Chapter 27: Chapter 26: Waxing Crescent

Aoife’s POV

Rob had grown significantly, becoming even larger than Erica was. His 11 foot frame dominated the space, and he laughed triumphantly. As he did though, I realized something: This room was tiny and windowless, and its walls were made of stone. More importantly, I was now closest to the door. If he thought I was going to fight him, he was dead wrong. Before Rob had even finished laughing, I yanked the door open and ran out, sprinting down the relatively wide corridor on the other side. When I risked a glance behind me, I saw exactly what I’d hoped for. Rob was stuck part  way through the door, wriggling through it inch by inch on his side, his titanic size now proving to be far more of a hindrance than a help.

I dashed around the corner at the far end of the hallway, sprinting onwards with little care for where I was going. I was underground, somehow, in what appeared to be an expansive, well developed basement that spanned a significant portion of the village. Was this Cyrus’ lair? Did real dragons even have those? Did I want one? I slapped myself on the cheek as I jogged to a stop. Priorities Aoife, you can think about lairs and hoards and stuff later. I needed to get my bearings and think this through.

For whatever reason, Cyrus wanted me alive, otherwise he would’ve killed me in my sleep. Not only that, he actually seemed opposed to the idea of hurting me. A being of his power should’ve had no trouble subduing me physically, especially before I realized what I was, but he’d chosen instead to wear me down with (what had Rob called it?) presence. All that led me to the conclusion that the bedroom I’d woken up in was near the center of this complex, a place that would be difficult to escape and difficult for any would be rescuer or assailant to reach, but I’d spent so much time running that my bearings were completely lost. If Erica was in here, she’d probably be near the center as well, but I had no clue how I’d find my way back there, or how I’d deal with Rob if he’d managed to crawl out.

I swung open the door to a side room, I’d hide in there while I figured this out. At least, that was the plan. As I passed through the doorway into some kind of large storage closet, I heard a click to my right, followed by a voice.

“Hands up. Don’t scream.”

I was getting real tired of being held at gunpoint.

I looked over towards the voice’s source. Cass had a revolver inches away from me, lined up with my forehead. Slowly, I raised my hands over my head, taking a deep breath as I did. My human lungs probably wouldn’t have the same kick as a proper dragon’s, but I bet they’d do the job here. With a quick little puff of air, a thick mist engulfed the pistol, freezing the barrel and causing Cass to drop it. Of course she was in on this too, for all I knew, even the damn kid, Derek, I think, was probably involved. I raised a clawed hand and bared my teeth.

“Where. Is. Erica?”

Each word came out in a hiss, with a little puff of freezing fog accompanying them. Something flashed behind Cass’ eyes, recognition maybe? Her mouth dropped open and she stared at me, slack jawed, before she finally came to her senses a few seconds later, recovering enough to speak.

“A?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah. A. I go by Aoife now though, if that makes any difference to you Cyrus worshiping bastards. Now where the fuck is Erica?”

“But I thought- You were supposed to be- How did you even get down here? You were locked in a house on the surface. Erica saw Cyrus carry you in! Are you al-”

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I growled, low and bestial, so deeply inhuman it surprised me. Somehow, Cass was completely unphased.

“Fine! Fine! Take a right out of this room, left at the second intersection, take the next right, and she’ll be in the 43rd door on the right. Now then young lady, or… wait… Erica said you like to be called they, right? Sorry… Anyways, are you going to answer my questions now? How did you get down here? Are you ok? Would you like my help getting your friend back?”

Wait what?

“Wait what?!? So you don’t work for Cyrus?!?”

“What? No, you silly gi- you silly they! I saw the bastard kidnap Erica, and I’ve been trying to find a way to bust her out ever since!”

Ok, this was gonna need some explanation. What the hell had happened while I was asleep? Just how long had I been sleeping anyways? I sat down and asked my questions, and Cass was more than willing to answer.

When I’d fallen unconscious, she’d been assigned to guard the room I was resting in. Cyrus and Rob had told everyone else that I was suffering from some sort of obscure magical disease, and by exerting some kind of strange influence over the emotions of the villagers (it was definitely presence), nobody thought to question it. The day after I passed out, Erica had tried to get into the room that I was - supposedly - being kept in, and that led to a conversation that brought the both of them closer together. It also led to Cass’ discovery of Rob and Cyrus’ wrongdoing. Erica had apparently dropped her pack and not noticed with how emotional things had been, so Cass had grabbed the thing and jogged to catch up. It was only because of this one coincidence that Cass had happened to be there when Cyrus and Rob suddenly turned on Erica, knocking her unconscious before dragging her into a cellar. When she began investigating the cellar itself, she eventually found a hidden trapdoor leading deeper down into this underground complex.

“Eventually, after a long and careful search, I found her. Strung up and… bleeding. I wanted to just rush in and save her then and there, but she wasn’t alone. Cyrus has her under guard, and there’s some… thing watching over her.”

We needed a plan, and we needed one fast. Erica was being bled dry, and by now Rob would’ve certainly gotten out into the hall. We weren’t out of options though, I was just as much of a “thing” as whatever was guarding Erica, and with Cass’ help, I was sure we could figure something out. It would turn out we had less time than anticipated though, as I heard footsteps coming closer from the hall.

“You’ve disappointed me, Little Moon. Are you truly so willful? Do you really wish to be damned? How about you and the traitor come on out of that closet, and we’ll have a conversation about your behavior, Moonlight?”

With that, the door swung open once again, and there he was. Cyrus, the golden bastard, in all his glory.

I had about two seconds to process what I was seeing before his presence slammed into me like a freight train.

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