A biting force brought Dan to his feet. He stood before the hole of the camp, slaves, cultists, and guards in all. Most had their eyes closed, their bodies shaking with unending vigor. The special few who stared at him either had well-disciplined cores or were too far gone to react. That left a minority of eyes looking elsewhere, but for some reason, Dan felt like the entire world was watching him.

He adjusted, trying to filer trough his core. But his core felt like it was chained down by six strands of thick void. His magic was barred, only the barest of minimum able to escape through the cracks. There was something, however, something new and undefined. The words and vales came to him.

Blood: Bestow 0.1

A secondary core was formed adjacent from his first, it being significantly smaller and weaker. There was, however, no chains. Dan’s mind raced as he thought how to best utilize his hidden magic. He would have to wait, to hide it. Still, he wanted to know what it did. The description came to him like a whip, it rebounded across his mind, failing to give him the briefest hint of it works.

Because of this, blood fell from his nose. Or rather it would have, but it stayed just beyond his nostrils in the flair of his nose. He panicked, quickly exhaling his lungs in a spray of crimson. He shuddered, looking up at his captors and wondering if anyone saw the strange occurrence. Surely they would have known magic was invol-

Dan’s blood went cold.

Without the warmth and guidance from his core, his fear came back with a vengeance. The high priest was the most alarming, his shadow ethereal armor donned and pulsing with purple-black terror. The man watched with a fascinating smile, his discernable features morphing with despair and misery in Dan’s mind.

Cold washed over the human as they met eyes. The high priest’s smile purged for the briefest of moments, revealing the man’s true face. Dan, locked in the back of his mind, knew that most of the beings in the camp didn’t use their true appearance. He would see the real them in the periphery of his vision, each as haunting as the last.

He had long grown accustomed to either avert his eyes completely, or directly stare at the monstrous people like his life depended on it. His core had helped with this problem, but now? Now, Dan saw everything for what it was. His mind was either playing tricks on him, by madness or necessity, or others were forcing him not to see.

Either way, Dan knew the people of the camp were far above what he was able to release and reiterate. His freshly refurbished mind only made it worse since he lost access to his soothing core. Flickers of true reality shone through the thinning veil with each passing moment. His subconscious mind picked out small discrepancies as he looked around, easily breaking their grasp and showing their true forms.

The high priest was as monster as the two beings he had seen from the Void. Hundreds, millions even, of eyes looked at Dan, each blinking independently of each other. Some burst with bloody thought, exploding like demented firecrackers for some undiscernible reason. There was no sinister smile on the man’s true body. Instead, he was the smile.

A single toothy maw crept high into the air, forming a sideways crescent moon of darkness and wicked viciousness. Past its teeth, past its ungodly smooth lips, its throat traced back into the Void. It was the Void, always striving for another meal, always hunting for something within the land of nothingness.

The remainder of the cult and guard were easier to look at, their faces and appendages mostly being covered by thick woven robes and nightmarish cowls. Their true appearances were a different story, however. Most were crimson red, spilling piles of ghoulish blood and miasma. A few were smaller in size with long sticky bodies covered in thick set hairs. They traveled on all fours, or in some cases all sixes, and sniffed the air like they could smell Dan rather than see him.

The guards didn’t fare much better, except their twisted bodies had to fit in the dull silver armor. There was one woman, however, that faded and returned with his breaths. She was nearly transparent, almost like the air itself. When he looked directly at her, his breath exited his lungs on fire. He coughed, blood splatter echoing the pain he felt.

The high priest rolled his eyes at this, motioning for the golden robed cultist to intervene. As light formed around Dan, he really looked at the man healing him. Golden Robes kept his veil close, not letting reality slip around himself. Even when Dan focused, the man didn’t morph into a new form.

The warmth of a freshly healed chest cavity bloomed in his torso, retrieving his attention from the golden man. The high priest took the moment to speak.

“So you return. I guess it is fate,” he said, starting to laugh. “You are important to us, now more than ever. Do not tempt me again, I am unsure if I can hold back like last time.”

Dan wanted to scoff at the statement, but his ears felt like they were bleeding. Each word from the high priest pushed against his mind, adding sentiment and hidden intent. He understood, more than anyone else in the camp, what the future would look like if he attempted to harm the high priest again.

The images were torturous. Each Dan died in plenty of painful ways. Some were incredibly quick, like having his heart sundered, others were slow and excruciating like having his core forcibly broke, leaving open his mind. The madness would toy with him for days, never letting him sleep or rest.

Dan wanted to ask something, but his body held him back. He stared at the hellish ground instead, blinking repeatably. He tried to take his mind off the situation, he tried to find any semblance of confidence. Nothing came to him, nothing at all.

“So scared,” the high priest said. “What did you see in the Void? How did you survive?”

The man teetered closer, inspecting every inch of the human. Thin black tendrils of liquid obsidian probed him, pushing and prodding like a scientist researching a new species. One tendril latched on to Dan’s forehead, drilling past his skin and into his skull. It licked his brain, touching it so gently he only felt a tickle.

In reality, the parasite dug deeper and deeper.

“Interesting, very interesting,” the high priest said, starring off into the open air. He gestured once, and the tendril in Dan’s head moved to the right. “How is it you have such a detailed mindscape?”

The word fluttered in the air, shifting and lulling the world into a different image. The camp changed to the forest in the Blood Rains, then to perfectly calm beach, then to the rig. Realty shifted once more, creating a perfect replica of Dan’s home.

Dan stood heavy on his feet, his back weak and wobbling with his mind loathsome and nauseated. The high priest stood next to him, inspecting the human’s house like a maid looking for dust.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Interesting world you have here. Much better than the Void, I would say,” the high priest said, a smirk on his smiling face. “Why would you ever come to the Rains?”

The tendril pushed through to a different part of Dan’s mind, reliving past trauma. The high priest watched with intrigue as Dan survived the attack on the rig, the boat ride to the beach, and his time in the caves. The movie went dead as the memory of Dan entering the red double doors begun. The moment they opened, the high priest’s spell work fizzled out of being.

“Truthfully, Dan, I was going to invite you to our little club, you see… Your aptitude of magic is rather rare for these parts. I’ve already gobbled up all the ones I could, killing the rest. There was only you at this point, and you had scored high marks during each trial we put you through.”

They were in the high priest’s chambers at this point, Dan never having took a step.

“But I’ve changed my mind. You will be a sacrifice like I originally planned. I might even forgo a prophet’s vision and start preparing for you now…” the man trailed off.

“W-where—”

The high priest swirled, locking eyes with Dan. “What’s that? Speak up.”

Dan sucked his teeth and clenched his fists. He needed to ask. He needed to. “Where is Sully?”

His question was ignored. “Are you alright there, Dan? We can’t have you dying before it is time. Break your mind if you must, being a husk is better than being dead.”

A small orb of red power blazed inside of Dan. He wanted to unleash it, he wanted to do something. Anything, other than listen to his captor talk about his impending death. That was just as much torture as anything physical. That was worse in some regards.

“Well, I can’t be too surprised,” the high priest rambled on. “A full year inside the Void does that to a person. Trust me, I would know. Well, you know as well. You’ve lived it, which makes me wonder, how? How did you survive? You cannot believe how many free meals I found because some being was sucked into the Void and captivated by its visions.”

Dan didn’t answer, his focus primarily on keeping his secondary core cool and obscured. His mind kept wondering, however, making things difficult. The room kept changing, pulling his attention. Rugs appeared and disappeared, returning or morphing into different patterns, colors, or materials. Shelves acted like they wanted to talk to him about what they held. The walls seemed to bleed, the wood they were created with seeping perpetual sap.

His mind found errors in everything and wanted to correct them and show Dan what was really there.

“A… year?” Dan asked, his voice like sawdust.

“Indeed.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t despair little sacrifice. You will serve us well. We are one step closer to our god,” the high priest added, his voice excited and faithful. “Go back and rest now. We need you in tip-top shape.”

Dan slowly moved his eyes from the warping door to his nightmares inspiration. “My… core?”

The high priest eyed him slowly. “Yes, your core. It will remain locked, I will not have you trying to harm me again.”

“I-I-I need food. I need w-work.”

A long moment passed as the leader thought. “I suppose you do.”

With a twist of his hand, Dan felt his chest loosen. It was slight, almost negligible, but there was room for traction. The powerful chains morphed into a clogged filter, only a small regulated amount was left open. It was enough to create a single orb of light, one that could be used to heal and heal alone.

Is it enough to make a weapon? he asked himself, finding answer in the high priest.

The man stared at him, seemingly reading his mind. In that instant, the chains around his core went taught, sending spikes of pain through his chest. They loosed after a moment, but the threat was clear. The high priest had a deadly grip on him.

Dan was out in the camp minutes later, his heart pumping with deceitful vigor. He wanted to die in this moment, his hopes and aspirations crushed. He had seen his freedom in the Void. He was so close to capturing the power needed to escape back to Earth. Sure, there would be hard points, like actually getting out of the Void, but he knew he could have done it.

He had been so confident, but now everything was lost.

The cultists took notice of this, choosing now to find entertainment. Something whipped forward, knocking Dan’s feet from under him. He fell into the blood grass, his hearing going stiff with the meal cries from the red blades. The grass couldn’t harm him, not while he was still living. Still, the thought of being devoured by the ground caused him to jump to his feet in fear.

A silver pole of metal swept through his legs again, causing him to smash back into the ground. Dan wondered what was worse, bored cultists or alien grass. He chose the cultists, he was to be sacrificed. How much pain could they cause him without killing him?

That was a sobering thought to Dan. Why was he eager to feel pain? Was it the Void? Was it alluring him from a year of feeling nothing? A slap cracked across his chest, sending stinging horror through his spin.

He stood up again. Then again, and again. By the fourth knock down, the cultists decided Dan wasn’t worth the effort. He didn’t cry, he didn’t try to run. He stood there and took it, expecting worse after every blow.

He realized he was conditioning himself subconsciously. Without his primary core, he would need thicker skin, especially with what he thought his second core would need fuel. Sully had long told him about his heart and head needing to be one to grow in magic. Subconscious feelings and thought aided in magic’s evolution. Light magic was the worst at combat compared to every other element.

Where did that put blood? he asked himself, catching a glint from far off into the camp.

Dan heart fluttered as he ran through the camp towards the pure white light. He ignored the slow-moving slaves and general off-putting stares, his mind thinking through the scene before him. The light could only mean one thing, Sully. But he still slowed, stopping dead.

Could it be the madness? he wondered.

Carefully, like holding a newborn, and cautiously, Dan touched upon his second and free core. He did not want to bring any attention to himself or his new core, but he had to know if the light was real. His blood danced as he filtered magic from it. His life balanced out, like a cliff diver preparing to jump. His veins bulged and his heart pumped.

He felt stronger, superhuman even.

The effect compounded into his mind, pushing away negative feelings and giving Dan a moment of reprieve. The madness and corruption around him was drowned away, leaving only reality. He almost started crying, the effects akin to when he first developed Light: Brilliance in the cave.

He cut it off cold, however. Dan’s sudden posture change was enough for those nearest to him to notice. He didn’t look at them, he didn’t acknowledge them. He simply walked on, towards the light. The glowing orb led him to Sully’s room in the prison. It was much like Dan’s, a simple stone cut out with a metal door.

Sully was laying with his face to the ceiling, his body nothing more than a torso. His eyes slowly moved towards the door when Dan entered, a dry smile forming on his face.

“Oh Sully!” Dan yelled, falling to his knees in front of the old man.

The man’s wounds were not healing. In fact, they were twisted with dark energies, reminiscing the Void and its pitch darkness. Where blood normally would have flowed, Sully’s wounds bent and crimped into nothingness. His body was simply gone, like having been eaten by the high priest’s void bombs.

“He really got me good,” Sully said, his voice heavy with sickness. The man’s normal gentle smile was nowhere to be seen, only defeat and contempt were plastered along his lips.

“W-what can I do?” Dan asked, his throat hitched.

The old man slowly lifted a weathered hand, patting his apprentice on the leg. He didn’t speak, but the gesture was enough to convey what both men already thought. It was hopeless.

Dan still tried, however. “He didn’t seal all of my magic! I can heal you! I can, I can, I…”

Sully was shaking his tired head, his eyes hardly open. With anguish, he spoke, “My magic is keeping me alive, for now. My legs and stomach are trapped in the Void, they are not retrievable.”

A short supply of golden light crossed the room, touching upon the dying man. The feedback Dan received was pitiful as it was belittling. “I came back from the Void, I can go back and get your legs!”

Sully’s hand pat down again. “No, the high priest has it locked down. It was the only way for him to kill me.”

“But- There must be something. I have a bit of light magic, I might even—”

“No! Stop. Don’t, it’s not worth it. We lost. I lost. You still have your life. Don’t throw it away because you think you owe me. You do not.”

Dan fell back, his shoulders crashing against the cold stone walls. He cried at that point, utterly defeated. Losing most of his magic hurt, in the moment he felt the world was ending. In a way, it was. But now? After seeing the one friend he had dying?

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to proceed now? The man had literally created a home for him in the camps. He showed him magic, he showed him how to heal. He showed him how to adopt to his new life. Was this really how he was going to repay him? To let him die?

The answer was yes.

There was nothing he could do.

Dan could only be there in Sully’s last moments, nothing more.