"Amelia, you okay? You're wincing."
Amelia blinked, and then turned to Sophia with an apologetic smile. She was looking at her with concerned brown eyes. Her curly dark hair framed a square face that made the spellblade smile each time she saw it.
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I just have to go to Werill's cell again, and... Anti-magic fields, and all that."
The healer nodded, and winced too. It had been two weeks now, and the prisonner wasn't cooperating.
"Oh, I get it. I don't understand what the Council's trying to do, though. Werill's not talking, that's for sure..." She frowned. "And making someone starve is just a dick move. It's not even working."
"I know. I think the Council just wants revenge for having been played for fools, at this point... Oh well. I don't make the decisions."
Sophia finished bandaging the spellblade's arm, and looked at her work.
"Meh. In any case, they should put someone who's not wounded on interogating duty. I can't use healing enchantments on you if you go through an anti magic field everyday..."
"It's fine, I don't need that. Just some time. In fact, I think I should be able to-"
"You got your whole arm clawed by a memetovore. I've seen those things, their legs are monstrous. Don't be an idiot and stay in the secured part of the City until youre fully healed."
"But-" Amelia started, before getting cut off by a deadly glare from Sophia. "Yes ma'am."
The healer chuckled at that, and kissed her on the cheek. She watched her turn beet red, and smirked in amusment.
"Come on, you dork. You have work to do. Stay safe."
Amelia smiled, nodded, and got up.
"You're right, I should go. Thanks for the bandages. I love you."
The spellblade got up, and left Sophia's office with a slight smile, despite the task ahead. She walked down the path that linked Sophia's tower to the main bridge of the north western City of Towers. The heart of the demiplane was separated in four sections, each with their own main bridges that linked every tower with the rest of the City, converging into the Pantheon, a gigantic spire of ivory and gold, where the Council held their meeting. As she arrived on the main bridge, the spellblade went the opposite way, then took one of the many auxillary roads, that led down towards the clouds that obscured the ground, far beneath the sea of towers. Eventually, she arrived at a tower of grey stone, and pushed the great door. She took another flight of stairs, down towards the cells.
Amelia braced herself, and entered Weril's. She winced, as once more, she felt the magic around her give way to nothingness. The feeling was similar to becoming suddently unable to see colours. Everything felt a bit duller, as the infinite possibilities of the arcane faded away, as everything became something a little lesser. The mage wondered how Werill could to live with such a thing. He didn't even seem to be phased by the anti-magic field. Could one really get used to something like this? To lose an ability as marvelous and intrinsic to the soul? If so, she did not see how. She did not have to find out, though. Her job was to bring Werill his food, and see if he was willing to talk. She sighed, and unlocked another wooden door, finally arriving in the prisonner's room.
Werill's cell was a cold and narrow place of stone and growing moss. He had a chair, a table and a bed, and that was about it. A set of candles lit up the room, and its occupant was sitting on the bed, his legs crossed and his hands behind his head, leaning against the wall, humming softly. He smiled.
"Morning already? Ah, breakfast, then! Well, hello to you too."
Somehow, the ex-council member's smile was the brightest thing in the cell. The most unnerving, too. Seeing him like this, it almost seemed like he was an innocent man, relaxing in some vacation home, eating three square meals a day.
"Yes, breakfast. Eggs and toast."
"How lovely! The smell is mouth watering."
"You know the drill. You won't get any of it if you don't talk. "
This was usually where their conversations ended. He would shrug, say "Guess it'll go to waste", or something along those lines, and she would leave. She'd come back the next day, and he would look a little thinner. She never had to use her sword to intimidate him, as he never tried anything. The spellblade almost felt sorry for him. This time, however, something happened. The strangest light lit up his eyes.
"Well, you got me. I'll talk."
Amelia frowned, surprised.
"Yes indeed," he answered, standing up, and extending a hand towards the plate. "May I?"
The mage hesitated, expecting a trick, but ended up giving it to him.
"Thank you very much, Amelia. Just wait a second, please."
He took the plate, put it on the table, and sat on the chair. Calmly, he started eating, savouring every flavour. The prisonner wasn't given a fork, or a knife, but he still ate with as much decorum as the situation allowed. He sighed with satisfaction as he finished, commenting "simply wonderful" as he wiped his hands on a tissue Amelia gave him. He smiled, got up, and turned to her.
"Alright! What do you want to know?"
"Everything. The people who assisted you, your intentions, and what your plan was. Now."
"Alright, fair enough. You'll be dissapointed though, I didn't have much help. The sigils that kept the memetovores asleep were drawn about five years ago by the Warlock Union representative. I think his name was Goren? Boren? Something like that. Don't be too harsh on him though, poor lad didn't know what it was for. I promised him that I would help the Union's cause, in exchange."
"...which is why you did it. I see."
"Correct. As for the memetovores themselves, I used artifacts from the Archives defense system to give them their properties. The creatures were originally non-magical in nature, and grown in a lab by a scientist I comissioned. Her name is Lily Fomwood."
"A scientist? Is she mundane?"
"Yes, a mundane. You know, I honestly think that underestimating them could be the Council's doom. Their technology is completely different from ours, but it's effective."
Amelia seemed unconvinced. Most of the thing the mundanes did, magic did it better. But she was not here to argue with Werill.
"I see. And what was your plan, exactly? Why are you talking now?"
She said those words, and silence fell. The prisonner grinned, and Amelia glared at him. After a moment, she spoke again:
"There is a False Hydra in the City."
The mage froze dead in her tracks, and her face grew pale. She pulled her sword, as if afraid one of the thing's heads was coming for her, and looked around, even though she knew that the siren song of the thing, if it was there, would fill her mind until she could no longer see it. She turned to the prisonner in a single, almost snapping motion.
Werill chuckled. It was a horrible and cruel chuckle in how innocent it was. It was a chuckle one gives when they played a prank on someone, or when they tell a joke to a good friend.
"A False Hydra. Did you know that the Warlock Union keeps a head in their storage room? I helped myself last time I went there, with Goren's —Boren?— help, and grabbed it. They've been looking for it for months now, and I do believe they're starting to panic."
Amelia had heard enough. She grabbed him by the collar, and slamed him against the wall, putting the tip of her sword against his neck.
"Do you realise what you've done?!"
"I don't think you realise what I've done, darling. This thing has not eaten anyone yet, at least I don't think so, but it's been gorging itself on memetovores. It grew. It followed them, and should have arrived in the portals room this very morning. Its body now exists across multiple worlds, and it's too late for a level 3 lockdown. Also, thanks to it's diet, it got smarter. It knows where we hide, where we live, what we do, and how to trap us when we're most vulnerable. "
"What the hell is your plan, Werill?! This thing will eat you too!"
"I don't think so. A steady diet of memetovores made the thing smart, and... Well, I did what I do best. We struck a deal."
"What deal?!" Seeing Werill smirk, she yelled "Answer me, damn you!" If there was a False Hydra in the City, Sophia, and everyone she ever knew was in danger...
"How about you take me to the Pantheon? It'll be a lot more convenient if I speak to the Council directly..."
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
jbbartram-illu
