The Arsonist's Web

Chapter 11: The Plot

He really hadn't planned on running for his life through the woods today, but then again, this was his life; he had to expect changes. After he'd left Bram's house, Virgil sent the letter to Clara via crow and made his way back to the prison. He was armed with knowledge of Trojan's part in the Five Crowns, and the plot to divide the five kingdoms; he had the element of surprise. Maybe returning to his first suspect would help bring out new information. He had to try. Either way, Virgil hadn't planned on running into a swarm of illus in the forest again, and yet here he was, sprinting towards the prison as fast as he could.

The illus were gaining on him, reaching their ominous claws towards him, just scraping the back of his vest now. Virgil grabbed his Muse-given whip from Clara's and threw the weapon's glowing end this way and that. One by one, the demonic creatures were disseminated into a small puff of smoke, returning to the night from which they came. But there were too many of them for the humanoid to keep track of, and one had snuck into his blind spot.

Suddenly, a ghostly hand yanked on Virgil's shoulder and threw him to the ground. He was done for. "No! No!" The illus ignored their victim's pleas as they invaded his mind:

"You'll never solve this, Virgil. Never in a million years."

"Your wife is dead. She's never coming back."

"It's pointless, half-human. Give up."

"Trojan will always win in the end. He always does."

"No!" A familiar sense of helplessness flooded Virgil's veins and circulated throughout his body, leaving him cold and empty. He remembered every touch, every beating, every cruel word that man had abused him with during his stay. Past threats bubbled up to the surface, mixing in with the absurdities of the illus, creating a dangerous mental cocktail of lies:

"Get up, you worthless synborne. How could you be so weak?"

"You are my slave. You are under my control."

"Yes, Virgil. Give in to my voice. I am your master now."

Virgil's back arched off the ground as the thoughts became too much. He cried out in pain, then fell silent. When his eyes flickered open, they glowed a familiar shade of violet. The violet curse had once again claimed its victim.

Virgil could've sworn he was suffering from déjà vu. When he came out of yet another violet trance, the humanoid found himself surrounded by crates of TNT. Again. Virgil scrambled to his feet and gasped. Stacks of trinitrotoluene loomed over him like towers of death in the stone tunnel, just as it had around the Holy One. Virgil froze. Did I walk back to the Holy One? The sentient thought. No. No! Oh, Muse, no! The last clear memory he held was running towards the prison, running for his life from illus. Why had he ended up by TNT again? To set off yet another trinitrotoluene pile? But where? The humanoid groaned in frustration. Virgil didn't know, and at this time point, he almost didn't want to know; he just wanted to get to the prison and put an end to this nightmare. And so, the sentient climbed atop the mountain of dynamite, grabbed a nearby pickaxe, and began to mine out the ceiling. He was getting out of here one way or another, tunnels be damned. He wasn't running into anymore monsters.