Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

50

It was finally the darkest time of the cycle. Assu beckons Morou and Lum, the latter reluctant and skittish as they slide around the corners and into the deepest part of the fortress. They can feel the hum of magic permeating the walls long before reaching the cell; Assu and Morou exchange concerned looks, realizing that the spread they had anticipated had started sooner rather than later.

Wasting no time, Assu takes a deep breath, and grabs Morou's hand, pulling them along with her into the whirlpool of runes. Her skin starts to itch as soon as she does, and they wiggle a bit as the pair dart towards the unconscious demonic form, as quickly as they can.

It's a struggle to lift him, as though the magic is holding him down, but once he's off the ground he's light and surprisingly frail. Assu grinds her teeth, knowing it's from the malnutrition, forced overuse of his magic, and abuse he had been subject to. What should've been fourteen cycles, possibly slightly more, worth of starvation and damage was doubled from how much magical energy he had spent healing himself of injuries. Of course. That's how they always do it, after all; wear them down until they can't do anything at all, wear them down until their body and mind alike break under the strain.

Morou flinches, bringing Assu back to the moment. She carefully helps them take the full weight of Bad into their arms, and then tugs them towards the doorway. Lum is pacing outside the room anxiously as he awaits whatever they've rescued to come out with them. They break out of the magical chaos, gasping and sputtering in the more breathable air.

Assu looks like she'll be sick, swaying and pale, while Morou looks...dizzy, but not too bad.

Lum steps towards them, and freezes, the full sight of the body registering in his vision.

Tail. It hangs down over the piglin mage's arm, arrowhead shaped tip limply swinging back and forth with their motions. Wings. They're folded awkwardly under his body, but they're at least the same height as him, and around as long. Horns. Red-tipped, curving from his forehead like misplaced boar's tusks. Claws. His fingers end in inch-long talons that look ready to rend flesh.

Lum hisses at them, appalled,

"That's a DEMON! You're saving some abomination of horror myths? And you KNEW?" Assu nods, wiping her forehead as she glances to the body, watching the emerald and red runes that wrap around him, hovering over his skin and casting a faint glow with their sealing glyphs. Lum can see them after a second, and relaxes a tiny bit when he realizes the meaning of them; instinctively knowing the sealing nature.

"He's innocent," Assu eventually murmurs, "This isn't his doing, we can save him. He's just a child, really."

Lum laughs bitterly, fear getting the better of him,

"He's probably as old as you, you silly sow. He's not even breathing—"

She glares at him, and the glint in her gaze, the knowing look that speaks of having a plan around this situation, silences him.

"We can save him," she repeats. Lum swallows his doubt, and they begin to creep back through the fortress.

Stolfas meets them at the entry, glancing around the corners as he keeps watch and holds a sheet of cloth rolled in his arms.

"You need to hurry—" He starts, and then registers the body much how Lum did, clapping a hand over his mouth to resist the urge to scream or shout in shock. Assu snaps,

"Not a word. Is anyone on patrol?" Stolfas shakes his head, staring at the black scales coating Bad's skin. "Thank you. Come on."

She takes the sheet from him, draping it over the body, hiding the tail and wings as best she can; it almost looks like a corpse now, hidden under the sheet as they carry it away for its 'funeral'.