That day was the day when the world awoke. When the world saw that the boogeymen it laughed at, the myths they cast as twopenny villains, were all too real. They learned that there were heroes among them, just as powerful as the villains, and they feared them.
***
He had lost track of time down below.
Laidu had already tried to melt the metal. That trick had worked before, in a way. Heating metal made it softer and pliable, and the last time Laidu had tried, he had ripped through the manacles.
Now, the dull grey metal soaked up heat, yet remained cool to the touch. Faces and voices danced about him, before the strain of the power made him collapse. The manacles, secured to two large stone pillars, held him up and made his shoulders ache if he hung too long on them. Then again, the various gashes on his chest and legs where they had taken knives to him had hurt worse. His golden scales were covered in dried blood.
They had stripped him of his fine clothes, and Laidu wore a ragged loincloth, made of a fireproof material. It was doubtful that they had prepared that garment specifically for him; more likely, they had made the loincloth out of scrap cloth. That theory seemed much more likely, seeing as the torturers were wearing robes made out of the same material.
He needed something. He needed a better weapon, someone who knew how to get out of this. He had his other powers. Laidu could still levitate with his Weightless Blood. But he needed more knowledge.
He needed Rhaedra.
But to do that, he needed Rhaedra's name. And everything he tried hurt. Now, however, he had an idea. Rhaem. Kasran. Anyone. I need your help.
What do you want? They all answered at once.
I need to know the meaning of Rhaedra's name. Do you remember anything? Anything from before he lost his mind and became you?
They were silent. He wants the old memories.
Does he?
Yes. He just asked for them.
But does he deserve them?
Don't mess with me, Laidu said. The voices were all indistinct, all blending together. Just give me the memories.
Very well.
Everything went white.
***
He stared up at the sky, at the cold stars that looked back at him. He stared up at the cold, wide universe, with all its darkness and the fear that lurked within, all the wonder and horror that was kept secret by vast distance and shadow.
He stared up, awed and horrified, before his mother swept him under her wing, keeping him close to her flank, keeping her little hatchling safe and warm.
***
That's it? Laidu asked.
For now. Wait. Rhaem was speaking, and Laidu could hear the frustration in his voice. We cannot tell which memories hold the keys to the true name, our name, directly. We must approach them through sideways avenues of thought.
What does that even mean? Laidu asked.
We have to seek other signs, tertiary signs in the memories. He has forgotten his true name, his very identity, for the pain that he had felt made it so he couldn't bear to be himself. He who we were cannot remember his own name, cannot bear to do so. Thus, it falls to you to remember for him.
That is what you want, Laidu said. It's not his name. It's his identity, his being, that you're trying to have me remember.
He forgot that he is one, and let himself drift apart. Rhaem seemed sad. Other voices murmured assent.
And here comes the architect of our sorrows, Kasran snarled.
Laidu looked up. Flickering light illuminated a doorway at the far end of the chamber, where torchlight spilled into the round chamber. "So, here he is." Laidu knew that voice, the voice that had threatened to flay Kyra and wear her skin.
He struggled against his chains. He would tear the monster apart, watch him die. Then, he'd let Kazalibad regenerate, and he'd do it again. And again. And again.
It was what the monster deserved for trying to kill his beloved.
"So, explain why your normal spells won't work," Kazalibad said. Laidu remained silent, though his eyes burned with hatred towards the immortal, and the man next to him. Haema Rin.
The sorcerer, the man who had captured him, and who stood off to the side while his black-robed acolytes tortured Laidu, stepped forward. "I tried to enthrall him, but as I prepared, I detected madness that had taken root in his brain. It is like a cancer and a plague to the mind. It is a cancer because it grows and grows and warps and distorts. However, like a plague, it is communicable through certain channels."
"I've never heard of someone catching madness," Kazalibad said. "Having it run in the family, yes. But passing it on? I have heard some say that certain venereal diseases cause madness, but never that madness itself is passed."
"Well," Haema Rin said, "that is the rule for mundane connections. The normal bonds that don't require any thaumaturgical knowledge. But to enthrall a person, I must enter their mind. To do so with this one," he said, "would risk me to lose my sanity. And a mad sorcerer is a threat to all."
Kazalibad glared at him. "You know what I want. If you don't grant it, I will force you to, and then make sure your maddened sorcery isn't a threat."
"No need. An alternate technique will suffice." He paused. "It will not strip him of his abilities, however. It will grant you his blood, but it will not rob him of his powers."
"Very well." Kazalibad said. "We'll kill him then."
"I have a different idea," Haema Rin said. "I could impose an enthrallment upon him. I'm working on a ritual. Using pain to secure the enthrallment upon him."
"Very well." Kazalibad glared at Laidu. "Begin."
***
"I'm not sure why you feel the need to do this," Lord Solstael said quietly in Kyra's ear. "Especially now, with these... people," he said, settling on that word to describe the group that had crammed themselves into the large carriage.
Next to Kyra sat Thaen, and Mirsari next to him, which meant that she and Father were shoved against the other wall, and Po Shun against his side of the closed carriage. Indra sat on the other side, sandwiched between Karik'ar and Skaria. The carriage groaned under the weight, but held.
"I told the scholar, Lady Selaine, that she could browse some of the artwork that you and Lord Cydari possess."
"I see," Father said. "I don't understand why you need to have the others..."
"My pastor is also an appreciator of art," Kyra said. "And the others make me feel safe."
"Surely, some of the guards would suffice," Lord Solstael said.
"Those guards didn't stop me from being abducted," Kyra said. Granted, she had sneaked out and been abducted away from her home, but Father didn't know that.
"You do know that the Kai'Draen race are not as mentally capable as others," Lord Solstael said.
"I can hear you," Karik'ar said. Father blanched. "And how do you know that?"
"It's described in the works of a famous philosopher, Vailleisse of-"
"I've read his stuff." Karik'ar paused. "Mostly conjecture. He gets a few things right, but draws horribly skewed conclusions." He paused. "A better way to determine if there's any mental deficiency between the human and Kai'Draen races would be to administer a basic logic and fact test, while controlling for different cultural situations, comparing city-cultured Kai'Draen with city-cultured humans, tribal Kai'Draen with tribal humans, evaluate the-"
"Karik'ar!" Skaria elbowed him. "You're speaking nonsense. Shush."
"No he's not, he's speaking statistics." Indra sighed. "My least favorite class, though. Please do be quiet. It brings back horrible memories."
Lord Solstael stared at Karik'ar. "How did you learn that?"
"I read a book about it a while back." He stared out the window, his braid coiling on Indra's head. She frowned and shoved it away.
"Oh." Lord Solstael looked away uncomfortably. Seeing as someone of 'inferior mental capacity' had just embarrassed him, that reaction was to be expected.
They arrived at Cydari manor, before being stopped at the gates. "Is this Lord Solstael?"
Father poked his head out of the window, barked something at the guard (something about him being fired if he had his way and that for sure Lord Cydari would find out), before waving his driver to continue on.
Two minutes later, after the coach was secured, the eight of them filed out. "Lord Solstael!" Lord Cydari said, stepping out of the manor's intricate front doors. "Why are you visiting me?"
"My daughter promised a friend of hers that she could see your artwork," Father explained.
"And her friend decided to bring a small army?" Lord Cydari asked.
"My daughter insisted. She said it made her feel safer," Lord Solstael said, shooting Kyra a glare. She just smiled.
"Do you need a guided tour?" Lord Cydari asked.
"No, I can show them through," Kyra said. "If you don't mind."
"Of course not!" Lord Cydari said. "Please, go! Help yourself! And get this over with..." he said, the first two sentences quite loud, the last part muttered under his breath.
They filed in, and everyone stared at the excessive opulence, the rich and vibrant tapestries, the gilded vases and ornate paintings. "Thaen," Kyra whispered under her breath. "Start using your scream."
Thaen nodded and opened his mouth slightly. It made him look like a simpleton, a man with slow wit who walked about slack-jawed, but it was better than him opening his mouth as far as possible.
He was searching for anything abnormal about the architecture. The manor of Saefel Caeld had several secret passages, mostly bolt holes, tunnels for quick escape, or hidden chambers for secret meetings. If Laidu was captured, he would be in one of those.
And she worried about him, a worry that was as present as the artworks they pretend to look at. Po Shun looked around, making sure no one was watching. "Got any ideas?"
"We'll need to possibly get to his lounge, parlor, or bedroom."
"Yeah, I'm not going there," Skaria said. "Have you seen how he was looking at me?"
"Yeah. He seemed more interested in Indra. Or Mirsari," Karik'ar said. "Don't worry ladies, if he comes after you, I'll be the one to commit the felony and beat him up."
"Oh how sweet of you," Skaria said dryly.
"Don't worry," Indra said, puling out a perfume atomizer. "I heard the rumors of Lord Cydari's... voracious appetites, and brought this. It's loaded with ether, chloroform, aqua somnis, among other chemicals. Should knock him out with a puff or two."
"Smart," Skaria said. "You know, we need to talk about possibly mixing a few of these little alchemic tricks with some weapons."
"Maybe later," Indra said. "Thaen, get anything?"
"Yeah," he said. "Passage behind the wall," he barely whispered. "No one's in it but it has been used recently."
"How can you tell?" Kyra asked.
"I don't know. I just can," Thaen said. "There'll be another entrance, but this doesn't ook like it. I think that passage ends on the other room on the other side of the wall, and somewhere upstairs."
"Probably to sneak the lord's lovers into his bedchamber without Lady Cydari catching on," Skaria said.
"I doubt she'd care," Kyra said. "I met her once. Bitter, spiteful, and power-hungry woman. She probably helped with her husband, lets her control him a bit more."
"You know, the more I hear about Caeldari nobles," Thaen said, "the more I'm thinking they're a cesspool of decadent imbeciles and backstabbers. Kyra should just marry Laidu and hightail it out of this society.
Kyra felt her face heat up. "Thaen! Don't say that where people can hear you!"
"Well, everyone's thinking it!" Thaen said, though thankfully much quieter.
"Not everyone!" She sighed. "The fact that my father's letting me out and about right now is a miracle, but the second he hears about this, I'll be sent flying back to Solstael Manor out in the country, locked away from Laidu until I 'come to my senses.' Which, seeing as that entails abandoning the love I have for a man who saved me, protected me, and loves me, I'm never leaving."
"Oh." Karik'ar spoke. "Huh. What a dilemma. Pursue love, and you'll be yanked away, or play it safe, but stagnate."
"Running away," Kyra sighed, "seems like a really nice, tempting possibility." She shook her head. "Enough about me. Start looking. He has to be here somewhere."
The alternative was too terrible to grasp.
***
Laidu glared at Kazalibad, angry, hating the monster that stood before him. The thing didn't even acknowledge Laidu's presence, just watched as Haema Rin poured a line of wax around them.
He was drawing a mage circle, but unlike the fake one that Laidu had made, this one was real, drawn with purpose. "This ritual has many layers to it, and all must be executed with extreme precision. You don't want the magic to improperly transfer to you, Kazalibad. You could self-immolate should you try to use your abilities. Or worse."
"Take all the time you need," Kazalibad said. "I have waited an eternity for this. I can stand to wait a few more minutes."
Hello? Laidu desperately called out to the voices in his head. I need another memory! Something! Anything! I need it!
Very well.
Haema Rin kept pouring, but everything went white.
***
He was older. Stronger. Wiser. He had left the hatchling years far behind and was entering his manhood, his adulthood.
There were two things that would give him the title of -gah, the title. One was to gain the color of his eyes, to discover his blood, whether he be inclined towards Fire or Earth, Wind or Water, Aether or Life, Mind or Void. The other was to take a mate.
Now, as he stared up in the sky, into the stars, he only had to wait for the day his eyes changed from their dull grey to what new color they would be.
Tesira lay next to him, her wings curled up against her sides. Slowly, she moved closer to him, laying her head on his chest. "I love you," she murmured.
"I know," he said. "You said that a lot. Starting two years ago."
"Well, two years ago," Tesira said, "you were isolated, tormenting yourself because of something you couldn't control, hurting and scarring yourself because of the way you were born, and I had moved from liking you to loving you." She had said it throughout the eightfold ceremony, where he had shown love to her in eight different ways. He shared a meal with her, kept her warm by the fire, sheltered her under his wing as she slept, swam with her, walked with her, spoke with her. He had made a home for her, and just now, they had consummated their love, completing the ceremony.
She was so beautiful. His tail coiled around hers, and his wing wrapped around her body. "Do you ever dream of me?" she asked. "I dream of you. I dream that we lay together, in a field of flowers, and the sun just floats lazily in the sky. We don't have a care in the world, and I spend the dream wrapped up in your wings, in your embrace." She nuzzled his jawline, and her handlike paws stroked the corded muscles of his forelegs. "You didn't keep any scars in my dream." Her claw gently traced the three lines across his face.
"I removed the ones I carved into myself. That one came from a bear," he said. "It was my own stupidity. My own fault that I got that. Besides, now we have a bear pelt at the cave. Much more comfortable to lay on than cold stone."
"Yes," Tesira said. "Not to sound ungrateful, but it would be nice to have more than one. The pelt only really fits one of us," she said, "and I do like lying next to you. And I'd hate to have you sleep on cold stone."
"Of course. I will have to work on that," he said with a smile. "Until then..." He rolled, crouching over Tesira with a grin, "we'll just have to use the grass."
***
Alright. Somehow, that memory was related to Rhaedra's true identity. It was odd, but that was normal for Rhaedra, or the voices that used to be Rhaedra. Normal wasn't something he was used to.
Haema Rin grabbed his head, forced it up. Immediately, Laidu ignited the Fever Blood within his jaw. There was a hiss, and Haema Rin yanked his hand back, swearing in pain. "My lord," he said. "May I make a request?"
"Go on," Kazalibad said.
"When I have enthralled him, do not slay his beloved. Bring the whore here, and I'll order him to kill her. And then I'll break the enthrallment, and watch him suffer," Haema Rin said. "And then I'll grant him death."
Kazalibad turned to him. "Granted. It doesn't matter who kills her, as long as she's dead."
Laidu glared at them. They were evil. Pure, vile evil. They sickened him, terrified him. He had to escape, had to get Kyra safe.
After he escaped, he'd take Kyra, maybe take them all somewhere far away. He'd suffer the old madness and act on the new madness, and he would live easy knowing that Kyra was safe. Maybe the others would be there. Thaen would go in a heartbeat, Skaria and Karik'ar would go together, regardless of whether they came with him. Kyra's father... he would be tougher, but the key would be Kyra. He had to be convinced of the threat of Kazalibad, but he would follow them. He did love his daughter, after all. Laidu loved Kyra too, and because of that he needed her to be safe.
Which meant he had to break out of this imprisonment.
"It is time," Haema Rin said. "Acolytes, move his hand, have it outstretched over here." The black-robed cultists gestured at the pillars that anchored the chains.
One of them moved suddenly, jerking Laidu's hand over to Haema Rin's desired position. Quickly, before he could react, Haema Rin held a chalice underneath his hand. A knife flashed, the blade so sharp it didn't even hurt when it cut a perfectly straight red line across his palm.
Blood dripped into the goblet, hissing and steaming, glowing like molten metal. Laidu had activated the Fever Blood himself, trying, hoping that it burned Haema Rin, helped him in some way.
He made his hand into a fist, but blood still dripped between the knuckles. Soon, the goblet was half-full, and Haema Rin motioned to the pillar. It swung back, sending a stab of pain into Laidu's shoulder.
Haema Rin set the goblet down, and began to do his witchery to it. Light thrummed through the air, ribbons of luminescence that throbbed and pulsed. It terrified Laidu, but also was beautiful, in some strange, otherworldly fashion.
The light hummed, changing color, weaving itself into a nexus of radiant hues. And then, with a howl that wasn't heard so much as felt, it slammed into the goblet. Laidu groaned in pain. It felt like someone had taken their hand and wrenched his heart out. He felt... empty. His power was still there, ever present, but it felt... hollow. There was no other way to put it.
Now, the liquid inside was chilled, and a ring of frost formed at the rim of the chalice. "Partake of his blood," Haema Rin said, "and you shall partake of his powers." Kazalibad grabbed it. "Beware. It will take some time for them to fully become part of you."
"I don't care. This is what I've wanted." His eye, the great and terrible one that dominated his forehead, opened and stared at that goblet with purest longing. His massive tongue licked his lips. "Finally, the unattainable is in my grasp." He lifted the goblet up to his maw and drained it with one gulp.
He hunched over, screaming, and Laidu hissed with pain. A coldness, a cold so sharp and severe it burned, spread through his veins. Kazalibad seemed to have the opposite effect. Lines of fire traced around his stomach, his arms, his legs, his back, as the blood in his veins lit up with the incandescence of dragon fire.
"It burns! Oh, it burns!" Kazalibad hunched over, before rising to his feet. "It burns, burns so beautifully." He held out his hands. "Give me something. Something that can burn."
It couldn't have worked. No. There was no way. Haema Rin grabbed a cloth, soaked in some foul-smelling oil. It was impossible. No one could take that power. Haema Rin handed it to Kazalibad. There was no way that it could happen.
Kazalibad stared at it, and then, as his hand glowed cherry-red, the rag lit aflame.
He had done it. A deadly immortal, and that damnable sorcerer had given him more power.
It was over.
Kazalibad let the burning rag fall. "Make him your thrall. I need to rest, and then I'll grab the whore he likes and take her down here. I'll dispose of the rest of the city later. This blasted place has vexed me enough. He walked through the doorway and vanished.
"I'm going to kill you," Laidu told Haema Rin, voice devoid of emotion. "I'm going to kill you, and then him, and anyone else associated with you."
"That's entertaining," the sorcerer said, not looking up from his table. "Forgive me for not paying full attention to your idle and empty threats. I'm trying to figure out the best way to do this."
"To do what?"
"To enthrall you. Since I cannot overwhelm your mind directly, I must do it indirectly." He paused, before gesturing at the ceiling. Chains lowered down, as if by magic. Though, given that he was a sorcerer, that was expected. "I must impress my seal, my will, onto your soul."
"And how are you going to do that?" Laidu asked.
"Several ways come to mind. I will rob you of the strength, the comfort the ground gives you. I will rob the integrity of your flesh, the features of your face. Eventually, I will rob you of the will, and you will do all I command. You'll be fully aware of it, fully aware up until you crush that young woman's windpipe in your hand, and you won't even care," he said. Rage, pure and violent, burned in Laidu's chest. "You'll be aching to please me. To please Kazalibad."
"You see, Ranger," Haema Rin said, holding a butcher's meat hook in his hand. "I will break your body. I will torture you. And then, after a few days, I will break your heart and mind. And afterwards, I will break your will." He fastened the meat hook to the chain. "First, we shall suspend you. Life is drawn from the ground. And you shall not touch the ground." He smiled. Laidu spit on him. "How rude," he said. "Your first lesson begins. This is what you get for being rude to your new master."
He drove the meat hook through Laidu's shoulder, and that was when the Ranger started to scream.
***
Kyra had led them to the indoor gardens, where they were pretending to admire a statue of a strong warrior leaning on a club when Thaen perked up. "Do you hear that?" he asked.
"No," Kyra said. "What is it?" Their voices echoed in the vast greenhouse, made of thick, insulated glass that still let one see outside the building.
"I hear it," Mirsari said. "Sounds like someone yelling. Or screaming."
"That could be Laidu," Kyra said. "Where's it coming from?"
Thaen paused. "Down. Deep down." He paused. "It sounds like he's buried."
"Split up," she said. "We can cover more ground. Look for anything out of the ordinary, anything that can give away evidence of a secret passage."
"Alright." Mirsari nodded. "If worst comes to worst, I can use my abilities to overpower Cydari."
"Kyra's the only one who really has to worry." Skaria shrugged. "But she's a noblewoman. I'd imagine she'll been fine."
"Just... come up with an excuse." Kyra was thinking ahead, trying to prepare for anything that could go wrong.
"Libations. That's usually a good excuse." Indra paused. "Excuse me! Sir!" She waved over a servant. "The lady is thirsty. Bring us some chilled wine." The man nodded, and rushed away.
Wine was brought, three bottles covered with that faint coating of condensation. "It's probably not the best idea to get drunk," Po Shun said. "Not even from a moral standpoint, just from a logistical one."
"Which is why we're not drinking." Indra lifted the bottle. "Ah. An Agyar draft. Poor vintage. Doesn't hurt as much to waste it." She uncorked it, and looked around. "I'll have to apologize for his roses," she said as she emptied the blood-red liquid into the flowerbed. "Pass me the next, please."
Indra emptied the second bottle into the flowerbed next to it, and half-emptied the third bottle. "Now, time to search."
They split up, and Kyra headed towards the heart of the manor. She turned the corner, rushing past tapestries, past servants with their faces downcast in her presence.
There was something there, she knew. It wasn't the kind of quantifiable knowledge, something she could teach. It wasn't a philosopher's or logician's deduction, nor a reasoned axiom. It was intuition, but not just any kind of intuition. This was a lover's intuition.
She saw a pair of ornate doors and knew, just knew, with every fiber of her being, that the entrance to whatever foul dungeon Laidu had been hidden in. She threw open the doors.
"Kyra." Her father stared at her, a little shocked at her sudden interruption. He sat at a table, glass of some amber-colored liquid in his hand. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Please," Lord Cydari said, "take a seat. Stay a while and chat."
Kyra did. She realized something. The man in front of her, Lord Cydari, had Laidu imprisoned somewhere in his manor. He was her enemy, the reason that her love was trapped beneath the earth.
There were two reasons she could think of. One was sitting next to her. Her father. He was protective of her, but wold he go so far as to abduct Laidu? Could he do that? It was certainly possible, but was it probable? She prayed that it wasn't the case.
The other option wasn't much better. That option meant Cydari was in league with Kazalibad. Allying oneself with a murderous, ruthless immortal was something she could see Lord Cydari do. She had heard the things he had done to women. He was a nasty man.
As she sat down, she realized something. Like the old Caeldari adage, she was sitting to dine with vipers and their poisoned words.
She prayed from the depths of her soul that Laidu was alright.
***
It hurt.
He hung suspended above the ground, a pool of red slowly spreading from the crimson lines that streamed down his body. They had used more of the meat hooks to hold up all his limbs. He hung facedown, horizontal, hanging from the ceiling, limp and bloody.
"Check the vitals of the subject," Haema Rin said. One of the black-robed acolytes roughly handled Laidu's face, feeling for the pulse on his neck, checking his eye responses. "Is he still possessed of some vigor?"
"Enough. Start the second stage, and we will stop there," one of the shorter acolytes, probably a Vesperati, said. "He can rest, we can infuse him with vitality if we need to."
"Good. Very good." Haema Rin pulled out a small collapsible table from the side wall and set it up. He unrolled a leather satchel, revealing many long, sharp, and wickedly-curved knives.
So it was to be torture. That was how he was to die.
Do you have anything? Laidu asked frantically as Haema Rin picked up a fanglike knife.
One thing, Kasran said, his voice... terrified.
No! He can't! We can't let him use that! Rhaem was begging the other voice.
What is it? No matter how terrible, it had to be better than being tortured to death.
Remember the bloods you sense? You can hear their songs, including the other elements. Weightless Blood, for example. Do you remember the one with no song?
He remembered one of them, a power that had a profound and terrifying sense of emptiness to it, the kind of nothingness that threatened to swallow the self with it. I remember that.
It is Hunger Blood. Some call it the King of the Bloods. Others call it the Tyrant. If you attune it, Kasran said, we might survive.
He paused. There's more to this than just survival.
Yes. It is... most potent. Beware. If you use it, Kasran said, attune it, and pray to whatever god you believe in that you wake up and can control it.
Haema Rin advanced. "Let's start, shall we?" He lifted up Laidu's head, so that the sorcerer's eyes, black like polished jet, stared right into Laidu. "If this works," he said, "I'll have a useful assassin."
There was no choice.
Haema Rin dug the tip of the knife into Laidu's collarbone. Pain screamed through every nerve of his body, red hot agony. He thrashed, which made the hooks scream.
Somewhere, in that maelstrom of pain and madness, he said a small prayer. He attuned the Hunger Blood.
And all the pain went away.