While I slept, I dreamt of Abraxas.

“This isn’t smart, Jonas,” he hissed. He looked terrible, even worse than I did. Well, worse than I did before a bunch of Fixers beat me unconscious. Abraxas’ hair was a mess and his skin, which was covered in sweat, looked drained of blood.

“And you were just looking better,” I remarked, taking a moment to glance around our surroundings. We were in a crowded bar. Servers bustled between tables, carrying bowls of soup, flasks of ale, and tankards of beer. The light was dim, so dark that I couldn’t make out any of the other patrons’ faces.

“It’s your fault I look like this, you know,” Abraxas said, flagging down a server and grabbing a flask of ale. He took a sip, grimaced, and waved his hand over it. The liquid inside the flask changed color to a fiery red and took on a slight glow. “6th Legion Brew,” he explained. “Our favorite in Hell.” He took a sip of the concoction and smiled, some of the exhaustion melting off of his features. “I know it’s not real, it’s just a memory, but then again, so am I…”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

Abraxas sighed. “It’s fine,” he said. I didn’t really believe it. “Thoes Fixers would have killed you, you know, if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“I know. It was a risk I had to take.”

“Red sure looked worried. I don’t think anyone saw though.”

“I’m surprised you care,” I said, trying to wave down a server. They all ignored me.

“I don’t,” he said, “not really…it’s just nice to be reminded of home sometimes, you know.”

I didn’t answer him.

“These powers I’m giving you,” he said, “they’re not infinite. They need time to recharge. You’ve been pushing them to the limit.”

“So…what does that mean?” I asked.

Abraxas set down his tankard and ran a hand through his messy hair. “It means that I’m tapped out. You’ll live through this beating, but I’m at my limit.”

“I’ll go to being a regular human?” I hissed.

Abraxas shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve never pushed me like this before. This many near-death experiences in such a short time…I think you’ll still have the strength and vitality of a Hunter, but nothing beyond that.”

“Well, that’s not too bad.”

“May I remind you how many times you would’ve died by now if you hadn’t had my help?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “No, you may not.”

“You need to hurry and unlock your own powers,” Abraxas said, leaning forward in his chair. “They’re far greater than anything I can offer.”

“And how do I do that?” I asked.

Abraxas shrugged. “They’re inside of you. I’m just an echo of what power you used to have. But I’ve never done this before. I figured it would just come to you in time, without my intervention.”

“Maybe it will,” I said, frowning. “You don’t know.”

“Maybe,” Abraxas said, blowing smoke out of his mouth, “but it’s been over thirty years. Do we have the time to wait another thirty?”

“No,” I admitted. “We’re running out of time. And I’m in the belly of the beast, so to say.”

“Exactly.”

“Hm,” I muttered. “That’s not good.”

Abraxas just smiled and waved down a server. He grabbed a tankard of ale and slid it over to me. Just as I lifted the drink to my lips and prepared to taste it, I woke up.

Gone was the dim inn, replaced with a dark, musty, and damp cell. I was spending a lot of my time in prison cells. Gone was the noisy but comforting atmosphere, replaced by an aching pain that permeated my entire body.

I was lying on cold stone with heavy iron chains digging into the skin on my wrists, ankles, and neck. The chains were short and kept me pinned in an uncomfortable position.

As my eyes adjusted, I saw a figure in the other end of the room. It was a woman, hunched over into the corner. There was a chain binding her wrists and there were bruises covering her body. She slowly unwound her limbs, her muscles untensing, as she crawled over to me. Her short, black hair was matted with blood and looked as if it had been cut off by a knife at points. There were small cuts and knicks all over her body, most of them scabbed over, and a few of the worse ones had blood-soaked bandages covering them. Her eyes still had fight in them, a light that hadn’t gone out.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It was Io Wellstone. The young girl I’d saved over a decade ago, and the same young girl who’d got kidnapped because of me. My heart ached seeing her, beaten and bruised, in a cell, and not just because it was my fault.

“Mr. Dreadstone?” she asked, her voice barely a hoarse whisper.

“I’m alive, Io,” I groaned. My jaw hurt, but everything seemed to be working, face-wise at least. I tried to move the rest of my body, but the chains clinked and rattled. I tried to pull against them, but I felt weak. The power Abraxas had given me, it was gone. Maybe for the rest of my life, if I didn’t make it out of this cell before the Doctor came and dissected me.

Io grabbed one of my chains and pulled at it, her muscles straining. She gritted her teeth and pulled harder, veins popping on her arms and on her forehead. For all of her effort, the chain gave a slight creak, but it was far from breaking. Io collapsed back, dripping with sweat and gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Io gave me a thumbs up and leaned back against the wall. “Good,” I added, trying to sound as reassuring as I could. “I’m here to rescue you.”

Io let out a laugh that quickly devolved into bloody, pained coughing. I tried to sit up, but my chains held me down.

“You?” she said, gesturing with her hands toward me, which caused the chains around her wrists to clang musically. “Save me? How?”

“Well,” I said, “I haven’t figured that part out yet. But I will. So just sit tight and conserve your strength.”

Io sighed. “Are you wearing a belt? Or a broach?” she asked.

“Unless they took it off,” I said. “Why?” Io didn’t answer me, instead she crawled back over and slowly removed my belt. Then, she pulled the metal apart, creating two makeshift lockpicks. Using those, she began to tinker with the shackles on her wrists.

I chucked.

“Something funny?” she asked, not looking up from her work.

“No,” I said, “well, yes. I was just reminded of my apprenticeship for a second. I had to learn lockpicking. It was a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure it served you well,” Io said.

“Well, your studies seem to suit you well,” I said.

“Not as well as being a Hunter would,” Io said through gritted teeth. I’d clearly hit a sore spot. I had a knack for that.

“Being a Hunter got me here,” I said. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“My studies got me here,” Io retorted. I just sighed.

Finally, one of the locks clicked open. Io shed it and began working on the other.

“Learn anything interesting?”

“No,” Io said. “Nothing interesting enough to get me put in here. I think they got me for something I was going to find out rather than something I did find out.”

“Well, at least you know you were on the cusp of something big.”

“Yeah, what great consolation,” Io muttered. “They raided my apartment, probably destroyed all of my research. Years, down the drain, like that.”

“Sorry, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Io snapped. She took a deep breath and the other lock clicked open. She began to rub her wrists where red marks from the shackles were visible. “Sorry, Mister Dreadstone, I just…”

“It’s stressful,” I said. “I get it. And hey, how about if you get me out of these, you can call me Jonas?”

Io smiled and crawled over to me. She began to work on the shackle around my neck.

“Once you saved me and now I save you,” she said. “It’s cyclical.”

The shackle around my neck popped open and Io gently took it off of me. Then, she got to work on one of the ones on my wrists. I muttered a thanks.

“You have a lot of power, Jonas,” Io said absentmindedly.

“I know,” I said. “I wish I didn’t.”

Io chuckled and shook her head. “It’s the privilege of the strong to wish to be weak.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s also the curse of the strong to realize just how weak they truly are. It’s a big world out there Io, power can’t your the ultimate goal.”

“Trying to impart advice on me now, oh wise old man?” Io asked lightly.

“Yes,” I said. “So take it. Believe me, I would’ve been a lot happier if I’d been satisfied with being weak.”

“Maybe, maybe,” Io muttered. “But I think we’re similar, in that way. I don’t think either of us could just accept that.”

The shackle around one of my wrists popped open. I shook it off, reached over to the other one, and pulled. I gritted my teeth and strained against the metal. The sound of creaking and tearing iron filled the cell, echoing off the stones. The shackle snapped in half and I let out a sigh of relief. I flung the broken cuffs across the room and reached down to let myself out of the cuffs around my ankles.

Io raised her hand, stopping me. “Just let me do it,” she said. “You look like you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

I glared at her. “I’m not that old.”

“I know, but all the same, let me be helpful.”

I sighed and gestured for her to go ahead. She smiled and got to work. Within minutes, I was completely free.

I stood up and stretched, letting the feeling of freedom wash over my tired and sore body.

“So,” Io said, “how do we get out of here?”

“A little help from a friend,” I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key Red had given me. Io grinned.

Slowly and carefully, I unlocked the cell door and cracked it open. I peeked down the hall and didn’t see anyone, so I signaled to Io that it was all clear.

We stepped into the hall, both of us holding our breath. No alarms blared, no fixers came running, nothing happened at all. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, as did Io.

“Where to now?” Io asked.

“I don’t know the layout of this place, so I guess we pick either left or right,” I muttered.

From my left, I heard the soft echoing of distant footsteps and conversations, almost too soft for me to hear.

“Right it is,” Io said.