Young Writers Society

"If you were you wouldn't be referring to us like something else," she answers. "And yes, we can, we can be cruel and merciless as any demon or spirit or other infernal creature from elsewhere. I've seen it, felt it, been it."

He wished he could just walk away from this conversation, but that was an impossible task. They were all stuck together in this strange, terrifying place. They needed to stick together, and he knew it. He had dealt with the Goa'uld before. Though he had never been in a situation like this with one of them, he could deal with it.

Or, at least, he hoped he could.

He raised a hand and pointed at the pentacle on the farthest side of the room. "This was my summoning room. I wasn't the one doing the summoning; I was the one being summoned." He looked over at Auryon. "I've lived among humans for more than ten thousand years. I'm not going to pretend that I know your life story, but I know that humans are never just bad. You're more complex than a lot of the races I've encountered. If you're a bad person, fine. But if you have any bit of good in you, I ask that you let that side of you out - no matter how small - while we're all stuck here. Because I'd rather walk through this place with allies and not enemies."

Raiden looked over Leo's new form- or whatever the heck it was called- with wide eyes. Sure, he had seen a bunch of stuff over the 15 years of his life, but still, the fact that a guy just up and changed how he looked in a matter of seconds was sort of scary. Raiden took a few long breaths to calm himself.
"Running is always a possibility," he reminded himself, before speaking.
"So, does that mean you're a demon? And if so, what 'charge' were you given when you were summoned?"

He honestly didn't feel like 'Leo' was a bad person. Of course, he was skeptical about Auryon, and Edwin and that other lady. And whoever Peter was.

This catches her off guard. She's not used to that kind of response, just hatred and fear. She's silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before finally speaking. "Too late for that, Leo."

Don't say another word that could reveal my presence, vessel, that is an order.

A pause. Hesitation. Resolve. "They're already here." The last part of the sentence is strained - something else is at play here, for as she finishes the last word she bites back a cry of pain and grabs her arm, doubling over as Apophis' wrath is unleashed. She shouldn't have disobeyed her demonic keeper.

"Run, Mina!" cried Edwin, grabbing Adamina's hand and pulling her away from the room. As they flew down the hall Edwin caught sight of a door with his symbol on it so he opened it with a single shove and pushed Adamina through before shutting it behind him.

When he turned around he noticed that they were in a great hall, filled with many knobless doors.

To Adamina, the sight of the wide, tall space that seemed to never end appeared more daunting than that one single hall she had traveled through with the others.

"I am a demon-" he started to confirm, only to fall silent when he saw Auryon crouch over in pain. He rushed over to her. She was clutching her arm as she gave a cry of pain. What could have happened? Was there some sort of an alien tumor in her arm? Or was a dose of poison more likely? "Auryon, what's wrong? Are you alright?" He knew he should haven't cared, but he couldn't ignore someone who was hurting.

Aaaaaaaaand that was the one thing James didn't know how to answer in the slightest. He furrowed his brows, looking intensely out into the room as Laurel's question spiraled his mind into deep, introspective thought that he wasn't emotionally prepared for.

How could I leave them? He asked himself, though it was a question he'd been agonizing over for the entirety of the time he'd been gone, ever since he'd left. For years, he'd tried to settle on some sort of self-justified response, but at the root of it, he knew it was simply because he was a coward, and a scared and conflicted young boy. But somehow, he didn't know how to put that into words to answer his sister in a way that felt right, or in a way that would make things right. The tone and the emotion behind her words spoke volume of the betrayal she felt from her brother, and he knew that him simply telling her he regretted it would not be a suitable reply.

The thing was - he had actually wanted to return. But he let himself get caught up in his own life, and instead of taking the opportunity to return home on even somewhat better terms, things took a turn for the worse - and before he knew it, even if he wanted to go home, he couldn't without putting his own family at risk and getting caught in the mess he'd created for himself. He didn't want to put them in danger. And how could he return to them as a traitor of their own people? Explaining it to them was synonymous with sending them to the gallows.

He was at a loss for words. So he simply found the best ones he could as he held her tighter.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice the audible equivalency of regret. "I've wronged you, and mom, in a way that I can never right. I know... nothing I can say can take away the years of pain I've caused you. And I wouldn't blame you if you hated me for leaving you when you needed me most. I don't deserve your forgiveness..."

He let her go and pulled away.

"And I'm sorry we had to meet again this way. Where... none of us know what is going on -"

He stopped when he saw the look on Laurel's face.

"I don't give a damn about how it is we're meeting again, Tibs, I'm just -" her voice broke, and she looked up at him with a smile, despite her tear filled eyes. "I'm just so happy I get to see you. I -" her voice cracked again, and she tried to clear her throat "- I mean, we... we thought you were dead Tibs. You - when we... when saw the posters..."

James stared at her, his heart sinking in his chest. Of all things, he felt like he should be feeling/i] something, but instead he just felt numb. He forced a small smile.

"It's been a long time since anybody's called me that."

Laurel laughed, sniffing up snot and wiping her eyes. "Tibs, Tib, Tibby," she said all in a row, as if to tease him.

James's smile grew slightly. "Lars," he shots back.

Laurel looked up at him with a frowny pout. "No."

"No?" James asked, his smile spreading to show his teeth. "Then stop calling me [i]Tibs and I won't call you Lars."

Laurel looked up at him with a hint of frustration, but whatever annoyance she had at the nickname quickly disappeared and she just smiled, letting out a long sigh that seemed to instantaneously relieve the tension between them.

"James," she said, her gaze lingering on the face of her brother for a moment before she looked at the mark on the door.

"I was hesitant to... go out and explore. But..."

"We need to see if there's a way out of here," he concluded.

She nodded.

"Are there... any weapons in this room?"

Laurel looked up for a moment to think, before rushing over to a desk by one of the couches. She pulled out a small pistol, and tossed it over to him.

"It's uh... loaded," she said. "You think... you're going to have to use it?"

"Well I hope not," he said as he tucked the gun in the back of his belt, letting his jacket cover it. "But as I said, we don't know what we could run into. But if the people I met before are any indicator -"

"Oh yeah, you said you met people?"

James nodded. "We all seem to be from completely different worlds."

Laurel gave him a disbelieving stare. "...that..."

"It's just a theory, for now," James replied, beginning to walk around the room, looking for anything else he could use as a weapon (or just anything useful) and slipping it into his pockets. Laurel followed behind him, obviously holding back the abundance of questions she had at the tip of her tongue.

James stopped at the door, looking at her expectantly. Laurel hesitantly laid her hand on the door, and it opened. As they left the room, she grabbed for James's hand as they began to walk down the hall.

She doesn't answer, leaning against the wall and trying to regain her composure as the agony fades. She's pale as a ghost, and her breath comes in long, shuddering breaths as she steadies herself. What is there to say, even if she could speak? She can't tell him yet she doesn't want to lie. It's the latter that confuses her - he's not even human, why does she care? What does it matter? She's lied, killed, even tortured in cold blood, but now fabricating a small untruth to a stranger is something she can't quite bring herself to do.

"Damn you," she breathes, evidently not to Leo, though to who it's impossible to tell.

Damned I may be but you're still nothing more than a mortal slave, Blackthorne. Do as you are told; until you go to Hell you have no freedom.

He didn't know what to do. He frantically searched for something that could be of use, but this was only Ra's summoning chamber. The things he had in it were meant to cause pain and not relieve someone of it. Even if he did find something, he was faced with the unfortunate reality that it would hurt to pick up the majority of the objects in the room.

He grabbed onto her other arm. He wasn't sure who she had uttered those words to, but he was more concerned with the life that was at stake. "Auryon," he gently said, seeking out the chair Ra occasionally sat in to the front of the room, "you need to sit down. I'm going to bring you over there, alright?"

Auryon doesn't answer, nor does she resist as he helps her over and sits her down. No longer standing, she manages to get herself breathing at a fairly normal rate and reduce her shaking to minimal trembling.

Don't let him see him your arm; this is an order, not a request.

Yes, ma'm, she replies, resigned; she can try to resist all she wants, but in the end, it's futile.

Raiden backed out of the room. He was very confused, and he decided to leave the room for now. Those two seemed to have something to sort out, and he felt very much out of place. He sat down, across the hall from the room he had just left. he pulled out his phone, switched it on, and decided to play a game while he waited. For what, he did not know.

Honestly all of this was confusing. He was glad that he had his phone for the time-being, giving him something familiar. That room he was in before he met these people was vaguely familiar. He didn't remember it very clearly, but he had definitely been there before. He decided not to bother about it for now.

He looked her over. Satisfied with what he saw and relieved that she hadn't resisted, he began to glance around the room for anything useful a second time. She seemed like she was hurting. Though, as he looked over his shoulder, he realized he wasn't quite sure what the problem was.

"What hurts?" he asked. "This room has a lot of herbs, so maybe I can find something that can ease your pain."

She shakes her head. "Nevermind, it's nothing."

He crossed his arms. "That was not nothing," he insisted, taking another step towards her. "You grabbed your arm and crouched over. I'm guessing you're feeling better now, but we need to address that problem. I've been a doctor several times, and I frequently help out with the medical problems of the people I meet in my travels. I don't know why you're being so stubborn, but just let me help you!"

She would tell him she couldn't, but that goes against Apophis' orders. Instead, she chooses the second-best option - silence.