeen..." It would continue grumbling similar nonsense and chuckling, and the healing effect would continue to all who met its gaze.

In Ciara's mind as she lay there, the high-low voice would again return, chuckling darkly. Ciara felt its presence around her, but could not see it. "Your end will not be here, Ciara Ventura. I will not let it be in such a place. A demise as grey as this ill befits you."

The sound of chittering, frostbitten teeth circled around her in her mind - an image that, whether she was familiar or not, would ingrain itself. Each inhale was heat, and each exhale an avalanche; the breathing of a being that was sustained through means incomprehensible to the living. She would eventually feel the pressure of the presence settle near her, at her side, pressing upon her pillow and by her bedside.

"Through mortal will, you survived the knight, the mage and the dark. Lives ended from your whims, and you gave them no thought. Davil Wund himself was merely a bargaining piece, was he not? You care not for the boy, but for the moralistic satisfaction it brings upon you to save another to rid yourself of the guilt of killing innocents. You are exactly the machine I saw, the steel I sharpened, the rock I carved. You have done well. If any would attempt to end this journey for the duration of your recovery, rest assured, Ciara Ventura..."

The pressure on Ciara's bedside would increase, creaking the bedframe - the sounds of pressed fabric and stressed wood echoing through the clinic room. This wasn't merely a delusion in Ciara's head, Iraleth would see the pressing of something heavy yet invisible on the side of Ciara's bed, leaning it to one side and pressing down on a vacant part of Ciara's pillow. Nevertheless, the high-low voice to follow would still only be heard in Ciara's mind, rupturing in her ears with static and distortion, as if in pure rage.

"I̷̮͗͝ ̸͔͍̯͗̆͆̊W̶͉͛͑̚I̴̛̩̐̿̂͆L̷͔̞̾͆̒̈́̇L̵̟̓͒̂͌͠ ̷̢͔̦͎̔Ķ̵̜̲̱̮́I̷̛̗̝͚͗̏̃̉Ļ̵͈̝̱̼̂̀L̷͇̑̉ ̶̢͓̲̻͔̂͋͒͠Ţ̷̥̪̟̺̒̽Ĥ̷̹̞̩̇͋͗Ë̵͖̥̞͇̗M̶̯͋̒̃ ̴̣̘̻̟͆̎̽͊M̵̹̝̓̆͋͐͠Y̴̺̥̿S̷̛͓͔̥͒́͠Ḛ̴̡̘̙̼̄̏L̵̛͜F̸̨͙͎̼́̉̒.̶̡̟͚̽"

All at once, the pressure on the bed would release, though the slight cracks in the bedframe would remain, as would the imprint on the sheets and pillow from moments prior.

---

Wingram Clinic
_{@Nanaya, @Psyker Landshark}

---

It was imperceivable.

A drunken shiver ran down Ciara's spine, though she couldn’t will herself to be afraid.

Blame the opioids.

She could only ‘stare’ in horror, feeling a peculiar essence wrap around her. A familiar, yet unfathomable essence. A presence she had become dependent upon, whether she realized it or not.

"Through mortal will, you survived the knight, the mage and the dark. Lives ended from your whims, and you gave them no thought.”

Ciara, though finding trouble to think, acted on impulse with her speech, naked truth clinging to each slurred, mumbled word. “I just… wanted to survive.”

An auditory hallucination - she could hear the snap of bone, feel the sickening give under the pressure of her tentacles. She was too strong - had she really killed them?

…Did it really matter? She would have killed them if it meant she could survive.

“Davil Wund himself was merely a bargaining piece, was he not? You care not for the boy, but for the moralistic satisfaction it brings upon you to save another to rid yourself of the guilt of killing innocents.”

“He's weak… Maybe if I saved him, they would...” Ciara mumbled, before her eyes glazed a little more, and she trailed off.

In actual fact, she continued to speak in her mind, continued to think. However, her thoughts were uncoordinated. Somehow, Davil's blood resurfaced when she thought of a fateful day at the orphanage. The kids had caught her and tried to burn her, calling her a witch.

She had… blacked out. But when she came to, kids were passed out around her, some staring at her in fear, clutching their chests in pain, other fleeing entirely.

Davil was her way of atoning for her sins, again and again. And it worked. In her head, everything was balanced. The good outweighed the bad. No matter how many times she heard the screams of guards repeat in her ears…

Her thoughts unraveled. “Maybe… my own weakness disgusts me. I can't fight beyond my shadow, stuck in this cage…”

A long pause, Ciara's eyes blindly looking from left to right. Before her mumblings were low, yearning. “I just want to drink it…”

She fell silent, listless again. The words rattled around in her mind. “The light. Embrace the darkness. Follow it wherever it goes, and sate my gnawing Hunger… It's lonely, agonizing… I just want to eat.”

“You are exactly the machine I saw, the steel I sharpened, the rock I carved. You have done well. If any would attempt to end this journey for the duration of your recovery, rest assured, Ciara Ventura…

"I̷̮͗͝ ̸͔͍̯͗̆͆̊W̶͉͛͑̚I̴̛̩̐̿̂͆L̷͔̞̾͆̒̈́̇L̵̟̓͒̂͌͠ ̷̢͔̦͎̔Ķ̵̜̲̱̮́I̷̛̗̝͚͗̏̃̉Ļ̵͈̝̱̼̂̀L̷͇̑̉ ̶̢͓̲̻͔̂͋͒͠Ţ̷̥̪̟̺̒̽Ĥ̷̹̞̩̇͋͗Ë̵͖̥̞͇̗M̶̯͋̒̃ ̴̣̘̻̟͆̎̽͊M̵̹̝̓̆͋͐͠Y̴̺̥̿S̷̛͓͔̥͒́͠Ḛ̴̡̘̙̼̄̏L̵̛͜F̸̨͙͎̼́̉̒.̶̡̟͚̽"”

Ciara moaned quietly, limply and numbly shifting in her bed, head lolling from side to side. It was like she had a fever, and she was desperately trying to escape it. Her lips parted, her breath shallow, sweat glistening on her brow.

In a vivid, fever dream-like state, Ciara found herself in her home. Before her Ethos had awakened, she was in the warm, loving embrace of her parents. It was safe, it was freeing-

It was exactly how this presence of darkness felt. Like a parent. Like safety. Like the ultimate form of authority, tightly woven with a sense of love.

Ciara continued to unconsciously twitch, limbs pinned, gasping as the presence's words caused her ears to ring and wail. She cried out in a whisper, her voice raspy and wanting.

“Father…! Mother…!”

Like a child crying out for their parents.

As the presence faded, a sense of longing took hold of Ciara, before it was lost to the euphoria, and she settled quietly on her bed, breath returning to a slow rhythm. Euphoria churned her guts as bells rang in her head somewhere in the stratosphere.

So, it took a long, long time before Ciara’s eyes managed to focus on Iraleth, standing at the edge of the curtain. Her gaze immediately softened, appearing to take physical joy in seeing Iraleth.

“The light… is here…”

A few more low breaths, before her head lolled to the side again, blinking rapidly as she groaned softly. She was struggling to remain aware, serotonin and dopamine pinging off senselessly in her mind, causing her to feel in and out of body.

“Don't… kill me… I'm sorry about eating you… I was just hungry…”

A child's lie, a child's excuse. Even drugged, Ciara struggled to be honest about her desperation to win, to use any means necessary…

Fire.

The inferno consumed everything around Chunji. The heat licked his skin and turned everything to ash. His father, like wax, melted before his eyes. The dog he cared for soon returned to ash. The forests, the sky, everything was on fire. The only thing that had a semblance beyond this hellscape was the cackles of his mother. Incoherent, mad raving that only came in parts to Chunji.

"Burn! It- Return- to the-!"

Bits of pieces soon faded away as Chunji knelt upon the burning floorboards. His eyes did not meet the Great Serpent that stared before him. Words untold didn't need to be heard; they could be felt. Chunji could feel the Great Serpent's millenium-emotions that ran deeper than his blood. He could feel the anger, the disappointment, and the sorrow.

A snake soon slithered its way towards him. Its beady eyes focused and dilated upon him. The weight of consequence manifests. It slithered up his arm and soon coiled itself around his neck. The snake brought its head around and-

Pain.

Chunji slowly opened his eyes to the roof of the clinic ceiling. His body felt oddly better, but he was slightly tired. His perception of the world was almost wavy. Something had happened when he was unconscious, but there was little to think about it. The depths of his unconscious were calling on to him once more the work of opioids. Despite that, he got up.

His hand reached toward the back of his neck. There was something that he needed to confirm. A sign that his parents had warned him about. Eventually, he found it. Smooth and dry, a scale.

He heard Ciara's voice echoing the darkness of his unconscious—a plea for mercy, for empathy.

Then her lips spoke of sin.

Despite the strange atmosphere and the unknown pressure that originated from Ciara, Chunji felt that he needed to speak. He would not abide such debauchery.

The mind became lucid, his eyes simmering in anger. There was nothing short of venom in his voice. "That is no excuse. You've done nothing more other than debase yourself," Chunji would admonish his classmate. Before he could speak more, Chunji bit his tongue before he had anything more to say.

There was a lot he didn't know, he reasoned. Even though he had connected the dots about what happened at the arena, it was pointless to talk to a barely lucid Ciara.

He needed to divert his attention to something else. Chunji looked over to Otis and Davil, and then he got out of bed. His legs wobbled, but he straightened his posture and supported himself against the bed.

Seeing as the Doctor did not heal Davil, it would seem that there was something that prevented him from doing so. "What is his condition?" An inquiry for Otis.

Otis nodded as the Doctor passed, pocketing the extraplanar extract for himself. It was a rare thing to get a genuine article for free after all.

It was interesting too though, that the message he had sent via Adapa to the undermage had failed. He himself had confirmed that it was possible to send messages in and out of a Leyline Overcharge, so what had happened after her apparent victory? The Strigidae’s eyes narrowed briefly, considering his options for exploring that particular topic, before settling for the simplest one: the spring-like automaton he had placed within that space. A quick pulse of essence was released through his Adapa, searching for any response or resonance from his creation. And while he waited for the results of that?

Back to work.

Chunji was up, and if Otis was a good doctor, he’d bade his classmate to lie back down and rest. Extra hands were useful though, and so the Strigidae instead said, “Davil has been inflicted with the essence of stagnation, but only conditionally. He loses blood and essence at a regular pace in consideration to his injuries, but cannot intake them at the same rate, so standard transfusions are having decreased effects upon him.”

He glanced back at Ciara and Iraleth. One was rambling, caught in the throes of a nightmare. The other was barely awake, holding on with only the force of will at this point. There had been a creaking sound a moment ago, but no known origin. Shame he didn’t have eyes on the back of his head, but even he had too many things on his list already.

“Work on keeping him stable. I’ll look into locating the root cause of this condition.”

There were no other words needed at that point. The implanting of essence, by nature, was such that the more complex an object was, the more difficult the implantation process became. And what could be more complex than a living being? To have implanted the concept of stagnation, and a conditional variation of that, upon Davil must have taken either extraordinary amounts of time, effort and skill. Time, which could have been spent simply cutting off his head. Effort, which could have been spent simply blowing him to bits. Skill, which that Umbralist clearly did not have enough of, if they could not best or hold their own for all that long against the undermage.

Yes, rather than specifically an implantation of a curse, it was far more likely that the symptoms of ‘reduced recovery’ came from an exterior source. One could not easily implant the essence of ‘fire’ into a human being, but one could accomplish that with ease by tossing them into a bonfire. Essence was complex, but also just made of the world itself. They affected each other in equal measure. And thus…

“Rather than a curse, would it just be poison?”

Poison, laced upon a weapon. Meant to weaken a foe and reduce the probability of their recovery in case of escape. The poison itself could have been concocted with essence manipulation and spellwork, then applied ‘externally’ into the body of another to reproduce those same effects through the world-essence relationship.

It was a better theory than digging through a haystack for a particular needle.

Now then, the Seeker would simply have to test that theory.