Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bloody Skies	By : TokiMirage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 44802 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. Everything else is mine. I do not make any money writing this fic.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
Bloody Skies
oOo
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
oOo
Cyrus floated.
He couldn't tell where he was, when he was, or even… who he was, really. He felt disconnected from the world, as if someone had put the TV in the other room and only the occasional bursts of sound reached his ears to draw him from internal solitude. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't smell anything, couldn't see anything… the only stimulus that managed to reach him was the occasional, teasing bit of magic that would pull at his senses.
And then the world exploded with sensation and he was yanked from the peace and numbness.
Agony tore across his chest. Green eyes opened to see stone collapsing and crashing to the ground around him. The floor felt hot under his skin. Wait, skin? Why were there gaping holes in his suit? Trying to pull himself into a sitting position, he let out a cry of pain when his muscles screamed at him in protest. What the hell? What-
A groan of pain. Forcing his sensitive eyes completely open, Cyrus looked around for the noise and paused for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Orange light shone through the gaping holes in it. How Cyrus had managed to not get crushed by the plethora of falling debris was anyone's guess. Pushing that from his mind for the moment, he turned his gaze away from the beams of light and tried to find the source of the pained groan. Green eyes widened at the sight of Ashawyn laying on the ground ten feet away, his lower body crushed by a large boulder. Dragging his body over to Ashawyn, he used his magic to lift the rock off the fae's legs.
Except it sputtered and died under his hands. What the hell? But he hadn't- What the hell had happened? Had he gotten sick again? Or had-
Flashes came back to him. Death magic, golden array, exploding stone, Mikhail's angry face- Mikhail. They were in a mausoleum. Mikhail had tried to steal their death magic. Eyes widening in panic, he spread his senses downward to look for his core.
A shaky breath of relief shook his whole, exhausted body when he found it intact. It was still there. He still had his death magic.
But if he had it, what the fuck had happened?
A groan brought his attention back to the present. "Shit. Ashawyn, are you awake?" he asked, eyeing the boulder sitting on his friend's legs with worry. If only he could move the bloody thing and heal the fae, but his magic was fucked six ways to Tuesday. Literally. He probably wouldn't be able to cast safely until Tuesday, unless they had been trapped in this hole even longer than he thought.
"Wha- wh'appen?" the fae groaned.
Cyrus licked his dry, dusty lips nervously and promptly spit out the dust. Gross. "Mikhail tried to steal our death magic. And kill us, I assume, since it would be stupid to leave evidence."
The fae frowned, blinked blearily for a few moments, and then ice blue eyes widened in panic. "It's gone. It's gone, Cyrus!"
The human stared. "What?"
"My death magic! It's gone!"
B-but, how was that possible? Cyrus's was still here, though he felt like someone had put him through the meat grinder. "Calm down, Ashawyn," he said, keeping his tone placating. "We're still alive. That counts for something, right? Obviously something went wrong. We should use this time to escape. Use that ice teleportation thing and get us out of here."
The fae frowned. "I can't! Did you forget about the shackles?"
Cyrus blinked and looked down at his own wrists. There was nothing there. "Uh…"
Ashawyn saw his line of sight and gasped. "Why do you want me to get us out of here? Use your magic!"
"I can't!" Cyrus bit his lip. "You remember that time, that thing with the magic that I did? Well, I'm tapped out again. I don't know how, or why, but I can't even get that-" his voice cracked, so he swallowed down the sudden knot in his throat, "-that rock off of you."
The fae grimaced and brought his arms up, pushing against the boulder. When Cyrus just stared, Ashawyn barked, "A little help here?"
Cyrus had never seen the fae this bitchy, but he figured if he had a boulder crushing his legs he would be pissed too. "I don't have the strength to move that thing!"
"It doesn't hurt to try!" Ashawyn yelled back, a desperate look in his eyes now. Cyrus bit back any more retorts and tried to pull himself into a sitting position. When his body didn't immediately fail him, he tried to get to his feet. After a couple failed attempts, he finally figured out how to get his body working again. It was the most bizarre thing. He felt like it was different from before the explosion of death magic. Brushing it off as shock from the whole episode they'd just been through – he still didn't know where Mikhail was – he started pushing on the side of the rock that would allow Ashawyn to pull himself out the easiest. Thankfully, only a side of the boulder had hit the fae's legs instead of landing directly on top. Using every ounce of energy left in his body, he pushed.
And promptly let out a gasp when it, with the help of Ashawyn's own efforts, moved. Grunting from the exertion, he tried to figure out a way to get Ashawyn out from under the rock without it falling back onto the fae. "We can't roll it over. Can you wiggle your way out?" he gasped, pushing against the rock.
The fae made a high-pitched sound, and Cyrus realized it was a whine. He was scared shitless that Cyrus would drop the rock too. Biting his lip, the human drew up more energy. He could do this. It would only take a few seconds. "On the count of three, let go and move your ass," he ordered. "Alright?" The fae nodded shakily, grunting with the effort of holding the rock up. "One… two… three!" using every ounce of power his human body could supply, he pushed.
The rock, suddenly twice as heavy as it was before, nearly had his body buckling under the strain. Stubbornly, he set his teeth and refused to budge, refused to let it crush his friend's legs. Again.
"Cyrus. I'm out."
With a grunt, he walked backwards and let the boulder fall back to the ground, collapsing onto the stone floor. Holy fuck that was the hardest manual labor he'd ever done in his entire life. To be honest, he was shocked as hell that he'd managed to do it.
And from the way Ashawyn was looking at him, so was the fae.
"OBSIDIAAAN!"
Both their eyes widened in fear at Mikhail's familiar voice. Fuck. The bastard was still alive? Cyrus had hoped the explosion of energy had killed the fucker.
"Run," Ashawyn told him, fists clenched on his bloody lap. "He already got what he wanted from me. He won't be coming after me."
Cyrus glared at him. "Don't be an idiot. He'll kill you because he already got what he wanted from you, and he'll kill me because I fucked up his death magic sucking hole of a mausoleum. C'mon, go hide between those rocks there," Cyrus ordered, getting up to help the fae.
Ashawyn just gave him a pained grimace that the human didn't like one bit. "The blood will lead him to me, Cyrus. Run, quickly, before he manages to get us both. Get out there and tell the Guild what he's been doing so they can- can rip his soul out and feed him to the abyss."
Cyrus shook his head. "Not leaving you here."
A rock to their left was blown apart in a spray of rubble and dust, some of it hitting the two wounded students. "There you are," Mikhail drawled, face twisted with hate. "You ruined everything!" he shouted, backhanding Cyrus and sending him flying away from Ashawyn. The elf didn't even seem to notice his bloodied student, his focus fixed entirely on Cyrus. "Decades of work, reduced to rubble!" He kicked Cyrus in the stomach, sending the human flying across the stone ground, rocks digging and slicing into his bare back as he went.
Mikhail came to a stop right in front of him, his furious expression morphing into an angry smile. "I've never really taken to torture, but I think that would be a suitable punishment for you before I kill you," he said darkly, looking Cyrus's body up and down.
Cyrus couldn't bite back the wave of panic that hit him. He didn't want that man touching him. "No!" he shouted, holding out his as if it would ward the elf off, and to both his and Mikhail's shock, a stream of fire burst from the outstretched appendage and nailed the elf on the side of the face. A scream cut through the eerie silence of the mausoleum as Mikhail gripped his face in pain.
And then Cyrus's heart stopped in shock as Yankovich rose out of the shadows behind the furious elf with a dead expression on his face. Used to seeing the demon far more animated (with either annoyance, amusement at Cyrus's expense, or when he was teaching someone other than Cyrus), the human could do nothing but stare as Yankovich pulled a knife from somewhere and stabbed the elf right in between the shoulder blade and collarbone. He disappeared again before Mikhail knew what hit him, and Cyrus watched as the elf frowned before turning his head and seeing the blood beginning to stain his dusty white robes.
"Wha-"
A foot planted itself on the back of his head now that he was looking away, and Cyrus watched as Mikhail went flying into a pile of rubble and connected with a sick crunch.
"Okay now, brat?" a familiar voice asked.
Cyrus turned to the right and saw Gyrdrich sitting on a chunk of rubble, wooden cane in hand. The human's mouth worked, but no sound came out.
Gyrdrich nodded gravely. "Has been… difficult, yes? Can guess what bastard elf had planned from pieces. Nasty thing, stealing magic."
Yankovich came back, dragging Mikhail by his belt, uncaring that the elf's head and feet dragged on the ground. "I knocked out the… blarvridich. He won't be waking up for a while." The demon bared his fangs with a snarl.
Gyrdrich nodded sagely. "Will take to Guild?"
He shook his head. "I have the authority to kill him on the spot, but… I think I'm going to punish him appropriately first." His grin widened, showing very sharp canines.
Gyrdrich looked away. "I hear and see nothing," he said dryly.
Yankovich laughed. It was a hard, angry sound. "It's a good thing you're not on the council anymore, otherwise you could get in trouble for this." He smirked at the fire demon before turning his attention to Cyrus. "You alright there, Obsidian?"
The human swallowed. "I… I don't know."
Two gray eyebrows furrowed, and before Cyrus could blink the demon was right in front of him, one hand holding his chin and turning the human's face towards Yankovich, while the other settled on his arm to keep him upright. "You're in magical shock, for one. And you- Huh. That's interesting."
Cyrus, who had slowly been turning red and gaining a hard-on from the magical touch feeling up his channels and core, scowled. "What. What's interesting?"
Yankovich grinned. "Your core is still intact. I originally thought the reason why this place exploded was because Mikhail bit off more than he could chew, but now… How did you do it?"
Cyrus stared at him, incomprehending. "Do what?"
"How did you cause the entire array to backfire?"
The human shrugged. "I don't know." He could barely remember it, too.
Yankovich watched him for a few moments before snorting. "Not that it really matters. I finally have evidence of what I've suspected of Mikhail for a while, and you're still alive."
Cyrus frowned. "Wait, what? You knew Mikhail was doing this to people?"
The demon gave him an irritated look. "I said I suspected, and I'm the only one that ever did. The rest of the council likes Mikhail too much to ever accuse him of killing off his own students to increase the size of his core. He was too good about it to catch, before now. He would wait decades in between offing one of his students, Obsidian, and I had no way of tracking him every single hour of every day."
"Oh." Well, that explained the warning he'd been given before.
"The magical shock will fade within a few days. If it hurts to cast any spells, stop and go to Svea immediately. Usually magical shock results in someone fucking around with your magic, and if he's messed up some of your channels or your core, you'll need to go to a specialist."
Cyrus nodded, slumping back against the boulder he had hit. Why was Yankovich being nice? It was so unlike him.
"Gyrdrich, can you take him and the fae to Shikaan's healing ward? With the amount of blood the kid's lost, he's not going to make it much longer."
Gyrdrich nodded, and without another word, Cyrus's world disappeared in a burst of flame.
oOo
Svea was there when they flamed in. Apparently, if the calendar and clock on the wall was any indication, it was Monday morning. That had been a lot of time unconscious. Cyrus had been guessing Sunday, not Monday.
"What have we here, another Obsidian disaster?" His good humor faded entirely when he caught sight of Ashawyn. Barking for Terry, the Healing TA, he got to work with a flare of magic. Cyrus was content to just lay there and wait, feeling the weird ants-on-your-skin feeling of his suit growing back over the holes that had been blasted in it. He still had no idea how they had gotten there.
Nearly three hours of surgery later, Ashawyn was as good as new besides being unconscious, and Svea and Gyrdrich were speaking in low tones. After a few moments of whispers and mumbles, the elf walked over to Cyrus with a curious look on his face. "Lay back," he ordered.
Cyrus, who had been sitting with his back against the headboard of a random bed nearby to watch as Ashawyn got patched back together, scooted down the bed without a word and lay down.
"Do you feel any dizziness? Nausea, headache?"
The human shook his head.
"Hmm… Gyrdrich says that your magic might be traumatized. Don't fight this, okay?"
With no more warning than that, Cyrus felt tendrils reach inside him. Gasping at the intrusion that was much less gentle than Yankovich's, he used all his will power to not shove Svea away with a well-placed kick. "Could you be more gentle?" he bit out through gritted teeth.
Svea frowned. "Does that hurt?"
"Like a motherfucker."
The elf's eyebrows rose at the uncharacteristic swearword from Cyrus. "I am being gentle. This is me being not gentle."
Agony split through Cyrus's entire body and he arched up off the bed with a scream. The bed spontaneously combusted. Svea, surprised, pulled away from the flames could light his long white hair on fire.
The flames on the bed died out abruptly, leaving behind a singed mattress and a melted metal frame. Cyrus, laying in agony in the middle of it, was untouched.
"What do that for? Idiot!" Gyrdrich smacked Svea with his staff, and if Cyrus weren't in so much pain he would have laughed.
"I did not realize he was that sensitive. A normal person would have felt mildly uncomfortable."
"Is not normal! Is magic sensitive!"
Svea's eyes widened before narrowing in interest. "I see… fascinating." With a wave of his hand, he moved Cyrus to a fresh bed. "I apologize for hurting you, Mr. Obsidian, but next time you should inform your Healer of these things before they accidentally knock you into a coma."
The human just scowled and glared.
"Calm down. I will be careful to be more gentle." Magic tendrils entered him again, and this time he could barely feel them. "Hmm… it appears that, aside from magical shock, you are doing well. Your death magic core in particular seems agitated, but if you refrain from using it for the next four to five days, it will be fine. Now, as for your normal magic… did your illness return again?"
Cyrus shrugged, closing his eyes. He was sick of not knowing what was wrong with him.
"Illness? Is sick?"
"Yes. I have yet to identify what it is, but it seems to result in no ill effects aside from draining Cyrus of his magic every once in a while. He experienced severe flu-like symptoms the first time; however, that may have been due to the fact that his body was fighting off the vampire virus." A hand prodded Cyrus, and the human opened his eyes. "Have you noticed anything unusual?"
Cyrus nervously licked his lips. "Well… I'm not sure if this counts, but a couple times I've become more physically strong than a normal human."
Svea looked interested. "Really. When was the first incident, and the others?"
"Well… I broke a table. And then just earlier, I helped lift a boulder off of Ashawyn's legs."
"Hmm. That can easily be explained by your magic responding to your need and physically enhancing your body. It is not that unusual. Often it is in response to either fear or anger."
Cyrus deflated a bit, but then remembered the other thing. "I got stabbed in the chest with a metal pole, and though Mikhail fixed my perforated lung, he didn't take care of the wound itself. And it… it healed. On its own. In like…" he cast his mind back, "eight hours."
Svea frowned. "Advanced healing?" he murmured to himself, grabbing Cyrus's arm and slicing it with a burst of magic.
Cyrus stared at the wound. What the hell-
"Stop wiggling. I wish to see if your healing rate is faster than that of the average human. You have not completed any rituals, correct?"
Cyrus nodded. You needed Potions as a prerequisite to get into Ritual Magic, and he had no intention of touching another cauldron unless it was a matter of life and death.
After a few minutes of silence, Svea 'hmm'ed again. "It appears as though your healing rate has increased compared to that of a normal human's. However, I detect no anomalies in your DNA to indicate that you are anything but a hundred percent human. There is not even a recessive gene to indicate otherwise. However, while the brief bouts of physical strength can be explained by magic, this healing I would attribute to your illness. Whatever it may be."
Cyrus held his breath. "So… I'm still human?"
Svea inclined his head. "Entirely."
The human let out a relieved breath. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about now.
"Though I am curious… have you been tested for fire as an element?" At Cylus's blank look, he raised an eyebrow. "The excessive fire earlier would lead me to believe you're a fire elemental. I would suggest you get tested."
Cyrus closed his eyes. Fire at this point was the least of his worries. He just wanted to sleep now.
Svea wandered away from him and went to talk to Yankovich, who was still standing nearby, watching. They spoke in quiet tones, and Cyrus found his ears sharpening to hear it.
"-impossible to fix, unfortunately. Something like that…"
"There must be some way. Some magical surgeon who can-"
"It is impossible, Yankovich. Having your death magic forcefully torn out of you like that… it leaves scars that you cannot heal."
"But what if we had the core still inta-"
"Impossible. I am sorry, Yankovich. Would you prefer that I tell him the news when he awakens?"
Yankovich snorted. "You want to be the one to tell that kid he can't raise another zombie for the rest of his life? Be my guest."
Svea was quiet for a moment. "I am sorry, Yankovich."
"Sorry doesn't cut it for Ashawyn, Svea. People have pulled this shit off before."
"The level of damage is too high. Mikhail… did not intend for him to survive."
Cyrus's heart had stalled in his chest. Were they serious? Ashawyn… he didn't have death magic anymore?
Would the same thing have happened to Cyrus if he had been a normal Shikaan student? The thought made his chest tighten. Sure, he found his lack of control of his death magic frustrating, but… he wouldn't just throw it away. And if Mikhail had managed to steal it from him…
He didn't know what he would do, but it wouldn't be pretty.
Righteous anger churned inside him on Ashawyn's behalf. Mikhail deserved a bloody, tortuous, shameful death.
oOo
Weeks passed, slowly but surely. Cyrus kept trying to meet with Ashawyn to see how he was doing, but the fae… The fae had taken it badly, to the point where his parents had had to come get him from Shikaan's ward because he refused to get out of bed. They'd taken him to the Aengar, who had prescribed some anxiety medication to help him through his trauma, and since then he'd been sleeping the days away in his room. Occasionally Cyrus would get a short text to answer the dozen he'd sent, and those were the only things keeping him from storming the fae's house to see if he was still alive.
The werewolf poisonings had stopped, since the vampires had managed to get their hands on Dorcas, the bastard making it. Cyrus didn't know what they'd done with him, since Tara kept telling him to leave it alone and stay out of vamp business. Apparently 'he didn't want to know'. They were dealing with it, and it was one less thing he had to worry about.
He wouldn't have minded seeing that vampire get his head chopped off, though, after that whole vampire bite thing. Not to mention the shit he'd been going through since then, with some weird illness that Svea still hadn't managed to identify.
It was two weeks after the incident that Cyrus was surprised with a phone call from Remus.
"Hello Cyrus, I hope your classes are going well?"
Cyrus blinked, looking down at the Runes project laid out on the table in front of him. "Somewhat. Working on a Runes assignment right now. What's up? Usually you phone me later on in the evenings."
Remus cleared his throat. "Truth is, I got a message from Fred and George today."
It took the human a moment to remember why in the world Remus would be telling him that. "Oh. Oh. Shit. Okay, I'll go meet them at their shop."
Remus murmured something too quietly for Cyrus to hear. "They've agreed to meet you there. I'm sure they'd appreciate you coming immediately, but I believe it's better that you are prepared. I'm sure they can wait a few more minutes."
Cyrus nodded to himself, thinking of all the things he might need for a trip to Egypt. It was moments like these that he was really glad he kept a bag prepped with just about everything he might need for an emergency situation. "Tell them I'll be quick. I just need to change my clothes." He'd been studying in his room all weekend, so there hadn't been a point in putting on his armor. After a while his skin just started to itch from wearing it, and as he hadn't had any unpleasant surprises in his room for a while (which could be attributed to his being Tara's donor, most likely), he saw no point in being uncomfortable.
"Keep in touch, alright? If you need help, don't hesitate to call."
Cyrus smiled. Truth was, he appreciated that Remus had stopped mothering him at every little thing. Just a year ago he would have been locked in a room while the 'adults' took care of the situation, but ever since Remus had taken over the pack and Cyrus had killed to save him, the werewolf had been far less coddling. "Sure thing. Tell Severus I said 'hi'?"
"I will. Stay safe."
"You too. See you later." Cyrus snapped the phone shut and started dialing Tara's cell immediately. She picked up after a few rings.
"Sup bitch?"
Cyrus snorted. "Sup, snoop dog."
"Don't call me that."
"Don't call me bitch."
"Whatever. Bitch. What's up?"
"I'm going away for a while. Trip to Egypt. May or may not be some heavy violence. It's sort of a rescue mission for some friends of mine. I thought I'd just let you know before you started freaking out."
"Hm. Freak out? Me? More like castrate you. Damned smart thing, calling me and letting me know." Cyrus shuddered at the very idea of losing his precious jewels. "Anyway, you phone if you need back up, eh? And I want regular check ins from you. If you don't call for twelve hours, I'm coming after your ass. I'd come with you right now, but I'm a little preoccupied with some shit right now."
Cyrus smiled. "That's understandable. Pass the word on to Xanthir, okay? And Yalmireth if you see him. No point in anyone worrying."
Tara hummed thoughtfully. "Do you want me to ask Xanthir if he's free? How much shit are you flying into this time?"
He shrugged. "Dunno, really. I haven't met up with the people with all the information yet."
Tara grunted. "Che. You always do that. Offer to help the little peons." She paused thoughtfully. "I want you to text your co-ordinates to me as soon as you know where you're going. If I have an idea of where your ass is, it'll be easier for me to save it."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn't see it. "Nice to see how much confidence you have in my abilities."
"Oh, I have no doubt you can kick some serious ass, but something always stinks in these kinds of shitty situations. Keep your ass safe, alright?"
He snorted softly and smiled. "Yeah, I will. Don't fry your brain with too much homework. We both know even you are only so smart."
"What was that, bitch? You want me to come over there and-"
Before she could finish the threat, Cyrus hung up on her with a grin. It was best not to hear Tara's threats, as they either made your balls cringe in anticipation or the hairs on the back of your neck rise at her sheer ingenuity. If Tara ever decided to become a torture expert, she would be competition for anyone in her clan.
Walking over to his trunk, he grabbed the armor conveniently strewn across the top of it and started pulling it on. If he didn't get moving, Fred and George might take off on him, and while that might make his life easier, it would undoubtedly decrease Bill's chances of survival. And since Cyrus had always liked Bill, with his long hair and cheerful disposition, that wasn't exactly a desired outcome.
Grabbing his emergency bag, he shrunk it and stuffed it into his pocket. Checking that he had both wands in hand and doing a quick mental checklist, he hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important. Not thinking of anything, he shrugged and disapparated with a crack.
Fred and George were waiting for him, thankfully, but Cyrus had to contain his snort at the sight of them. Not only were they not dressed for a battle, but they looked more like clown wizards than warrior wizards.
It was both entertaining and worrisome at the same time.
"I hope you two don't expect to take down Voldemort with those outfits," he couldn't help but comment, eyeing the bright colors. Un-stealthy didn't even BEGIN to cover this.
The twins looked down at their outfits in confusion. "What's wrong with it? Tourists dress-"
"-in bright colors."
Cyrus snorted. "Right. So, what's your information?" He'd rather just convince them to change their clothes later, when they actually had an example of what an Egyptian wore than try to convince them to change it at that moment. Priorities, and all.
Their expressions hardened and became somber. "Our contact has reliable information that Bill and a handful of curse breakers-"
"-are being held against their will at a dig site. Apparently they're-"
"-looking for some kind of ancient scroll or book or something."
Cyrus frowned thoughtfully. A scroll? From ancient Egypt? Wouldn't it have disintegrated already?
Unless… it was magical. "Right. What's the plan?"
The twins looked at each other and then at him. "We thought you were the plan guy."
The Shikaan student barely resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. Great. "Do you have schematics for their current location? Not to mention the enemy forces and strength? Without this information it's difficult to plan any kind of rescue plan that doesn't involve martyrdom."
Thankfully, the twins had been smart enough to get that much. They pulled a map from behind the counter and unrolled it on top. "Our contact couldn't get us much, but we do have decent map. There's about fifty or so Death Eaters, and it seems like they go through three rotations in a day. Voldemort doesn't show up himself very often, but occasionally he pops in without notice to see how the dig is going."
Cyrus frowned. What the hell kind of papyrus could snake-face be looking for that he would personally oversee this dig? "Do you know when the rotations are? Also, the distribution of the forces?"
The twins stared at him for a moment before glancing at each other. "Our contact couldn't stick around long enough to get that much."
Cyrus let himself sigh this time. He could tell this was going to suck already. "Do you have the location of the prisoners?"
The twin on the left, who Cyrus was going to refer to as Fred in his own head so he didn't get confused as hell, pointed to a room in the basement of the building. "This is where they sleep, but most of the time they're out working on the curses."
Cyrus drew an X on the map with his finger, ignoring the look the twins gave him at the casual display of wandless magic. "What the hell kind of curses are they dealing with that Voldemort has had his hands on them since March and still hasn't found what he's working for?"
The twins shrugged. "I bet the curse breakers are working as slowly as they can, but you're right. It is kind of weird that it's taking so long."
Cyrus scowled and stared down at the schematics in consternation. "Is the dig located near a pyramid?"
"No, which is why they haven't been drawing any attention from the muggles or the local wizarding government. Besides the copious amounts of notice-me-not charms, it's in the middle of nowhere by an oasis. There's no rocks out there, no broken buildings… no nothing. U-no-poo just decided to start digging there."
It was unlikely that Voldemort had started digging there for no reason. He was probably looking for something important. Maybe a way to get his current body back to normal? Or a power, or knowledge that would make him stronger. Maybe after Yankovich fucked him over with those zombies he was trying his own hand at death magic? But that didn't make any sense. Why go to the middle of Egypt for books he could probably find in England? No, it had to be something specific to the area. An Egyptian form of magic?
Unfortunately, Cyrus knew absolutely nothing about the country, the society, or their history. Maybe Tara would know something…? Speaking of which. "Do you have the apparition co-ordinates for this camp?" he asked, eyes roaming over the schematics again and committing them to memory. Part of their training in Weapons and Battle had been 'pretend missions' where they were given a problem, a limited amount of information, and then a limited amount of time in which to solve it.
But unlike those practice games, losing this fight would mean more than just humiliation in front of his peers.
"Is there any other information that you can think of to add? Even something insignificant could help."
George shrugged, while Fred just looked like he was sucking on a lemon drop. "We know Voldemort's been up to other things besides this Egypt escapade-"
"-but we haven't been able to glean much information from the Order's meetings."
"Occasionally we'll sneak into Grimmauld Place to eavesdrop, but…"
"Well, all we know is Voldemort's also looking for some wand-maker-"
"-named Gregorovitch, and Ollivander recently went missing."
Cyrus frowned. A wand-maker? Why was he looking for one of those? There were plenty out there, if you knew where to look. "So he's got more than one project going at the same time, then. I wonder which one is a bigger priority to him…" He shook his head. "Whatever. Doesn't really matter. You two ready to go?" They nodded. "How good are you at concealment charms?"
When they rattled off the most generic spells you could find in a Hogwarts textbook, he nearly grimaced. "How about I do the casting for that, and you try not to do anything stupid. You have portkeys to get the hostages out?"
When all he got was blank looks, he felt like pulling out his hair. Flipping out his phone with an irritated curse in Kembarik he'd learned from a certain little red demon, he phoned up Remus. After two rings, the werewolf picked up. "Hey. I need a shit-ton of portkeys, and I need them pronto. How good are you at making them?"
Remus was completely silent for a moment. "They don't have portkeys already?"
"No, and while I'm pretty sure I can bring down some anti-apparition wards, the hostages might not be in any condition for independent travel. Not to mention average people can't apparate that kind of distance anyway." No, Cyrus was just a freak that way. He found long distance apparition rather easy, since it wasn't a huge strain on his core.
"I see… I'm afraid I'm not very skilled at portkey creation. I'll have to get Severus."
"Is he busy at the moment?"
"No. How many do you need?"
"I'd prefer at least ten. The prisoners will probably be split up, and then we need to get our own asses out."
"I'll see what I can do. I'll phone you back soon." Remus hung up with a click.
Cyrus turned his attention back to the guilty-looking twins in front of him. "I just hope you realize how unprepared this mission is and how much I want to bash your heads together at the moment." When they looked insulted and prepared to strike back, he held up a hand. "While your information is somewhat useful, there are so many factors you haven't even considered during the 'planning' of this little adventure. In fact, the lack of planning is making me seriously consider leaving you two here and doing the whole damned thing myself." At least then he wouldn't have to worry about Fred and George getting their asses killed.
Actually, that idea was beginning to look more and more enticing as he watched the expressions of anger and indignation spread across their faces.
"What makes you so much more qualified for this mission?"
"You think that just because you've been away at another-"
"-school for a year that you know how to do a rescue?"
Cyrus scowled. "I do, in fact. I've been trained specifically for situations like this, and I've already been on a real life rescue mission. Can you say the same?" Okay, the Snape rescue hadn't exactly been the most successful in existence, but no one had died.
And close calls didn't count.
When they said nothing, he just raised an eyebrow. "I know you both want to be in on the action, but if I can't rely on you to watch my back and not get yourselves caught, you're going to make this a lot more difficult than it needs to be." When all they did was stare at him with stubborn expressions on their faces, he sighed. "Fine. But I'm casting all the stealth charms. Hogwarts 101 won't cut it on this one. We're dealing with trained Death Eaters."
They just nodded, keeping their mouths shut this time. Cyrus let out a small, relieved breath. They really didn't have time to be measuring dicks at the moment.
Thankfully, at that moment he got a phone call.
"Hello?"
"Cyrus."
Oh, Severus. "Hi Severus, how are you?"
The twins' eyes widened in shock across from him, but he made a throat-cutting motion and gave them a look before they got it in their heads to open their big mouths.
"I am well. How are your classes?"
"Peachy. Did Remus fill you in?"
"Yes. I must admit, I am not completely comfortable with you going on such an important mission with those two simpletons."
Cyrus snorted. "To be honest, neither am I, but they're stubborn. Do you have the portkeys?"
"I just finished making them, yes. How would you like them transported?"
"I'll come grab them right now."He disapparated without another word.
Severus was sitting in the living room when he apparated in, and without a word, they both hung up at the same time. "Are any of your friends from Shikaan acting as back up?"
Cyrus let out a slow breath, trying not to show his nerves. By the way Severus's eyes narrowed, he was too obvious about it. "Tara's busy, but will come flying in if necessary. Xanthir… I haven't heard from him yet. I assume Tara forwarded him the message, and Yalmireth… is definitely not fighting material."No, the demon was barely getting by in their Weapons and Battle class.
Severus frowned. "I would suggest bringing at least one competent person with you. I would come myself, but there is another lead that Remus and I are working on at the moment. We think we may have figured out what it is that keeps Voldemort immortal."
Cyrus's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? What is it?"
"I recently discovered a very old book in the Black library that mentions an item called a horcrux. Essentially, by splitting one's soul into many pieces and hiding them in secure locations, it makes it impossible for one to die unless all the horcruxes are destroyed first. Of course, at this point it is merely speculation, and we have no idea where these items are, but… it is a step in the right direction."
Cyrus frowned. "Splitting of the soul? That's pretty Dark magic. Must have hurt like a bitch."
"Indeed."
They stared at each other for a moment. "So, where are these portkeys?"
Severus tossed him a bag filled with chess pieces. "The activation phrase is Elixer of Life."
Cyrus nodded. "Thanks for your help. I'll keep you posted."
"You had better. I do not want to see your corpse on the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning, understood?"
Cyrus smiled. "Yeah, I got it. I'll try to get Xanthir in on the action." His phone dinged and he frowned, pulling it out.
If ya don't take me
with ya, Tara's bad
humor'll be the least
of yer problems.
Come pick me up,
Xan
Cyrus grinned. "Well, that solves that. Xanthir's on board. I'll swing by his room."
Severus nodded, some of the lines in his forehead easing at the knowledge. "He is competent enough at battle. Stealth is of the essence, do not forget."
The human shrugged. "I'm probably the more stealthy of us all at this point. I've been studying that area of spellwork specifically since I first found out that I might be helping Fred and George with this." When Severus said nothing, just watched him, he gave a little wave and disapparated with a crack.
Xanthir was waiting in his room when Cyrus popped in, decked out in full armor and longsword strapped to his back. The human stared for a moment before tapping the metal with a fingernail. "Never seen you in full armor before."
The werewolf shrugged. "Tara said there could be some major shit, so I figured I'd break it out. Bought it after that time we rescued Snake."
Amusingly enough, Xanthir couldn't seem to remember Severus's name for the life of him, and instead kept referring to him by his animal mascot. Tara found it hilarious. Cyrus just hoped he'd be there to see Severus's expression if Xanthir ever had the balls to say it to his face. "Alright. You got everything?"
The werewolf nodded. "Yep."
Without another word, he put his hand on Xanthir's shoulder and disapparated. Again.
Fred and George were right where he left them, thankfully, though they appeared to be talking to each other over the schematics of the building. They looked up when Cyrus popped in with Xanthir and gaped at the sight.
"Holy! Is that real armor? Blimey, Gred, I think-"
"-your in love, I know. You really need to work on that-"
"-yeah, I know. But I like swords."
Xanthir grinned, flashing white teeth that contrasted sharply with his tanned complexion and orange hair. "Sorry, guys, but I'm as straight as Lessaris here," he said, pointing to the sword on his back.
The twins reddened slightly, and Cyrus couldn't help but smirk slightly in amusement. "That's not what I-"
"Alright, kiddies," Cyrus interrupted, "lets get the show on the road. Xanthir, these are the schematics of the building. All Fred and George know is that there are three cycles of guard shifts, and when the prisoners aren't working on breaking curses in this dig, they're kept here," he said, pointing to the X he'd drawn on the map earlier. "The only number we have is around 50 guards. That's it. They're trained wizards and witches, mind, but they only fight with magic. If one throws a punch, I'd be genuinely surprised."
Xanthir frowned, as if that were a completely new concept to him. "Only magic? You're serious?" He snorted. "Are they all human?"
Cyrus nodded. "To my knowledge."
Xanthir nodded. "Alright, Green. What's the game plan?" he asked, his entire focus on Cyrus instead of the two across from them who had provided so little Intel.
The human let out a sigh. "Well, I don't have much to work with. Fred and George in the middle in case things go ape-shit. I'm in front, leading the way. You cover our asses. Our mission objective is a redhead with long hair, blue eyes, and a shit-ton of freckles. Like these two. He's one of their older brothers. Anyway, while I hate to say it, he is the primary objective and other prisoners are a second objective to him. We're to secure him first before saving any of the others. If things go to shit quick, though, we'll do what we can as long as we don't use up all our portkeys. I've got ten. If it comes down to it, I can apparate both of us out of there, but I'd prefer not to tear down wards unless I totally need to."
Both Fred and George were watching them with wide eyes now, staring at Cyrus like they'd never seen him before. Xanthir just nodded like this was the norm. "I think it'd be a good idea if they had their on portkey on them," the werewolf tossed in, "Just so we don't have to worry about getting them one at the last minute."
Cyrus nodded. It was a good point. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a chess piece and tossed it at George. "The activation phrase is Elixer of Life. Don't lose it," he warned. George just gave him a 'no, duh' look. "Alright, I think that's everything. Ready to go?"
"You text Tara yet?"
Cyrus blinked and then swore, taking out his magi-com. "I'm gonna keep forgetting. Do you wanna just do it for me after this one?"
Xanthir shrugged. "As long as she's in the loop, it don't much matter. She can get bitchy if you forget and she gets worried for nuthin', though."
"I'll keep that in mind," Cyrus muttered as he typed up the co-ordinates and then hit 'send'. "Alright. Let's get going."
Xanthir looked at the co-ordinates on the map dubiously. "I hope you don't expect me to apparate that far."
Cyrus shook his head. "I'll be taking us. That way I know we all get there in one piece and at the same time." He held out his arms. "Xanthir, you hold on from the back. Fred, George, grab my arms. Keep a strong grip, okay? Apparating this far in one shot can be quite a ride."
The twins stared at him. "You can side-along three people at the same time?"
Xanthir laughed. "He's got more magic than all three of us combined, Freckles. Don't worry 'bout it."
Having already grabbed onto him, Cyrus didn't wait for Fred to think up a good come back for his new nickname. Disapparating with a crack, he focused his entire attention on getting them there together and with no pieces missing.
They appeared a ways away from the co-ordinates, just as Cyrus had planned to. Seeing that it was actually nighttime in Egypt, he grinned. Perfect. Waving his hand, he changed the twin's clothes to pitch black without a word. Xanthir himself had already cast spells on his armor to dull the shine and make it tarnish to black.
Cyrus loved working with someone who knew what to do. Without another word, he opened his mind to mentally connect with Xanthir. He'd been working on learning how to communicate properly through telepathy, and after a few frustrating sessions with Tara had finally managed to figure out how to do it properly without sounding like he was speaking Italian or something.
Tapping the twins on the shoulders, he made a 'zip the lips' motion and motioned for them to stay behind him. They nodded and did as he directed, standing still as he cast numerous charms and spells on them to keep them from waking up the whole camp like a stampede of elephants.
He missed Tara already. She would have just told them to keep their lily white asses back in the joke shop and leave the real work to a woman.
::You hearing me?::
Xanthir grinned at the back of the line, having already cast the appropriate spells himself. ::Loud and clear, Boss.::
::Good. Now let's just hope the civilians don't fuck everything up.::
::Why didn't you just leave them back there?::
::They're stubborn. They probably would have followed and then fucked up everything worse. At least this way I can control them somewhat. Keep their noses out of the wrong kind of shit at the wrong time.::
Xanthir snorted. ::True. If you need me to knock them out and ship them out, just let me know.::
::Will do.::
It was a long trek up the camp, but with Xanthir behind them wiping their trail from the sand and Cyrus in the front keeping an eye out for patrols, they managed to avoid most of the Death Eaters. About half a kilometer away from the site, Cyrus was suddenly very glad that he had apparated in so far away. The wards on this place were epic. He hadn't seen shit like this since… well, some of it he'd only ever seen in Rivehn's class before, to put it in perspective.
Voldemort had to have hired a proper warder for this. Which meant it went higher up on the Dark Lord's priority list, and it confirmed Cyrus's suspicions that they had fallen into a deep, steaming pile of shit.
Just where he liked it. Not.
::The security in this place is ridiculous. Do we have enough stealth spells?::
Cyrus shrugged. He had specifically used spells that allowed them to see each other as long as the spell casting was connected, but Xanthir had a valid point. ::Most of these guys are confident enough in their superiority that they won't notice the little things. We just need to make sure we don't slip.::
They slipped into the building itself rather easily. The fact that Voldemort had had a legit place built here only made Cyrus even more concerned. This was a serious, long-term project. The fact that the Egyptian government hadn't found them yet was another bad sign.
Not to mention a question that had been nagging in the back of Cyrus's mind: Where had Fred and George gotten their Intel?
Their first problem cropped up rather quickly into their little adventure when Cyrus led them to a dead end. Scowling, he consulted his mental map that he had assembled while in the joke shop.
::What's up, Cy?::
::Fucking Intel is wrong. The schematics for this building…:: Activating his rune sight, Cyrus's scowl only got worse as he examined the basic structure of the building. Since the whole thing had been assembled with magic, and magic held it together, he could see everything. It took practice to learn how to form it into a picture in his mind, but he'd been studying so much Runes lately that it didn't take very long at all. ::They're all wrong. The entire schematics. Fucked right up the ass. Thankfully, I think I've found our prisoners. It's the only room in the entire damned place that's warded against escape.::
Cyrus could feel Xanthir's irritation through the telepathic link. ::I'm really glad we've got your eyes, right now. Think it's a set up? Intel could be compromised.::
The human considered that for a moment. ::I wish I knew who or what it came from, to be honest. Fred and George aren't exactly 'secret mission' material.::
Xanthir mentally snorted. ::Green doesn't even begin to cover this level of naivety. Have you noticed the guards inside the building being more on guard than the ones outside? It's almost like someone wanted us to get into the building, but not back out again.::
Cyrus scowled. ::I did notice that they're irritatingly more observant. Do you think we should scrap it or try to get the-::
Fred was poking his shoulder.
Nearly growling out loud with irritating, he spun on the Weasley and did quick and sharp handmotions for 'shut the fuck up' and 'mission is FUBAR, wait for orders'. Of course, he didn't get it. Rolling his eyes, he flashed the thumbs up and held up his hand, mouthing 'wait'. Thankfully, the twin stopped harassing him.
::What am I going to do about these two? They're fucking useless. Jesus. I seriously want to-::
::Cyrus, breath. Calm down. Everything will be fine. You have your eyes, we can find the cells. Just get us moving before someone bumps into us by accident in this dead end, alright?::
Doing as Xanthir said, he quickly reassembled the schematic in his head based on the spells in the walls. It was rather easy to figure out floor plans after memorizing the complicated pathways, patterns, and systems that one constructed spells with.
::Alright. Follow me. Keep the twins docile, alright? If they go rogue, get rid of them.::
::Gotcha.::
Without another word, he led them to a staircase that would take them down three floors to the cells in the basement. They bumped into a Death Eater in the staircase, but a quick wandless stunner knocked him out, and Cyrus disarmed him, restrained him with rope, and then shrunk him and stuck him in his pocket. Chances were the guy was of no importance, but if things went shitty later he could try to get some information out of the guy. A backup plan was always smart. And it kept the guy from giving them away.
After that little surprise Cyrus used his rune sight to check around corners and avoid the rooms with the most Death Eaters in them. Finally, after a lot of hair-raising dodging and stress, they reached the cells. Motioning for Xanthir to stay back and watch their exit, he went to the cell with the most people in it and started looking for a certain redhead.
Only, he wasn't in there.
Shit. That could mean so many things. One, they had a night shift for the curse breakers. Two, he was dead. Three, some Death Eaters were having 'fun' with him.
He didn't like any of those options.
Casting a wide silencing charm around them, he motioned for Xanthir to knock out the guard that they'd sneaked by. The werewolf did it without hesitation, following Cyrus's example and disarming, tying, and shrinking him.
Unfortunately, Fred and George jumped in before he could come to a decision.
"Hey! Do any of you know-"
"-where Bill Weasley is?"
He knew he should have left them in the joke shop.
The prisoners twittered, confused as to why the empty was talking to them.
"We're here to rescue you! But-"
"-we need to know where Bill is!"
If you weren't planning on rescuing the other prisoners, the last thing you did was tell them you were going to rescue them. Because if you left them sitting there, wondering when you were going to come back, or you told them that someone else had priority over them, chances were someone would get stupid and alert one of the guards as 'revenge'.
Did Fred and George know nothing?
"He's on the night shift," one of the prisoners finally spoke as the rest of them started twittering in anticipation of their release. "How do you plan to get us out?"
Fred handed them his portkey. "Use this. It should get you-"
"-out of here. Activation is Elixer of Life."
The guy disappeared.
Idiotic Gryffindors! You didn't say the bloody passphrase when the bloke was HOLDING THE PORTKEY! Sure, their lack of common sense could be blamed on the high-stress situation, but it was in these kinds of situations that you went out of your way to not make idiotic fuck ups like that.
Alarms started blaring. Cussing out loud in Kembarik, Cyrus dissolved the wards on the cell and ripped the metal from the walls with his magic. Tossing Fred and George inside, he tied them all together with rope and then tossed a portkey into the middle of the lot. "Elixer of Life."
They vanished. Cyrus hoped that wherever Severus had planned for them to go was very unpleasant.
Xanthir came up behind him with an 'are you serious?' look on his face. ::Did what I think just happened really happen?::
::British wizards are fucking retarded,:: was all Cyrus would say, breaking out into a run towards the exit, recasting all the spells that kept him hidden and undetected. The last thing he needed right now was one of them fading. ::Now we need to figure out where the damned dig site is.::
::I didn't see anythin' on the surface, so chances are this facility was built on top of it. Did you try turnin' your eyes even farther down?::
Cyrus turned his rune sight back on and looked even deeper than he had before. It took a while, but finally he saw the largest catacomb of curses he'd ever seen. ::Holy shit. Xanthir… it's fucking huge. How are we going to find the rest of the curse breakers in there?::
::Look for someone casting spells?::
Oh. Right. Duh. Damn, this entire situation was so out of control his brain was going squirrel-crazy on him. ::I wish we had Tara. She could just shadow walk us down there.::
::Unless there are anti-vampire spells, and then we'd be screwed.:: Cyrus could almost feel when Xanthir's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. ::Wait. What if there are anti-werewolf ones?::
::We'll deal with that when and if it comes to that.:: Cyrus said decisively, not even wanting to think about that at the moment.
::Alright. Well, let's get moving then, before we get firebombed by ladies in black dresses.::
Cyrus mentally snorted at the image. People in Other Realm had stopped wearing robes so long ago that Xanthir would think they were all ladies in dresses. ::Let's find a safe place where we can sit for a moment while I look for the rest of the prisoners. This location is gonna get hot.::
Xanthir sent a mental affirmative and they started moving, dodging guards here and there. At one point Cyrus almost walked right into someone, but Xanthir thankfully grabbed him by the back of his armor and yanked him to the side, just barely avoiding collision. Cyrus sent a mental 'thanks' and they continued on their way.
They were just entering the catacombs when Cyrus felt Voldemort's arrival. It was hard to miss it when all of a sudden the wards tightened like a noose above him and the sheer malevolent presence of the man blasted through his senses. He'd gotten a little better at sensing the energies around him after studying with Yankovich's old teacher, Gyrdrich, but even if he hadn't he would've noticed Voldemort's arrival. The power, malevolence, and darkness to it…
No wonder he had so many bloody followers. Back in Hogwarts Cyrus wouldn't have noticed, but now… it had an addictive, alluring quality to it.
::Whooa, who is that?:: Xanthir asked behind him, awe coming through their telepathic link.
::A certain British Dark Lord.::
::Seriously? Damn. I can see why all these girls in dresses follow him. Must be fangirls.::
Cyrus couldn't keep himself from snorting softly in amusement. ::Try to keep your mind off it. He can be… intimidating.::
::Intimidatin'? That's a good word for it…::
Finding a nook in the catacombs that no Death Eaters were near, Cyrus brought them to a stop and started searching for the curse-breaking going on. After a good minute, he had finally found them in the bottom right corner of the structure, nowhere near anything that looked like a secret vault of treasures. Snorting softly, he gave Xanthir a mental poke and started running down the hall, constantly flickering back and forth between rune sight and normal vision to make sure they didn't run into any Death Eaters or Egyptian traps.
They made it about halfway down when they ran into a trouble in a large, open room.
Cyrus cursed across the mental link as he saw Voldemort chilling in what appeared to be a throne room of sorts. At the end of the hall lay a raised dais around which more than a hundred Death Eaters gathered, avoiding the long pools of water that lined the walls.
::Is there another way to get down there?::
::No. We have to go through this room. I'd bet that whoever built this place planned it that way on purpose. There seems to be an extended catacomb beyond this room. Probably some sort of hidden royalty crap.::
::You have any idea why they're here?::
::Voldemort's looking for something, apparently. A scroll of some kind.::
::Hm… think we can sneak past the throng of ladies in dresses?::
::Possibly. Unfortunately, we can't sneak along the edge of the room because of the water.::
::Oh, we could so walk on water.::
::…You know a spell for that?::
::Well, no. But you could make one.::
While true, it would probably take him around two hours to get something working. Not worth it in this scenario, considering all the Death Eaters were looking for intruders, and knew that what the intruders were looking for was the rest of the hostages. Fucking Fred and George, screwing the whole damned thing up.
::Can you hear what they're saying?::
::Yeah, I've been eavesdroppin'. Something 'bout 'our lord' this and 'our lord' that, and 'find those intruders' blah blaaah. They don't seem very intelligent.::
::Intelligent enough to cause a problem, though.::
::…True.::
They stared at each other for a moment before Cyrus sighed and scrubbed his forehead. ::Blowing a hole is impractical. We have to try to sneak by, or wait until Voldemort leaves. But somehow… I don't think he's leaving. He likes hanging out in places that make him feel important.::
::We could wait for the minions to thin out a bit, though.::
Cyrus nodded. ::Let's do that. This hallway is going to get crowded soon, so let's go over by the water and those statues.::
Xanthir nodded and followed behind. There wasn't much room along the ledge that housed a bunch of Egyptian statues, but it was enough that he and Xanthir could sneak along and avoid the throng of Death Eaters coming in their direction.
Unfortunately, it wasn't until after they had settled that he noticed that there was something coming to the surface of the water.
A hand reached out and swayed towards them, making Xanthir next to him tense up tauter than Yankovich on a bad day. Cyrus himself wasn't much better. Now that it had broken the surface of the water, he could feel the amount of death magic coursing inside the pool. At least Xanthir didn't have to feel that nearly crushing presence of death.
Nudging it with his death magic, he tried to get it to go away. Unfortunately, it just made another arm reach towards them, and another, and another, until the pools of water started shimmering from the movement underneath as the corpses at very levels of decay tried to get closer to them.
::…Cyrus?::
He could hear the fear in Xanthir's voice as the water came alive in front of them, drawing the attention of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Shit. Shit, damn, fu-
A hand grabbed his ankle and yanked, pulling him into the water with a surprised shout. Death magic-filled water poured into his open mouth and he choked on it as his body automatically tried to breath. Dragged into the water, he nearly puked at the feeling of dead flesh pawing at his skin.
Then the biting started.
He couldn't help the scream of pain, regardless of the fact that it disappeared into bubbles above him. The water was so murky that he couldn't see the surface, couldn't tell which direction was up or down, but he could feel the zombies crowding around him, all trying to get a piece, all of them wanting to satiate their millennia-long thirst.
He needed to get them off him before he got eaten alive.
Magic exploded out from his skin in a blaze of power, literally burning away the flesh of the zombies around him. Unfortunately, he didn't account for the magical properties of the water, because just as quickly as his magic poured out it was consumed by the dark, gray sludge. Mentally cursing, he pulled his magic back into him and tried the same thing with his death magic.
Mistake of Epic Proportions didn't even begin to cover that. The sludge sucked it up like a sponge and would have started sucking it out of him if he hadn't cut the connection almost immediately after feeling something wrong.
Shit.
And now the zombies were coming back towards him, ignoring their fallen brethren. Shit, shit- What was he supposed to do now? Magic didn't work, death magic was out of the question, and he couldn't feel his mental connection to Xanthir at all. Apparently the death sludge had chopped it off.
A zombie sank its teeth into his leg, another got a hold of his arm. Drawing his magic into him, unable to think of any other way of getting his ass out of this sludgy, disgusting mess, he compressed the power of his entire core under his skin, literally burning the zombie's teeth out of his skin.
His eyes shot open, widening in shock. That was it! Pouring his magic into his skin, he created a barrier inside his body that kept the death sludge around him from sucking it up. He hadn't noticed before when he was panicking, but the sludge couldn't pull it from his body itself, it could only swallow it when he expelled it from his body.
Focusing the energy into healing power, he burned away the infection from the zombie bites and filled in the chunks that the things had taken out of him. It was hard to concentrate with that kind of constant, irritating pain.
Now how to climb out of this hole…
He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of his magic for a moment, not wanting to think about what lay on the other side of the proverbial wall of death sludge. He could feel it coursing through every cell in his body, invigorating every inch of him and nearly making him bounce with energy and power. He'd never emptied his entire core into his body at one time, after all.
As spark of warmth kindled in his stomach, and he opened his eyes again in determination. He was going to get out of this hellhole with both Xanthir and Bill intact if it was the last thing he did. He felt like he could rule the world in that moment.
Pushing through the bodies of zombies, all of them burning whenever they tried to touch his skin, he finally found his way to a wall. Putting his hand on the stone, he thrust his magic into it and forced it to change shape to his will, creating a set of stairs by cutting away some of the stone and then pulling it down to his feet to create the bottom of the stairs.
Once the stairs were solid, he slowly climbed out of the sludge and dead bodies, ignoring the way the slimy flesh touched him and then slid off, the sludge left behind melting off from the sheer magic concentration in his skin. Halfway up the stairs, he realized that he hadn't been fighting for a breath of air for a good minute now, and he hadn't even noticed. Before he could ponder it much longer, however, the sludge parted around his head and was burned out of his hair by the magic steaming off of him. Airways clear, he took a deep breath and was surprised when he felt like he hadn't stopped breathing at all. Even the sludge he had choked on seemed to have dissolved.
Death Eaters surrounding the top of the staircase backpedaled abruptly when they caught sight of him, eyes widening behind their masks. A few unlucky ones accidentally got pushed into the pool of death sludge on the other side of the room. Cyrus kept his expression as serene as possible, but seeing the looks of awe on their faces…
He got an idea. A terrible, magnificent, awful idea.
But hey, you only lived once.
Wrapping his magic around him like a second skin, he conjured a set of robes over top of his armor, but made it look as if his clothes had mysteriously come into existence upon him as he came out of the water. His clothes had dissolved inside the death sludge, after all, and his armor was skin-colored.
Taking the last step out of the water, he conjured a pair of golden slippers on his feet, reminiscent of some pictures he'd seen in the Shikaan library late one night when he'd decided to look up the horrible wardrobe ideas of vampires with too much power.
Glowing with golden power, he stood in front of the Death Eaters and Voldemort and scowled a horrific scowl.
"Who are you to have awoken me from my slumber?"he intoned, using magic to distort his voice. He tried to think of a name buried years back in his memories from elementary school. "Bow before your God, Apophis."
Even if it didn't work, it was so worth the look on Voldemort's face.
-Toki Mirage-
*puts hands up* I got the idea, and my friends on the chat encouraged it! Blame Dreamer for egging me on!
:P
First, I hope that was worth the wait. If it wasn't, then… well… I could say something mean, but I don't feel like it.
Oh, and XXX told me that Dorcas is actually a female name and translates to gazelle. While I do not laugh at this person's issues with this name, I LAUGHED at my character. Because let's admit it, who likes that jerk anyway?
Btw. I'm so entrenched in BS and a bunch of other crap I'm writing that I often lose perspective and forget what I've explained, what isn't obvious, and other loose ends I torture you all with. If you'd like to point these out to me, I will do my best to wrap most of them up before the end of the whole BS thing.
Also, there will be a BS Epilogue. An extended one, post Shikaan schooling. I have /some/ plans for it, but if there's something in particular that you'd like to see (Where a particular character is at, how they got there, how their friendship with Cyrus worked out, a certain pairing, etc), then let me know in a review or PM. Oh, and stop asking for R/Y/C, please. Focus on the /other/ things you'd like to see. This epilogue is basically my present to all of you for sticking with me for so long, so if what you're asking is reasonable, I will do my utmost to incorporate it. As a result, scenes might be out of sequence, but I'm sure you'll all like it anyway. :)
IF YOU WANT ALERTS FOR UPDATES, THIS STORY IS LOCATED ON FANFICTION.NET
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Bloody Skies