3.07 H (1/2)

“We are fragments of the past, Ceria Springwalker. That is all we are.”

Ceria sat on her great-grandmother’s lap and looked up. The small cottage was covered in hanging herbs, braids of garlic—every time she breathed in, a myriad of spices tickled her nose. She sneezed, and her great-grandmother laughed.

“No one has told you yet, have they? They just tell you to stay clear of Humans, which is true enough. But no one’s told you of your other half, your heritage.”

“I thought we were descended from Elves.”

“That’s true. But how much of us is Elf? No one even remembers who they were now, do they? They aren’t in any legends—it’s just a word. Even the oldest stories only talk of half-Elves, not Elves.”

“But they did exist?”

“Oh yes. But only Dragons would remember them, I think. And even then, only the oldest of Dragons. Yet, we still call ourselves half-Elves after all this time, even though thousands…tens of thousands of years have passed. Why is that?”

Ceria shifted. Her seat wasn’t that comfortable—her great-grandmother was too bony, and she was holding the young half-Elf tightly in case she slipped away, which is what Ceria wanted to do. She hated questions like these.

“I don’t know. Because we’re half-Elves? Half and half, right?”

“Not quite. How could we be half-Elves? Think about it. If an Elf and a Human had a child, that would be a true half-Elf. But their offspring—if they had a child with a Human, then what would you have? A quarter-Elf. And so on.”

“So?”

An impatient sigh—Ceria felt her ear tips being flicked and she hunched over sulkily.

“Think, child. There are no Elves left anymore. Half-Elves either marry each other or they mix with other species. So many generations have passed—what part of us is Elf, do you think?”

“I don’t know. A quarter—an eighth? Less? Can I go now?”

The small child wriggled, but her great-grandmother was too strong for her.

“Not yet. This is important, so sit still or I’ll pinch your ears.”

Chastened by the threat, Ceria sat as still as possible, trying not to move. She heard a quiet sigh from above.

“You’re too young. But someone has to tell you and those prideful fools would never speak of this. Ceria, the truth is that after all these long years, our people probably have only a drop of Elven blood in our veins. Only a drop, the smallest fraction of fractions. Only that. We aren’t half-Elves. Not even close.”

The news didn’t disappoint Ceria, because she didn’t fully understand.

“So what? We’re all Human?”

“Again, not quite. Do you want to know something interesting, Ceria?”

“Yes? Is it a secret?”

“Only a small one. The interesting thing is this: when a Human and a half-Elf have a child, the child is always half Elf. Did you know that?”

“No. Why is it interesting?”

Another sigh, but this time Ceria didn’t receive a flick to the ear.

“The interesting thing is that this is always true, Ceria. No matter how many generations pass, a half-Elf with a thousand Human parents on one side will always produce a half-Elf child. No matter what.”

The young half-Elf sat pensively, and then looked up into the wrinkled face and white hair.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that our heritage cannot be erased, child. Not by blood or time. We are part Elf, and that will always ring true. Isn’t that amazing?”

“I guess.”

Ceria’s doubtful reply elicited the first laughter from her great-grandmother she’d heard in a long time. The old half-Elf stroked Ceria’s hair gently.

“It might not seem like much to you yet, but it is something to remember. We are mostly Human, for all the others like to pretend we’re so much better. All we have is a drop of our heritage, Ceria. But it’s enough.”

“Enough?”

“Enough. What runs in our veins is a fragment of what we were. An echo of legends past. But it is pure magic in our blood, Ceria. The purest. Even Dragons bowed to Elves as masters of magic. And though the Elves are gone, we remain. It is in our natures; magic. It comes to us easier than any other species, because of who we are. Who we were. The blood of Elves cannot be extinguished, and it calls out even after untold millennia. That which shall never fade.”

The child caught her breath. She didn’t understand fully, but what she did hear in her great-grandmother’s words called to her. The old woman continued, speaking softly in the quiet of her cottage.

“We live it. Breathe it. We are magic, and magic is us. So when a spell burns you, or you play with the fish or eat them, remember. The magic will never fade.”

“Never?”

“Never. Remember that, will you?”

“I will. But what does it mean?”

“It means…in the oldest of tales, the ones only our people tell, the ones I heard as a child from my great-great grandmother, the Elves were said to be immune to charms and curses. They were so deeply magical that any attempt to hex or bewitch them was impossible. Because they were too magical, you understand? The spells just burned away from them.”

“But half-Elves aren’t like that. You said.”

“I did. But we have a part of that in us, Ceria. Remember? Just a part, but that means in time, any spell holding you will fail. If I tried to put you to sleep with a spell, eventually you would wake up.”

“Everyone wakes up, great grandma.”

A laugh.

“True. But you would wake up no matter what. No matter how powerful the enchantment, on you it will fade. Slowly, yes, but there is no spell your blood will not break in time.”

“Really?”

“Really. But don’t you go letting people cast spells on you, Ceria. And don’t think this makes you better than the Human children. Don’t go near them. You can play with the others in the stream now.”

“Will you come with me?”

“No. I have work to do. Just try to remember, won’t you, Ceria? You’re the only family I have left.”

The young half-Elf didn’t even see the pained expression on her great grandmother’s face. She raced for the door, laughing.

“I’ll remember! I promise!”

“Remember, Ceria.”

“I will! I will, I will, I—”

“I will.”

Ceria spoke the words aloud. And then she woke up.

—-

It was dark. That was all Ceria saw. But in the instant where she was not quite dreaming any longer, and not quite awake, it almost felt like she was dreaming still. The half-Elf tried to move her legs and turn her head, searching for her great grandmother.

Then she woke up a bit more and remembered that her great grandmother was dead. Nearly two decades dead and buried in her garden in a village on another continent.

And then she woke up further, and Ceria felt other sensations flooding in. The first was taste.

Taste. Ceria could taste vomit in her mouth, sour and vile. It was dried and made her gag—and she tasted blood as well. Ceria dry-heaved and scrabbled at her side reflexively. She had a flask of water—

No. She didn’t. And that was when the other feelings hit Ceria at once. She was hungry. In pain. Bleeding? No—but she could feel dried blood on her left shoulder, and cold air on her lower body. In fact…she was naked from the waist down. That was to say, she had her mage’s robes on, but someone had taken her pants.

“Wh—wha—?”

What had happened? Ceria’s mind was still too jumbled for short-term memory. She only knew that she was in pain, and something was horribly wrong. She looked around for her pants, or for the water bottle, but she could see practically nothing in…wherever she was.

It wasn’t totally dark. Ceria could see outlines of something in the darkness. But whatever light source was providing the light, it was too faint. She had to see. Ceria raised one hand and croaked a word.

“[Light].”

A glowing orange ball of pure light floated out of Ceria’s palm and she blinked, dazzled by it. But then her eyes adjusted, and Ceria finally saw the truth of where she was.

She was in the pit. The pit. The place she and the others had been teleported into after the trap. Yes. Ceria remembered. And she was lying on something. A pile of things that moved.

Ceria looked down. Something white, many white and yellow things shone in the light. She reached down to touch one, and stopped.

She was lying on a pile of bones. Bones, and horrible black filth. And some of it had been stained by her vomit. And blood.

She didn’t scream. Ceria didn’t scream, but she immediately rolled off the pile. She rolled down onto something hard and rough. Solid stone, crusted with more of that black substance.

For a few seconds Ceria just lay on the ground, trying not to react to the countless horrors around her. She breathed in slowly, trying to keep calm. The air felt dead and there was a horrible smell.

They were in the pit. Trapped. The half-Elf slowly got to her feet, holding her head. It was aching horribly, and she still felt disoriented. But more memory was coming back to her. Yes, they were trapped. There had been the spell and then—

Sound. Over to her left. Ceria spun, reaching for a dagger which again, she didn’t have. Her robes swirled about her as she spotted something that wasn’t bone or filth in a corner of the circular pit.

A…shape. A body. Ceria squinted and the orb of light at her side grew brighter. Then she saw who was sitting next to a pile of bones.

Ksmvr. The Antinium was moving. Ceria stumbled closer, head ringing, and saw he was moving. Rocking, rather. And then she heard the whisper, low and desperate. Ceria stopped as she heard what the Antinium was saying, whispering.

“no. nO. yeS. No. yES. NO. yEs, YeS—no—”

He was repeating the words over and over and he rocked back and forth in one corner of the room. The Antinium was bleeding, or he had been. Green ichor had dried around his left side, and it looked like something had smashed his carapace and ripped part of it away. A huge area was just…missing, exposing his vulnerable innards soaked with green blood.

Insanity. Now the rest of the pieces of memory fell into Ceria’s head and she remembered. She’d gone insane. Insane, just like everyone else. There had been the spell and then—

Her shoulder hurt. Ceria glanced down and saw a wound in her shoulder. It looked like someone had stabbed her with a dagger. Maybe she’d done it to herself. Ceria didn’t know.

“Ksmvr?”

The word was horrible in her mouth. Ceria nearly retched again as she tasted the foulness in her mouth. But the Antinium didn’t respond. Ceria raised her voice.

“Ksmvr. Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Again, nothing. Ceria looked away. Ksmvr was lost, and so was Yvlon and Pisces, wherever they were. She had to get out of this pit, figure out a way to undo the spell.

The spell. Ceria looked around wildly and her headache grew worse. That was right. She had to disable the spell! Had she thought that before? No? Yes?

The mark of [Insanity] was on one of the walls. It was the other half of the light in the room, that faint, ghostly glow. Ceria caught sight of it as she looked around wildly. There. It was on one of the far walls, high up in the pit. She looked away the instant she spotted it, but too late.

Her headache grew worse. Suddenly, Ceria realized what was happening. Her innate half-Elven nature had helped her fight off the enchantment, but it was still active. And it was trying—

Trying to make her crazy again. Ceria lurched towards the sign and looked up again. It was high on the wall, too high to climb to. She caught a glimpse of the runes again and closed her eyes, but too late. The magic washed over her mind, trying to control her.

“Can’t. I need—”

Against her will, Ceria’s eyes opened. She twisted her head to stare at one of the filthy black walls, but now she knew the symbol was there. And she wanted to look. Had to look. She had to. It was the only thing that made sense.

The symbol flashed in her brain, and Ceria turned her head to look back at it. She couldn’t help herself. The magic runes bored into her retinas, overwhelming her senses. Ceria grinned, bit through her lower lip—

And went insane again.

—-

He knew he was insane. It was the one conscious, deliberate thought in his head. Ksmvr rocked back and forth as he stared into the darkness of the pit. His trap. His hell.

The magic spell flashed in the peripherals of his vision. No matter how Ksmvr tried to look away, he couldn’t. The magic was too pervasive, and he was too weak.

He was insane. Ksmvr had to remember that. It was the only knowledge he could cling to. That, and his own nature.

He was Antinium, and so despite being insane, there was still a part of Ksmvr that could think, could try to act. The Antinium had no spell casters, or at least, none that Ksmvr knew of. But they were familiar with the dangers of enchantments and illusions, so safeguards had been build into their very natures when each Antinium was created.

One of those protections was an innate resistance to mental trickery. The Antinium had their own way of fighting off hostile enchantments. So it was that while Ksmvr was functionally insane, part of him was fighting back, trying to seize control of his body. It was an effective bit of mental conditioning that made the Antinium so effective in battle. It didn’t work in regards to Aberrations of course—

That was different. But Ksmvr could still think, as mired in the [Insanity] spell as he was. So he noted Ceria’s actions. The half-Elf had been stumbling towards the pulsing runes, but now she turned back and lay on the ground, laughing and choking on the blood gushing from her lip.

This was the third time the half-Elf had awoken and gone insane. Ksmvr had counted that. He had logged each occurrence in his mind. At first he’d thought it was just chance, but now he was sure. She could break the enchantment. She could, but within moments she would relapse.

Because of the symbol. It pulsed, and Ksmvr felt his mind being pulled to pieces again. He shuddered and tried to concentrate. He had to act.

But the insane bit of him didn’t want to. So Ksmvr was fighting.

“No. Yes. nO. Yes. on. Yes.”

He was weak. Ksmvr fought to stand up as the insecurities of his mind preyed on him with the effects of the spell. He wasn’t worthy of being a Prognugator. They’d been right to take that away from him.

Klbkch was superior to him in every way. His Queen was right to exile him. He was useless. He hadn’t contributed anything to the team. They’d only accepted him out of pity. If Klbkch was here, he wouldn’t have gone insane.

The knowledge haunted Ksmvr. He was pathetic. And yet, he still tried to stand up. He had to do something. He was the only one who could. There was no Klbkch to give him orders, no Queen to do the same. He had to do it himself.

One leg. Ksmvr twitched and shook horribly, trying to make his rusty limbs move. He’d done it once before. He’d taken Ceria’s pants and her belt. Hadn’t that been harder than anything he’d ever done before? But he’d done it. Now he had to stand up again.

Ceria’s magical ball of light illuminated a trembling form as, in the corner of the pit illuminated by the light, Ksmvr stood up. He shook, and then lurched towards Ceria, holding something in one of his hands. He tripped over bones, crawled—desperate to get to her in time.

The half-Elf was still lying on the ground, grinning upwards. She was spitting out blood into the air and trying to make it land on her face. Ksmvr ignored that and seized her head. Ceria made no move as he lifted her upwards.

Slowly, he tied the strip of fabric he’d cut from Ceria’s pants around her eyes, tying the knot securely to fasten the blindfold. Ksmvr’s hands shook as he finished the knot. He slowly backed away from Ceria and felt the madness overwhelming his conditioning again.

The part of Ksmvr that could still think steered his body away from Ceria. He walked back over to his corner and sat down. Then Ksmvr gave up and let the madness sweep over him again. His mouth began to chant, the distorted words echoing around him.

“Yes. yES, YeS, YES, yEs, Yes, yeS…”

His fingers scrabbled at the exposed chitin on his side. Ksmvr slowly, painfully, pulled part of his exoskeleton off, feeling it break as he ripped it from his side. He put the chip of black armor up to his mouth, and his mandibles opened. Ksmvr crunched the bit of himself down as he rocked back and forwards again. He slowly reached down and did it again. And again. And again—

—-

Ceria remembered falling in love when she was twenty three. Trying to sneak off with the young half-Elf boy in her village—being caught. She had a dream where she ate her great grandmother and buried what was left beneath a blooming cocoon where something lived and tried to burst out.

Then she woke up. Again. This time, Ceria sat up and felt the pain of her lip first. She touched at it, nearly screaming at the pain. Then she realized she couldn’t see a thing.

She cast [Light] several times before she realized there was a blindfold on her head. Ceria reached for it. Her fingers scrabbled on the cloth, but they were too weak to undo the sturdy knot Ksmvr had tied. And before she could rip it off her face, Ceria’s memories came back.

The spell! The ward! It had made her crazy again. Again! Ceria remembered coming back into consciousness several times before that, but each time the symbol had—

The blindfold on her face. Ceria felt at it and realized something had happened. She wasn’t sure what, but this was the only thing keeping her from looking at the symbol and going insane. Her head still hurt, but it was bearable this time.

And now Ceria Springwalker knew exactly what she had to do. She had to destroy that damn symbol, or at least cover it somehow.

And she had to do it without seeing. For a few minutes, Ceria just sat on the ground, trying not to scream as all of these thoughts came crashing down. She fumbled at her broken lip and found the hole, touched the wound on her shoulder and realized she was half-naked again. At least she hadn’t taken off her underwear in her craze.

Not that it would have mattered. Ceria didn’t know where the other three Horns of Hammerad were. She knew Ksmvr was close by, but he’d been unresponsive last she checked.

“Okay, focus Ceria.”

She muttered to herself and spat out some blood as she tried to concentrate. The first thing Ceria did was conjure a stream of water out of the air. She washed out her mouth and spat several times until the worst of the blood and vomit was gone. She was terribly thirsty, but she knew better than to drink the magical water she’d created. It would just mess with her body and dissipate soon enough.

“Should’ve learned [Create Water].”

Ceria muttered to herself as she stood up and tried to find her way to one of the walls. It was horrible being blind. She kept running into piles of bones and things she wasn’t sure of, which was far worse. But Ceria moved forwards, climbing over bones, slipping, falling, getting back up until at last her fingers touched something hard and rough and flat.

The wall. It was coated with that same black, flaking substance she’d felt on the floor earlier. Ceria pulled her hands back in revulsion, but now she knew where she was. She remembered the symbol had been high up, but she didn’t know where.

How was she going to do this? The only thing Ceria could think was that she had to take off her blindfold and cast a spell as fast as she could, but even that felt like a mistake. At the very least, she could follow the wall. It wasn’t as if Ceria’s blindfold was perfect; she could still sense some light. And if she dispelled her [Light] spell and followed the source of that faint light…

Ceria stumbled around the perimeter of the dark pit, feeling her way ahead and kicking bones and other things out of the way as she held one hand to the wall. She was in a massive pit, at least forty feet across by her count. It was clearly meant to capture hundreds of people, and from the bones Ceria kept running into, it might have already served its purpose countless times.

The light, the piercing light that made her want to tear off her blindfold kept getting brighter and brighter. In the darkness, it was Ceria’s only guide. She stopped where she thought the light was the brightest—she couldn’t look in any direction without it growing dimmer.

“Here?”

Ceria raised her skeletal hand upwards, trying to figure out where to aim. She remembered…the symbol was about ten feet off the floor? Higher? Maybe a bit.

What spell should she use? Ceria was under no illusions. Anyone who could cast a spell like [Insanity] and anchor it here was probably a far better mage than she was, and they would have protected the runes with wards that her best spells—[Ice Spike] or [Fireball]—would fail to overcome. What should she do then?

Ceria remembered the black gunk that she’d touched on all the walls and the floor. It was everywhere. Maybe that was the answer.

“Cover it.”

Yes, if she covered the spell, it would lose a lot of its power. Ceria didn’t know any spells that could create smoke or fog, but she could always improvise. It wasn’t easy to make new spells, but altering existing ones…

First, Ceria made water appear out of the air. She held it in place, and then materialized earth, as if she was going to use the [Stone Dart] spell. Earth and water. She mixed the two together, and felt thick mud trickling between her fingers. She smiled, winced, as the pain in her lip flared, and lifted the ball of mud up.

It wasn’t even a spell, really. It was just using the basic theories of magic to create…well, an inefficient mess. If she’d known the spell—[Mud Ball] perhaps—she would have been able to use it far more effectively and with less mana.

But this would do. Ceria held the sloppy mess between her hands as she tried to figure out where to throw it. The spell would last for a while if she put enough mana into it, enough time to cover the damn rune. But where was it—

“What are you doing, boy? Shirking your duties again?”

The harsh voice in her ear made Ceria shout in surprise and jump away. But a cold hand caught her in a steely grip, and a sharp sensation from her side made Ceria freeze in terror. A familiar voice whispered in her ear.

“Trying to hide in the library? Not on my watch.”

“Pisces?”

It was his voice, but not him. Pisces would never have thrown Ceria backwards as the man did now, and he would never have threatened her with a weapon. The young man Ceria had known had always hated physical violence, regardless of how he had changed in every other respect.

This person was not the same. He held her in place, driving the sharp object into Ceria’s side, cutting into her flesh. What was it? A knife?

No—jagged edges. Bone. Ceria shuddered as Pisces’ voice grated in her ears.

“I’ve told you once; you get up and you do the practice every day, before dawn! Anything less and I’ll have your hide.”

Ceria held her breath. She knew Pisces was as deadly with a rapier as he was with spells. In his hands, the jagged length of bone might well kill her before she could take him out with a spell. Carefully, she tried her most soothing voice possible.

“Pisces, it’s me. Ceria—”

“What? What? You don’t get to call me names, boy. My name is ‘sir’ until you can prove you can handle a blade!”

The shard of bone dug deeper in Ceria’s side. She gasped—she could feel it piercing her skin.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Better! Now, why aren’t you in the training grounds?”

The pressure eased on her. Slightly. Ceria’s hands were clenched. She had no idea what to say to him. What could she say to a madman who thought he was his father?

“I—can’t see.”

“What? Stop talking nonsense!”

“No—look!”

Ceria pointed to her blindfold. Pisces must have been able to see in the dim light, because he paused. His voice sounded approving.

“Blindfold, eh? Good lad. Helps with your reflexes. Now, dodge this—”

She only had a moment’s warning before the sharp feeling in her side vanished. Ceria felt air moving and ducked. But the blow Pisces gave her was a kick to the stomach. The half-Elf dropped to her hands and knees and wretched. Above her, Pisces laughed nastily.

“You’ve got to move faster than that if you want to become a true [Fencer], brat.”

The pain was nauseating, but at least she didn’t throw up; there was nothing left. Ceria gritted her teeth as she stood up. The mud was still in her good hand. If she threw it—

“Pis—sir, I need to get rid of that rune up there. Could you help me with that?”

“Rune? What rune? Stop talking rot, boy! There will be no magic in my household. If you’ve been making sparks—”

“No, that rune! There!”

“That? That’s just the moon. What, is it too bright for your eyes? Take off your blindfold and let’s begin already!”

Ceria let out a despairing groan. It was no good. Pisces was trapped in his imaginary world. She had to do something. But what?

“I’m waiting, boy. Don’t make me impatient!”

Ceria hesitated. She clenched her fist, and then heard another voice, growing closer. This one was dignified, and each syllable was carefully enunciated with a delicate inflection in the woman’s voice.

“What is this commotion all about? Do you people not know what time it is?”

It was Yvlon’s voice, raised to sound more high-pitched. Ceria groaned. Perfect. Another insane person was all she needed. Her first thought was that Yvlon might be persuaded to help even in her delirium, but then she remembered how most Humans treated half-Elves. And a second thought on the heels of the first: she had a sword. Ceria grew very still with fear, but Pisces raised his voice as he apparently turned towards Yvlon

“Well there you are, boy! Ready for morning practice at last, or do I have to burn all those damn books of yours to get you to pay attention?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Yvlon’s outraged voice gave Ceria hope. Pisces was snapping at her as if she was…Ceria? He wasn’t differentiating between Yvlon and Ceria at all. They were all the same to him. They were all ‘boy’, which was to say…Pisces. Ceria knew who the man she heard in Pisces’ voice had to be.

His father.

And he was trying to train Pisces. But Yvlon wasn’t cooperating. She gasped with indignation, and then, all of a sudden, her voice changed, grew deeper.

“I am Ylawes Byres, [Swordsman] and heir to the Byres name. Who are you to challenge me with weapon in hand, stranger?”

“Y—what? Are you pretending to be a nobleman? I’ll knock that arrogance right out of you.”

“You would do well to lower your weapon. I am armed—”

“I’ll take you on, old man!”

Ceria shouted the words and ducked away from the two, heart racing as she stumbled in another direction. She heard a grunt of surprise, but then a harsh laugh from Pisces.

“Challenging your old man at last? Fine then, I’ll draw your blood as a lesson!”

She heard footsteps, but not towards her. Yvlon’s outraged voice echoed off one of the walls as Ceria crept away.

“You dare to bare your blade against me? I’ll have your head for that!”

This time Ceria heard ringing metal as Ceria unsheathed her own blade. She heard another laugh, and then a grunt as she heart the thunk of something striking metal. Yvlon cried out in outrage as Ceria looked around wildly.

Her two team mates were about to kill each other. Pisces was a skilled fighter, but Yvlon was in armor. Either way, one of them would die unless Ceria hurried.

Where was the magic symbol? Ceria looked up and saw a glow around the edges of her blindfold. She raised the mud and threw it as hard as she could. She heard a splatter, but the light didn’t dim.

“Damn it. Where—”

More mud. Ceria slopped it into her hands and threw it again, but she sense the mud splattered in the air rather than stay in a ball. She cursed again and tried to mush the mud together. She threw wildly, but nothing changed.

“There? There!?”

It wasn’t working, and Ceria could heard Yvlon cursing as she struck the ground and Pisces taunted her. Ceria raised her arm, and then heard a voice.

“Not there.”

She jerked, but it was Ksmvr. He was calling out to her across the room.

“To the left and down slightly.”

Ceria didn’t hesitate. She adjusted her aim and threw.

“You missed. A bit higher and more left.”

Desperately, Ceria poured earth into her hands and added water. She molded a sopping mudball and took aim. She heard Yvlon cry out in pain and aimed desperately. She threw into the darkness.

“Ah—”

The light went out. Instantly, Ceria tored the blindfold away from her head. The world was absolute darkness.

“[Light]!”

This time, the flare of light was a dark green, and it didn’t burn her eyes. Ceria looked around wildly, and saw two struggling shapes fighting over a sword.

The magic had ceased, at least for now, but the others were still insane. Ceria ran towards both of them and cried out as she raised her right hand.

“Stop! [Stone Fist]!”

Yvlon turned and raised her arm for only a second before the stone hand smashed into her chest. She fell backwards and Ceria turned and knocked Pisces backwards with a backhanded swipe. He stumbled back, staring at the gauntlet made of rock that covered Ceria’s good hand.

“Magic? You dare? I’ll make you suffer for this!”

His eyes were wild and he had Yvlon’s sword. Ceria raised her skeletal hand warningly.

“Don’t make me do this, Pisces.”

“I told you, I’m not—”

“Ceria!”

Ksmvr appeared in a shower of bones. Pisces leapt back as a few flew towards him, and then narrowed his eyes at the Antinium. He said not a word, but charged with a wild cry. But Ceria was faster.

“[Ice Shard].”

The frozen icicle that shot from her finger flew as straight as an arrow, but the difference in this one was that the head was blunt, rather than sharp. It struck Pisces squarely in the forehead as he leapt at her, and he staggered. Ksmvr shoulder-charged him to the ground and struck him with one hand. Pisces sagged, and he went limp.

“Dead gods.”

Ceria took one deep breath and then another. Ksmvr lowered Pisces to the ground as Ceria sat down hard—on a piece of bone. She yelped and tossed the yellowed thing across the room.

“Ceria Springwalker, are you well?”

“Me? I’m—fine.”

She could taste blood and her lower lip had a hole in it. Her right shoulder still burned and Pisces had drawn blood with that damn bone. She was not fine, but other things were more important.

“Where’s Yvlon?”

“Over there.”

Ksmvr pointed and Ceria saw Yvlon standing and staring blankly ahead. The woman’s blonde hair was matted with blood, and she had a deep cut down one cheek where Pisces must have struck her. But she didn’t appear to notice any of that. She looked over haughtily as Ceria and Ksmvr approached.

“Yvlon?”

“I am Yelen Byres—”

“Rot, she’s still under the spell.”

Ceria sighed. Ksmvr looked uncertainly at Yvlon.

“Should we knock her out?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No. I don’t think that’s wise. Let’s just tie her hands and legs up so she can’t hurt us if her personality changes again.”

“That is wise.”

Ksmvr approached Yvlon. The armored woman backed away, raising her voice in outrage.

“I’m sure I’ve never been so offended—unhand me, you—!”

She clawed at Ksmvr, but her two hands were no match for his three. In a few minutes he had her trussed up and lying in a clear part of the pit. Yvlon shouted angrily at them until Ceria stuffed her blindfold into the woman’s mouth. Yvlon spat it out and she began gnawing at the ropes like an animal. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it kept her occupied.

That done, Ceria had to take a few seconds just to breathe. While she was doing that, she finally took a good look around the pit she’d found herself in. The dark room was lit by her green light and it made the lurid piles of remains all the more disturbing.

Swords, bones, rotted fabric. The pit was a huge tomb of bodies, corpses and yellowed bones, all that remained countless adventurers who’d been trapped here. Time had eaten away almost all the details of these fallen people, but Ceria could still see some clues as to how they’d died. A skull split by the worn shaft of an axe, a skeleton cut in two here, and one whose bones looked scorched—

“What a nightmare.”

Ceria shuddered as Ksmvr came to stand next to her. She looked at the Antinium and saw that he was holding his injured side, where a good section of his chitin had been picked away.

“Are you okay, Ksmvr?”

He nodded.

“I am only moderately inconvenienced, Captain. As soon as you covered the magical symbol I regained use of my mine.”

“Good. That’s…good.”

Ceria breathed in and out a few more times. She could still remember being insane, remember the sensation of losing all the structure in her head. She looked at Ksmvr, and then remembered she was still half-naked.

“Where are my pants? And my belt—did you see them, Ksmvr?”

He nodded.

“I removed them to construct your blindfold. My apologies. They are over here.”

The Antinium retrieved Ceria’s possessions and she put her pants back on with a sigh of relief. The Antinium had cut a large strip out from one of the legs, but some clothing was better than none. She sat on the ground and began attaching her belt.

More importantly, with Ceria’s belt came her water flask and the healing potion she’d brought. She greedily drank water from her flask while she offered the healing potion to Ksmvr. He applied half to his torn-up side and handed it back to Ceria. She hesitated, and then drank the potion rather than apply it to each of her wounds.

“Gah! That’s foul.”

Ceria tossed the empty bottle to one side and winced as it smashed. Ksmvr hesitated, and then sat next to her.

“That was a most dangerous trap we were caught in.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

The half-Elf shook her head.

“We nearly died. If it hadn’t been for my heritage and luck—how long were we under the spell?”

“I cannot say.”

Beside her, Ksmvr shifted to look at Ceria. His normally impassive voice changed slightly, grew a bit uncertain.

“Do you believe that spell will affect Pisces and Yvlon for much longer?”

“I don’t know.”

Ceria rubbed at her face.

“Maybe? It might wear off soon, but you never know. At least it wasn’t real insanity that hit us, just the spell.”

“Oh?”

Ksmvr looked at her. Ceria nodded tiredly, feeling the healing potion getting to work on the rest of her body.

“It’s just the magical effect. Real insanity—you’d have to be a better mage to really create madness in people. This is just…an approximation. The spell reaches into your head and messes up your world. It’s close, but not the same.”

“I see. That would explain my experience.”

The Antinium nodded a few times as he sat next to Ceria. He hesitated, and then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“If the spell had created true insanity in me, I would have become Aberration at once. And then I would have killed all three of you within seconds.”

Ceria just looked at him. How was she supposed to respond to that? But maybe that was Ksmvr’s way of saying he was glad things had worked out. She thought for a second, and then looked at the place where he’d sliced her pants apart.