Mana Soul: Chapter 63 - The Truth - Lena

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Lena stared down at the man beneath her while doing her best to stamp down the writhing mass of emotions boiling up inside of her. After years of waiting, after having given up hope of ever seeing him again, believing she would never be able to speak with him again, Lena had found him.

When Akane had returned to her and confirmed that he matched the description sans the tattoos, Lena had braced herself for another disappointment. But looking down at him now, even without his tattoos and apparently enduring some sort of illness, there was no way he couldn't be the man she was searching for.

He wasn’t exactly trying hard to hide himself either. Markus Farus was a thin disguise at best against anyone who knew his true name.

The Chimaera at his side was a surprise, and their romantic relationship even more so. Lena had never fought a chimaera that was nearly so powerful as this scaled one in front of her. While Lena was confident that she could beat the chimaera even barehanded, she wasn’t fond of the idea at all.

“What do you want?!” The chimaera spat angrily, glaring at Lena with hate-filled eyes and moving protectively in front of her lover.

Lena didn’t understand the individual words. Language had never been her strong suit, but she understood the intent well enough. “I came here to look for someone,” Lena said bluntly, struggling slightly with her English due to a lack of recent practice.

Unsurprisingly, the chimaera’s expression made it obvious that she didn’t understand a word Lena was saying. That was fine by Lena because the words weren’t for her anyway. They were for him.

All the same, the man lying prone on the floor only looked confused, “You know me?” He asked slowly, seeming to share a similar lack of practice.

That was not the response Lena had expected and for a moment she doubted herself. However, there was no denying it, that was Mark’s voice. “You do not recognise me?” Lena asked, struggling to keep the hurt and anger from her voice.

Mark stared at her for close to a minute, his eyes scanning her face with desperate intensity. However, Lena saw no signs of recognition behind them, only disappointment.

For a moment Lena didn’t understand how she could recognise her brother so clearly in spite of his changes, but he couldn’t recognise her own. Then Lena tried thinking back to when she had first arrived in the Golden Empire. She had only been fourteen, but had she changed so much since then?

Lena looked over her shoulder to ask Akane for her opinion but froze as Mark’s eyes fixed on her neck. More specifically, the scar only chimaeras should have been able to see.

The whites of Mark’s eyes turned black and his iris’ turned silver, just as they had done when he incapacitated Lena and destroyed her armour. His expression grew pained and a tear ran down his right cheek, “Badger?...” Mark croaked under his breath, almost too quietly for Lena to hear.

Lena froze. She could see the same confusion in his eyes as before, but now there was also a small degree of recognition as well.

“That’s why they wouldn’t...help...Aela...gurk!...” Mark’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, leaving only black orbs staring back at Lena as his body began to shudder and spasm.

“Markus!” The chimaera moved quickly, wedging the side of her hand between Mark’s teeth while straddling his body and firmly pinning his limbs to his sides.

Shocked by what she was seeing, Lena felt her warring emotions come to a head as she watched her brother fall into the grips of an intense seizure. The anger Lena felt for having been abandoned ebbed as she realised she might lose him again. Every spiteful demand and scathing rebuke she had committed to memory for the moment she would face him again, they all slipped away.

Lena would give it all up. Her anger, resentment, bitterness and demands. She would surrender it all, just to have her brother back.

Lena tried to move closer, but a firm hand on her shoulder held her in place.

“You can’t help him,” a gruff voice said quietly.

Lena stiffened, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end and her breath catching in her chest as she slowly turned her head to look at the golem holding her shoulder.

“Come with me, Lena,” the golem released Lena’s shoulder, the gems that served as its eyes briefly staring at her before the golem turned away and headed towards a door on the far side of the hall.

Momentarily torn, Lena realised that the golem was right. There was nothing she could do that the chimaera wasn’t doing already. With great reluctance, she began following the golem out of the hall.

Akane began to follow after her but was immediately restrained by one of the golems on watch. “Lena!” Akane called out in warning while reaching for her weapons.

“Akane! No!” Lena waved her friend down, “I’ll be alright, just stay here!”

Akane struggled a few moments longer before bowing her head and allowing the golem to restrain her.

“She will remain unharmed so long as she attempts no harm upon others,” Lena’s escort promised reassuringly.

Lena struggled to take in their shifting surroundings, her focus drawn back to the golem for reasons she didn’t fully understand. Its voice was similar to how she remembered Mark’s to be, but not the same. Deeper and older...

Lena froze in her tracks.

The golem stopped as well, but it made no signs of turning around to face her.

“He gave you dad’s voice,” Lena whispered quietly. Unsure if she should be horrified or intrigued, Lena could only continue staring at the golem.

“All will be explained,” the golem promised, “But only once we reach our destination.”

Drawn like a moth to an open flame, Lena continued following the golem through a small maze of passages and stairs before arriving at what she assumed was their intended destination.

The room was impressively large and had panels of glass or crystal mounted on every wall. Similarly, a huge wooden table in the centre of the room was covered in small crystal tiles. Even from this distance, Lena could see intricate webs of runes and sigils that streamed across their surfaces to form an even larger network of symbols.

“Enchantments within enchantments...” Lena breathed in awe, her personal Artificer would have given his right eye for just the opportunity to look upon a masterpiece such as this.

“Lena?” The voice came all around them, “Is it really you?...”

“Mark?” Lena recognised his voice almost immediately but didn’t understand. Mark was supposed to be back in the throne room, “Where are you? I can’t see you?”

There was a long silence.

Just as Lena was about to demand answers, the tiles atop the table flashed to life and a holographic rendering of Mark appeared on top of the table.

Broad-shouldered, stripped to the waist and covered in brightly glowing tattoos, Mark was easily over six feet tall and built like he lived at the gym. He was exactly as Lena remembered him, and a far cry from the shadow she had left behind in the throne room.

A spectral tear ran down Mark’s cheek as he crossed one arm over his chest and held the other hand over his mouth, “I thought I would never see you again...I...I’m sorry I couldn’t come get you like I promised...”

Lena wiped away the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and slowly began to approach the table, “Where...Where are you? Why are you using this hologram?”

Mark lowered the hand from his mouth and gave her an apologetic smile, “Like I said, I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise...”

Lena felt the warmth drain out of her body, leaving her hands numb, “I don’t understand...” She whispered fretfully, “Just come out from wherever you are hiding, and we can talk about this!”

With an expression of profound regret, Mark slowly shook his head, “I’m sorry Badger. I couldn’t keep my promise...Promise me you won’t blame yourself. Please. I loved-love you so much-”

Lena rounded on the golem, “Where is he?!” She demanded, grabbing hold of the golem’s uniform and using her supernatural strength to lift the golem off the ground.

The golem pointed towards the table.

Lena was about to begin shaking the golem when she realised the golem wasn’t pointing at the hologram, but a different part of the table entirely. Releasing the golem, Lena ran towards the place the golem had indicated and found a small drawer built into the side of the table.

Fumbling with the drawer handle, Lena wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but she had to find out all the same. Pulling open the drawer, Lena found a Ruby the size of her fist set into the bottom of the drawer. The ruby pulsed with a warm rhythmic light reminiscent of a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry Lena...” this time, Mark’s voice came from the ruby inside of the drawer.

“No...” Lena let go of the drawer and staggered backwards, “N-no...” tears began freely running down her cheeks and Lena couldn’t stop her hands from trembling, “NO!!!” She grabbed one of the chairs by the wall and smashed it against the floor, “THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! I FINALLY FOUND YOU AGAIN!”

Lena continued her rampage, smashing every article of furniture she could lay her hands on. Some of them were enchanted, but that only made her even angrier. By the time she had worn herself out, there wasn’t a single chair or bench left in the room.

Feeling someone laying hands on her, Lena prepared herself for the worst.

The golem who had brought her here gently embraced Lena and rested her head against its chest, “I am sorry for your loss,” there was pain in the golem’s voice that had not been there before.

Lena lost track of how long she cried into the golem’s chest, but the sound of approaching voices brought her back to herself again.

Mark’s hologram was still staring at her, but he was at the absolute edge of the table, apparently unable to go any further.

“How...” Lena’s voice failed her, so she took several calming breaths and tried again, “How did you die?” She whispered hoarsely.

Mark looked to the golem beside her, “She is nearly here?”

The golem nodded.

Mark bowed his head and nodded, “I will explain everything I can, but you just need to wait a little longer. Alright?”

Lena was about to ask why, but a familiar voice coming from outside in the corridor interrupted her.

“-be a damned good reason!” The scaly chimaera hissed fiercely, “I should be by Markus’s side, not meandering the passages of the castle!”

“All will be explained,” a gruff woman’s voice replied tersely, “And the Creator’s survival will depend upon the choices you will both have to make.”

The scaly chimaera was escorted into the room by one of the female modelled golems.

“You!” The chimaera bared her teeth at Lena, “I thought I smelt poisonous filth!”

Lena didn’t understand the words, but she was absolutely certain she had just been insulted.

“WAIT!” Mark demanded, stepping backwards and raising an arm for silence.

The chimaera spun on the spot, her teeth still bared. However, the moment she noticed Mark, her posture relaxed, “Markus?” She used the name of the sickly imposter from the throne room, apparently unable to tell the difference between them.

Mark slowly shook his head with a sad apologetic expression on his face, “Just Mark. I...I’m sorry about how our last conversation ended...I wasn’t in a particularly good state of mind,” he smiled slightly, perhaps having made some sort of joke, “All the same. I should have treated you better, and I apologise. There is no excuse for how I behaved.”

The chimaera’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, “The golem inside of the glass bead?”

Mark nodded, “I have since been resettled so my mind is not imposing on itself, but I am not a golem. I am memories given life. There is a small degree of difference.”

The chimaera frowned but slowly nodded in agreement with whatever Mark was saying.

The golem at the chimaera’s side offered her what looked curiously similar to a Bluetooth headset which the chimaera promptly settled over her ear.

“Markus is dying,” Mark stated sympathetically, focusing his attention more on the chimaera than Lena herself. “I’m sorry Aela, but he doesn’t have much time left.”

The chimaera, Aela, scowled, “I don’t believe you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me, especially given how we first met...But I am telling you the truth,” Mark insisted regretfully, “I need to show you something, both of you, and then you will need to make a choice.”

“You will need this,” the golem next to Lena insisted, producing another earpiece.

With a wave of his hand, Mark disappeared and then reappeared on a much smaller scale at the centre of the table. Only now he was wearing a ragged filthy t-shirt and jeans. Both articles of clothing were matted with fresh blood but revealed bare skin beneath the holes.

Lena felt the breath catch in her throat as she recognised the clothes as those he had worn when they last saw one another. After the building had collapsed on them, pinning him beneath the rubble and impaling his body on broken pieces of rebar.

Mark’s hologram was standing in what looked like an open field. The simulated environment only extended a dozen or so feet in any given direction, so it was difficult to be sure.

A swarm of projectiles struck Mark in the front and back, shredding the T-shirt off of his chest and exposing his tattoos. With each impact, the tattoos flashed and arrows shattered into hails of splinters.

Shielding his eyes with his left forearm, Mark began to run, causing more arrows to miss than not.

However, an armoured knight came charging in from his left with a hammer raised in preparation to deliver a killing blow.

Mark leapt into a tumbling roll, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have dashed his brains out.

Another knight came charging in from the right with a spear, catching Mark before he could get to his feet, and driving him back down to the ground.

Knocking the spear to the side, Mark scrambled to his feet and revealed he was unharmed. Instead of trying to run, Mark clenched his fists and lunged at the first knight. Defying all reason, Mark delivered a hammer blow to the knight's breastplate with his right fist, crumpling the metal like tinfoil before delivering a roundhouse kick to the second knight’s head, mangling the helmet into scrap.

More knights began charging into the fray, moving with a speed only Warriors were capable of.

Mark snatched up the first knight’s hammer and the surface of the hammer lit up like the sun. As the light ebbed, large runes could now be seen glowing on its surface.

A sword slammed down on Mark’s shoulder and his tattoos flared in response causing the blade to fall from its owner’s hands.

Mark spun on the spot, swinging the hammer wide, catching the man’s arm and driving through the steel like it was water.

Releasing the hammer, Mark used his right foot to kick the second knight’s spear off the ground and into his hand.

Despite their speed, none of the knights seemed capable of delivering an injury of any kind, and one by one, their numbers began to dwindle as Mark turned their own weapons against them. Fourteen knights already lay dead or unconscious, but there was no way of knowing how many remained.

It was looking like Mark would be able to fight his way clear. However, a pair of larger knights tackled Mark and knocked him to the ground while a third, placed a bare hand against Mark’s upper left arm.

There was a bright flash of light and then Mark's struggling began in earnest. His tattoos were gone.

With seemingly little effort, the two large knights began to beat Mark senseless. Each blow caused the holograms to become more indistinct and blurry until it was almost impossible to make out any forms of detail at all.

One of the large knights fell away, his body pressing into the ground as Mark made one final desperate attempt at escape.

The other knight struck Mark in the back of the head, causing everything to blur and stutter as Mark fell to the ground. Drawing what looked like a large knife from his belt, the knight raised it in preparation to deliver the killing blow, and Lena felt her heart skip a beat as she realised she was about to watch her brother’s final moments.

“Wait, he will have the answers we seek.” The voice was heavily distorted and almost completely inaudible, but Lena was more surprised by the fact she could understand what was being said at all. The man was almost certainly speaking some derivative dialect of French, but somehow the earpiece was translating and overwriting his words so Lena could understand. “Bring him.”

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The hologram faded away entirely and was then replaced.

Mark was now kneeling in a stone cell. His wrists were bound by manacles hanging from chains supported by a steel loop in the stone ceiling above him. Wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, it was painfully clear that Mark’s tattoos were all gone. Which for an Artificer, meant he was entirely defenceless.

“Oh no...” Aela gasped, “Nonono, I don’t want to see this!”

Confused, Lena was shocked to see the look of apprehension and pain on the chimaera’s face.

A large man in dark clothing and wearing a black leather hood entered the cell with a cudgel at the ready. Without saying a word, he cracked Mark on the head and the hologram faded away.

“Tell me what I want to know, and the pain will stop, I promise you,” the distorted voice sneered contemptuously as a new hologram took shape.

Mark was suspended in the centre of a room covered in mirrors. Bound to a wide steel frame, and his head directed towards a cluster of mirrors that provided a complete view of the room and his own exposed body, Lena now understood what the chimaera had been afraid of. They were going to torture him.

Dressed in black, a young looking man with a pale blonde neatly trimmed moustache and goatee entered the room with a leather bundle slung under one arm. Laying the bundle down on a table by the wall, the young man unrolled the leather to reveal an exotic collection of knives, pliers, tweezers and a whole mess of other tools Lena didn’t recognise.

Fitting a black bandana over his long pale blonde hair, the young man repeated the process, tying a second bandana loosely over his nose, mouth and neck. “Now, where shall we start?” He chuckled darkly while running his fingers over his many tools.

“I won’t tell you anything...” Mark grunted defiantly.

“Hrm? Oh, well, perhaps it is for the best that I brought my friends with me then?” The young man chuckled, his voice distorting to accentuate the sinister implications of his intentions.

The brute that had clubbed Mark unconscious earlier, loomed into view and forced a gag into Mark’s mouth before tying a cord around his head to hold it in place. “Ready, Highness,” he grunted sycophantically while backing away and rubbing his hands together.

Mark struggled but couldn’t move even a fraction of an inch, held completely immobile by the excessive number of restraints.

Aela backed away towards the door, slowly shaking her head and whimpering. Her hands were clamped over her mouth and she seemed unable to take her eyes off of Mark’s hologram.

Lena was about to question the chimaera’s role in it all, but froze as the young man in the hologram approached Mark with a pair of flensing knives.

“It’s not every day I get an opportunity to indulge myself, so I apologise if I come across as over eager,” the young man stated with amusement, his dark eyes flashing hungrily, “Now, what was it you otherworlders love to say? Oh! That’s right!” His eyes sparkled with malice as he grinned behind the bandana shielding his lower face, “Thank you for the meal!”

Lena looked on in horror as the man proceeded to make light incisions into Mark’s flesh, beginning with his right hand. Using tiny hooks and a smaller sharper blade, he then pulled entire sections of skin free of the muscles beneath and drew them taught towards the steel frame. Moving on from Mark’s hand, he repeated the process with Mark’s arm.

Over the course of an hour, Lena witnessed Mark being taken apart piece by piece. Skin, muscle, and tendons were left hanging from exposed bones, a grotesque mockery of the human form laid bare. Through it all, Mark had survived. He was still alive, his lungs now laid bare upon his back, inflating and deflating with each agonising breath.

Through it all Mark had been forced to watch. His eyelids had been peeled and pinned to his brow to prevent him from looking away as his body was taken apart.

Just as Lena was convinced it couldn’t grow worse, the man began putting Mark back together again.

In the process of carefully replacing each piece back where it belonged, the young man would fuss and dither with that same amused tone of voice. As a blessing or curse, he seemed equally well suited to surgery as butchery, returning Mark to a state of relative completeness with finesse and grace most plastic surgeons would be envious of.

Then, and only then, did he place a bare hand on Mark’s back, “And now, I will make you whole again.”

A bright glow emanated from his hand and swept through Mark’s body. Seams reknit together and sources of swelling subsided while tendons writhed like serpents as they repositioned themselves beneath his skin. In less than a minute, Mark was restored to what approximated peak physical health.

“Remove the gag,” the young man said in a bored tone, “It’s time he answered our questions.”

The brute hurried to obey, manipulating chains by the wall to draw the steel frame into an upright position. With that accomplished, he ripped the gag from Mark’s mouth and gave him a light slap across the face, “Wakey wakey, hehe.”

“Won't...tell...” Mark gasped weakly.

The young man pulled down the cloth that had been covering his face and motioned to the door, “Be a dear and fetch me the scourge would you? There's a good simpleton.”

“Yes, Highness. Of course, Highness!” The brute agreed eagerly, hurrying out of the room.

“This would be so much simpler, easier, if you cooperated,” the young man stated conversationally, “Not that I mind, of course, I quite enjoy digging to the truth of such things.” He smiled as he carefully cleaned his instruments without sparing Mark a single glance. “I know your sort, you know. Always believed they would be the one not to break, to weather it all and come out the other end unscathed with their duty unsullied,” he smirked to himself and looked at his reflection, admiring it for a few moments, “It always seems to come as such a surprise when they break. And they do break, just like any other man. It is only ever a matter of time, a matter of how much can be taken before the mind collapses and all morality is abandoned altogether. I considered writing a book on it, you know? But it wouldn’t do for a Crowned Prince to be associated so openly with such things...” he sounded disappointed.

The brute returned shortly afterwards with a nine-tailed whip lined with sharp pieces of metal. Bowing deeply he offered the whip to the young man and then backed away.

“Last chance?” The young man offered with an evil grin, his dark eyes glittering with malice, “No? Alright then!”

Lena winced as the tails of the whip struck Mark’s back and then dug blood furrows from his shoulders to the small of his back. With each strike, the pieces of metal ripped flesh apart and sent blood spattering to the floor. The whipping didn’t end until Mark’s back was torn asunder and bone could be seen beneath the welling blood.

“Nothing?” The man asked with only a hint of disappointment, “Oh well, there is always tomorrow.” He callously slapped his bare hand on Mark’s ruined back, grinning gleefully as Mark screamed in pain. A faint glow spread from his hand and into Mark’s wounds, drawing the ragged ends of flesh together and making them whole once more. “Just remember, I can keep this up as long as I need to,” he promised, “Resisting only hurts you in the long run.”

The hologram faded.

Lena blinked for what felt like the first time in hours. When she opened her eyes, she found the hologram had begun anew, this time with Mark hanging in his original cell. Every injury inflicted and healed as part of the torture now shone with a nearly imperceptible silver light. However, quite suddenly new lines of silver appeared alongside those from before.

Looking at the hologram as a whole, Lena realised she was witnessing a time-lapse. Bearing in mind the promise of Mark’s tormentor, Lena could only assume that the time-lapse was representing a single frame for each day that passed. If she hadn’t been so thoroughly numbed by what she had witnessed already, Lena would have fled the room like the chimaera had earlier.

Days passed by in seconds, aggregating an ever larger number of scars and exacerbating the fine surgical lines into greater prominence.

When the time-lapse ended, it caught Lena by surprise. She had been trying to keep a rough count but lost track when she reached just over a thousand.

Throughout it all, Mark had remained in peak physical condition. His captors had even gone so far as to trim his nails and hair. However, Mark’s eyes had grown dull and listless. Whatever fight there had once been was now well and truly gone.

“It’s strange that I have known you so long, yet still do not know your name,” the man commented as he entered Mark’s cell. He was a little older and had grown his moustache and goatee together into a neat beard instead. “Not that I suppose it matters much anymore,” He tilted his head to see if Mark would react and when Mark didn’t, the man shrugged, “Won’t be the first time a nameless wretch died in one of these cells, and certainly won’t be the last. I should expect the girl will enjoy my company as much as you have.” This time he seemed quite disappointed that Mark didn’t react to his deliberate goading. “A broken toy is of no use to me...” he muttered and headed for the door.

Minutes passed by and Lena wasn’t sure what she was meant to look out for.

Then Mark began to move. Mark rose slowly and quietly to his feet while straining his chains to prevent them from making any noise. Now on his feet, Mark carefully took hold of his chains with each hand and brought them together.

Taking a firm grip on both chains, he began to pull himself towards the loop on the ceiling. Sweating profusely and with muscles straining, Mark released his right hand from the iron ring and placed the inside of his wrist in his mouth. The sigil that marked him as a hero disappeared as Mark tore the skin away with his teeth.

Blood began running down his right arm, but Mark hurriedly turned his arm the other way around to reverse the flow to the manacle instead.

With a mounting sense of dread, Lena realised what Mark was about to attempt.

The manacles were fixed so tightly that they bit into his flesh and most likely pressed against bone. Even if Mark broke his thumbs, it wouldn’t allow him to slip free. However, if the manacle and surrounding area were sufficiently lubricated, breaking his wrist might do the trick.

Sure enough, just as Lena feared, Mark closed his eyes and moved his lips as if performing some sort of countdown to gather his nerves. Then, without any further warning, he let go.

With a wet crunch, Mark’s right hand came free of the manacle just as he was about to hit the ground, causing him to jerk wildly before finishing his fall. No longer held in place by Mark’s right hand, the chain rattled noisily through the ring in the ceiling until the manacle caught in the ring.

Wheezing and grimacing in pain, Mark struggled to his feet and pressed his right wrist against his chest while looking around the cell. It was just as empty as it had been before, only now it had a few spattering of blood on the floor.

Mark tried awkwardly flicking the chain with his left hand to try and free the manacle from the ring, but it didn’t work.

Worse still, playing with the chain, or perhaps the noise generated from his fall had brought unwanted attention.

“OI! What you doing?!” The brute demanded from the other side of the cell door, “Stop that!”

There was a rattling of keys and the door to the cell was flung open as the brute charged inside.

Mark backed away from the advancing brute, warily eyeing the cudgel in the brute’s raised fist.

“Highness say ARGH!” The brute’s advance was halted abruptly as Mark ducked under the clumsy swing of the cudgel and kicked the brute in the groin.

Ignoring the cudgel that was now clattering to the ground, Mark looped the length of chain around the kneeling brute’s neck and pulled hard with both hands. Crying out in pain, Mark kept pulling on the chain until the brute stopped struggling.

When the brute collapsed, there was an audible crack as his head distended from his neck and a clang as the manacle was bent through the ring in the ceiling and struck the wall. Mark pulled off his feet by the sudden shift in weight, but rather than getting up right away, he awkwardly pawed at the brute’s clothes before staring fixedly at the door.

Carefully unwrapping the chain from around the brute’s neck, Mark got to his feet and cautiously approached the door. His right wrist was already beginning to swell and his hand would soon become entirely compromised. Retrieving the keys from the other side of the door, Mark was now standing in a dark passageway as he clumsily worked at removing the manacle from his left wrist.

Leaving the cell behind, Mark began to stagger down the passageway while drawing sigils on his chest, arms and face with his own blood. Unlike his tattoos, the bloody sigils remained inert, little more than carnal decorations.

Using the keys taken from the brute, Mark was able to pass through a dozen or so locked doors before quite abruptly staggering through a large set of doors and into the light of day. Dazzled by the sudden change in light, Mark didn’t see the soldier creeping up behind him, or those leveling their crossbows in front of him.

Three crossbow bolts buried themselves in Mark’s chest just as the soldier behind him slammed Mark in the back with his shield, driving Mark to the ground and pushing the heads of the crossbow bolts out through his back.

Mark gasped and coughed, struggling to breathe as his lungs began to fill with blood.

“Why do you want me to see this?...” Lena demanded quietly, “Why did I need to see any of this?...”

“Save...” Mark clawed at the ground ahead of him, trying to pull himself forwards, “Her...” Each breath was spattering his lips and chin with more blood as his lungs drowned in his own blood. Making negligible headway, Mark didn’t stop trying, continuing to desperately fumble for purchase on the worn flagstones ahead of him. “Save...Her...” A manic intensity had returned to Mark’s eyes, a refusal to accept what was already a foregone conclusion.

“You can’t escape,” the all too familiar voice of ‘his Highness’ sneered contemptuously.

Mark continued to struggle forward, managing less than a half inch of progress while blood continued to pool around him and stain the flagstones.

“Are you truly so naive as to believe that the hero always wins in the end?” The Prince snickered cruelly, “Did you really think your little ploy could keep her from us?”

Mark retched and a stream of blood spattered over his lips and onto the ground. He continued to struggle forwards, his own blood allowing smoother passage over the flagstones.

“We found her, you know?” The Prince taunted cruelly as if he knew Mark would not be able to ignore his claim.

Sure enough, Mark’s progress halted as he tried to look up towards the face of the prince who was casually approaching Mark in turn.

Dressed in fine clothes fitting a sixteenth-century French nobleman, the Prince would have cut a handsome figure if it weren't for his cruel eyes and sadistic grin. “Our men are moving in even now,” he taunted, “All of this,” the Prince gestured at Mark in amusement, “Your sacrifices. I just wanted to let you know it was all for nothing.”

Mark’s face contorted in pain and rage, “Save her!...” He growled, prompting another fit of coughing and retching.

No doubt interpreting his words as a threat, the soldiers closed in around Markus, drawing their swords and preparing to hack him to pieces.

“Stay your blades!” The Prince barked in amusement, immediately causing the soldiers to back away a short distance from Mark, but not leave him alone entirely.

“Save her…” Mark repeated, blood spilling over his lips as he gasped for air.

“So keen to feel my loving touch?” The Prince teased happily, squatting just outside of Mark’s reach, “Oh don’t worry, I have learned so much from our time together, enough that even now you are not beyond saving.” The Prince’s smile widened as he languidly rose to a standing position again, “We are going to spend much more time together-urk!”

Suddenly lurching forwards, Mark had managed to grab hold of the Prince’s left ankle. With a wordless savage howl, he viciously yanked the Prince off his feet.

“Wh-what are you doing?!” The Prince demanded in a panic, flailing his arms and legs in an attempt to buck Mark off of him.

All the while, weathering the Prince’s abuse, Mark dragged himself along the Prince’s body until they were face to face. With a hoarse gurgle, Mark locked his fingers around the Prince's neck.

“Urk-Kill-Urgh-Him!” The Prince gasped desperately, his dark eyes wide wih terror as he continued thrashing and clawing at Mark with a desperation born of sheer terror.

The soldiers stabbed Mark in the back, but he ignored them and somehow mustered enough strength to break the prince’s neck.

“S-a-v-e...H-e-r…” Mark gurgled as he collapsed beside the Prince’s corpse.

Looking at one another in terror, the soldiers slowly backed away.

“Not taking the blame for this!” One of them grunted, turning tail and running away.

The two remaining soldiers looked at one another for a moment and then did the same.

Struggling for every breath, and already as pale as death, Mark took a firm hold of the Prince’s hand. Lips moving without the breath to form the words, Mark’s eyes began to close.

The prince’s corpse began to buck and spasm, his head jerking from one side to another before settling back into place with a meaty crack.

Fearing that the Prince was somehow reviving himself, Lena was even more horrified when she noticed the features of the Prince’s face had begun to shift and change as the bones and muscles beneath the skin migrated seemingly of their own accord. Similarly, the pigment of the prince’s hair turned a dark reddish brown.

Mark gasped his final breath and the hologram's focus shifted to the body of the Prince. Now settled, the Prince looked like a more sickly version of Mark himself, a near match for the imposter she had encountered...in..the...throne...room...

“Oh no...” Already profoundly emotionally exhausted, Lena reached for her sword. There was no way she would allow her brother’s murderer to continue living one second longer.

“Wait,” the golem beside her insisted with a pleading tone, “You must understand.”

The Prince, now wearing her brother’s face, opened his eyes and gasped for air. Hands covered in Mark’s blood as a result of attempting to fight him off, the Prince stared at his hands in horror before fretfully rubbing at his clothes in an attempt to clean away the blood. In doing so, he accidentally bumped Mark’s body.

Eyes wide with terror, the Prince looked down at the face that was a mirror to his own and collapsed into a seizure.

The scene faded and was replaced by another following the Prince as we wandered aimlessly through a forest. Judging by the filth accumulated on his clothes, and the amount of facial hair he had grown, Lena guessed at a number of months having passed since his miraculous revival. Eyes wide with the intensity of the crazed, the prince was repeating the same words over and over again under his breath as he pushed onward through the forest, “Save her...Save her...Save her...”

“Do you understand now?” The golem asked.

Lena tightened her grip on her sword, “The Prince became mentally deranged. What of it? He deserves to die for what he has done!”

The golem shook its head, “The Prince survives. That is true. But so too does what remains of your brother. The Creator was your brother’s final creation. A repository for his memories, a lingering force to seek you out and protect you from those who would wish to harm you.”

Mark appeared once more as a hologram, healthy, hale and unharmed. However, his expression was one of profound regret. “Markus and the Prince are not the same person, Lena. If you had the time to get to know him, I think you would be able to realise that for yourself. But the Prince is undoing my enchantments at the roots, tearing Markus apart at the seams. He doesn’t deserve to die, not like this, not after all he has suffered.”

“Why tell me this? Why show me any of this?!” Lena demanded hoarsely, “Was this some cruel attempt at closure? For fucksake Mark, You could have just said they killed you and I would have taken your word for it!”

“I wasn’t the only one who suffered. That’s the point, Lena,” Mark replied sympathetically, “Markus remembers it all, and it broke him. What we experienced literally drove him insane-”

“But he’s not you!” Lena hissed, “He murdered you!”

“Markus did no such thing!” Mark rebuked forcefully, “He’s an innocent in all this! Worse than that! He’s suffering, dying, because I was arrogant enough to believe I could cheat death without consequences! I could have just made a flesh golem to seek you out, but I didnt...I wanted...I wanted to see you again, Lena...I wanted to know all the pain was worth it...That you were safe...”

“Well he didn’t find me,” Lena countered, wiping away the tears forming at the corner of her eyes, “All he did was play house and set up his own little kingdom!”

“Everything he has done, has been driven by the need to try and find you, to keep you safe...” Mark replied quietly, “I feel ashamed of how little free will he truly has when all things are considered. Every action he has taken has been motivated by the need to find you or be found by you. Despite his shortcomings and the setbacks he faced along the way, here you are.”

“You’re saying he did all this so I would find him?” Lena scoffed dismissively.

“I am not just saying it, I know he did,” Mark insisted with absolute certainty.

Lena brooded in silence as she mentally reviewed the events that had led her to investigate Markus in person. Tracing the information back to its source, she realised Mark might have a point. The tip had been provided by a southern merchant interrogated by one of her spies. In hindsight, the description had been the most complete to date, by a significant margin. Someone had planted the information to provoke her into action.

“It was Peabody,” Mark explained, guessing at her thought process in only the way he could, “Not the broker, but a copy Markus made to handle his business affairs.”

“He made a copy of Peabody?” Lena demanded incredulously, “How?”

“It was part of a contingency plan actually and was either incredibly good luck or a nascent memory that was responsible for Markus stumbling upon it. It’s important to understand that the golems Markus creates hold impressions of people drawn from his subconscious...Like Hector,” Mark pointed to the golem standing beside Lena. “You probably already realised that he sounded familiar, right?”

Lena’s jaw dropped as she slowly looked at the golem, “Dad?” Her memories of their father felt so distant. Lena had been so young when he had died...When mom had left them all alone...

“Sweetheart,” the golem rumbled affectionately.

“Hector isn’t our father, Lena. But he has all of my impressions of him, drawn from my memories to fill out his personality and behaviour...Although, at this stage, I suppose I am as much of an impression as he is,” Mark mused quietly.

“You would have more memories of dad than I do...” Lena mumbled, her rationality warring against a tide of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Lena, I hope this has tempered your view towards Markus, because there is a decision I need the both of you to make,” Mark nodded to Lena and then towards the door.

Aela, the chimaera was slowly making her way back into the room, but the look on her face was haunting. Then again, Lena supposed she must look quite a sight herself. “What is it?” She croaked, “Tell me so I can go back to Markus already...”

Lena looked toward Mark expectantly.

“There is no gentle way to put this, so I will be blunt,” Mark warned sympathetically, “Markus is dying. The two sources of mana in ‘his’ body are vying for dominance, and Markus is losing. The more mana he uses, the more of a stranglehold the other mana gets, and the weaker Markus becomes.” Mark paused to let that information sink in for a moment before continuing, “I have a plan to save Markus, but it isn’t guaranteed to work and there are a number of inherent risks-”

“Do it,” Aela hissed determinedly, “A chance is better than death.”

Mark flinched, no doubt thinking about how he had already expressed regrets over that very same justification. “I need to explain the risks first,” Mark insisted, “And...And I have a request of my own.”

A silence settled on the room.

Mark looked at Lena with a profoundly exhausted look in his eyes, “Lena...I want you to help me die...”