Pavonikos’ small group slowed their pace the moment they entered the final room in the Spine. They surveyed the area cautiously and considered their situation. There was a strange ache in their eyes and in the eyes of their men. Down to a small group, no Draekslanni to detect unseen Daimons either. Except for the one that had run off into this room. Nethuns could only hold back the Princidaimon for so long. Danger was everywhere and whilst Pavonikos was tempted to seal the entrance behind them with thick stone, Gallus stayed their spell abruptly.

  “We might be sealing ourselves in with other unseen dangers,” he said.

  “True enough,” Pavonikos sighed, “But we still need to slow the Daimon down.”

  Gallus nodded, his eyes burned the outline of a ringed, glowing spell all around the entrance - a trap meant to delay all that tried passing those doors. Once it was completed, all could see the dust and miasma of Ichor flow sluggishly within the marked space.

  Pavonikos exchanged a thankful look, but there was also an uncertainty between them; it wouldn’t be enough to keep the Princidaimon at bay. The Duxus took a moment to rest his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw his insubordinate soldiers before him searching the area. They quickly noticed his glaring.

  “Maleficari fools…” Gallus muttered. “I commanded you lot to stay on the platform. By Kaeva, what were you thinking?!”

  He felt a hand rest upon his shoulder.

  “Leave them be, Duxus. If it weren’t for them, I doubt we would have made it this far,” Pavonikos said. “I will question them myself when we make it out of here.”

  Gallus sighed but he obeyed nonetheless. He turned his gaze downward and dismissed his men.

  The Duxus took a look at his commander to speak but he held his tongue; Pavonikos hid their gaze from him, giving their surroundings a careful scan with each step. The scene hardly made their eyes twitch. Past the upright and steady march, Pavonikos before him was disheveled; their lips were dry and they struggled to keep their eyes open. When they were open, there was something in there that should never belong to someone that young.

  He had seen more of the same in the other two from his cohort and all the other youths that were forced into this war. It was even in the Tyto’s eyes before they stepped foot into this damned city. Try as they might, none could ever sever what they have witnessed here from their memory. Not truly. Gallus of all people knew that well.

  It wasn’t much, but the least he could do for his Tribunus was help them regain some strength. Gallus conjured pomegranate juice from within a half-vial of Focus potion. Just before he passed the drink to Pavonikos, he hesitated before addressing them - Pavonikos was no longer Tribunus.

  “Bellaxus.”

  The new title stung. Pavonikos stopped right at the junction and took a look at the drink and shook their head.

  They protested, “Duxus, save it for yourself. You need your strength.”

  “No. You need your strength more than I do. A Bellaxus cannot lead us blind.”

  Those words pulled the newly-appointed Bellaxus out of their daze. Pavonikos took the drink and downed it all. Their eyes sharpened with clarity but they also beheld a bitter resolve.

  “Why did Militus Tyto come here?” Pavonikos inquired to the two Militi.

  “We… We don’t know,” Rufinus answered.

  Gallus spat, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I-it’s true T-tri… Bellaxus,” Valerian spoke up, “He d-didn’t tell us anything. He j-just… took off.”

  Pavonikos blinked slowly but found no lies in their words.

  “Let us find him, Bellaxus Pavonikos,” Rufinus pleaded. “Please. We all volunteered to come back to find you and the others.”

  “Be silent,” Gallus snapped.

  Pavonikos raised a hand to Gallus, “We’ll find him, Militus Phonikos. Don’t worry.”

  Tension left Rufinus’ body - he sensed the sincerity in the Bellaxus’ every reassuring word. Not merely promise, but certainty. Pavonikos had just as much faith in Adonis’ survival as he and Valerian did.

  “Bellaxus,” Gallus interjected, “We’re running out of time.”

  “You said it yourself, Duxus. I cannot lead blindly. Our only hope of surviving this rests upon the Draekslanni.”

  Gallus went quiet.

  “The Duxus is right. Time is not on our side,” Pavonikos continued, “Duxus, Militii, join me and survey the area. We will search for any traces of Tyto and see if there are any other exits out of here.”

  They turned to Valerian, “Militus Corvus, we must rely on your expertise once more.”

  Valerian nodded, giving them a small bow, “I-I… I will not fail you, Bellaxus.”

  For a brief moment, he exchanged a hopeful look with Rufinus; The promise remained, even if one of their friends had tried breaking it. Then, Valerian closed his eyes. In Roya, he saw great clouds of merged minds, entrapped in the same Daimonic spell that bound him and many others earlier.

  Unguarded minds often left traces of emotions in Roya. Besides the pain and ecstasy that radiated from the remains of those trapped here, there swam waning wisps of resolve, resisting tumultuous waves of agony.

  Valerian led the way. Those behind him each kept a watchful eye on their surroundings for danger and for any other exits. All disappeared through the tumorous halls of wrinkled flesh.

  More victims had become part of the architecture of this place, all in varying states of degradation. Amongst the remains of humans were the remnants of the great winged scholars. Pavonikos and Gallus’ hearts sank at the sight of the many birds whose divine forms had been perverted - it was a mercy that Valerian had kept his eyes closed to Tirra.

  The Bellaxus’ heart sank; they recognized what this place was supposed to be. The Grand Magisterial Aviary, house to the great scholars who held vigil over Paradis and drew forth Magus’ deepest knowledge, desecrated - twisted into a pulsing brain. Knowing where the wings of the Princidaimon came from chilled Pavonikos to the bone.

  “What shall we do with them, Bellaxus?” Gallus whispered, waiting for the Militii to walk ahead of them. “They cannot be saved… Not like this.”

  Pavonikos remembered their predecessor’s face. The pain Laevinus felt and shared. They then turned their gaze upon the Vattirmanni. They had seen his flames - how terrifying his wildfires burned and spread. Tempered by Paradis’ light, those flames could at least save the essences trapped here.

  Heart heavy, Pavonikos spoke into Gallus’ mind, “We cannot let them suffer as Laevinus did. Duxus, I ask that you and your men send them to Paradis once our work here is done…”

  When Pavonikos opened their eyes, Gallus gave them a grim nod.

  “Bellaxus, Duxus, come quick!” Valerian’s voice was heard in their minds.

  They hastened their pace, catching up with their men. Lying there was a woman dressed in the armour of the 13th. Rufinus stood guard whilst Valerian crouched over, eyes still closed.

  “Draekslanni girl?” Gallus muttered. “I thought we lost her in the rooms below…”

  Pavonikos rushed over to her side, checking her for wounds. Thankfully, she was unhurt.

  “Is Militus Passer possessed? Mind trapped?” they asked between blinks.

  Valerian answered, relief in his mental voice, “No. Just exhausted and shaken-“

  He physically and mentally gasped, drawing the attention of all around him.

  “What’s the matter, Corvus?”

  “Ado- Militus Tyto was here earlier. Come, Bellaxus. Look.”

  Pavonikos joined Valerian into the forest of Passer’s mind; her external shields were severely weakened making it easier for anyone to pass in, but barely the faintest emotion wandered through the surface level of her Mindscape - it left her almost invisible to the Daimons that searched for her. It was like walking atop a canopy of great trees, the likes of which Pavonikos had never seen before. They could barely make out the constructs moving underneath the thick cover of leaves and branches. Nor could they push through; not without a significant amount of Focus.

  “Bellaxus, over here.”

  They followed Valerian further inward were the tops of the trees stuck out from the barrier. Most were ruined and bereft of leaves, revealing knotted branches intertwined and serpentine. Valerian went over to one with a few red, scale-like leaves flitting from weakened branches, an eye-shaped hollow filled with blue sap wept. He ushered his Bellaxus to look through its eye.

  There - blearily - Pavonikos was surrounded by choking smoke and screams. Fear gnawed at their being. Fear for someone else’s sake. She was searching. Chasing blue. Each urgent push forward drained her, but she had no choice. Then, a flash of a counterspell shattered the nightmare. All thoughts and sensation came to an abrupt end.

  There was a tunnel next, pulsing faintly with branches and brambles of ultraviolet. There was something there in her memories. A barely perceivable blur - Saoirse could see it plainly, as evidenced by the strong emotions of recognition that rippled through the memory. Something that Pavonikos couldn’t perceive, no matter how hard they tried to Focus. All they succeeded in was making their eyes ache.

  The memory continued, shifting between a forest of scaled trees and being carried through the tunnel. Then, light. Between her slow blinks, Pavonikos saw black eyes that penetrated the shadows cast by a rimmed hat and knotted blonde hair. Between the next passing blink and complete oblivion, Tyto disappeared deep into the darkness.

  Pavonikos opened their eyes.

  “Militus Tyto was here. He saved her from being Mind Trapped,” they told their men.

  “Where is he now?” Rufinus asked.

  Pavonikos pointed with their gaze, “He went back to the place where she was held.”

  All were immediately drawn to the great pillar before them. At its base, like the wound of a dead tree, a cavernous entrance with a foreboding that wished to swallow all that beheld it.

  “Corvus,” Pavonikos commanded, “Attend to wounds and wards in Passer’s mind. I will stand watch over you.”

  Then they turned to the other two, “Duxus Gallus, Militus Phonikos, find Tyto.”

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  With that, Gallus and Rufinus gave them a short salute.

  The Duxus summoned forth his whip of light tossing it into the tunnel. With the way let, Gallus and Rufinus set forth. The pair receded deep into the cavern, pushing through flesh where the walls had become narrower. The air here felt too heavy to take into their lungs and it sullied their senses with the taste of death. Whilst Gallus found some semblance of comfort under Paradis’ light, Rufinus, meanwhile, felt sparks of anxiety drum against the Soothing wards. He did not need the light to see in the dark and the whip hovering above him only served to confuse and agitate him further.

  “The Tyto halfbreed,” Gallus muttered, “We should be getting the Bellaxus to safety… Not wasting our time with a half-serpent. Whatever he was here for, it certainly wasn’t for that girl.”

  Rufinus bit his tongue hard.

  Gallus spoke again, “You know something, Warg. Don’t you? ”

  “I know no more than you do, Duxus.”

  For a moment, Gallus said nothing more. In that silence, Rufinus sensed his distrust.

  “Of course you don’t.”

  The scent of this cavern assaulted Rufinus’ senses more than the Ichor-mist of blood that permeated the air. The scent was wrong. The nerve endings on the back of his neck prickled. Every fiber of his being warned him not to go further, but he pushed those instincts aside. His friend mattered more than his own self-preservation.

  To make the journey more bearable, he began shutting out his unnecessary senses, but stopped just as he was about to block his sense of smell.

  Three scents were familiar here. Human. Two gave rise to images of Adonis walking in then walking back out with Saoirse in his arms. But the third confused him. He thought it was Saoirse’s own, but there were slight differences and it hung in the air long before the legion came here.

  But before he could focus more deeply into those senses, Gallus interrupted him, “Why are you sniffing around like a dog? The Phonikos were lax. They should have snuffed that out of you long ago.”

  Rufinus felt heat rise again. From deep in his chest to his extremities, the fretful crackles and heavy beating of a war-song reverberated through him, pushing him over the edge. But he held it in, lest he feed the Daimons here.

  “Don’t expect your friend to make it out of this unscathed,” Gallus said coldly, “Dead or not, when we’re done here, you will help me burn this place to the ground.”

  “I won’t fail him or the people here.”

  “Look around you. We’ve already failed them. All because we allowed Maleficari like you and your friend live.”

  Rufinus raised his voice, “This wasn’t our doing. You and the Bellaxus may have given up on them but I haven’t.”

  Gallus whipped around and stared him down, “Watch your tongue, Warg.”

  But Rufinus did not break his own gaze - he could only hold back for so long. Defiance burned. ‘Good,’ Gallus thought as he made himself sneer.

  “Typical. I expected no less from the Vattirii brat that returned the Phonikos’ mercy by burning down their home.”

  Then, all caution of Daimons was cast from Rufinus’ mind. His shield and mental wards fell away. Gallus felt light as one hand tore past his shield, lifted him up and and shoved him into the wall. Gallus’ eyes flashed. The youth’s senses suddenly intensified all at once, stunning him just enough to throw him down and pin him to the flesh ground. But Rufinus was the stronger man. Every muscle in his body flared with heat and shoved Gallus back.

  Rufinus pinned down his Duxus, throwing back one hand as far as he could. But he kept his fist held firmly. His self-imposed restraints had returned, tightening around him with each angry breath drawn.

  Then he said with a quiet sort of rage, “What have we done to make you hate us so?”

  “I see you pretend to pity me like some simpering pup. It makes me sick to my stomach,” Gallus spat, “You can deny it all you want but it is you Maleficari that brought the Daimons upon us. Everyone here wouldn’t have had their lives cut short if you obeyed the Magisterium all those Blinks ago. Your mere existence endangers us all.”

  Rufinus’ eyes bore into his. Two stars scorching with fury. They did not match the Drakefires that were seared into Gallus’ dreams.

  “Go on. Burn me.”

  His voice betrayed him - it lost its scornful edge. Rufinus held his burning gaze for a scant few moments, the heat within the cavern dried their throats.

  But the flames subsided and once more Rufinus looked away, disgusted, as he released his Duxus. He stepped over him to take the lead.

  “I’ve wasted enough time,” Rufinus said hoarsely. “I will never give you what you want.”

  With that, Rufinus pressed further and faster, using his own sight and senses to guide him along. He left Gallus behind, lying with just the sliver of his whip’s light to illuminate him. Eventually, he too got to his feet and made his way forward.

  Saoirse’s mind came awake as the bitter taste of Elecule filled her mouth. Her dreams were hazy. Last she remembered, she was chasing something in the forest of her memories, then being carried through a dark cave with cold, careful hands. There were voices pulling her back to consciousness, her eyes fluttering open to Tirra, back to that disturbing landscape.

  “Bellaxus, she’s awake.”

  To her side was the tourmaline-eyed Ludcetan; she recognised him as a friend of her reluctant Draekslanni friend and the Vattirii. She had felt his presence poking around in her mind, but he hadn’t ventured any deeper - the deeper wards were untouched. In fact, her other shields and had recovered, almost pristinely. Another entered her vision; the Tribunus they were called when she last saw them. She still thought them too young to lead, even there was something haunted about their looks.

  Pavonikos scanned her carefully with their eyes of nacreous gold, “State your name.”

  She was silent first, but then answered confidently, “Minerva Passer.”

  Pavonikos held their gaze on her, as if to determine truth from lie. Uncertainty betrayed their stern gaze.

  “How did you end up here, soldier?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I was captured like the rest.”

  Pavonikos narrowed their eyes, “Is that true?”

  Saoirse remained defensive, the shields in her mind deepening like an overgrown forest. She kept cool, not changing her tone.

  “I’ve told you everything. I do not know. Search my memories if you must.”

  Pavonikos paused, looking to Valerian before they let out another sigh. They held out a hand to Saorise.

  “I’ve seen enough,” they’d seen nothing at all and Saorise knew it. “I’m not your enemy. We can save the truth for later.”

  Saorise hesitated, but she eventually took the Bellaxus’ hand. They pulled her up to her feet, giving her what remained in the bottle of Focus potion.

  “I hope you have a plan for us to get out of here, Bellaxus,” she said as she drank.

  “I assure you, I do,” Pavonikos said, taking on the tone of a stern commander once more. “The aviary of every Magisterium has a secret porticulus meant for the birds to escape in the case of invasion.”

  Pavonikos pointed up to a particular at the center of the domed wall of the ‘skull’ encasing the brain-like room. The seams seemed to follow the pattern of the cage, yet an odd spot in a cracked shape sat discretely at the very middle. Surrounding the area were more fleshy spots.

  “D-damnare… not them too,” Valerian muttered.

  “My condolences,” Saoirse said, “It seems your birds were too late.”

  “No,” Pavonikos said, “They should have had ample time. Something doesn’t add up.”

  Scanning the area further, Pavonikos noticed unusual growth where bone and flesh had formed over the Portcullis.

  “C-can we still get out through there?”

  Pavonikos seemed unsure and they were about to use a spell to test their theory, until Saoirse spoke up. From her perspective, there were only the shapeforms Tirran and Daimon in nature - the Daimon part had come after the aviary was assimilated, and past that, the Brightsteel gate remained intact. But there was something that passed her eyes, as if she had seen the trace of the spell that doomed the patrons to their fate.

  “Whatever had kept the birds from escaping, it had long worn off after the Daimons came,” she said. “Whatever you Magisterii use to open this Porticulus should work now.”

  Pavonikos raised a brow, “You sound very sure of that.”

  She gave them a serious look, “I’m Maleficari. We see things that you can’t.”

  Pavonikos searched her again but stopped theirself short.

  “Of course. Once we find Militus Tyto, we shall make our escape.”

  Saoirse’s expression slipped, unreadable - and yet, Pavonikos did not suspect anything.

  “Why is he… Why are we still out here? Shouldn’t we be looking for him?” she looked around, “Where is the rest of the army?”

  After brief moment in Roya, the Bellaxus gave her everything she needed to know up until that very moment. The Princidaimon, the Imysion’s escape… finally ending the moment the Duxus and the Vattirii departed.

  It was not her face that betrayed her, but her heart. Fear and desperation slipped past the barriers; it did not go unnoticed by Valerian.

  “W-what’s wrong?”

  She passed a look back and fourth between both soldier and commander.

  “You should never have sent them,” she said to the Bellaxus, “We need to get them out.”

  Pavonikos spoke calmly, “What is in there?”

  “I’m not certain. But they will need our help. Send me.”

  “B-but… Y-you still have yet to r-recover,” Valerian said. “S-save your strength-“

  “I have strength enough,” she said curtly.

  Pavonikos searched her again as the two argued. Between blinks, they caught a few of her thoughts. Most of it was obfuscated by the winding branches; she had no intention of answering any of their questions. The branches shivered with disquiet. The Bellaxus’ suspicion grew.

  “Who is she?”

  Saoirse looked them directly in the eyes - within that warning, they saw and felt a familiar resolve.

  Pavonikos did not meet their gaze. Instead, they turned their eyes downward, palms open and raised.

  “I am not your enemy,” they repeated, “I know there is something you’re not telling me. There’s someone you’re protecting, isn’t there, Saoirse?”

  Those deep lapis eyes did not move from their target. Deep down, she cursed herself for her carelessness.

  “My name is Minerva Passer. As one of your Militus, is it really that unusual that I want to protect those I fought side by side with?”

  “I know there’s someone there you care for,” as Pavonikos spoke, Valerian heard their voice in his head. “You would do anything to protect that person, even if everyone tells you it’s hopeless. Believe me, I know.”

  The signal flashed in Valerian’s mind: “Now.”

  “I have lost enough to know.”

  Saoirse saw the other’s eyes flash too late. All at once, she fell into a recovery slumber. Pavonikos caught her as she fell and lowered her gently.

  “Corvus, I will need you to watch her and guard this point. Should the Princidaimon come, send for me.”

  The Bellaxus began making their way to the strange pillar.

  “B-but…” Valerian stopped them, “W-what if I c-cannot reach you?”

  Pavonikos turned, head tilted up just enough for their soldier to see the severity in their expression.

  “Then you and Passer must escape at all costs.”

  They reached into their pouch, removing that small engraved ball, then tossed it to Valerian to catch. The latter regarded the Teleportare with growing worry - it was designed only for one straight return trip back to Lumis for one person, but if used on one of the Praeterium Gates it could be temporarily used to send multiple people home.

  Valerian saluted, eyes pressed shut, “Magus guide you and the others back to us, Bellaxus.”

  And with that, Pavonikos entered the pillar.

  Rufinus felt that same, headache-inducing feeling shatter his concentration. He stumbled out of the dark tunnel, finding himself on the other side. The whole area seemed to pulse alive. Ultraviolet light ran through the vessels in quick streams; the place was awake.

  He rose his head to get a good look at the cavernous space, his Falselight brightening to life once more until the whole room illuminated. Rufinus’ eyes widened. There sat Adonis. He was sat on the ground in front of an unknown woman, her features obscured. Attatched to the back of his neck were several strands of Daimonic neurones, ultraviolet pulsing along and into himself.

  “Ado!”

  Rufinus rushed forward. He wanted to tear those things off, but logic stopped him: what if pulling it off killed him? He tried to shake his friend awake by his shoulders. He shut his eyes.

  When Rufinus entered Roya, he found himself constricted between large masses of Daimonic presence. The same ultraviolet walls that had trapped his comrades prior were much thicker here and resembled a maelstrom than bubbles. Adonis’s Mindscape was before him, encompassed by the “heart” where all of the other trapped presences led.

  Rufinus hurried to use the counterspell, but no matter what he did, the wall remained in place. He barely got a single crack through.

  Rufinus was pulled out of Roya when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. He found himself staring back at Gallus’ stern eyes.

  “Stand aside.”

  Rufinus pushed his shoulder out of the Duxus’ grasp. His eyes fell upon the readied whip of light in Gallus’ hand, then they were fixed upon Gallus’ own in warning, “What do you intend to do?”

  “I’m not going to kill him. Gamisou.”

  Gallus shoved him aside and kneeled down. He took a deep breath, not once uttering his usual displeasure. The whip snaked around Gallus’ own neck, touching his spine. Then, it attatched itself to the back of Adonis’ neck, just as the other tendrils had. Rufinus stood back and watched them carefully, ready to cut Gallus off with flames if he dared hurt his friend.

  Into Roya, Gallus went.

  Wherever Adonis went, there was nothing but death. His every step froze the ichor-soaked ash that coated the ground. Scraps of clothing fluttered across the burnt air. A burnt leaf brushed past his cheek, and with it, came the memory of an approaching army and people making their stand at the walls of a great city. The trees twisted here and there. All arched and oddly bent, more like the bones of an unusual beast than a forest.

  Lucid, he could see the intent of this place: injustice is what imprisoned this person here. All the while, he could feel eyes upon him unseen. The pain was growing glaringly strong, and yet he still pressed on.

  Adonis felt a hand take his own. He couldn’t see who it was and he knew he shouldn’t trust it.

  ‘She distrusted them too.’

  And it seemed she too wasn’t one to reject a chance at attaining knowledge. That hand had exactly what they needed. That dangerous guide.

  In his blindness, he realised too late that the ground from under him had disappeared. Only a strangled gasp escaped him as he fell into the darkness.

  All pain subsided once he landed. Adonis felt soft blades upon his face. His hands filled with earth and grasses that whispered warnings. He rose to his knees and opened his eyes.

  Upon a hill, overlooking a great dead drake and a burning city. On every corner were great towers from where figures in grey and blazing white stared out, channeling their energies into a great halo. Light poured down, scorching everything below until the city was all but ash.

  Adonis’ eyes widened. Upon the drake’s corpse, there stood a woman with russet hair like blazing Twyllfire and armour of black scale. Before her, the Legatus of the Inquisition and his army of grey. Her black eyes met his.