Ryance navigated his way through the dungeon to look for Vynera. After a bit of a search he found her sleeping peacefully in her bed, her breathing quiet and even. He raised his sword to kill her, but he hesitated a moment to steady his aim. Vynera looked peaceful and sincere, lying there, without waking thoughts to sour her expression. Her face mirrored thoughts from a time when her sweet disposition had shone through her features. Her lips were curved in a serious frown. She didn’t look much like a sorceress, or even particularly evil.
The knight wondered how someone so serene looking could be so evil. Was there some misunderstanding somewhere? It didn’t seem likely; she had treated him with mockery and hostility from the beginning. Still, perhaps stories had been exaggerated. Then Vynera’s lips curled into a cruel, taunting smile. Innocence faded from her face and turned into pure poison. She looked more like a temptress or the sorceress she really was. Ryance hesitated no more. Again he raised his sword, and brought it down for the kill. Vynera rolled over just in time to save her life, leaving the sword buried deep in the wood of the bed; it had gone clean through the mattress, causing disturbed feathers to float through the air. Quickly she stood up and faced Ryance. A look of mock reproof was on her face.
“Not so fast, bold one. You shouldn’t try to kill someone in their sleep; it’s not honorable,” she sneered, her breath coming in short pants after the fast scramble.
“You’re not deserving of honor,” said Ryance, pulling on his sword to free it, and failing. There wasn’t time to struggle any further with it, so he drew a dagger instead. Darting forward, he took a few unsuccessful swipes at Vynera. Seeing Ryance was determined to kill her, Vynera grabbed the corked bottle off her bedside table.
“Keep your distance, or you’ll get more than you bargained for,” Vynera warned, her tone serious. She didn’t have time or preparation to quick cast any spells. All she had were her wits and the single spell she had prepared, which she brandished like a weapon.
“Even if you kill me, as long as I tried, I need not fear the disgrace of a coward,” said Ryance, jabbing his dagger towards Vynera again. He just barely missed. He couldn’t honestly say he didn’t care if he died, as he had a lot to live for, but he would rather die with his honor in tact, than run like a coward. If he could end Vynera right there, it would mean safety for not only his fiance, but his people as a whole, even the ones in Ivelcour who had turned away Solumina’s aid time and time again.
“Foolish knight! This won’t kill you, but the pain will be unbearable, both mentally and physically. You’ll wish it had killed you,” spat Vynera with malice. Taking a chance, Ryance darted close to Vynera, his dagger flashing towards her. At the same time, Vynera had been trying to find an opening to throw the bottled spell at Ryance. It all happened so fast. Vynera screamed in pain as the dagger slashed across her eye, and Ryance stumbled back as he was hit in the face with the glass bottle, which smashed into a rain of slivers and thick red liquid. Before Ryance could react, Vynera ran from the room, one hand clutched to her injured eye, blood pouring between the fingers.
Ryance took a while to recover; the liquid had blinded him momentarily, but it soon absorbed into his skin, almost completely without a trace. Once he regained his senses, he quickly pursued Vynera, but she had the advantage of a head start, as well as knowing her way through the twists of her underground lair. When she was sure she had gained enough of a lead, she slipped into one of the rooms, fumbling about for a restorative potion. She was pouring the milky white liquid onto her eye just as Ryance found her. Smoke rose from the wound and Ryance stayed back; he wasn’t quite foolish enough to charge into the path of an unknown magic. After a few moments the smoke cleared away. Where Vynera’s injured eye had been, there was only a smooth, flat layer of skin, as though there had never been anything else.
“You have been justly repaid for your folly!” she screamed, pointing an accusing finger at Ryance. Vynera was shaking, partly from the pain, and partly from the anger at the loss of her eye. Once more Ryance tried to hit her with his dagger, but she managed to evade, even in her present state. Already the potent spell was starting to affect Ryance; he could tell his body wasn’t responding as quickly as it once had. The hand that held the dagger started to tremble. Even so, he didn’t have a clue what Vynera had done to him. Then the pain hit him. Taking completely off guard, Ryance howled. At first the pain was so intense he couldn’t determine where it was coming from.
“What have you done? My armor’s burning me!” He could feel circles of pain burning into his skin. Frantically he tried to rip off his armor, but it was made to stay on in the heat of battle, and it was agony trying to remove it all. Piece by piece clattered to the ground as he slowly shed it all, fingers shaking, under the one good eye of Vynera, who watched the scene unfold with a sick sense of satisfaction. Even when he had gotten out of all the armor, there was still an intense pain on his chest, and he pulled the medallion out from under his tunic, ripping it from around his neck, and casting it aside. There wasn’t any room for sentimentality; he just wanted the pain to stop.
With his armor gone, there was a brief respite, and Ryance struggled to catch his breath. Reclaiming his dagger, he wobbled to his feet and tried again to attack Vynera. But now she clearly had the upper hand; Ryance’s movements were slow and clumsy, and she easily kept out of his reach. It wasn’t long before he stumbled and only barely managed to catch himself from falling by the support of a wall. Even so, he still kept trying to press the attack. Vynera shook her head, letting out a dry laugh that had no mirth in it.
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“Pitiful: such a sorry excuse for a knight. Where are all your brave words now?” The spite in her voice was clear, and Ryance recoiled at the sound. “But if you really want to know… I’ve turned you into a deeply feared myth, a creature that should, by all rights, not exist. Enjoy the fruits of my labor.”
Vynera watched as Ryance went through the transformation she cursed him with. First the color drained out of his skin, turning it pallid and lifeless. His gray eyes became even more washed out, but with an eerie glow around the pupils. His mouth opened in a grimace, vicious fangs pushing on his existing eyeteeth and causing them to fall out. The only sounds during these changes was his breathing, stilted and erratic. His suffering was terrible, but he wouldn’t give Vynera the satisfaction of letting her know how deeply the pain ran, keeping his sounds locked tight in the base of his throat. Vynera watched with interest, not just to gloat, but because she was completely fascinated with watching such changes. Transformation magic was sometimes very subtle, but at other times it was quite magnificent to behold.
However, Ryance couldn’t keep his silence any longer. A piercing, unholy scream of agony was ripped from his throat as his soul and life force were severed from inside of him, his shadow disappearing behind him like a puddle drying up under a scorching heat. Feeling bereft at the loss, and struggling with the pain, Ryance pitched forward, falling to his hands and knees. The look of despair on his face would melt even a heart of stone, and even Vynera wavered at the sight. When she had altered Jyshen, it had been his form alone, but this time, she truly felt she had crossed some sort of line, perhaps tampering with forces that should remain untouched. Frightened at the revelation, she fled from the room.
Finally it was over; the transformation was complete. There was no more pain, only a mental anger against Vynera. Ryance steadied himself for a few moments, barely feeling the chill of the stone wall his hand rested against. His righteous anger had descended into something much more visceral, and all he could think of was retribution. Gathering his resolve and pushing himself from the wall, he ran off to find Vynera, to kill her. He discovered her in another room, one filled with shelves upon shelves of books. She was quivering from the shock of seeing her creation made. Quickly Ryance advanced with only thoughts of death on his fragmented mind. When he was only a short distance from Vynera, she held out a symbol of protection, stopping Ryance in his tracks. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Not another step. I know you can’t, you know you can’t, so don’t try,” she warned. Ryance stopped, his eyes fixed on the symbol. The sight wasn’t unfamiliar to him. Symbols of that type were found on a lot of the buildings in Solumnia, common at the threshold of every home: it was a ward against evil spirits and those tainted by such things. The very same symbols had been etched inside of his armor in carefully applied silver. He tried to move, but the ward repelled him, holding him in place. A growl of frustration rumbled deep in his throat.
“I’ll catch you off your guard sooner or later. You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me: the pain, the emptiness,” promised Ryance, his eyes riveted to the symbol that was keeping him from attacking her.
“You haven’t learned you lesson yet, have you?” Vynera said, recovering from her momentary lapse. “You are my slave now; it will hurt less if you accept that sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll never serve you! Being one of your monsters means nothing.”
“No, my dear Knight, it means everything. What you have become will bring you to your knees if you don’t give into your new hunger. That emptiness you feel can only be filled by one thing; you must feed on the blood of others to survive. There is no other way. That man who came here, in his shining armor, is gone.” Vynera’s voice softened, just the tiniest bit. “Let him go.”
“I won’t. Nothing can make me.” Even as he said it, he could feel a hunger already, and if Vynera hadn’t been protected, he would have surely pounced on her.
“If you really think you can continue to exist with more pain and anguish than you’ve just gone through, then my plan will fail,” said Vynera, affecting indifference with a shrug. She couldn’t be completely certain she was right, but she was betting on the darkness and fragility of human nature. She had been good once, and it didn’t take much more than a broken heart to bring her so low. Surely such pain and compulsion would make short work of this knight; it was a fight he couldn’t win with a sword and armor. His training could only take him so far.
“I already told you; I’d rather die than serve you,” said Ryance, shaking slightly, partly from hunger, and partly from the rush of emotion he felt. If this pain lead him to his death, then so be it, but he wouldn’t submit to it.
“Go on then. Wander out into the world and see how long you last,” Vynera said, her tone cold, dismissive. “I can stay like this as long as I have to; I certainly won’t let you near me when you’re in this state.”
It was very tempting for Ryance to stay right where he was and try to outlast her. But he wasn’t sure if the dragonman had actually died or not, and he didn’t want to risk being ambushed. He could already feel his body crying out for the blood that was so close, but unreachable. If he stayed this way long enough to outlast Vynera, he would either go mad, or collapse. That would only prove her right, and if he ultimately did fail, it wouldn’t be in front of her eyes. And then there would be no one to worn the people that she was awake. He had to cut his losses and do what was right. Feeling the bitter sting of defeat, his shoulders slumped.
Cautiously Ryance backtracked until he found the room where he had left his sword. He was barely able to pull it lose; the transformation had left him somewhat exhausted. He had to leave his armor behind, and the medallion that Cesorpha had given him, but he wasn’t going to leave his sword as well. If he ran into trouble, he needed to be able to protect himself, at least until he returned home to deliver the news. The road home felt like a long one; he had to take cover from the sun or feel its burn. Hiding in caves, or under fallen logs, he couldn’t completely shield himself sometimes, but at least the pain gave him something to focus on other than the far more insidious hunger he felt constantly roiling under the surface.