Simon and I hurried down the hallway. It soon became a maze of thin corridors of doppelgänger walls that blended together with no discernable variation save for sharp lefts and even sharper rights. I followed Simons lead, who strode forward with purpose, ears twitching intermittently as they picked up on what I assume some form of noise that my own senses were too feeble to hear.
My legs burned as tiredness bore down over my shoulders. Something I attributed to equal parts lack of sleep, and the constant searing of adrenaline that had, had time to teeter down in to near nothingness.
We took another left, and then a right. Eventually clambering up stairs of cold, hard, stone. Any other time I would question such a building like this. It's lack of sense, and up until this point I had yet to discern any reasonable purpose for it. I had assumed it to be an office building of some kind, but its maddeningly monotonous halls and lack of doors would suggest otherwise, could it be that Victoria had expected us all this time? Did she really deem us such a threat that she would devise and prepare with such an astute paranoia, as to fashion this building for the sole purpose of her protection?
Admittedly, the thought hurt. Like the aftermath of a splinter, a dull, burning, sting, at my core, that she would think her pursuers so vicious. That she would think me as so vicious. She was right of course. We did find her, and we are attacking her with at least one of our party particularly pulsing with bloodlust. But to me, this was an admission. An acknowledgement of what she had done, guilt without knowing what to do or how to fix it and is just lashing out in the worst way possible?
Soon enough, I begun to hear the noises that we were apparently following. It was an amalgamation of deep snarls and crashes, like a wild beast set loose in a furniture store. When eventually we came to a stop, as did the noise.
Simon had paused our travel, holding an arm up defensively as his other held onto the blade, and his eyes scanned the environment before us. The hall inexplicably, came to a stop not fifty feet ahead, where it seemed to widen somewhat and ascend into a set of concrete stairs. Peeking over Simons shoulder, I could see a figure standing there.
It took a moment for me to recognise who stood before us. The crimson stained skirt, like blood upon the snow. What remained of acid burned, platinum hair, hung limply over her shoulders, the weapon at her side, slick with blood. Bethany. Something was wrong again. The Cunning pricked at my spine, and sparked up my arms. I barely had enough time to register that Bethany wasn't wearing the protective charm I'd made her, when agony shot upwards from my core.
She was before me, a conflicted light in her eyes that followed my own to look at the sword penetrating its length into the soft flesh of my mid-drift. Blood began to slowly pool around the area, as a heavy winded feeling choked the air from the throat and a heaviness over took me. I could feel Bethany being yanked away, taking the blade with her, as I felt myself begin to fall.
I tasted metal in my throat, and on my tongue. A shaky hand gripped the wound with failing strength in an attempt to apply pressure. The floor was hard on my knees as they hit the ground first, but a certain numbness allowed me to ignore the ache it caused as I tried to gather myself. Tried to focus.
Bethany was still clawing to get to me. Lashing out at Simon with uncharacteristically sluggish movements. There was no poise, no finesse, to the from that would challenge a cat to its grace. It was then I spotted Lyra, or at least what I hoped was Lyra. A hulking mass of chestnut fur, and muscle, focused into a lupine form came lumbering around the corner, and barrelled into Bethany. Ripping her from Simons grip as it slammed her like a rag-doll against the close surfaces of the hall. It was this that I knew I had to move. They were going to kill each other, or at least her.
My side, forked with an arc of pain, as with shaking limbs I drew strength to me with shallow, practised breaths. The wall was there to catch my fall this time. Blood, left like macabre fingers paintings, followed my hand as I used it to pull me along to the fray.
Trembling digits reached into my satchel, as blood was ejected from my mouth. Splattering on the floor like distant, darkened, rubies. They soon gripped around a set of spell components I had prepared for such an occasion, although a part of me laughed at not thinking about the possibility of getting stabbed when handling swords.
It was a mixture of salt and sage. My shoulders took the most of my weight on the wall as I rubbed the mixture together, mingling with my blood wasn't an intended outcome, but needs must and all that.
The components began to spark, and heat up with a surprising warmth as my own quivering breaths blew into them. A banishing wind, casting away all that would do harm.
Somehow, I managed to maneuver myself between the conflicting limbs, slamming the palm of my hand, now steadily streaming with a trail of grey smoke, into the forehead of Bethany. Who immediately fell limp, and into a trance like state. Her jaw going slack as her eyes looked upwards to my connected hand, Lyra and Simon knew to step away.
I could feel her. Like finger tips, raking across the surface of Bethany's brain, pulling away threads of synapses like a puppeteers string. The sheer volume of how unknowable it was how much I missed her presence hit me like a truck in that moment. In between the spaces, the gaps of firing nerves, and consciousness, our fingers found each other there: and threaded between each other like we did so much when holding hands as children playing in the sun, and I could tell she had missed me too.
It was only when I became aware of the tears prickling at the bottom of my eyelids that I regained some form of focus, thankful that they had the good graces not to fall. I breathed outwards, and slowly. Blowing away the presence of Victoria in Bethany's mind like clearing dust from an antique, I faltered for only a moment as she resisted me.
"You are not welcome here." I demanded, feeling the sparks of my own magic tingle at my shoulders and vibrate to my finger tips. "Get. Out." I ordered, shunting my arm forward as if to physically push Victoria away from Bethany.
She'd dug her nails in pretty deep, the force of my words and breath, meticulously unravelling the hold she had so rapidly built. It caused me to grit my teeth in determination, as new holds would sprout from the graves of the old ones, just as fast as I could clear them. I had to push harder, quicker. This needed to end now, or else it would become a test of endurance, and not only did I have a stab wound, but Victoria was one of the more stubborn people I know. Used to know.
My other hand left the wound at my side, as I smeared my blood over Bethany's bottom lip. Her tongue immediately jabbing at the nourishment as her eyes began to spark with moon light. Invoking her blood lust should help me gain the upper hand against Victoria as she'd then have three things to contend with keeping at bay. Bethany's will. Bethany's hunger. And me.
A surge of confidence began to swell over my chest as I could feel Bethany getting stronger. Like a light of determination and anger beating away the consuming darkness in all it's firey retribution. Together we pushed back at the influence of Victoria. Her magic curling inwards like a hair to embers as it retreated away, relieving Bethany of it's presence.
When my eyes opened, Bethany's own just sleepily blinked back into their own holding, as realisation dawned on her. She pushed away from my hands, the conflict of uncertainty blossoming in her actions as she did so.
Dizziness had grabbed a hold of me, and I was thankfully denied the fall by the calming coos of Simon.
"Hey, easy there." He said, keeping me on my feet. I felt unquestionably exhausted, and in pain. "Avery is losing a lot of blood, and a shitty first aid kit isn't going to cut it."
"No, we can't go back. We've come too far to stop now." Lyra's voice chimed, and I was aware of her now human form approaching me. Bethany, remained silent.
"Are you crazy? Avery could quite easily die. He's got about, two hours? Maybe? If we don't do something, he is going to bleed out."
"Well then we'll split. Me and Beth continue on wards, you get Avery out of here." There was much deliberation after that. Arguing and biting; it all seemed muted and echoey to me. I could barely register the warmth of Simons arms holding me in place. But somehow I managed to regain my composure, as some form of focus came to me in the end.
"No." I croaked, somewhat aware of the silence and the eyes watching me. "We go forward."
"Avery..." Simon began to protest
"That's final. I was there when it began, I'm fucking going to be there when it ends." I winced in pain as I pulled my arm from Simons shoulders, proving that I could stand on my own two feet. I gritted my teeth and started to walk towards the stairs. "Let's go."
A/N: My poor child, Avery. It's been a long road, lets see if you have the strength to keep going shall we?