Young Writers Society

The battle was over.

Rune let out a tired sigh of relief. Like Felix, he wasn't eager to wait here when they still needed to reunite with the others.

"I'm coming," Rune promised. He went to stand up, but suddenly came to the realization that most of his legs were skeletal underneath his pants. He staggered forward and collapsed to the ground again. He tried to get up a second time, but faced the same results: a step forward before crashing to the ground.

"I just need a minute," he said. He had his feet, his fingers, and the visible part of his face. Was there anything he could focus less on? Something to divert the magic from so he could support his form? His fingers were an option, but they wouldn't do much. His face would be better. He had more magic concentrated there. But moving that magic would make his face appear as skeletal as the rest of his body was right now, and that was something he'd like to avoid.

Hearing Rune stumble behind stopped Felix in his tracks, something tugged at him as he turned to see Rune try and fail a second time, a question puling from the back of his mind.

Why had he felt the need to protect Rune?

He stood there for a second before realizing how strange he must look and making an odd decision to go help Rune up, he wouldn’t be alive it wasn’t for Rune and he still felt that feeling of loyalty to him.

“Let me help”

He grabbed Rune by the arm and tried to lift him up. He realized it was loyalty, that was what compelled him to help Rune, but why? He’d never been particularly loyal to anyone, his curse was the only thing that he had been loyal to and as that was a curse he hadn’t had much choice in the matter.

It seemed to Felix that Rune should stand up by now but He was still leaning on Felix for support.
“Come on, did you hurt your legs or something? Oh, I’m sorry” Felix had tried to push Rune off who had subsequently collapsed again. Felix knelt to examine Runes leg, however, when he saw that it was bones, he jumped back in surprise.
What have you done!” He shouted.

Rune hadn't expected Felix to help him up.

He hadn't expected Felix to help him up, and he hadn't expected Felix to push him away after he had already been able to stand. Maybe he should have expected that last part. If anything, he should have expected that Felix of all people would look too close at his legs. He was already suspicious of necromancers. Why wouldn't he question why Rune was acting strange?

Rune collapsed to the ground again, no longer having Felix's support. It was humiliating, but he was more frustrated with how he couldn't get his legs strong enough to stand. It would take time to get the muscle to return, and he wasn't all that sure he actually had it.

"It's fine," Rune said. He pulled down his hood and moved his hair and bandages. It was enough to put his face in shadows. He just had to hope that Felix wouldn't look closely at that, too, and realize that it was entirely skeletal now. The only seemingly living thing was his hair.

He diverted the magic from his face to his legs, letting a little bit of it linger throughout his body. It would hopefully help the rest of his skin return more quickly than it did without any kind of magical interference. After a few seconds, the lower part of his legs were covered in muscle and skin.

He pushed himself off of the ground and stood, hood still covering his face in shadows.

He reached down and pulled up a pant leg to below his knee.

"See," he said, "just a trick of the light. A side effect of being a necromancer."

He let go of the pant leg and let the fabric cover his leg again.

Jennifer had her heart in her throat for a moment as Rune stumbled, clearly having expended too much energy. Maybe she should have stepped in there. She was just too used to working with people who'd been at this for thousands of years. These were all barely toddlers in comparison.

What came next, she couldn't have predicted even if she'd looked into the future. As she quickly made her way towards Rune to help him up, Felix stepped into help, which was a wonderful moment up until the point Jennifer spotted the effects of Rune's magic firsthand, his body was reverting to what she knew was the state it was technically meant to be in.

She stayed a few steps back as Felix reacted exactly as Jennifer suspected he would and Rune hauled himself to his feet, redirecting his energy to temporarily postpone the issue. She knew from experience that it was never the sort of thing that ended well, but it wasn't her place to step in. Instead, she quickly closed the distance between them, whispering cautiously in his mind.

Rune. Hello, this is Jennifer, you're probably very surprised, but its simply my thoughts being projected toward you, nothing else. I chose this method cause, I figured you want to keep this a secret from Felix, but umm, your um...situation...do you need any help. I can lend you some energy if you need it.

The troll leapt, and something within Lyrth ignited. He had too much to live for to be defeated by some wretched creature on this damned, unnamed planet. What had he done, out of all the beings in the universe, to deserve this trial? Well, he'd done plenty, but that didn't stop righteous anger from coursing through his veins.

Invigorated by his rage, he pushed off the ground with all his might, burying his scimitars up to the hilt in troll flesh. Blood poured over his hands as he shifted his weight against the blades and pushed the troll to its side. It struggled, massive arms gripping to bring its club down upon his head. Ripping the scimitars out, he slashed the monster's chest, once, twice, three times, four-
He lost count, the cathartic feeling of flesh tearing under his blades blinding him to the troll's dead stillness. "Lyrth," Vendryck's voice echoed quietly in his mind, "It's dead, you can stop."

Lyrth stilled, breathing heavily. He stared at his blades, filthy with troll blood, and a familiar face stared back. There he was, in the muddied reflection; the Boar-Killer. As though he'd never left the arena. Purple eyes glimmering with rage, white hair stained with dirt and blood, teeth bared like some wild animal. A beast. A murderer. Lyrth lowered the scimitars. He gripped them so hard his hands shook.

"What am I doing?" He whispered, "How am I getting out of this?"

Here at the beginning of the maze, Vendryck. Already I am injured, my magic nearing empty. How are we all getting out of this? He thought. An odd feeling overtook him, the foreign wetness of tears startling him from his reverie. He closed his eyes, quickly brushing them away.