Durest stashed away the black marble in his belt’s side pouch before proceeding. He didn’t trust Lock enough to keep it, nor any of the others. Dris would sell it, Grim would think of it as a sign of trust and start using Durest more, and knowing Mar--he’d probably try to eat it. Pitch might’ve kept it safe, but Durest still barely knew the guy enough to trust him. With so many betrayals in his past, Durest couldn’t afford to dish out trust so easily. Especially not when victory lay in his grasp. He could feel it writhing in his palms. Waiting to be clutched. 

With that in mind he went forth into the valley. No guards surveyed the mansion’s outskirts, nor its front yard. Roland didn’t need guards. He only needed himself and his daughter, Yidra. Even Durest, who had had his fair share of suffering, felt bad for the poor girl. The last he could remember of her, she was writhing about in a pool of her own blood screaming her woes. That image never left his mind. He grasped it and held to it tightly, associating it with Roland’s very name. That rat bastard will get his due. Just like the rest of them. 

“Back door right?” Grim asked. Durest nodded and the group sped off, closing in on the gothic structure quickly and stealthily. Even Mar tried to be quiet, despite his bombastic steps. Still, they made it to the mansion’s backyard rather quickly. The backyard was really a garden of garish flowers and magical herbs. Durest knew that Roland had been dabbling in alchemy a little bit since he had last seen the man, but not to this extent. An acidic scent wafted through the air and Durest covered his nose, motioning for the others to follow suit. Mar seemed hesitant at first. However, following Dris’s, Pitch’s, and Grim’s cues, the man quickly covered his nostrils. 

“What the hell is he cooking up with all of this shit?” Dris asked. None of them had an answer to that question. However, Pitch’s face seemed a little more wide-eyed than the others. Strange. Ominous as the herbs were, the group quickly made their way out of the garden and to the back door. The windows might’ve seemed like an opportune place to enter from, but Durest knew better. Better to pick the locks rather than create an upheaval by smashing the windows. So, Dris got to work on the locks. They seemed rather complicated, given the time it took for Dris to get through them. Even still, with all of them opened, a chain kept the door from opening completely. Mar changed that quickly with a vicious swing of his ax. 

Then, they were in. 

Grim took over from there. With Durest occasionally pointing the way, Grim methodically took the group through the house. It felt empty. Too empty. Darkness crept into every crevice and the smells of alchemical malfeasance waded all too strongly in the manor. The pin-drop silence only broke occasionally when Mar stepped too heavily or breathed too heavily or well--did anything too heavily (which happened all too often in Durest’s opinion). Why the hell is he here? Grim can fight well enough. And Dris is decent in a good bout. And Pitch probably knows a thing or two if Grim recruited him for this. If a fight ever arises, they should be enough to kill Roland. Hell, a fight wouldn’t need to arise because the four of us are quiet. But nooooo, we have to have the “muscle” come with us. God damn it all. 

And suddenly, they found it. 

The overly-sized metallic safe with three different locks lay in Roland’s office. Which also happened to be locked. Worse, Roland had fallen asleep there. They could tell by the loud snoring coming from behind the two ornate glass doors. One might think of glass as an odd choice, but knowing Roland, Durest figured the glass wasn’t actually glass and was instead some sort of translucent wood. Of course, no one wanted to test that theory, given the risk of it actually being glass. Grim gave a long sigh before moving out of the way for Dris to do her work. 

“He’s a paranoid one, ain’t he?” Grim asked, scoffing slightly afterward. I gave him a sign. 

Indeed. He chuckled at that. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me the history between you two after this,” he whispered. Then, a resounding and familiar CHINK! Came from the door lock and Dris carefully pried the door open. Roland looked a lot different from the last time Durest saw him. His skin seemed scaly and dried up almost. His hair now looked a salt and pepper color despite his age being only twenty-seven. What did you do Roland? Before his question could be answered, another one came. 

“Who are you people?” The group turned around to find a girl standing in the narrow hallway that connected the kitchen and the office. She also looked very different from the last time Durest saw her. Sickly and tired, she wore a simple nightgown. She probably woke up from Mar’s footsteps. 

Yidra. He signed. Though he meant it for her, Grim also picked up on it. He raised his short swords, pointing them at her. 

“Don’t make a sound girl,” he scowled. Yidra nodded slightly at the threat, but she took a step forward. 

Is that you, Durest? She signed. Durest nodded and even allowed himself to smile for once. Yidra always understood him. Always protected him. 

I’m here to take you away. You’ll be free. Free from him. Durest signed, jabbing his thumb at Roland. Durest couldn’t see her face very clearly in the dark, but he figured she must’ve been happy. They talked about this often, like some unattainable dream. Yet, finally, she could be free. 

No. She signed. He shook his head, confused. 

What? Why? He signed. She took another step forward and Grim stood in front of Durest. 

“Not. Another. Step,” Grim warned. Yidra listened, coming to a full stop. The moon peered in through one of the windows and shone on her face. Durest recoiled, taking a step back. She had eight, spider-like, pure black eyes that glinted off the moonlight. Durest felt a shiver run down his spine when he realized what happened. Her skin had turned pure black. Not like the dark skin that Durest and a few others had in Cystra, but pure smoke-black. Which meant only one thing. 

He did it, didn’t he? Durest signed. She hesitated for a second. Only a second. Then, Yidra went manic, convulsing and scraping her hair with her hands. Grim took a step back, unsure of what to do. Yidra screamed. A shrill, ear-splitting scream. Durest covered his ears quickly enough, with Pitch and Grim following suit. But Mar and Dris weren’t so lucky. 

He could almost hear their eardrums pop. 

Dris held back her pain but Mar couldn’t help it. He also screamed with blood running down his ears. With that, the duke finally awakened. 

Then, all hell broke loose. 

Grim charged at Yidra, Pitch and Dris burst into the office and charged at the duke, all while Mar continued to scream his pain, thrashing about wildly. Durest went after Grim, signing for him to stop but Grim didn’t notice. Instead, he swung his swords in a vicious arc in an effort to split Yidra diagonally in two. She simply blocked the blades with her arms. The metal bit into them slightly, drawing black blood. But she paid no mind to it. Instead, she kicked forward, throwing Grim back into Durest. The two fell like a bag of bricks to the hardwood floor. Shit, shit, shit! This is not happening right now! Durest struggled under Grim’s weight, but he couldn’t get up. Grim’s out cold. Damn it! Durest craned his neck out and turned it as much as he could. 

Pitch and Dris were already dead. 

Dris lay splattered on the ground with a hole in her chest. Roland pinned Pitch to one of his bookshelves with a blood spear. He turned towards Mar and Durest and started to walk forward. The half-djinn duke’s eyes looked crazed and wild. His arms moved in a manic manner, twisting and snapping in ways that no regular person could. Mar didn’t even move. With a burst of adrenaline and fear, Durest lifted Grim off of him and scattered back to Mar. Yidra didn’t even bother to move. She just waited, blocking their exit. 

“It wa-wasn’t supposed to be like this. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!” Mar yelled. He closed his eyes and charged a bullish charge in Roland’s direction. Durest tried to grasp for Mar, to tell him not to be an idiot, but of course, nothing came of it. Roland simply held out his hand and smiled lazily. 

“Fultar,” he ordered. With that, a wave of fire spewed from the duke’s fingertips and engulfed Mar. But Mar kept charging to Roland’s surprise. They tumbled onto one another, Mar swinging wildly and screaming his pain while Roland tried to escape. Durest saw an opportunity and took it. He snatched a scatter rock from his pocket and chucked it at Yidra. It missed her head slightly. Not that it mattered. When Durest clutched his hands, the rock exploded into millions of sharp chunks. Not enough to kill, but enough to stun at the very least. He then sprinted off into the office, ignoring the power struggle between Roland and Mar. Though, at a glance, it seemed to be a sure win for Roland. 

Durest spotted the safe quickly. It lay directly underneath Roland’s desk. Durest dove for the large metal box and picked it up with all of his might. Before he could figure out what to do with it, a spire of flame erupted next to him and he rolled out of its way. 

“Put it down boy. Now. Or I kill him,” Roland yelled, clutching Mar by the collar and holding a blood sword to his throat. Thankfully, Roland had stopped the fire and Mar was still breathing. Barely, though. Why should I care if he lives? All he’s done is been an ass to me. Yet, Durest found himself putting the safe down. He muttered a slew of curses, both at himself and at Roland. “Good. Very good. Now, just step away and--” Before Roland could finish, Durest threw another scatter rock aimed at Roland’s genitals. It exploded and Roland yelped in pain, letting go of Mar and falling backward. Durest fished in his pockets for something to break the safe. Unfortunately, he had left all other items inside his cloak. Damn it Mar! Durest took out his last resort. The black marble. 

‘Someone of substantial power can unlock whatever’s in that,’ Pitch had said. Well, I hope you were right.  

“Run…” Mar said weakly. Durest ignored him. He couldn’t run now. He wouldn’t get far. The only way to get out of this one would be to fight. Yidra finally entered the office, though she didn’t bother to do anything. She simply stared at Durest. Roland started getting up, fury burning in his eyes. Durest slammed into the duke and the two entered a grappling match of sorts. Roland quickly ended up on top. He leveled his hand at Durest and smiled connivingly. 

“Fultar!” Before the flames spewed out and engulfed Durest, he grabbed onto Roland’s hand and thrust the black marble into it. Then the flame came. It engulfed Durest and the marble in an instant, melting his flesh and searing his bones. The raw, throbbing, pulsing, eternal pain made Durest want to scream. Of course, he couldn’t even do that. He could only die in silence. 

…

Durest woke up in a cold sweat. He felt his skin, checking for burns. For blood. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. I refuse to believe that was just a dream. 

Ah, so I’ve found a competent one then? 

Durest shot up, looking around for the source of the feminine voice. 

Maybe not so competent. I’m in your head dumbass. 

What the hell is happening? 

That’s a good question. Last thing I knew, I was sleeping inside that black marble prison thanks to my bastard of a brother and his little threeblooded puppet--

You can hear me? YOU CAN HEAR ME? 

I thought we were past this, of course I can hear you. I’m in your head, remem--hey, why are you crying. Was it something I said? Hello? Are you okay? 

Durest didn’t bother to respond. He just sobbed. For once in his miserable life, someone could actually hear him.