The Contract

“Avii,” Ostave groaned through the swarm of insects that nipped at his eyes and ears, looking for any way past his skull. “Help me.”

“Brace yourself!” Avii ordered, locking his gauntlet around the knight’s wrist as he began to click a series of crystals within the glove. “This will be uncomfortable.”

With a final flick of a particularly jagged stone, the arcanzcore fixed to Avii’s chest flared a blue light. In an instant, electricity raced down the man’s arm, bridging the gap between him and Ostave before arcing over the orc’s body. Initially meant for lighting fuses to clear large cave-ins or ancient traps, the voltage was high enough to stun the gluttonous beetles.

Avii watched through his helmet as the man froze, his body seizing beneath the shocking grasp. Around him, insects tumbled free, their tiny forms unable to withstand the discharge. En masse, they disappeared into the abyss, and only once the swarm had completely left the orc’s body did Avii release the magic and throw Ostave back atop the ledge.

Climbing up after him, Avii slipped the helmet back into his collar and inspected the man. He was unmoving. His body was frozen, lifeless on the ground.

“No!” Avii cried out as he released the lock outside his armour, freeing himself from the shell so that he could place his body beside the knight. “Ostave—Ostave!

Quickly he lowered a hand to the man’s throat, trying to remember his training. But he didn’t need to worry long, as he soon discovered Ostave’s faint heartbeat. It was slow, but present. And, as Avii sighed, resting his forehead to the orc’s chest, he quietly thanked whoever was watching over the knight. Though he was not particularly a man of faith, and the witch had stated that no gods or devils resided in his current hell, someone must have been watching over them.

But Avii’s mind wouldn’t rest in a state of thanks and praise for long, as the terrible laughter soon returned. Eager to keep moving and escape the bottomless pit he found himself precariously positioned against, he turned back to his MULE.

“What?” He gasped, searching the area with frantic fervour. “But where?!”

The MULE was gone. In his panic and moment of praise, he hadn’t noticed the glow disappear. But the moment he looked for it, the world became oppressively dark. As it did, the laughter became louder, reaching his ears from every direction and echoing in its horrid cacophony. Soon the witch would be upon him, and he was defenceless.

“Ostave, wake up, we must—” Avii turned, his heart sinking as the man had vanished. “Ostave? Ostave! Knight Ostave!”

“Ostave! Ostave!” His voice echoed through the cavern, hitting walls and bouncing back to him. “Ostave! Ostave! Ostave!”

And then the echo changed. It whispered over his shoulder. A familiar warmth in the words that caused his body to shiver and shake.

“Ostave. Ostave…” The witch cooed. “Why do you waste your time with an Estarian, boy?”

“Do not hurt him, witch!” Avii cried out, flailing his arms.

Turning to face the creature behind him, he swung his fist. But he didn’t hit flesh or bone, merely shadow. A shadow that twisted and curled like smoke, releasing laughter into the air.

“Hurt? No, no, no. None of them were hurt. They were tortured. Tormented. And upon death, their souls became my playthings for all eternity.”

“Release Ostave! Don-don’t torture him. Free him, he-he has a family. Let him live!”

“A family you say? Mmmmm—all the more reason to keep him. Maybe one day they will search for his body, and I can taste of their fear as well.”

That thought alone chilled Avii to his core. The image of a child without a parent. His hunt to find his father. The terror of stumbling across the knight’s corpse only to be bound in a similar fate.

Avii wouldn’t let it happen. But he only knew of one way to guarantee it.

“Take me!” He offered without thinking. “Take my soul. Y-you wish entertainment, do you not? Then let me finish my mission, and you can have me. Torment me for eternity but leave him be!”

With that, the laughter increased. It grew louder. And then louder. Slowly it became unbearable. The sound was maddening as darkness closed in around him.

Avii gripped his ears, feeling as the blood began to drain from his head until it stopped. It was sudden. Jarring. In an instant, the world hummed with silence. And then she spoke.

“Why would I want your soul?” The witch hissed into his ear, her lips close enough that the breath tussled his hair. “Maldainian.”

“What?” He questioned her, turning quickly to face the shadow that filled the void where she had been. “You have taken plenty of Maldainians. We were told stories—”

“Half-bloods, yes!” Her voice cried out from both near and far simultaneously. “I have feasted upon the souls of those pitiful fools that would dilute His gift! Tarnish the Great Creator’s legacy. Those who dared to spit in the face of the perfect lineage He gifted to His chosen. That would breed with Estaria and Kovika heretics. Scoundrels who would dare lie with the followers of those heathens that named themselves gods and devils after His fall! False gods! Traitorous devils! All of them deserve death for betraying Him.”

A wind kicked up, and he felt the witch’s presence once more beside his body. More than that, he could feel her long nail reach out, taking him by the chin and lifting his head.

“But you.” She whispered, like a mother proud of her child. “You are of pure blood. A true soul of Maldain. And it would be a shame to rob the world of you. To take away your perfection for some Estarian scum.”

Her words stuck in Avii’s mind as he tried to process. She had said so much. Too much. And he wanted nothing more than to understand. But he couldn’t become lost in thought. He still had a mission. Still had to save Ostave before they could finish it. There was no time to debate his lineage, regardless of how perfect or flawed his existence was.

“I-I,” Avii stammered, turning to face the direction he assumed the witch to be. “I know not of my blood nor this perfect lineage. But what I do know is that tragedy befell Maldain some years ago. The world above has changed, and with it, the nation you speak of no longer exists. I am the last of that land. And, as such, I am a prize sought by both Estaria and Kovika. But I give myself to you instead! For his freedom. For our passage to the mountain so that I may complete my mission—”

“You…” She paused, the twisted joy in her words gone. “Are the last? Impossible! All His planning—all MY planning. You cannot be the last! How?! How did this happen?!”

The hate that replaced her words shook Avii to his core. Never had he heard such fury. Such anger. Even in the darkness, he could feel the tremble of the witch’s body as she fumed at the discovery. Feel as the shadows that had been her ally attempted to flee her presence.

“Tell me!” The witch howled, her claws reaching forth from the darkness and piercing Avii’s side as she lifted him into the air. “Tell me, Maldainian! Last of your kind! How?! How…did…this…happen?!”

Avii gasped, releasing a sanguine mist over his face as the witch threw him through the air like a doll. Helplessly, he tumbled upwards into the vast abyss. Higher and higher he flew until he felt himself once again tangled in the witch’s grasp. There he floated above the endless pit of darkness, choking for air. But where he was bound, there was none. Only shadow and pain. At least, until she finally revealed herself.

It was not the face of a woman that met his. Nor was it the visage of a hag. There was no skin or bone. Just darkness and a pair of giant eyes that looked down at him. They shone a golden-orange glow, lighting up the world around them enough to reveal the faint outline of an elongated snout. The witch was more than just a caster. She was a dragon. One whose skin and scales had long since fallen off, leaving only bone and festering flesh.

“Speak, Maldainian!” She bellowed, her claws tightening around him as she crushed his torso in her mighty grasp. “Speak while I still have patience!”

“I do not know,” Avii yelled out, finding enough air for words between the spray of blood. “I was there that day, and even I do not know!”

“Not good enough!”

“GYAH!” Avii cried out as her claws tightened.

The sound of his body breaking was loud enough to meet his ears as the feeling reverberated through him. Avii felt his ribs snap like twigs, piercing his lungs as they began to tighten around his heart. Bone tore into organs, and sanguine streams poured from his mouth. And as he dangled from her grasp atop an endless abyss, his blood draining from him like a wet rag, he tried to keep himself conscious.

“A light.” He coughed, spilling forth more blood than words. “There was a light. A shield covered me, and I was flung a dozen leagues. It killed them all. And—and now, golems march.”

At that, the dragon threw him with a roar. He tumbled through the darkness before striking a wall and falling to the earthen ledge with a wet smack. Though he could not see it, he knew he was dying. Knew that the warm blood from his mangled body was soaking the stone around him. But he would not have the time to think his final thoughts. No time to mourn his own death. Nearby, footsteps drew closer.

“Hmm,” The witch hummed. “So, someone tried to activate it then? Someone without permission. And they called forth the Flare and then activated the city’s defences? Though I find it strange that there were not more. That you were the only one…”

A pair of feet cloaked in shadow came into view, stopping just short of the blood. Avii watched as a figure, much smaller than a dragon, crouched down and touched the pool. She played with the sanguine puddle for a moment, scooping a handful of liquid up and pouring it over her head.

“Very well, Maldainian.” The witch finally spoke once more, stepping closer. “I shall take you up on your offer. For I wish to see what His world has become through your eyes.”

Avii watched as she walked through the blood, the liquid splitting before her steps. It began to lift into the air, dripping skyward and forming a sphere above the figure. Then, the shadow leaned down, bringing her shrouded face closer to his as she whispered.

“So, tell me, do you truly agree to what you offered?” She asked, her voice cold and questioning. “Your soul for his? Your eternal torment so you can finish this…quest?”

The world began to close in on Avii as his heart slowed. But there was only silence. No Harbinger telling him to survive. No phantom grabbing at his heart, forcing it to pump. It was just him. And the witch. Freedom was in his grasp, if he wanted it. Or…

“Yes.”