Virian was starting to nod off in his meeting with the noble council when a particular word jostled him out of his stupor. His whole body straightened up and he held up a hand from his position on the throne within the audience hall.

“Stop,” he said, “go back. What did you just say?”

Duke Ferron—the man most concerned with finding Ivy—regarded Virian with an annoyed glance.

“I said,” the duke deepened his frown, “that my contacts within the church have told me our ‘Dragonfly’ problem is over.”

Virian tensed, sitting up straighter still.

“And what…what does that mean, your grace?”

“I was just getting to that. It seems that the assassin was a hellspawn all along. She was working for the Bloody Flag of all places. That whole organization is now under scrutiny from the paladins. I wouldn’t be surprised if they found another in that cesspool. It is a win-win scenario.”

No. No it wasn’t. This was the worst thing that could have possibly happened. Not only was Ivy in the hands of the church, but many people had seen her together with Virian. It wouldn’t take long for the church to come for him as well. Was Rose also involved? He hadn’t seen her on duty today. He had to assume he had no allies left.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I wish to see this for myself.”

He stood amongst the chatter sparked by his words and practically ran from the room and out the back door reserved only for him. A pair of armored guards were on his heels, and he flew past the corridor lined with pictures of his family, down the wide staircase to the ground floor, and out into the palace courtyard.

“Someone,” he took a deep breath, sucking in air, “someone get…get my carriage.”

People buzzed around him, and he could hardly pay any attention, his head clouded—no, assaulted—by a familiar feeling that everything was his fault. He knew that Ivy wasn’t in the same position as his mother, but that didn’t matter. He should have done…something. He should have gone along with Rose and convinced her she had to leave. He should have done more.

His carriage rolled up before him and he shouted at the driver, “Take me to the Cathedral!”

Before he jumped inside, he saw a company of six guardsmen mounted alongside the carriage to serve as his escort. He hoped it wouldn’t look like an invasion on the church’s sovereignty. He needed the arch bishop to be in good spirits if he wanted to see Ivy.

The carriage surged into motion, and Virian couldn’t sit still the whole way. He shifted from one cushion to the other and back a hundred times before the wheels came to a halt, finally. Someone opened the door for him, and he stepped out onto the street directly in front of the gilded gates protecting the central power of the church. They were open as they always were, yet four paladins loomed nearby in full plate armor.

Virian strode up to the gate and faced the armored warriors.

“I need to speak with the archbishop,” he said. None of them responded. “Okay, then.”

He stepped forward, past the gate, and none of them moved to hinder him. Yet when his guard tried to follow, all four paladins moved in sync, blocking the path.

“Your highness,” the sergeant on duty said, his hand on a sheathed weapon.

“It’s fine,” Virian said, “I’ll be back soon.”

He waved them off and continued forward without a glance back.

“Your highness!” the sergeant called out to him, but he ignored it, passing the grand fountain that dominated the cathedral yard.

Ahead, the grand cathedral loomed above him. The triangular symbol of the church was like a shining beacon in a dark world for so many, yet Virian’s face could not help but twist into a scowl at the sight of it. Since arriving in Atrican, he had not once visited. It had been years since he had stepped foot into the church’s domain.

Yet he could not delay it any longer. He may not know Ivy all that well yet, and she was even a killer, but he still knew whatever it was the church had planned for her, it was not right. The institution that had nearly ruined his life could not be allowed to continue as is.

Virian took a deep breath and moved forward, climbing the wide, shallow steps that led to the doors. Like all houses of the church, the cathedral also held an open-door policy through all hours of the day, and he found no resistance at the entrance. Inside, the pews and altar were empty, but almost simultaneous with his entrance, a violet robed man appeared off to one side in the distance.

The priest was a younger man, his face shaved clean and hair still a dark brown, with no pendant hanging around his neck. He was one of the lower priests in training, likely sent to be on duty during a day not scheduled for worship. Virian had no use for such a peon of the organization.

“Hello,” the priest said, “welcome to—”

“I need to talk to the archbishop,” Virian said.

“Oh?” The priest squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at Virian despite the ample light of the interior. “I am sorry your highness, but his grace is currently occupied. Even you should know to give notice for such an—”

“Just go find him,” Virian said, “it’s about the witch.”

The priest frowned, but Virian continued to walk down the aisle towards the back of the worship hall to where the man had emerged from.

“Your highness, please—”

“It is quite alright, Dominic,” a solemn, scratchy voice said from beyond the archway where the young priest stood. An older, taller man appeared from the dark hallway and rested a hand on the younger priest’s shoulder. “Prince Virian is an ally of the church. You may return to your studies.”

Dominic nodded and vanished behind the archbishop. Virian recognized the man instantly. He had not needed to see the bishop's vibrant and gold-trimmed purple robes or the medallion that hung around his neck. Though Virian had never visited the archbishop’s domain, the opposite was not true. The memory of their first and only encounter left a scar in Virian’s mind. Archbishop Tristian had thanked him for the execution of his mother.

“Your grace,” Virian said, offering a shallow bow saved for those of similar status.

Tristian nodded, not returning the gesture.

“Good afternoon, prince,” he said, “it has been a long time.”

Virian did not miss the undertone. Tristian may have claimed him to be an ally based on a horrific mistake in Virian’s past, but the man had not missed Virian’s absence in the years after.

“I come to offer my assistance,” Virian said, “regarding the witch.”

“Is that so?”

Virian rolled his shoulders, steeling himself for what came next.

“Yes,” he said, making his way to within an arms reach of the archbishop and feigning a mask of anger across his face, “I believe I am the only one of her victims to survive. I can without a doubt identify her as the assassin who had been destroying the good nobility of this city.”

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Tristian rubbed a wrinkled hand through his white, short cropped beard.

“Yes…”

“And more than that,” Virian forced out, his scowl fueled not from Ivy but the man in front of him, “I want to look the hellspawn in the eyes when I tell her that she chose the wrong city to attack.”

“Ah,” Tristian said, “yes, yes. I quite understand. Very well. For you, Prince Virian, I will allow it. Please, follow me.”

Virian almost cheered aloud. He could hardly believe it had been so easy. Wordlessly, he followed Tristian’s footsteps through the opening where the two priests had come from and down a narrow stone corridor. They kept on for a minute or so before a wide spiraling staircase opened up.

Tristian paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Do not wander,” he said. Virian only nodded.

The atmosphere changed almost immediately upon descending. Where before light streamed in from stained glass windows that covered the exterior of the cathedral, the substructure was lit only by the occasional flickering torch sconced in the walls. The only sounds that came to Virian’s ears were the clip-clap of their footsteps.

After reaching the bottom, they continued to wind down dark corridors with many twisting offshoots that led to who knew where. The complexity of the place baffled Virian, and he could not help but wonder what else the church was hiding. Tristian’s command to not wander away grated at him with every step.

Eventually the archbishop stopped, and Virian nearly bumped into him.

“The witch will try to persuade you,” Tristian said.

Virian held up a hand.

“You don’t need to tell me,” he said, “as you know, I am well capable of resisting their charms. Besides, this one tried to kill me.”

Tristian nodded.

“Quite so.”

Another few paces and one more turn at a two way fork led them to a metal bar gate that shined an inky black against the uneven firelight. Tristian reached into his robes and pulled out a small metal key. With one hand he turned it within the lock while his other pulled open the gate.

“After you,” he said, gesturing Virian inside.

Virian obeyed, taking a few steps beyond before hearing the gate slam shut behind him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Trsitian said when Virian turned back, “the gate must be shut when a witch is confined.”

“Of course not,” Virian said, “I understand the precautions.”

“You may proceed.”

Huh. Now instead of the archbishop, he intended to watch Virian from behind the whole way. Apparently their mistrust was mutual.

The dungeon consisted of little more than a stone corridor even more poorly lit than the rest of the underground structure with empty metal cages to Virian’s left. He walked along the path, taking a second to peer into each cell until finally after around a hundred paces he found her.

Ivy was standing upright, chained against the wall of her cell, head hanging down. Her long black hair sat tangled and draped over her face, but he knew it was her. From what he could see of her body, it was battered and bruised. Virian would not have to fake the anger he would show to the archbishop.

He channeled his rage and redirected it at Ivy.

“Show your face, hellspawn,” he said.

Ivy twitched, and then slowly the angle of her head raised up so that Virian could barely make her out in the terrible lighting. Her face too was beaten and bloodied, adding to Virian’s fury. How could they do that to someone so beautiful?

“Huh?” she mumbled. “Who’s there?” She sounded weak and nothing like the woman Virian knew.

He turned to the archbishop and nodded.

“This is the witch who nearly killed me,” he said.

“Indeed,” Tristian said, “I am relieved to have captured the culprit. Though, if I may ask, how is it you escaped your fate?”

Ah. Virian had assumed this question was coming.

“Mostly by luck, really,” he said.

“From what we have gathered, this one’s curse allows her to get places she shouldn’t be able to.”

“That makes sense. I was awake when I suddenly noticed her in my bed chambers in the middle of the night. Like I said, lucky. And well, she isn’t much of a fighter. When she realized she didn’t have an easy, sleeping target, she just vanished like she was never there.”

Truthfully, Virian did not fully know what Ivy could do. But giving at least that much away would give him credibility in the archbishop’s eyes.

“I see,” Tristian said, “this is good information. Though I question why you did not come to me sooner.”

“W-who’s out there?” Ivy's voice came louder and more awake than before.

Virian turned back to the cell, glad for a distraction from the question he did not have an answer for.

“May I?” he asked.

“As you please.”

This would be the hardest sell of the day, and Virian would have to put on his best performance yet.

“Alone?”

“For what reason would a prince and a witch need privacy?”

Tristian raised an eyebrow, studying Virian. He felt like the man wanted to find the same fault in him that his father had possessed.

“I never got to say what I wanted to my mother,” Virian said, “to explain to her how she had betrayed me. Earlier you wondered why I have never come to the cathedral. This is the answer. All I have felt over the years has been bottled up into an inescapable fury waiting to be released. The church and the incident with my mother have only brought up misery and hatred in me. I did not want to relive that every time I entered your doors.

“But now, now I am ready to let it out. And here I have the perfect target to unleash my rage. And well, no offense, but I simply just don’t know you well. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you watching over me. The hellspawn will die soon, and my feelings will die with her.”

Virian waited, hoping, praying to the church’s one god that he no longer cared for after his mother’s death. Eventually the archbishop chuckled.

“Very well, prince,” he said, and then turned on his heel to leave.

Virian shut his eyes and angled his head upward, silently thanking whoever might be listening. His insane, spur of the moment plan had actually worked. Not that it led him any closer to saving Ivy, though.

He stepped up to the bars of the cage and gripped them both hands, leaning in. Lowering his voice, his called out to her.

“Ivy, are you alright?”

Immediately he knew how stupid of a question it was.

“V-Virian? Are you really here?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“W-why? Have you come to spit on me like the rest?”

Virian flinched.

“What are you talking about? I knew who you were already.”

“Ah…yeah.”

“Ivy…”

“You should get as far away from me as you can, Virian.”

This wasn’t going very well. Ivy dropped her head and looked away. He needed to change the subject. To give her a glimmer of hope.

“Are your powers gone?” he asked. “Is that why you can’t escape?”

She still wasn’t looking at him, but answered, “they force this disgusting drink down my throat every few hours. I can literally feel it circulating through me. If I try to do anything, all of my strength just gets eaten up by whatever it is they’ve fed me.”

Virian understood. They did the same thing to his mother.

“I know what it is,” he said, “do they bring it to you in vials?” Ivy said nothing. “Bottles? Jugs? A ladle?”

“I…I don’t...I don't know. I've been trying too hard to thrash and spit it back up I haven't paid attention.”

Finally she looked back at him, and tears were streaming down her face, causing lines to form down the cracked, dried blood.

“You have to try to remember,” Virian said.

“Why?”

“Maybe I can do something. If I can stop them from delivering it to you a single time, will it be enough to escape?”

For the first time since seeing her like this, he noticed a spark of the woman he knew.

“Probably. Yes. But—”

“How do they bring it to you?”

For several moments she stayed silent, then perked up.

“Yeah. It’s a tiny little glass thing. Like the size of my little finger.”

Virian smiled.

“That’s perfect, Ivy. I swear to you I will fix this. I won’t let it happen. Do you understand me? Don’t give up.”

“B-but why? Why would you do this for me? You have everything to lose. You don’t know me that well. I’m…not good. I’ve killed a lot of people. I’m a…witch. A hellspawn.”

“I’ll tell you everything once you’re free. For now, I have to go. And…sorry.”

“Huh? What f—”

“Enjoy your trip to hell, witch!” Virian shouted at the top of his lungs and made his way toward the entrance to the dungeon. A few moments later he found the archbishop waiting for him.

“Get what you needed?” Tristian asked.

“Yes, I did,” Virian said with a smile.

“And would you like to see the other one?”

Virian couldn’t hide his grimace. Shit. He was counting on Rose’s help. How the hell had they captured someone with her power?

“There’s another?” Virian asked.

“Oh, did you not know? She was in your guard, if I’m not mistaken.”

Virian recoiled, shaking his head.

“I had no idea,” he said, “two witches living in Atrican? One in my palace? It’s unthinkable.”

“Indeed, but you did not answer me.”

“I trust you will do what is necessary. As I said, I am unburdened now. The church is the authority to deal with the hellspawn, and the rest of us can only thank you for it.”

“Of course.” He smiled and then reopened the gate and stepped outside the dungeon. “Let us return to the surface, Prince Virian.”

Something about the archbishop's face bothered Virian. The way he grinned sent a chill down Virian’s spine. He knew that Virian was connected to both witches. This whole thing had been a fishing operation. Agreeing to let Virian talk to Ivy had been a ploy from the start.

But Virian couldn’t think about that now. Tristian must only have his suspicions or Virian would have never left the dungeon. The only thing Virian needed to focus on was getting Ivy free. The rest would come later. He had no idea what the consequences would be. His plan was stupid. It was careless. Yet everything he had ever lived through was telling him that this was what he needed to do. If he could just accomplish this one thing, his mistake of the past would be atoned for.

He nodded to the archbishop and followed him out of the underground prison. Tonight he would at last break free from this punishment of a life his father had exiled him to. He would make a decision for himself that may very well change the history of Atrican. Tonight, he would make a difference.