The creature was still half attached to the egg sac as it pulled itself up out of the water. The dark cavernous walls echoed back the wet sounds of its escape. Razor sharp teeth were revealed from its parted maw as the serpent's tongue slipped free to wash the mucus from its body.

Weak legs struggled to push from the remnants of the egg and with a liquid gush it finally was free. Vicious looking talons pulsated in and out of sheaths as it began to gather its strength. A ravenous hunger was filling its mind. A desire to feed the most important dictate.

A sound carried along the tunnels. A scrabbling noise that revealed that Zansanette's hatchling was not alone. Eagerly it canted its cylindrical head first one way and then the other as it sought to hear the approach of its meal. Opaque eyes clearly lacked much sight as it relied on another sense to warn it.

Weakly the creature gained its feet, ignoring the trembling in its disjointed legs as it crawled further from the lap of the water. Its long tail dragged uselessly for now though the spikes along it warned that once it gained its strength it would be quite formidable in an encounter.

It held still, one clawed hand finding the wall to hold its weight as it tilted its head again from side to side searching for its prey.

Suddenly it was grabbed from above, rapidly disappearing up and over a ledge as the Revenant sunk desperate fangs anywhere they could find purchase. Its own hiss was repugnant in its vile sound as it futilely attempted to twist and turn, blood spraying as it was shredded before it fully gained maturity.

As the revenant feasted upon its remains, its less than intelligent gaze flickered unknowingly over the piles of egg sacs that littered the pool area...emptied...hours...if not days ago.

From the ceiling another of Zansanette's offspring poured fluidly down behind the oblivious revenant...this one much stronger than its pour newborn brethren.


((This SL is now linked to Hunting Grounds as well. Please feel free to have your student chance upon the turf wars that are erupting as hungry hatchlings encounter hungry revenants)).

"Oh, good. A challenge."

There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Leda's voice as she muttered this to herself, surveying the new obstacle before her. How long had she been down here? She couldn't tell, too turned around by the winding passages and groping, danger-filled darkness to pay much attention to the passage of time. At least she could be certain that even if Mistress Praysin cared little whether she lived to return, Carnivean would be furious if she was lost to a whim of one of the tutors.

For hours, she had crept along in near silence, every sense alert, hoping to pick up the sound of a stealthy approach before she herself was picked up and ripped to pieces. That first encounter, so near to the surface, had been simply that - the first of several. None, yet, had directly involved her, but she had seen enough of the mindless hunger and ravening destruction to know that something more than a game of wits was going on down here.

She'd passed through one cavern lined with egg sacs; some still intact, others in the process of hatching, most empty. And even there, she had witnessed the evidence of the revenants' work. Infant bodies of monstrous form had been scattered about the damp rock and soil, the slime of their amniotic sacs still clinging to them. It seemed there were more revenants down here than she had first thought. She didn't linger in that cavern, eager to be away from so much fresh meat, knowing the smell was sure to attract others of the infants' kind who hungered for flesh.

Her way then had been barred by a chasm in the rock, too deep to risk jumping. It was there that she had lost one of her ropes, a handful of pitons; only luck had saved her as the ceiling shifted above her, knocking her anchors loose and throwing her from her formerly secure perch. One flailing arm had caught the rough ledge she had been aiming for, the sharp rock tearing open her flesh until the blood ran raw and stinging down to her fingertips. But she had survived that fall, and a swift spell stolen from Mistress Evahlys' spellbook while she was otherwise occupied saw the rough sealing of the gash on her underarm.

From there on, the passage had narrowed, until Leda was forced to wriggle along, through spaces too uncomfortably narrow even for her peace of mind, pushing her bag ahead of her. It had been ripped from her hands just here, where the narrow pothole of a passage had suddenly opened out, and a gaping maw had instead thrust itself in through the opening at her.

She was not too proud to admit, if only to herself, that she had screamed loud enough to bring a fall of rock from the cavern wall tumbling down on top of the threatening creature. No spells necessary, even if she'd had the wits to use any; the rock fall had buried her attacker, splitting skin and muscle, sending hissing, almost acidic blood to etch gruesome patterns into the rock face. Shuddering with the delayed shock of how close she had come, yet again, to death, Leda pulled herself free of the tiny passage and slumped to the ground, trying not to have serious second thoughts about this whole endeavor.

And now here she was. On the shore of an underground lake that stretched to the far wall of the cavern in which she knelt. The rock here was pale, sandstone-colored, ragged with stalagtites and -mites casting eeries shadows from the luminescent water. Dragging herself to her feet, she began to explore the walls of the cavern, but there was no way to escape it, unless she went back the way she had come.

Checking her enchanted map, Leda frowned. The line she was following led straight across the water, through the sheer rock face she could see over from her position. There was nothing for it but to swim. Perhaps the lake led to another cavern, one more open and easier to escape. She hated water, though.

"Great, just bloody great," she growled to herself, crouching to secure all her belongings in her bag, whispering another spell to make it watertight. Her wand flashed, illuminating the unpleasant shadows for a split second. Illuminating a savage muzzle and glowing eyes, staring at her from the furthest, deepest pocket of darkness, high above her head.
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The Catacombs. When Quillyan learned of Mistress Prayshin?s challenge, no wise fear dared to claim purchase on any part of her tumultuous psyche; indeed, she was defiant, aggressive, and foolish. She knew the local catacombs - in fact, she had been there more recently than she was pleased to admit.

She had been afraid then.

But fright fades with the passage of days, becoming a ghost of itself, a mockery of the nightmare that once sent growling trembles down her spine.

The novice had been very afraid then, the dread and frustration so palpable that she vowed upon her escape to right the twisted path that led her there, to confess her transgression to Albion and to sever Grant?s opportunities for manipulation.

But Prayshin?s assignment roused none of those memories. The promise of darkness spoke relief - relief from the joy of her peers, a joy she could not share; a cure for the emptiness that had settled in her chest, expanding the hollow places in her heart; a temporary escape from Albion?s unoccupied bed: a couch she dared not touch in his absence. The horror of the catacombs seemed mild in comparison to the sick guilt that plagued her - the cold, dead dread of self-doubt.

A return to the catacombs could be redemption.

***

(The night of the StormSabre Pool Party, as Quillyan was detained. )

With the considerable populace that roamed the school, it seemed terrible luck - a tragedy on par with the cruelty of her mentor, Grant - that the Vaden, those horrifying creatures, responded to Quillyan?s ragged cries for help in the sad dark of the closet, arriving in a mischievous trio from shadowy corners.

If only that impenetrable door separated them now, instead of merely the dusty air within the storage room.

They studied her with intense eyes, twitching, guttural chirps emanating from their horrifically lipless mouths, as if they were involved in an unimpressed conversation concerning the merit of her very existence. The novice?s breath came in hysterical gasps, eyes wide and watering with unshed tears, lengthy form form frozen against the damnable door, save for her breasts rising and falling in a comely, furious rhythm. The largest Vaden, occupying the center of the corrupt threesome, cradled an eerie intelligence in his yellow gaze -- clearly, he was the leader. Between the digits of a startlingly humanoid paw, a cigarette appeared, and a moment afterwards the accompanying match, struck expertly against the floor and lifted to the dead tip of the tobacco, which flared accordingly to life.

He puffed. It was very quiet.

Quillyan?s mind raced in the unsettling silence, returning time and again to the question of how this unholy triumvirate had come to occupy the same lonely space that she did. There must have been another passage to the small storage room, hidden somewhere among the relics. In her estimation, the only way to elude this conniving crowd would be to find their entrance, which surely offered more possibilities than her hopelessly locked door. Every few seconds, her frigid gaze flickered to the crowded walls, seeking the clandestine lines of another entrance, searching for any interruption in the uneven patterns of chaotic clutter.

Finally her attention alighted on a single spot, where the darkness seemed more concentrated: a pit that her illumination orb failed to disturb.

The commanding Vaden cackled between puffs, and his comrades responded with tittering laughter, agile bodies shifting in restless, gleeful malice. One covered its eyes; the middle pressed hairless palms to ears; the third pressed fingers to a gaping mouth.

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

Quillyan?s assumptions strayed immediately to an extreme. Those little f**ckers were going to murder her, eat her, and then they would cover the whole thing up.

Terror lifted her pulse. She felt dizzy.

The leader stubbed out his cigarette on the bare stone floor.

Aided by a surge of adrenaline, the novice lunged toward the intensified darkness, her slim figure crashing against the narrow portal upon the wall, her scurry sending several paintings and a shield tumbling to the floor with a terrible crash and dangerously jostling a smaller statue. But her hope was realized when her shoulder knocked against wood instead of stone, and in a few furious seconds, she was able to ascertain that the miniature entrance was no more than two feet high, and narrow, but unlocked.

With a twist of the iron knob, the door released and she slipped into the darkness beyond: a tight tunnel, leading to the catacombs.

***

It had taken the entirety of the night and some of the following day to work through the labyrinthine tunnels of the corridors that threaded far beyond the grounds of the school. When finally she emerged in the city proper, near the Dragon, she was dazed and sick with fear, but she knew her way.

She would never be so lost again.

***

Most of the students, Quillyan knew, would enter the catacombs through one of the main entrances: those introduced to many students in basic expeditions, for there were portions of the tunnels that were frequently visited by various classes at the Institute. These adventurers would work in groups, combining strengths to seek the amulet, mitigating individual nervousness through the confidence of a group.

This would not be her method.

Her search would be solitary, and with little information regarding the placement of Prayshin?s prize, Quillyan?s advantage would be her expanded, hard-earned knowledge of the catacombs and her singular swiftness.

As she shimmied through the Vaden?s narrow passage to the subterranean network, her tongue silently rehearsed the arcana that would unleash a brilliant attack of fire, should she encounter one of the primates. Though they were immune to much casting, she clung to the hope that a display of force would keep them at a comfortable distance.

Strangely, she emerged from the tight tunnel without the barest hint of the pests; indeed, their conspicuous absence provided much less relief than she may have previously imagined.

Lengthy limbs stretched in the relative openness of the corridor proper (ancient, crumbling walls oozed water dark as blood, they were broken here and there by holes carved for the placement of the dead), and her slender fingers elegantly wove a swift spell for nightvision, compelling magic to drive the oppressive shadows from her bright eyes.

And so she journeyed forth, her steps swift and nearly silent, her trail turned towards the natural caverns that intersected the artificial catacombs.

(more soon!)

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Ignorance is a gift given only to a very few. Leda, unfortunately, was not one of those few. Even as she swung her newly enchanted, watertight bag onto her back, she knew she was being hunted. A dozen little things told her ... the sudden knowledge of hostile eyes on her, the tiny scrape of claws or talons on rock, the muted reflection of something on the water in front of her, the miniscule radiation of heat from a gaping maw.

It wasn't behind her, whatever it was. Nor could it possibly be in front of her, or the ripple and splash of the underground lake would have given it away. She'd heard nothing from the fallen rock pile that had buried her previous attacker, so this was something new. The air barely moved within these caves, giving her no chance to scent the creature now stalking her.

Something dripped onto her shoulder. She stilled in place, slowly raising one hand to the heated wetness now residing on her skin. Hot, viscous, stank of rotten meat ... above her. Just as slowly as before, she rose onto her feet, the tilt of her chin gradually bringing her black-eyed gaze to stare toward the ceiling of the cave.

With a snarling hiss, whatever it was leapt down at her. She let out a yell, launching herself to one side, rolling on sharp stone that broken open her skin wherever it touched. Her wand clattered uselessly to the rock, out of reach of her grasping hand. On her back, blinded by the shock of the attack, peering with what little light came from the luminescent waters, she scrabbled backward, watching the monstrous form approach her.

Saliva dripped from the gaping maw, a slithering tongue reaching out to taste the air, taste her scent. No eyes; she couldn't blind it. No ears; she couldn't deafen it. A reptilian shape out of nightmares ... and the nightmares of a half-bred demon were not to be scoffed at.

Fear coursed through her for the first time in her life, soaking her skin with cold sweat so unnatural to her preternaturally hot flesh. She could hear the rasp of her breath in her throat, increasing in speed, losing depth, threatening her conscious mind with unconsciousness unless she got a hold on herself. On her wand.

Her fingers stretched as far as they could, fuelled by the whimper she produced as the creature crawled over her, leaning down until that unpleasant breath was all she could smell, until the clinging strands of saliva dripped onto her face and neck, stinging with some unknown enzyme already seeking to digest her even before she was eaten. The mouth opened, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth, the tongue shifting in anticipation of the meal before it. Her fingers closed on something sharp enough to tear her palm, bringing it upward with as much force as she could muster.

There was a dull thunk as the rock made contact, knocking the unprepared thing from over her with another hiss of displeasure. Dropping her temporary weapon, Leda scrambled onto her front, hands desperate groping for her wand. It was here, she'd heard it fall so close, her own blood making her fingers' reach dull ... Behind her, the creature rose back to its feet, unharmed by her attack, enraged that she still was fighting. With a horrifying yowl, it leapt at her, just as the slender wood came to her groping hand.

"Wybaad an ykwn thhba!"

A blast of blue fire erupted from the end of her wand, catching the thing in mid-leap, throwing it backward to impact hard against the far cavern wall, disappearing into the darkness there with the dull sound of a body hitting the ground. Not the effect she'd been looking for, but all the same ... Thank you, Mistress Mistmark, for being a pedantic b*tch over dialects.

Breathless, terrified despite her victory, Leda dragged herself to her feet, disgusted with herself for feeling so close to tears even as she repeated Mistress Eahlys' charm on her new injuries. This was her own fault, she brutally reminded herself; she had insisted on coming down here alone and without proper research done, she had brought all this on herself. She had no one to blame but her own pride and ambition. And there was no point at all now in berating herself for not liking water; there was nowhere else to go but into the lake, and hope like hell that Mercedes' brief explanation of how to swim would stick.

She waded slowly out until the cold water rose to her thighs, hands busily securing her bag tightly to shoulders and waist, tying her wand just as securely to her wrist to keep it handy but not in the way. It took a moment, but she did remember to cast a cantrip that should help her to hold her breath for as long as she would need to.

Behind her, she heard rock shift, the delicate tumble of loose stone falling from a body reviving from its momentarily unconscious state. Glancing back, she saw a shadow within a shadow, rising to shake its reptilian head, that terrifying maw of teeth and saliva opening to release a loud snarl of anger.

"Oh, you have got to be -"

With a speed that rooted her to the spot, the creature drew itself up and leapt, colliding with her to send them both crashing down into the depths of the subterranean waters.
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Spelunking.

It wasn?t exactly what he considered a progressive way to pass the time, but seeing as how he needed something to take his mind off the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions that constantly alternated deep inside, he found the idea rather pleasant. The catacombs beneath the Institute were a vast labyrinth where one could easily get lost, which was exactly what he needed.

It had been a few days since moving out of the room he and Quillyan had shared for nearly a year, and just the thought of it made him wince. He didn?t know how long that hollow feeling inside would last, but he was certain that laying around in sorrowful nostalgia of what once was would not help with its dissipation. Besides, he didn?t have any right to be upset. Sure, the thought of her and Grant was painful, but he had little room to be righteous considering that he had done the same with Mystriana. The only difference was that she, at least, had the guts to tell him.

There it was; that familiar hollow.

?Morning, roomie!?

Kish seemed inclined to a perpetual jovialness that made Albion?s skin crawl. In and out, that novice evoker was in constant motion between the room and wherever it was that Saphira laid claim to. Though his existence was frenetic, he never seemed to be without his smile.

?Good morning.? Albion replied without looking up from his bag, the extra cloak he shoved inside causing one side to bulge and swell due to everything it contained.

?Looks like someone?s planning on a trip. Don?t tell me I?ve already ran you off! We haven?t even really had a chance to get to know each other.?

After struggling with the zipper, shifting some of the bags contents to alleviate stress along its length, Albion finally got the bag closed and slung it over a sharp, thin shoulder as he spun to face his roommate, crimson locks swirling about to mask his pallid visage. ?Hardly.? The transmuter announced. ?While utterly annoying, you don?t possess the required importance for me to consider you worthy of my attention or my libel. Quite frankly, my regard for you is impartial.? He said evenly, before adding. ?At best.?

Kish?s mouth fell agape and he made heavy breathing sounds associated with disbelief. Such theatrics would have been comedic had the young novitiate not looked completely insulted. ?Ouch.? It summed up his reaction perfectly.

?Indeed.? Albion nodded, moving across the room for the door.

He drew it open and started to step through before turning back, spying his wand sheath stationed upon his bed. In recounting all of the things he would need for his journey, he had nearly forgotten it. He reached out, thin fingers and white palm opened wide, and with a soft whisper called for the item. Magic surrounded it, lifted it from the mattress, and zipped it across the air to his awaiting grasp. Tucking it into his belt, he glanced at Kish. ?I?ll be back in a week or so.?

?Wait.? Kish said a bit startled. ?A week? What are you doing that?s going to take a week??

Albion arched a brow. ?Have you not heard of Mistress Praysin?s challenge? She?s hidden some items in the caverns beneath the school, challenging students who are up to it to go looking for them. I?d like to win this challenge.?

?Oh yea! I heard someone talking about this yesterday!? Kish licked his lips, his large blue eyes scanning the area around his bed. ?Hold up.? He said as he started to gather some things. ?I?ll come with you.?

?Come?with me??

?Sure!? A knapsack was pulled apart, its central flap open like some gluttonous maw, and randomly Kish began to fill it with all sorts of knickknacks that Albion would have considered ultimately useless. ?I mean, what better chance are we going to have to bond than endless hours stuck underground? It?s how friendships are forged.?

?As well as lunacy.?

?To-may-to, to-mah-to.? It was taking a bit of time to gather the necessary belongings, though in a school of wizards silly little things like time were easily manipulated. A simple haste spell had the Evoker moving at nearly three times normal human speed, and in a blink he was standing before the gaunt Transmuter ready to go.

?I?I don?t know.? Albioin said with a shake of his head. He had wanted to go alone for the bliss of solitude. Kish?s companionship would obviously nullify that.

?Albion.? Kish said, slapping him on the shoulder. ?It?s me and you, compadre. And the catacombs better look out, ?cause we aren?t taking any prisoners!?

Again there was that jolly mien.

Yuck.

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?Are you sure you have it??

?I?m good! Next time listen to me! I told you that breaking away the stones at the base would cause the archway to cave in!?

?It looked solid!?

?It did!? Albion barked, his face nearly flush with the pile of stone chunks that separated he and the evoker. ? It did look solid! Until you broke away the stones at the base!?

There was silence on the other side for a long time until finally Kish responded with. ?My bad.?

Albion sighed and took a step back, scouring the barrier. It created a rather formidable partition between the two that was thick in depth and substantial in weight. A matrix of spells was being considered - though most, he feared, would result in an even greater cave-in that may cause the entire corridor to collapse. The ceiling didn?t look very solid and Albion feared a seismic shift might bring the whole thing down.

As it appeared, they were trapped.

He glanced down the cavernous hall. The winding length was the way they had been going, the ominous darkness up ahead sweeping downward in a sharp declining grade.

?Albion!? Came Kish?s voice through the wall of stone. ?Are you still there??

?I am.? Albion shouted back. ?I?m going to head deeper in and see if I can find a way back around. This corridor looks like it might circle back.?

?Wait! What am I supposed to do while you?re doing that??

?I would recommend waiting there until you get bored and then heading back out.? Albion said. ?Or perhaps trying your luck with one of the tunnels that branched off the one you are in. We passed a good dozen along the way.?

?I think I?m going to try that!?

?Very good, Kish! I?ll meet up with you soon!?

Albion started down the corridor, not surprised to find that the steep grade of the descending tunnel lurked just beyond the turn. He paused to consider his next course of action, though with a glance back at the barricade that blocked off the passageway going back the way he came, his decision was an easy one to make.

There were a variety of spells that could assist in his descent, though he could already feel his personal reservoir of mana starting to dwindle. He cursed himself silently for the prestidigitation that he had used to match Kish?s spells pound-for-pound, finding that the outcome was not only nowhere near as satisfying as it should have been, but left him depleted the longer time went on.

He?d have to go at it another way.

He reached with lanky arms, outstretching to press palms against the opposing sides of the thin passageway. He was able to keep himself steady by doing so, sliding his boots along the floor to keep upright. It really wasn?t all that bad, and not nearly as slow as he presumed. No, it wasn?t bad at all.

That is, until he slipped.

The loose sand of the sheer passage negated any sense of traction, and the sudden slip ? the sudden slide ? stole his footing. He probably would have been able to stay put due to his handhold had the slip not jolted him, dragging his pale palms across the jaggedly hewn walls, slicing them open with such ferocity that he instinctively recoiled.

And then he was falling.

He hit the ground and rolled, the steep incline instantly turning the tunnel into a dangerous chute. The twist and turn of the passageway had him slamming into the side of the walls, dissolving any chance he had to spew a spell and negate the painful collision of the slithering corridor.

And then the chute gave out and he was falling. Free falling.

Luckily it wasn?t far; by the time he realized he was falling he was hitting the ground.

With a thunk and a groan he was dumped across the unforgiving stone, nothing more than a pile of gaunt limbs and thick crimson hair. He lay against the floor briefly, assuring himself that he truly had come to a stop, and then slowly pushed himself up to his knees. He pulled his hair from his face, striping it from the grit and grim that coated his features, noting the dark red liquid that raced down the shafts of each strand and dripped to the floor. Blood. He was bleeding. On his palms and, from the looks of it, on his face.

?Great.? He murmured as he pushed himself up to his feet. ?Just grea-? Movement from his right caught his eye and he turned to spy an outcropping of a dozen violent looking stalagmites of various sizes. Due to his darkvision incantation, cast upon leaving the upper-levels, he was in no need of light; making the details of the different shapes easily seen and unhindered by the ever-present darkness.

The faint shriek of talons upon stone caused him to cringe, sending the hairs along the nape of his neck and backs of his arms stiff. His first thought was perhaps another student or two had wandered into the large chamber that he suddenly occupied, though that sound, that horrible scraping, deterred that line of thinking.

The sound was much too ominous.

Rocks skittered down along the length of the nearest stalagmite, sending Albion?s emerald gaze searching high into the air.

There, wrapped around the pointed tip of the formation, was a savage looking creature with deathly eyes and wicked hands tipped with dangerous claws. And fangs. Terrible fangs.

Albion gasped and took a step back, though before another retreating stride could fall the creature leapt from the top, and descended upon the transmuter.

They say the best way to learn to swim is slowly, with people you know and trust, in water no more than four feet deep, no matter your age. It was a shame that Leda had not taken the time to learn before she came down here ... but then, who could have predicted this?

She and her monstrous assailant writhed in the murky depths of the underground watercourse, illuminated by the brightness of the luminescent plantlife that clung to the jagged rocks beneath them. The light itself lent an eerie quality to the water that the half-breed would have appreciated had she had the time - a paleness of color to break up the never-ending black of the caverns.

The thing that had tackled her was apparently impervious to the water, able to breathe easily as it hissed and snarled, filling Leda's stinging vision with a steady stream of air bubbles, forcing her to close her eyes against the pain of the water. Claws raked down her side, tearing open cloth and flesh, the open mouth of fangs and teeth craning toward her.

Wand forgotten, the half-breed slave exerted all her strength into keeping the thing from reaching her with that wicked maw of shifting teeth, hands gripping tightly to the thin neck beneath the bulbous head, ever tightening her grip as the being threatened to slip entirely from her grasp. Her lungs were burning, desperate to take a breath in yet deathly aware that if she did, it would be the last she ever took.

Her bare feet scrabbled against the creature's softer underbelly, seeking to kick without much force, wanting it away from her. But not before it was dead. Even in the minute or two she'd been underwater with the thing, Leda had seen how easily it moved through the water. If it got free of her without some debillitating injury, she would be dead before she ever reached the surface. Funny how such morbid observations came to her while she was fighting for her life.

The water was getting cloudy, contaminated by the steady ooze of her blood from the wounds constantly inflicted on her sides, her back, her legs, none of which were sufficiently protected against flesh-hungry talons. To her horror, she felt herself weakening, losing strength with her blood, with the lack of oxygen to keep herself going. All she wanted was to breathe. A bad mistake.

Water flooded her lungs, and panic took over, feeling the icy grip of death so close, he could almost have been there beside her, waiting for the fatal moment when life ended and afterlife began. The creature lunged at her, sensing her weakness, and suddenly ... it wasn't there.

Close to senseless, hovering on the brink of death itself, Leda drifted in the gentle current of the subterranean lake, barely aware of herself or her surroundings. Darkness was closing in around her, beckoning her to come and reside within, to leave the vitality of life and simply be one of the many unnamed dead. And then, just on the edge of hearing crowded by the rush of water, she heard a familiar voice.

"No. This shall not be."

The darkness before her shifted, split, and flames poured forth into the lake, wrapping about her, forcing the water from her lungs, dragging her back to consciousness as the cleansing familiarity of the fires of Pandemonium reached forth to save the half-breed born and raised within them. As her vision cleared, Leda saw clearly the shape of her master looking down at her, the cruel face impassive. He reached out, his burning hand touching her torn and bleeding sides, cauterising the wounds left there, purging any poison that remained to infect her blood.

Then he took hold of her, and with an agonising wrench of body, soul, and mind, Leda landed hard on dry, smooth stone, spluttering and gasping, every inch of her aching or shivering with the shock of her ordeal. She fell onto her back, staring up at the roof of the passage Carnivean had left her in.

Alive, she was alive, and away from the thing that had almost ended her. The Demon Lord was not about to allow his current investment to waste his gold and the humbling of his pride. No ... Leda Nyx was not so lucky.
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Stepping from the catwalk his animated flesh descended into the frigid, dark, waters. Drifting with the current to the very bottom, his pale hands shone like beacons against rusted metal as Cain shifted through the shredded iron of the filter cover. Pulling on the collective of his remaining garden Cain?s eyes, once a striking blue, shift to shades of red. Forcing the muted tones of unyielding black unfold into displays of heat by varying degrees.

He didn't swim so much as glide through the waters. Pushing off the lip of the filter he passed the bent remains of a giant fan. Weight carried him down the passage, feeling the pressure of each new depth. As the pipeline leveled out a series of choices were presented, four in fact. The scent of blood flows down each with equal strength. Metal split into a chicken's foot, the bottom ripped outward showing the fourth way where something had peeled the metal back to get inside.

Hedging around the gutted length of pipe his eyes glanced down to see a lithe shape, all sinuous tentacles and feminine proportions dart past the door to the Abyss. Lips mold into a frown as he pushes off to get some distance between them, unsure if it be friend for foe. Reaching through the root system of his garden, the Singer of Songs brought forth a faint crackling energy to his fingertips just in case.

Beyond the gaping maw, the faint touch of something akin to bone seemed to have been drug along the left passage. Carefully he spread his fingertips to match each mark. Claws perhaps? If not fingernails trying to delay the inevitable, either possibility meant another encounter. Another push set him drifting further on, following the trail of scrapes. Very little time elapses before the length of pipe opens into a natural space. Even one such as he could appreciate the beauty displayed before his eyes. Rock and coral long denied the sun glimmer with their own phosphorous light.

A strange fish, all clear membranes, save a purple source of light, undulates a path deeper into the cavernous spacing no more than a stones throw away. Watching it descend brings a curious vision to his eyes. Struggling with some aquatic amalgamation is what looks like a young woman. Curiously he watches the battle as they drift lower, noting her life force diminish while the victor readies for the kill. Then suddenly it?s as though the strange predator is ripped from her by an unseen hand. The water around this strange, human begins boiling without a heat source. As quickly as it happened, the girl is gone from his sight. However, her not so little friend remains.

Dazed, it floats in a languid pose. Perhaps trying to sort through what had become of its meal. Rather than wait for it to come around, Cain moves to put himself against the wall of the underwater cave and kneels. Hands set between his feet against the stone, the Singer of Songs pulls upon that crackling energy of Shauri. Making it build as her memory shows, he utters the release word and pushes with his legs at the same time.

Not daring to blink, he quickly brought his hands together above his head in a double-fist. The focused force of the spell fires him, like a fanged torpedo, into the creature as it had begun to turn away from him. Even under water, a telling crack resonates from the impact between his balled up fists and its spine. Energy still to dissipate, his path continues beyond the now crippled, and pathetic, thing and out of the water to land heavily upon the distant shore.

?Dunda dadada da datada,? a smirk played across his thin lips as he mutters the little instrumental. The chime of his spurs a supporting fanfare celebrating his cheap victory over the unknown creature as he walked away, changing to mist that seeps through the rocks of a caved in passageway.

(Bonus points if anyone guesses the tune)

The rumble brought Leda's head up sharply, black eyes peering into the darkness ahead and behind as she answered, just as simply. "I don't. But it is better than walking without knowledge of distance or purpose in caves infested with monsters and the undead," she pointed out, looking back down at Quilly with a raised brow. "Go back if you wish, Quilly. I must go on." For if she did not, Carnivean would punish her for wasting his time on her life.

A far cry, a roar, part pitiful and part horrifying, splits the still air. Leda's resolve sparked resentment in the fellow novice, who was fearful of seeming weak, despite the unseen dangers. A smile, forced, tilts her plump mouth. "Well, perhaps I should join you, for my clues lead in the same direction." A slender hand lifts, index finger outstretching towards a small circular marker carved in the stone of the cave. "Do you see that?"

"Two are more likely to survive where one would not," Leda agreed, though there was a light in her eyes that suggested trusting her too much down here would be a decision badly made. Her gaze touched on the marker indicated to her; she didn't understand its import, but she understood that Quillyan seemed to. "I see it. If your clues and mine lead us to the same place, then we can be confident of finding something of power."

"These marks are fresh, less than a week old." The young witch dragged her gaze to the slave, brilliant blue stifled by the dark of the caverns. "Why are you so concerned with winning this challenge?"

"You believe Mistress Praysin put them there," Leda made the intuitive jump, and blinked at the suddenly blunt question sent her way. Her eyes met Quilly's with a cool calmness that proved how inhuman she really was. "If I do not excel, I die."

The girl turned away slightly, her eyes conveniently studying the walls, "Our chances are slim. I would say now ... our chances of surviving are most important."

Leda nodded sharply, looking away herself. "Fire does not effect the she-devils wandering these caves," she said, suddenly business-like. "I have not had occasion to fight a revenant yet."

"I don't understand why the Institute accepted you," Quillyan confessed, advancing a few steps deeper into the caverns. "Then again..." A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, unavoidable, "I don't understand why they accepted me, either."

A bitterness stiffened the half-breed's shoulders for a moment, before Quillyan added her smiling addendum. Instead of riling, Leda snorted with laughter, gently patting the other girl on the back. "Rest assured that if one of us has to die down here, it will be me," she promised the redhead - not much of a reassurance, but the best she had. "Come, let us brave the deeps together."

"Come, let us die together," the novice added bravely, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But the Revenants are easy, like cattle. Let us demolish their herd, and find whatever prize we can."

Leda snickered faintly, the sound whispering away into the dark. "To the victor go the spoils."

Upon that modest note, she turned gracefully upon a heel and charged in the direction of the dark, confident that Leda would follow.
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((An uber shoutout of thanks to Quillyan for this brilliant little scene!))

A challenge, was it? The siren had indeed caught wind of Praysin's challenge, and more out of curiosity had decided to descend into the dark of the catacombs. As the last dredges of daylight were brutally extinguished by unforgiving and unrelenting darkness she began sending high frequency tones out to bounce from the cave walls. The long bone blades along her spine were unsheathed, to receive the return sounds and direct her steps without falter. The further in she wound, the more she noted the air smelling not only close, but dank, a sure sign there was water somewhere. The ground beneath her bare feet was becoming less stony as well, more gritty.
drip.....drip......drip....

Water. She could hear it now, and.....something else. She tensed slightly, the bone blades suddenly excreting a copious amount of venom, while tendrils not unlike those of a jellyfish writhed as they emerged from her hair. She pulled her lips back from eviscerating teeth and held still, tasting the air. Whatever it was was particularly foul, and not too certain of what it wanted to do, by the sound of it. Or perhaps it was unaware of her presence. Not likely though. If she could tell it was there in unfamiliar territory it would undoubtedly know she was there as well. Her echo location told her it was getting closer, and she could hear the faint scrabble of claws on stone. But she could not see it. She was adapted to the darkness, to be able to navigate without a shred of illumination, although her own bio-luminescence helped. For now though, she did not use it, as it would give the creature the ability to pinpoint her more easily.

Closer, yes it seemed to have decided. She would make an excellent morsel. When the sound of claws stopped suddenly, she confirmed in an instant her suspicion. It had leapt for her, and the welcome it got was one for the records. The creature seemed to be secreting some sort of mucus, and had ridges along it's body that would mature later into great horns capable of doing immense amounts of damage. Her hands slipped over the thing's side as it collided with her heavily, slamming her into the wall. Even though it didn't seem to be fully matured it had bulk, and in a small space that could cause a problem. She could feel a warm trickle running down her cheek, blood most likely. That could wait.

The tentacles hidden in her hair slipped free to wrap around the slippery beast as she dug her claws into it. The piercing shriek of rage and pain that rewarded her prompting a macabre smile. She lived for this. The beast twisted violently, the stinging venom of the tentacles goading it to try to disengage for a more advantageous advance. But the harder it struggled, the harder she clamped down. The roar was almost deafening, causing the roof of the cavern to shift, sending a spray of dirt down on the combatants. Suddenly it decided to change tactics, slamming itself into the wall trying to pin her. The first blow knocked the air from her, and she gasped a moment as it moved away for another charge. She managed to twist herself so that her back was to the beast. She brought her hands up to brace herself for impact and protect her face from the cavern wall.

The beast didn't have time to react, and without warning found itself impaled in eight places from neck to groin as it slammed itself into her backside. The force of the charge had slammed Almalthia into the wall rather violently, and she heard something crack, most likely a rib. She wriggled a bit and the creature slumped to the ground in a crumpled heap, dead. She frowned anf dim lights flickered to life along her spines, and the tentacles in her hair, allowing her to get a look at the thing. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before, black and slimy and from what she could tell, lacking eyes. The talons were a good six inches, and wicked looking. She'd been lucky it had not gutted her. It appeared to be a juvenile, which probably accounted for it's lack of skill and the clumsy attacks.

She tilted her head and listened. Water, there it was louder now. She moved off leaving the corpse to be ravaged by whatever scavengers dwelled in the darkness here, seeking the source. It was only moments before she found a cold pool, that was quite deep. She slipped in forgoing legs for her tail and followed it down. She would use the waterways.

The Saurian surged from the cavern-turned-abattoir, his armor bearing the brightly gleaming marks of new gouges, rents in his flesh knitting themselves with remarkable alacrity. In his wake, gobbets of twitching undead flesh lay mixed in congealing pools of what little remained of the abominations he encountered. With each passing cavern and branching path, he sounded out his rumbling challenge, seeking to draw the assorted dangers to places of his choosing.

With innocent lives on the line, subtlety was disregarded over results. He mused silently as his rapid footfalls echoed through the subterranean maze. Subtlety was never a strong point of his to begin with.

Again and again, predators of the deeps became prey, drawn by the great lizard's calls to find swift ends at his mighty fists. The stench of rotting gore trailed his passage like a charnel fog. Naturally carved rock gave way to the touch of civilization as his steps slowed, not trusting the artificial construction under his bulk. A misstep here could mean lives lost, wasted in the darkness.

A vast underground lake, the shores of which still bore the stench of death and the blackened evidence of searing flame, caused his path to veer. While his armor could lessen his weight, it could not imbue a divine miracle, no matter how fast his footsteps.

There. Somewhere in the filth and mire clogging the air, the fainter scents of life. Fear, and sweat, even the lingering traces of magic at work. His pace quickened once again, following the trail.

There was no warning. For what felt like hours, they'd been hearing the low rumble of something that could not be human and certainly wasn't made by the stone all around them, growing louder, closer, all the while. And then, without warning, the rock above them shifted.

Leda let out a yell, throwing herself forward as the passage roof above her began to crumble, dropping rocky gravel and boulders down on their position. She rolled through the coiling mists that had been at their feet for hours, through the rising dust of the stony disaster, feeling bruises rise on her back and legs where falling stone beat against her.

Even when the noise had stopped, she lay still, her heart hammering its adrenalin-fuelled response to a danger she should have been prepared for, something she should have foreseen. When, finally, she judged that it was safe, she rose to her feet, staring back at the passage entrance in horror. It was utterly blocked, nothing but a tightly packed wall of rock where once there had been an open path.

"Quilly?" she heard herself call, wondering just when it was that she had begun to disregard her own safety in a cave full of monsters to spare concern for another novice, a rival in this contest. "Quilly, are you okay? Quilly?"

One hand on the settling rockfall, Leda dragged her wand from her shorts, dredging up a spell no master had ever taught her. It was a demon-spell, written and used by Carnivean himself to locate the souls of his victims. With a little adjustment, she cast it, seeking out Quilly's heartbeat, the redhead's location.

For a moment there was a jumble of arguing heartbeats reverberating around her head, each raised in their own way, for their own purpose. Two, she recognised; others, she did not, for she did not know their owners. But of those two ... Quillyan was one. Leda felt her tension level lower in something akin to relief. Alive, then; but as lost to her for this time being as a person could be.

Alone once more, she checked her enchanted map in the settling dust, and set off once more, still in search of the hidden amulet.
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((Part 2))

With preternatural agility, a testimony to the genetic engineers of the TGE, he shifted attacks quickly, changing from the classic bull-rush to a more focused assault. His fist hurtling down upon the first as he leapt into the air, bringing his tail to bear upon the two airborne assailants. The fourth on the floor he'd chosen as his landing site.

She edged toward the deadly barrier of flame, her eyes narrowing as she glanced about, trying to seek out the majority of her attackers. Almost negligently, she pushed at the barrier, the consuming flames seeking to burn the revenant left to watch her with crackling force to nothing.

Twin gleams brightened J'rial's vambraces, as a faint golden glow spread along his armor, a double-layer of mystical armor from a pair of salvaged artifacts.

Laughing still the two leaping revenants hit the wall of the tunnel heavily. The first crumpling under the force of the collision with a giant fist. No sound came from the fourth as the reptiles great bulk came down upon it's shoulders, the force resounding in a sonic crack from it's spine. Swaying back from the wall of flames the revenant actually stood up on its legs in the form of a man, smiling lewdly at her with a wink as it points a finger to the ceiling above her. Daring Leda to look over her shoulder.

For the moment ignoring the leapers, he continued onward, looking for the fifth with those golden orbs, his gaze piercing the very stone. His chosen destination illuminated by flickering flames in the distance.

"Sh*t." She froze, black eyes wide at the lewd smile offered to her, the suggestion that she look above herself. She didn't need to look; given the right prodding, her senses told her all she needed to know. With a yell, she flung herself forward, through the flames, rolling headlong past the lone revenant as her barrier exploded in sparking fireworks.

Movement came from above the Saurian, and with it came another chunk of ceiling as the fifth had used its fellows as a distraction. Hands balled together it brought fists against brick and stone, setting a jagged scar down the passage ceiling. Laughter turned to yells at the sudden explosion of light that far surpassed the glimmering wall of flame. Arms up, they fell back defensively away from the light, dazed to the very last one.

Swearing wildly as she rolled to a halt in the suddenly deeper darkness, Leda scrambled to her feet, expecting at any moment to be pounced on with tearing claws and teeth. When nothing came, she blinked, her vision slowly returning to her as the last vestiges of her explosive fire display faded to nothing once more. "Light ..." she murmured to herself. "Light, they can't stand light. Think, slave, think!"

Without slowing, J'rial used his swinging fist, coupled with his momentum, to simply blast the chunk of rock into a cloud of dust and shrapnel, leaving a trailing plume behind as he neared the flaring barrier. His pupils narrowed to mere slits, compensating for the sudden brightness.

The lone revenant who'd distracted her was the first to recover. Arms thrown wide it sent out a guttural roar that echoed through the ruined crossing. In the distance it was answered like wolves calling to one another for aid. Half-blinded it charged...blindly, using it's enhanced sense of smell to find where she positioned herself. Hearing picking up her thudding heartbeat like a beacon of drums.

And that was the Saurian's target, the roaring revenant. His claws flexed as his legs churned, gathering his legs to leap over the girl. At over two-hundred miles per hour, he surged upward, tucking himself into as small a ball as he could, sparks flying from where armor met the stone of the ceiling.

Wracking her brains to think of something she could use against the creatures, Leda realized her danger too late. She barely had time to realize that she was the focus of that roaring attack before something else was between her and the revenant. Something else ... She swore again, scrambling back further over the stone. The only something elses in these caverns were as dangerous as their foes.

((Part 4))

"Oh." As far as she knew, revenants couldn't speak, and neither could the other things down here, so this was a good sign in her view. "Well, in that case ... can you get off me?"

The Saurian's armor flickered a moment, that quiet whine building back up to the level from before, lessening his bulk by half. Shrugging chunks of rock from his shoulders and back, he stood, his massive head coming quite close to the ceiling of the tunnel. The yellow glow faded, gathering itself once more into the small golden discs upon his vambraces. Quite visible, this close, was the small red and blue badge upon his pauldron, bearing a white, stylized 'A'.

Dispersing the fog seemed to pull away and follow the fleeing revenants down the corridor like a great slithering serpent of air and vapor.

With a gentle flick of her wrist, the half-breed illuminated the end of her wand with the familiar blue flame once again, rising to her feet amid the fleeing fog to stare up at her erstwhile rescuer with wide black eyes. She'd never seen anything like him before; all at once, her unconscious inviting aura of carnal seduction ignited, reaching far beyond the limits of her own fear. Something new always needed to be investigated. "What are you?"

Fortunately for her, his will to resist such attractions proved the stronger. Well disciplined, he is. "A story, long in telling, that is. The what, for now, unimportant is. The who, unasked, is what to know more of, you wish, think I." Thus the reason the Saurian remains mostly silent.

She blinked, taking a moment to reassemble his words into something she could understand. "Fine, who are you?" she stated her question once more. "I'm Leda, if that helps."

"J'rial Strim. Most humans, Jester, call I." Satisfied that her few injuries weren't grievous, he turned his attention outward, looking at the very walls as if they were a fine mist, seeking details beyond their obscuring bulk.

The worst of her injuries had already been seen to, by no less than her master, hours before. The cauterized wounds on her side ached, but no longer wept blood; the trickle of blood from her ears and nose following the revenants' sonic attack were already drying up. "J'rial," she nodded, memorizing the name as she, too, cast about for her next direction. "Well ... it was nice to meet you." Already back on target, she turned, picking her way across the cavern toward a dark aperture in the rock.

"Rest, should you. Recover." Though he did not look at her, instead spying something else through the walls, he could hear every footstep. "Blood, scented, have they. Track you, will they. Heal, if you can, quickly."

"I don't have time to rest, and I can't knit skin back together again," she answered from the pervading darkness, her flaming wand the merest pinprick of light as she came to her chosen passage. "I just have to find one thing, and then I'm out of here."

The collecting knot of undead he'd spied in the distance turned as one, then scattered to the four winds. In the echoing silence, J'rial heard the clatter of unhurried footsteps. His eyes narrowed. "Then help you, if can I, will I. Something comes." Turning on his heel, he strode quickly to follow the gleam of magic from her wand. "Tunnels, for you, are no place to be."

The soft jangle of spurs began to drift closer. Where it came from hard to tell in the maze of tunnels.

((Many thanks to the players of Leda and Cain for their participation. You guys rock!))

It seemed the tunnels went on endlessly, connecting more than one cavern to another. Many contained the Revenants and were quickly assessed and discarded. She had no desire to tangle with the undead. Not because of lack of ability, but for vanity. She didn't like the smell. She was as finicky as any cat about her hygiene and the undead put her off. After hours of swimming through tunnels and searching caverns that seemed positively infested with the stinking, malodorous creatures she finally surfaced in a cavern devoid of anything she deemed threatening, or disgusting. The only strange thing was the abundance of mist. She rose from the water slowly, seeming to rise from the mist curling over it as water sluiced over her breasts and down her stomach. Were she visible she would have been quite the sight.

As it was she paused, easily treading water so that it seemed as though the pool was merely waist deep. This gave her an advantage as anything that might dare pursue her would be at a distinct disadvantage. Despite being in unfamiliar territory this element was her home turf, and it was either a stupid or suicidal creature who dared tangle with a siren in deep water. She listened for several long minutes, hearing footfalls in the distance but made no sound. She needed to determine if they were human or something else before calling out. As it was there was no accompanying permeating stench so she could safely assume it was not one of those undead things. As it came closer she dared raise her voice, only hoping the recipient would not so very easily be held by the sway of the siren's spell and be able to answer intelligently.

"Who goes?"

((Please feel free to interpret/interact with this post. I work a lot and have been scarce so this is the easiest way for me to play now.))

As she and Leda combined their directional insight in pursuit of Prayshin?s amulet, Quillyan quelled her growing unease at the low rumbles that vibrated through the still air of the tunnels. The simple presence of another student offered a slim measure of calm, for even if the Demon was no more experienced than she, certainly true danger would elicit some type of alarm from her newfound partner.

As it was, the red-headed novice disregarded her persistent foreboding, attributing this skittishness to her recent, calamitous experience the ill-fated crypt and the eerie chill of the fog at their feet.

And just when it seemed they were making good progress, a swift set of separate tremors surged to a shattering climax, splitting the rock of the ceiling with a horrific roar and a rain of rubble ripping around them. Quillyan heard Leda?s scream, but the figure of her fellow student was hopelessly consumed in the dusty fury of the falling boulders. Reflexively, she hurled herself away from the epicenter of the collapse, curling those lengthy limbs toward her middle, slender arms cradling her head as the earth shook with its unnatural shift. While her youthful body tightened defensively, her youthful mind furiously sought a protection spell. With nothing prepared, she cast a simplistic wind spell, the expulsion of air strong enough to deflect some of the smaller pebbles and rocks.

In the split second before she was struck, Quillyan sensed the solidity of space above her, the weight of the unseen stone bearing down mercilessly through her arcane wind and the insignificant air.

And the world blinked into darkness.

***

The novice?s feathery lashes fluttered against cheeks hued white by shock?s pallor, dislodging the dust that settled during the vulnerability of her unconsciousness.

How long?

She lifted her head, sharp pain surging through her senses, a warm wetness at the back of her skull alerting her to the source. Tentative fingers groggily explored the sensitive spot, finding a short gash of split skin, still oozing blood through silken crimson strands.

?S**t,? she cursed quietly as she struggled to stand and blink away the burdensome mental fog. Around her, the tunnel spun dangerously, and she swayed, nimble feet struggling to keep her vertical.

After a moment, her surroundings finally stilled, and Quillyan was able to assess the situation. The rockfall loomed before her, complete and insurmountable. With senses awash in the skin-crawling strangeness of deja vu, she couldn?t suppress a short, dark giggle at her luck in surviving two catastrophic rock collapses within a mere handful of hours.

Try as they may, these tunnels were not doing a very good job of killing her.

The morose mirth swiftly vanished as other queries swarmed her mind. What came of Leda? And how long had she been unconscious?

The former question she could not answer, for no sound filtered through the imposing wall of rock, and this aroused in her a grim disappointment - though she barely knew the Demon, she sincerely hoped her fellow student had survived.

More clues accompanied the latter question, for small stones still skipped down the edges of larger rocks, and some dust still hung, sparkling faintly, in the dark air. Given these facts, along with the blood still seeping from her scalp, Quillyan estimated that she had only been out a couple of minutes.

Besides, any longer than that, and she would?ve been an easy meal for whatever happened to come along.

But what now? Separated from both her trail of directional blazes and Leda?s map, the bitter sense of defeat and frustration tightened her throat. Sulkily, she sank back onto the floor of the tunnel, her open palms slamming angrily against the indifferent earth.

When her hands finally stilled, the earth responded to her fingertips with a faint rumble, too gentle to perceive while standing or walking.

Stunned, Quillyan focused her attention wholly on the vibrations of the earth, exhaling slowly as her eyes slid closed, minimizing the distraction of alternate senses.

What she felt was wonderful.

And terrifying.

Leda's steps came to an abrupt halt with that lack of warning, her arms flailing for a moment as she regained her balance. "Starting from here, huh? Okay, let's see what I can do ..." Frowning for a moment, she drew in a deep breath, concentrating. An evil little smirk appeared on her lips. "I know." The darkness of dae-speak, the language of he demon plains, began to leave her lips in slow intonation, gathering in power and focus until suddenly, in an explosion of flame, they were not alone in the passageway. In front of her stood a demonic imp, all talons and scales and dripping fangs. Leda pointed along the passage. "You. Go."

Showing a greater trust than most, he turned from the passage, keeping overwatch around them, in case the triggering of traps brought company.

The imp snarled, breathing fetid warmth over Leda's face. Bad move. You didn't spend most of your life as the favoured slave of a Demon Lord without being able to make your position very clear.

Abruptly the blackness of her eyes filled with flames, a low threatening hiss leaving her lips as she stared the imp down. It shuddered back from her, and one scaled claw sank into the stone beneath it. There was a moment of indecision, and the passage floor was suddenly not there. The imp made barely any sound as it fell down into darkness, impaled on fiercesome spikes at the bottom of the pit.

Leda smirked with satisfaction, peering down after it. "One down, five to go." She looked back at J'rial. "Any comments?"

"No. The leap, can you make?" Noting the pit, which spread from wall to wall, the lip of the floor some twenty feet distant in the darkness. "If not, carry you, can I."

Her gaze scanned the walls of the passage, examining them for any handholds. "Doesn't look like I can make it," she admitted reluctantly. "You sure you want to carry me?"

The Saurian knelt in response, portions of his armor shifting with faint clicks. Footpads appeared at his waist, a belt dangling from his back, and handles upon the backs of his pauldrons. "Used to it, am I."

"Drop me, and I'll haunt you for all eternity," she informed him indistinctly, climbing up onto his back, wand clutched between her teeth. Her bare feet found purchase on the footpads at his waist, wriggling herself into the loop of the belt as she took hold on the handles. "Right, I'm on."

His talons dug into the rock as his muscles tensed, the armor's whine increasing as he narrowed his eyes. "Your talisman." He rumbled the words as twin ripples of gold surrounded them. "In case, just."

Two rushing steps took them to the pit's rim, swift as the wind, before he leapt over, heedless of the still-twitching imp some fifty feet down. Stalactites whipped past them in the darkness. He landed in a crouch, quite some distance from the opposite edge, bringing his tail crashing down to trigger another of the traps, whipping blades slicing the air overhead as he kept them low to the ground.

The lurch of his sudden movement almost knocked her free of her perch, her hand fumbling to activate the talisman he had given her as they flew through the air over the pit. The armor clicked into place just in time, covering her from head to toe in the unnatural sensation of encompassing metal as those brittle blades flicked free of the walls, glancing off that armor in showering sparks.

Three down, three to go. "Speed, here, serve better than strength, might. The amulet, you must touch, to claim, yes?"

It felt so strange, wrapped in this invisible, weightless substance, especially for someone who wore as little as possible to avoid her own preternatural heat. "I ... yeah, I think so," she nodded with an odd clank of sound, adjusting her grip on him. "If you could get it with a spell, it wouldn't be much of a challenge, would it?"

For that, he truly had no comment. A challenge was something he still sought, from time to time. "Then behind me, remain. The traps, trigger, will I. Then, your amulet, may you claim."

She snorted in amusement. "You want me to get down, or just hold on tight?" Leda had no problem with someone else taking on the dangers of these caverns; no matter how much of an ally, if he managed to get himself hurt or killed, that was one less trap she'd have to deal with herself.

"Where you are, remain. Safer, it is." Stepping forward and straightening, he deliberately triggered another of the blade traps, the metal ricocheting off of his armor and scales. The only dangers now, were the explosive trap, and the pair of magical snares. Those, he could not identify.

Was she a coward for closing her eyes? Well, no one was likely to be able to call her on it. Leda hunkered down as far as she could, eyes closed as she pressed tight to J'rial's back, jumping violently as the ricocheting blades impacted with the invisible barrier enclosing her.

Once again, he crouched, growling a warning to his passenger, talons digging furrows into the stone.

She dug down onto his back, loosing one hand from its grip to move her wand into her fingers. The incantation for a shield was already on the tip of her tongue, ready to protect them both from whatever was coming.

It wasn't anything coming that the Saurian was warning her about, it's their rather abrupt departure down the passageway. Wind rushed to fill the hole they left behind, as he banked high upon the wall to round a corner, diving and twisting beneath the explosive trap, deflecting the burning flame away from his passenger.

Ah, but flame was familiar to her, a source of power as much as a threat. As the Saurian banked hard, the movement jerking her from her secure position for a moment, she flung out the hand that held her wand, siphoning off the heat and light of the explosive flames until it was dark once more. The heat spread through her, healing a few of those wounds she had not realised were still weeping. Rejuvenated, she took a firmer grip on J'rial. "Only two to go!"

With a nod, he stepped forward into the chamber, his eyes spying the two traps, but not their triggers. The first he found inadvertently, causing a sharp crack as part of the floor blew upward. From the resulting cloud of dust, a humanoid construct of stone shambled toward them.

They were everywhere.

As large as men, the swarm of wasp-like creatures engulfed Albion in their chaos, the threatening buzz of their quickly vibrating wings filling the air with chilling sound. Having assumed the form of a massive silverback gorilla - or in this case, crimsonback - the young transmuter was holding his own, with fists the size of (and as hard as) stones delivering devastating blows to the masses.

And still they came.

Not far from him was the colossal stalagmite where the hive was located. It's diameter was greater than any tree trunk he'd ever seen (and considering he'd spent time in Vesper's magical forest that was saying a lot) and the surplus of these monstrous hornets seemed endless, spilling out through holes they punched in the side - the result of frenzy and rage. His examination of the formation had alerted them to his presence, and in droves of madness they came.

Stingers came at him from every angle, some even scoring hits, though luckily his thickened hide was enough to shun most of the attempts. Their poison stunk of offal and was as thick as honey. To have it inserted into his bloodstream, Albion guessed, would leave him paralyzed and vulnerable. It was this thought that inspired even more overwhelming blows that sent waves of the swarm sweeping away from him.

And then he felt it.

At the base of the neck a sharp sting, breaking skin and sinking in deep. Instinctively he whirled, leading the way with a huge backhand, though a staggering step had him stumbling to the side. The world was spinning, but more so, it was slowing down, as though time were stopping. Albion blinked hard, the fear of knowing the swarm was around subsiding at the realization that the horde had departed, leaving him to stand alone. There was just something about the way it all transpired that left him to believe this wasn't one of the wasps.

Strength faded, as did size, the gaunt transmuter returning to his more human appearance as he sank to his knees. A thick hood of crimson hair swept along his sharp shoulders and spindly arms as he clenched and opened his hands, that simple action seeming to take far too much focus and effort.

Clawed feet were suddenly before him. He drug his eyes upward, the weight of his head titanic.

To call it a 'she' was giving far too much credit to the standardized features of femininity, though the creature did possess assets that resembled breasts. Beyond that though it was a strange amalgam of chitin and pallid flesh, with attributes that appeared human but were twisted by whatever monstrosity had birthed it. Swaying behind it was a long tail that resembled exposed vertebra with an arching stinger upon its end.

The world became dark.

************************************************** ********************

He screamed. Albion's dark green eyes snapped open as the rush of pain seared trough his bones with a potency he had never felt before. It tore at him, made his blood feel as though it were boiling beneath his flesh. He could taste something metallic on his tongue, boiling up from inside his belly just moments before spewing out to splatter across the stone floor he was suspended above. He could barely breathe, struggling for every labored inhale.

A glance down showed him the exposed span of his narrow chest...

...and the eel like creature attached to it, its head vanished inside the hole it bore into the Apprentice.

Again he screamed, the sight of the reptilian creature rooting into him accentuating the surging pain.

"You..."

The voice, dark and musically foreboding, steered his focus away - at least for the moment. He looked up and found the 'woman' a few feet from him, sprawled across a nest of skeletal remains. She was staring at him with a wicked famine as serpents, much like the one that impaled him, slithered all around her - two of which had already made their way to his vomit and were feeding on it.

"...you shall be food for my children."

Her inflection rose and dipped - soft and human, hard and fiendish. Albion had no preference, though, as both were frightening given the situation.

A quick look around revealed that he was no longer in the vault with the wasps. He was in a small chamber, an alcove, with a wide mouth opening up to a deadfall. She'd carried him up to her home, and now he dangled from the ceiling by threads of membrane and calcium deposits, being fed on. He would die there if he didn't act quickly.

A quick word summoned a rather nasty spell, and by parting his lips he again released a gout, though this time it was intentional and aimed. The acidic drench that spewed forth washed down over the back half of the embedded eel, cooking and sizzling its length, sending it whipping back and forth in agony. It spilled across the floor as well, delivering a similar fate to the two that fed upon his previous nausea.

From where she sat the mother shrieked as though having been physically struck, and the dozens of serpents that surrounded her all coiled around themselves, tightening up into little balls of scales and length.

Albion could see his wand in his sheath belted to his waist and with open fingers called for it, pulling it upward and through the air to his awaiting grasp with pure mana. The tip's glow was instantaneous, as were the spears of energy that it expelled, slashing across the air and scoring hits upon the monster and the wall behind it.

Again she shrieked as her attempts to rise were met by the powerful strike of archaic energy, driving her back to the ground and slamming her against the wall as it tore flesh apart.

He was relentless - he had to be - and with his other hand cast a spell to deaden her limbss and freeze her in place so that he could bombard her further with magic. It worked and she slowed, vulnerable and exposed.

He made quick work of her.

When she was reduced to a mangled lump of flesh, blood, and macabre, he focused on untangling himself from his binds, which wasn't nearly as hard with his wand in hand. A simple levitation spell dropped him comfortably to the ground and he started quickly for the exit, anxious to put distance between he and the 'mother' in case any of her other children were nearby.

But sapphire filled his eyes.

In one of the dozen holes he had blown into the far wall he caught sight of a blue glint and this diverted him from his departing path. He made his way to the stony facade and examined the chips and cracks he had crafted, seeing the glimmer of color cast from inside the wall. With yet another spell he transformed that section from unyielding stone several feet thick to crystal clear water - it was as though someone had stood a pool upon its side. He could see the shape inside, a familiar shape.

An amulet.

Reaching in, he closed his thin digits around it and withdrew it from its housing, reverting the sheer span to stone once completely retracted.

Success.

The deep breath of relief he took reminded him of the massive gash he had in the center of his chest, and the possible remains of whatever the creature was that fed on him still residing inside. He needed to get to the infirmary.

With a fast step he made his way to where they creature lay in a puddle of scorched skin, the aid of magic helping draw the length of its tail out from beneath it. With his wand he tore through the boney shell that attached the stinger, betting on the fact that its venom pockets were housed inside. This poison had somehow nullified his polymorph and reverted him from his transmuted shape. It needed to be studied.

With a word, he vanished.

At the sudden flare of illumination, Quillyan?s pristine visage flinched into a lush curtain of ruby tresses, her darkvision suddenly overwhelmed by the artificial light. There a vulnerable heartbeat passed, as her eyes adjusted, the pupils growing smaller, the blue irises advancing on the magically-honed dark in the center. Stunned, sensitive, she first absorbed these new surroundings, the stone's unnatural liveliness making her skin crawl in cold apprehension. She took a step, her toes silent upon the dusty floor. "What will I give you?"

She paused.

"What do you seek?" The sweet syllables of her youthful voice echoed shamelessly against these stark walls.

"Come closer, little one. I seek only company. Many lifetimes have passed since I last spoke with the living." The statue's gaze seemed to focus in on Quillyan with unnerving accuracy, though it did not move at all. "You wish this trinket, yes? Then we shall play a game." The voice dissolved into a sinister laugh that seemed to echo about the chamber, a nasty inflection in the tone. "A game, yes. Three questions will I ask you. Three answers will you give. If you fail to win my game, little one, you will abide here with me until time ends and the world crumbles around our ears."

A cold dread settled heavily in her stomach, warning her of folly, yet Prayshin?s amulet was a compelling lure - it lulled Quillyan into accommodation, encouraging her to comply with the statues chilling demand. So closer she came, light upon deft toes, slender muscles tensed and ready to bolt. "And if I answer correctly, the amulet is mine?"

"Yours." It was nothing more than a whisper, but it was agreement of sorts. Yet the novice would do well to be wary; something so old, so hated, so forgotten, would surely not give up such a prize so easily. "Are you ready?"

And while the girl seemed to feign agreement with these terms, her senses searched for the statue's weakness - in truth, even should she guess wrong, she had no intention of surrendering her freedom. These caverns, they were nothing if not volatile. "I am,? she replied, clearer, more confident than she felt.

"Then let us begin." The quality of the light seemed to thicken, drawing deeper shadows to threaten and intimidate as the statue considered its first puzzle. When it spoke again, there was a calculating edge to the warm cadence that seemed as cold as the stone from which it came.

"A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart; from love she grows, 'til love is slain. Of what do I speak?"

Arrogant humor tugged at the corners of the novice?s comely lips, her voice colored with vicious delight as she repeated the riddle: "Poison of the soul...passion's counterpart..." Something very familiar indeed, something rooted deeply in her experience. "Could it be..."

"...jealousy?"

There was no response, but somehow the air seemed to thicken further, growing more oppressive as two of the torches guttered and died, plunging the far wall behind the novice back into pitch darkness.

"She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?"

The thickening air stifled Quillyan?s breath, heightening the tension of this unexpected encounter. The novice's cherubic visage quirked in faint distress, yet her mind was honed upon the words of the statue. In the tight, still air, her nerves tingled with arcane vestiges of electricity. "Kings and tyrants?"

The young witch paused, lashes fluttering in confusion. "What separates kings and tyrants?" She faltered, her mind very obviously racing. "Understanding," she murmured, her voice uncertain, then, stronger: "Mercy."

"Mercy separates kings and tyrants."

Again, there was no answer but the gathering gloom. Now Quillyan stood in a circle of flickering light, illuminated only by the torches plunged into the pedestal of the statue itself. Something was not pleased with this answer, which could only mean one thing; it was correct. But the disembodied voice continued its game, intoning the last riddle with the finality of a closing portal door.

"No man has seen it, but all men know it. Lighter than air, sharper than any sword. Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest army. Of what do I speak?"

Shadows licked along the witch?s pretty features, nipping jealously at he heels, nudging her towards the hopeless darkness dwelling just outside of the circle of firelight. Within the mortal cage of her fragile chest, a valiant heart thumped nervously, the final riddle giving her a long moment of pause. She seemed lost.

Triumph seemed to course through the air, shrunken shadows gathering at the edge of the light, reaching for the flame-haired girl in hungry desire.

Quillyan?s gaze flickered around the empty cavern, tracing her erratic thoughts, seeking inspiration. "What could crush an army? The enemy, but the enemy is something. Something seen. It must be more mundane, more universal. Comes from nothing..." She was quiet, her limbs chilled by the touch of shadow, a faint sorrow glazing her eyes in tears. How terribly she wanted the amulet, how much she needed it, how she hung----

"Answer!" What had once been warm was now cold, harsh, rasping on the ears to demand what had been promised.

"Hunger!" She yelped.

Spelunking With Your Love (Part 1)

Ozzie hadn't waited to see if he'd agree, after all she was in a hurry to be one of the first to achieve the amulet. A handwritten note was scribbled hastily and left upon his bed with directions to meet her at the cavern's entrance she'd scoped out after class.

Dressed in her uniform she slipped free from the last class of her day and skidded around the halls, bounced down the stairs, careened around corners, and generally zipped past anybody who would've hindered her approach. Whirling around her bright blue head was the ever-present Surprise! her humming bird familiar. She hoped Blizzard would meet her there.

He read the note four times to make sure he was understanding what she was trying to say. He'd heard about the challenge though hadn't really considered embarking on it because...well....he just hadn't. Not really his style.

However, knowing that Ozzie was wanting to go take a look around was enough to make him reconsider it. Still, he balled up the parchment and put it in his pocket as he made his way back out, bedecked in his uniform except for his jacket. It was just too hot to wear it. He followed the instructions perfectly, lefts where lefts were needed, and rights just the same, so when he came around the corner and found his blue-haired lover awaiting his arrival, he couldn't help but smile. "You're #$%^&* sexy." He said, shooting her a grin as arms opened up for the incoming hug....at least there better be one.

There not only was a hug there was a shriek and a blur of blue accompanied by a bombarding hummingbird who adored Blizzard at nearly the same level of frenetic energy that his mistress did. She leaped into Blizzard, twining her leg-warmer (a somber black today) clad legs around his hips and arms about his neck as she answered his grin with one of her own, "I am! Cuz I #$%^&* u!"

His laugh was curbed by the search for her lips - well, actually once he found them. He kissed her, even introducing his tongue momentarily, as hands descended to keep her in place about his hips by cupping her bottom. "Yes you are. Now, why don't you tell me what we are doing, and why we aren't in a bed somewhere?"
She would've been content to keep right on kissing him, especially with the firm grasp of his hands upon her but he asked a question and it demanded an answer after all, while also reminding her of their task, "We're goin spelunkin!" She was so excited she nearly squealed and wiggled for freedom, aided by her lack of need to touch the floor, natural levitation always a bonus. She didn't wait for him to respond, leading him through the ominous portal of the dark cave, her wand already alighting at its tip, "Praysin hid an amulet down here and we're gonna get it!"

He released her, though not until getting an ample taste of those lips. As always with her hovering magic, he gave a tender shove as she fully withdrew to send her floating across the air, laughter following in her wake. "Spelunking? Isn't that what happens when you drop a deuce?" He arched a brow as he drew his wand from his belt, following behind her into the portal.

She blinked wide cotton candy blue eyes back at him, illuminated by the light as she descended into the darkness without any hint of concern or fear, "A deuce being a card?" Quizzical as she shook her head, "Spelunking is cave diving. Which is what we're doing..."

And without a thought for her safety she chose that moment to dive off the rocky slope that had come to an abrupt drop off, the reason no other students had chosen this particular cave could have possibly been this....

"No, I mean- Ozzie!" He lunged forward to try and grab her arm, instincts overridden by fear for her safety. The darkness had been overwhelming, though luckily the tip of his wand offered light that was more than sufficient.

Spelunking With Your Love (Part 3)

She was an industrious little thing when she put her mind to it and his shirt was stripped open and pulled free from his pants to allow her to rain those kisses in an ever downward motion. A wanton little wiggle revealed her thrill at his possessive grasp, the amulet would've perhaps remained forgotten if Surprise! hadn't given a warning little trill right then. And of course being a songbird, Surprise! could not resist letting his mistress know all about his distress over the possible dangers of their environs. The stream of melodic chirping was loud in this dark underground cavern, spilling in echoing waves in all directions and bouncing back in strange distortions. "What is it Surprise!, do you hear something?" Ozzie's bright blue head came up just as she'd begun to divest Blizzard of his pant's with her nimble little teeth and tongue, the zipper pausing in its descent.

"Hold on." Yea, that shape in the darkness was moving, and in a way that went beyond the whole spiral of the world thanks to her teasing kisses. His hand fell to her head and the brief, and familiar, innuendo that it normally implied was diverted as he drew her away. "There's something out there." He turned onto his elbow, angled so that he could look across the pit they nestled up against, hoping to find any hint at what exactly it was lurking just beyond the illumination of his wand. Speaking of which, he fumbled around without looking and ultimately reclaimed his wand.

"That's not cool." She furrowed her brow in a rare moment of irritation, "We'd just agreed to make this a romantic getaway." She enjoyed the fill of him as he rolled beneath her and spared an approving glance for his still stripped open shirt. Surprise! had inadvertantly given away the location to those stone dwelling denizens that followed sound and while she might not be cognizant of this particular piece of information she was rather abruptly reminded of their true purpose for being there.

The light only reached so far, and the distant span of wall across the ravine was well beyond it. Perched upon a bent elbow, the spill of his splayed shirt did offer a rather pleasing view of arousingly sculpted pectorals and abdomen muscles, rippling into motion with every shift he made. He squinted, and when that didn't help, aimed his wand for the darkness. A line of lightening was expended, searing the air as it raced across the distance and struck the unyielding stone. The crackle of electricity, the thunderous impact, it filled the cavernous depths - its fading illumination giving hint to the dozens of creatures occupying it.

"Shit." It seemed fitting.

"Time to play." She pushed up to her feet with a rush of levitation that revealed a flash of black leg warmers and the flutter of her uniform skirt. Surprise! immediately released his grip upon her wand as it sailed through the air toward her there was something decidedly prepared about her reaction. Another sharp incantation, "Videre!" gifted them both with darkvision, a ticklish shimmer descending upon Blizzard's eyes. Perhaps in this moment blinding him to the shimmer of her wand as it transformed into a glowing katana seconds after reaching her awaiting hand. No Akuma Taijaya blade for this trip, but still she relied on the weight and feel of a weapon she was familiar with.

As the darkvision fell over him he at first thought it was a spell cast by one of the creatures across the gap, though when the effects took hold it was obvious that this was no attack, but a beneficial gift. Dozens were only the start, crawling along the far wall as easily as he would the floor beneath his feet. "This doesn't look goo-" He paused as he looked her way, noting the sword. "Um..." Yea, he didn't really have an argument, and decided instead to return the favor. The wand cut through the air in intricate patterns, donning her with a myriad of spells that would increase her speed, her strength, and her durability. Who said being an abjurist wasn't necessary? He turned back to the distant wall just in time to see one of them leap from its crawl, spread the wings tucked beneath its arm, and soar through the air for them.

"Incoming!"

She was ready. Trained to a level of vigilance beneath the intense scrutiny of Brais Galician, she erupted into a twirling spin, aided by a swooshing rush of air, blue hair spinning about her as her katana rose in a horizontal stance before her eyes. She met the incoming beast as she furled out from her tight spin, blade first, slicing with scorching magical energy along the fatal edge of the blade. Transferring one hand from the hilt she lashed out with it toward the surge of beings and sent a raining arc of blue-hued acid to spit fitfully amongst them. She was fast, aided by Blizzard's buffs and she was frighteningly accurate. The girlishly gamine grin seemed truly out of place as she paused upon the air with a dancer's grace.

"You take it high and I'll focus on-" He cut away as she exploded into motion. Initially he was a bit mesmerized by how gracefully deadly she seemed, though quickly he shook that off to target those across those still on the wall...who were, at that moment, launching away to join their solo kin. He tilted his wand and cast his spells, targeting not those upon the wall, but the wall itself. Liquefying it, those that still clung to it were sucked in as though it were mud, sinking to the ankle. The spell was then dismissed, trapping them partially inside. Still, there were at least six crossing the ravine by air. He hoped that Ozzie had it in her to withstand their initial assault.

A hopscotch was employed, gingerly dancing across steps upon the air that only she could see as she left him to handle those upon the ground. She had no doubt that he could handle it, nor any concern that she would have any issue with the scaly creatures who were making their way across the ravine through the heavy flap of their leathery wings. It was with a dispassionate flick of her free hand that she revealed her less than sweet nature, the rapid fire of acid bolts aimed at the thinner skin of their spread wings, sizzling through flesh and tendons and sending the suddenly fatally awkward and injured creatures plummeting. She was able to successfully sink three and was already bringing the katana around to meet the incoming rush of the remaining brethren. One of which was nicked by her initial assault and could not adjust its flight.

He caught one in the air with a arcana, stiffening all of its extremities with a paralytic spell that sent it crashing into the near wall thanks to continued momentum. In a heap it fell to the ground. The rumble of the ground told him that another one had landed nearby, and with a spring of legs he launched himself away in a dive, hitting the ground in a roll and coming up to face the beast. He felt the swoosh of air narrowly miss the side of his head, and by the looks of the creature's claws, he was glad for this. It snarled at him, spewing acidic lines of saliva, measuring up its prey. Blizzard was more than a foot shorter and lacked the colossal girth the beast possessed, but...he did have a wand. As it charged Blizz leveled the item and unleashed a devastating blast of arcane fire.

She beheaded the first one, a spray of its blood raining down over her as she burst through the other side of its demise on a spin, the katana angled outward to impale the second. It was the third one's bumbling that caused her misjudgment. If it had been where it was supposed to be all would've gone fine but even it couldn't judge the rate of its descent with its tattered wings. As she spun free from the death gurgling impalement she slammed into the falling creature, the shimmering katana winking out as the wand left her grip, spinning end over end down the ravine. A brief flash of bright pink revealed Surprise!'s attempt to rescue it even as she struggled to right herself, limbs tangling together as both she and the creature plummeted downward.


The blast of fire hit the creature dead in the chest, though instead of obliterating it - like Blizzard presumed it would - it only staggered the beast. In this brief moment in time he was able to look past it to where Ozzie and her adversary where locked together and falling. "No!" He roared, another snap of his wrist sending a second blast into the creature's chest. A dead sprint led him to the lip where looked into the pit below to try and find her.

She was shooting upward, a blistering blue rocket of energy as Surprise! kept pace at her side, whatever had happened to her adversary was anybody's guess but her wand was assuredly clutched in her small hand as she shot right past him, a hook of air sweeping him up with her and leaving behind the regathering creatures. She took no time, aiming them directly at the ceiling, "Transmorgraphy!" and through the rocks they burrowed, angling them back toward their original destination.

Her reappearance hadn't even registered when the updraft caught hold of him and yanked him upward - inadvertently taking him out of the lethal sweep of the scorched beast's seeking claws. He glanced down just moments before transcending through the stone, catching sight of it and it's brethren taking flight in pursuit. He doubted they had the means to phase through the solid rock as they did, though didn't want to be caught off guard again. He kept his want at the ready. "God damn do I love yoooooooooooou!" He howled, succumbing to the rush of excitement and danger that seemed to permeate all around them.


************************


"And I love you too." She murmured as she nuzzled her face into the strong column of his throat.

"What?" Blizzard blinked his eyes back open where he'd just begun drifting off into contented slumber. Like a slumbering feline he stretched sending rippling muscles moving as he tucked her in more securely against his side, one hand grasping her thigh and pulling it higher in its lazy drape across his hips.

The readjustment had left something jarring him in his lower back and with a grumble he freed his possessive grasp to pry it out. The glimmer of the brilliant sapphire amulet was revealed in its tangle of sheets. Earlier they'd been examining the success of their spelunking venture before distractions had drawn them to a far more sparkling encounter.

His grin was wicked as he tossed the amulet on the pile of clothing beside the bed, resettling the already soundly sleeping Ozzie in her half sprawl across him.

Maybe spelunking wasn't so bad.

As the last of the students ascended to the realm of light above, the Earth Elementalist slowly came to life.

The crystalline perfection of quartz slowly melted into the soft delectable flesh of the sylvan being housed inside. Eels slipped through the murky depths around her, startling in an explosion of motion, as if ribbons tossed free upon the wind.

A push of small feet, a scissor of slender golden legs and she was aloft in the chilly water of the underground lake. Her sleek blonde head pierced the surface and she emerged with a smile.

Perhaps it was her relief that her classmates had all met with some success, or perhaps it was the disconnect from the rock she felt immersed as she was in water, but whatever the reason, she had no idea that she was no longer alone.

Treading water in lazy appealing circles, she floated for the shoreline, drifting past the cropping of rocks that housed the hungry revenant.

The ripple of discordance that an undead being created was her only warning and she lifted startled golden eyes up, freezing like a creature in the wild when confronted with a predator. But it was too late, the searing scrape of curved nails sank within her scalp, tangling with the sleek strands of blonde hair. She was yanked from the grip of the water as easily as a bear scooped a fish.

Twisting violently, struggling, she windmilled her slick limbs and shrieked her pain at such a grasp. Her soft flesh was ripped and torn as she was dragged across the rocky surface in a whiplash of energy that drew her into the creature's unforgiving grasp.

The pain was nothing compared to the sheer agony of her neck savaged by the hungry fangs that sank deep and ripped free. As her blood splattered across the rocks her cry was muted by the horror of the attack.

Damien...the thought of her love should've sent her into a frenzied fight for survival but it resulted in the opposite reaction. If she were to die here...if she were to concede life...could she be reborn, free of her bond to Brais Galician?

Weakly she fell beneath the slavering fury of the revenant and as it recognized the lack of fight in its quarry it released the heavy manacles of its claws to scrape for a better purchase to feed upon her.

And that's when she exploded. A glittering cascade of dust motes, no longer solid, no longer its meal.

No.

No, she would not die here, alone, at the hands of another beast. She would not become some undead creature's meal. Solidifying a mere few feet from it, she lifted tremblingly small hands toward the Revenant. Its stringy haired head whipping to confront its disappearing snack.

"Life is too precious." And with those words upon her lips she immolated the bastard with a blast of searing light. His skin bubbling and scorching beneath the onslaught. Eyes bubbling and boiling within his skull. His screech was inhuman, the light unbearable. All around them the rocks of the cave hummed with her power.

When he exploded, gibbering bits of flesh and globs of mucous coated slime hit the walls of the cave, erasing the signs of her own blood splatter.

Weakly Vliss clasped a hand to her torn throat and allowed the blazing light to subside.

"Suffer not the undead to live." The words of her mother slipped from her lips in benediction.



She spent some time hunting before her return to the school. The rocks told her where to find them. And her blood drew them to her and the promise of a quick searing end became their blessing.

?Keep up, girl.?

?Sorry, Master Tracha,? Quillyan called, her coltish limbs struggling to match the pace of the nimble instructor as they transversed the twisting, hazard-laden tunnels of the catacombs. She was halty and stumbly, and the more she halted and stumbled, the more halting and stumbling she became. Her innate grace, usually so effortless, had completely fled in the presence of her dismal dread, leaving her with a clumsy set of uncomfortably long, awkward appendages.

?With all due respect, sir, I don?t really know how much help I can be to you down here,? the novice continued as they closed in on the ruined tomb, in a final, desperate effort to divorce herself from this mission.

Tracha paused, tossing a glance back to his pretty pupil as she picked her way through some large, long-fallen stones. He quelled neither his laughter nor his sarcasm as he responded, his dark features adorned with arrogant pleasure. ?Wrong, Quillyan. You?re supposed to be convincing me that you will be helpful. I?m the instructor. It?s your job to impress me, not remind me of your uselessness.?

?Oh,? was her only reply.

They rounded a familiar bend, and guilt arranged the student?s features in glum resolve. Here they would find the rockfall at the entrance to the tomb of Cynric, and the investigation would begin. She had little doubt that her guilt would be uncovered - if not by Tracha?s prowess than by her own confession.

Except they didn?t.

Pausing in the exact same spot where only a week ago she mourned the destruction of beautiful structure, she now marveled at its... perfection. The crypt was stately and silent; the domed ceiling, statues, and many individual tombs flawlessly preserved.

Quillyan turned her wide, wondrous eyes toward the dark elf, her delighted voice daring to interrupt this moment of exceedingly good fortune: ?Or maybe we?re both useless.?

Crimson-tinged eyes fell upon her, skeptical. ?It may be an illusion. Or a trap.?

And somewhere, not too very far away, footsteps thudded along the tunnels.