(From the point of view of Violet Belladonna)

***

Death carries a lot of emotions, and it tells plenty of stories. The grief of betrayal, the tragedy of abandonment, the hopelessness of the inevitable, the fear of god, the euphoria of the sweet release, the melancholy of a broken dream, and the anger of a defeated soldier—death speaks of anguish in its purest form. One may know everything about a person once they exhaled their final breath. That few seconds of life is when they showed their absolute truth in their eyes as their soul escapes the confines of their feeble bodies.

Death is passionate. Dying is filled with feelings. It has a life, and that is the greatest irony of it all. Death is the only thing in this world that speaks more about the truth of life itself.

But this…

This thing before my very eyes, it has… nothing.

It's unfeeling, impassionate, emotionless, and whimsical. It looks like someone killed them, and that's about it. There is no weight placed in this massacre—it feels like someone did it just so whoever did this can get it over with as soon as possible.

It's cold and empty.

I stared at that damn that fell beside my feet head for a good few seconds before my mind started to drift back to reality.

"Mada… Bel… Don…"

However, the corpse's eyes kept pulling me back towards the darkness, towards the emptiness in my heart, forcing me to see all these deaths permeating the surroundings.

"Madam… Bellad…"

The unnerving stench of death... paired with the burnt aroma of melting steel...

"Madame Belladonna!"

The sound of muffled screams coming from afar—some sounded nearer—and the cries of the survivors...

"Madame Belladonna, are you there?"

This feeling of dread and disgust I… I could even taste it at the tip of my tongue.

So bitter.

A sharp feeling snapped my senses back to its proper places in my head. It came from my shoulder, and it felt like a ripple of force ripped through my muscles and traveled throughout the nerves in my body in one swift movement.

I realized that the man standing before me, Sir Damian, who was looking at me with an expression similar to that of the gargoyles on the walls of the empire, scowling with utmost anger, shook my body, and that passion-filled moment brought me back to reality. Thus, a realization hit me: if we don't move now, we'd end up just like them, just like this mutilated head staring intently at me.

"I'm sorry, I…" I said, wide-eyed while looking at my surroundings, dumbfounded at my paralysis. "I didn't know what happened. It's so… I…"

"I understand, Madame Belladonna, but we need to move now. If we don't," Sir Damian then pointed at the rotting carcasses of the ones proud soldiers of Izrecael scattered about the once bright streets of Ur, "we're next."

I nodded; without another word, I rushed towards the catacombs. The princes are still sleeping soundly on my arms all thanks to my magic. They all looked so peaceful, not knowing that their death is just a few steps beyond the chaos rummaging beyond the ravaged desolation outside of the city. Meanwhile, their salvation lies beyond this narrow, dark entrance towards the resting place of the dead.

As soon as I stepped into the gates leading towards the catacombs, I saw an endlessly stretching stairway, leading to further shadows and malignant darkness that lay dormant underneath the empire. However, once I allowed my body to be swallowed by the allure of the darkness lurking within, my body came to a halt. Electricity surged all over me, and my feet felt as if it's sinking on the hard concrete floor.

Finally, I cracked the code! My stunned reaction earlier was not a feeling of dread upon seeing all those dead people.

No... it was a spell!

The spell continued to penetrate through the crevices of my veins, becoming even stronger, stranger—more unique and less subtle—localized entirely from one single caster. This all meant one thing, of course...

The person responsible for this binding is nearby.

"What are you doing, Madame Belladonna, let's go!"

What?

Sir Damian, whose shout echoed throughout the walls of the catacombs, commanded with much impatience in his voice.

Perhaps, the spell does not affect everyone in the vicinity; if that's the case, then the caster might be weaker than I thought. Forget that for now; I still can't get out of here even if I wanted because of this spell rooting me on the spot…

"Let's go!" His booming voice vibrated into my right ear as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. By the time his skin contacted mine, I had started moving again as if nothing had happened.

"Wait, stop." I shrieked, almost tripping. "What just happened?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The spell, what did you do with the spell?"

"I'm... not sure I can follow your question."

"Oh, for crying out loud, look I…" I turned my body around to face his direction behind me, and that's when I saw it. The soldiers behind us are all stunned with resentful and confused expressions, unable to move, just like I was earlier. "Look, Sir Damian, see for yourself. Look!" I pointed behind him.

"What? I…" When he looked at the direction I was pointing at, his face grew pale. "What is happening?"

"Magic, Sir Damian, somebody cast a spell around us. Only the gods know how powerful that spell is, but it prevented all of us from moving," I exclaimed as I waved my hand from my side upward, which made it look like I'm slapping the air before me; when I did so, a floating green crystal followed the movement of my hands like its tailing my fingertips and hovered in front of me. I then continued what I was saying with a puzzled expression, "except you."

As I breathed deeply while my eyes glowed slowly, Sir Damian sputtered, "It's hard to explain, Madame. It's a matter of my blood; the point is, those things you magic people do, it doesn't work on me, it doesn't work on everyone in my family."

"Convenient," I replied while the green orb hovering around my fingertips glowed and sent a ripple of energy headed towards the stunned soldier near the entryway of the catacombs. "so that's why the king gave you a high potion earlier instead of instructing me to heal you instead."

After a few seconds, the unmoving soldiers before us glowed, and one after another, their stiffened bodies started to twitch and flinch once again. They gasped and panted as soon as they took their dominion over their bodies back from those who trampled over them with underhanded wizardry.

"Yes, Madame." Replied Sir Damian with an awestruck expression on his face. His jaw dropped when he saw the soldiers started moving again.

"Not convenient," I replied as I slapped the air once again; this time, it's in the direction of the back of my hand. With it, the green orb orbited around me once again. "soldiers, that spell you saw all over you granted your bodies a strong immunity against that puny spell you suffered from earlier... as well as many other spells out there. I'm not sure exactly how strong the mage we're dealing with is, but I learned that spell I cast towards you from the queen; you best believe that it's the greatest spell you'll ever receive in your life." I then scoffed as I pointed my forefinger at the soldiers while leaning my upper body forward slightly towards them with my other hand on my waist. "No matter how strong they are, the queen's spells are still far, far better!"

"Thank you, Madame!" The soldiers said one after another as they all jumped around with glee.

"You must forgive me, spells like this take a lot of energy to cast, and I do not have a lot of energy stored in my body right now nor do we have potion vials that could help us out, so I will use these powerful spells sparingly. I hope you understand."

Before the soldiers could reply, Sir Damian spoke once more in his usual booming voice. "Brothers, I have a favor to ask of you in the name of your king!"

"Speak, brother."

"If we intend to let the princes escape these catacombs alive, then I wish to request five of you, brothers, to defend the entrance to the catacombs in the event that the enemy follows our tracks. I know you might feel reluctant to do what I am about to request, but..."

"Why would we feel reluctant to protect the escape of our princes, brother?"

"Brothers…" Sir Damian replied with a downcast gaze. "You might die."

One soldier took a breath as he heard Sir Damian's words. He turned around to face his back towards us. "Brother…" He whispered loud enough for us to understand. "That was all you had to say."

Sir Damian touched his chest, resting his hand on the sigil of Izrecael: an image of a hawk facing forward with its wings extended to its sides and its claws lunging towards those before them. "Let those who stand before us bleed."

"Our wings will be the last thing they'll see." The soldier chuckled. "You won't accompany us, brother?"

Sir Damian closed his eyes with an explicit form of pain written all over his face. "I would love to, brother, but the Madame does not have the luxury to use her abilities anytime she likes…" A loud thud outside of the catacombs halted Sir Damian's words. "I will be much more useful if I am around her and the princes."

"Why is that?" The soldiers asked with his head turned towards us.

Sir Damian wrapped his arms around my shoulders as he replied, "I am a Carmichael, brother."

Upon hearing this, the soldiers said nothing more and merely nodded their heads as five of them faced the entrance of the catacombs. The three others—I do not know the whereabouts of the other two soldiers who had come with us—followed us as we descended the spiral staircase leading to the princes' salvation.

As our path grew darker, the light coming from my orbs was the remaining source of light we had, so I waved my hands forward for them to float before us so we may know what lies beyond these ancient steps of seemingly never-ending spirals of darkness.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

As the breeze grew colder, and the surroundings got quieter, the only thing I could hear is the echoing sounds of our footsteps and the clanking of the soldiers' armor; the sound of steel continued to destroy the peace of the dear departed sleeping beneath the confines of this dreaded entombment.

Tak… Tak… Tak…

The sound of water droplets echoed around us as it hit the dark, damp, and cold concrete floor of the entryway towards the catacombs as if the spirits themselves gave life to the small drops of water so that they could voice out their protestation upon sensing our invasion of their eternal rest. Perhaps those tiny droplets of moisture coursing about the surface of the stone walls are the spirits telling us how disappointed they are after seeing us disturbing their well-deserved sleep.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Badump.

The stillness of the surroundings and the never-ending quietness permeates the atmosphere as the darkness swirled and entangled our feeble minds with a spiraling aura of doom circulating our heads. It brought us to a troubling conclusion that our demise may or may not lie before the end of this stone-cold helix—showing us the blindness of death. Our hearts move faster than our feet as we traverse these damp stone stairs, perhaps showing us the reflection of a terrifying vista of what seemed like our inevitable demise.

Then along came a war cry that descended the stairs faster than any of us.

We didn't stop running, but the sound of several warriors screaming their hearts out while the sound of swords hitting the surface of something hard boomed all over the still and quiet catacombs. Something strange came with the sounds of clanking armors and jangling swords, something similar to that of the cry of rabid dogs. I could even hear the barks of untamed mutts prowling around us—a symphony of growls coming from hellish beasts of unholy origin.

The stairs itself is quite immense; after all, there are five of us, but we can still move around with ease. I realized that there's still a lot of space remaining for us; after hearing the fierce battle happening above, it felt as if the surrounding area was getting tighter and tighter, making it harder and harder to breathe. It felt as if the stone walls and ceilings were moving towards my direction, and with a cracking sound that rippled over my skin, it crushed our bodies into one crimson pulp of flesh and blood—pinching us like two fingers killing a mosquito.

It's only in my imagination, but I can't help feeling that way.

"Are you okay, Madame Belladonna?"

As I heard Sir Damian spoke while panting, I felt my paranoia leave my body. "I'm fine, Sir Damian. We need to move faster."

So we did. We ran even faster than before; we ran as long as there's something beneath our feet.

... Until it happened.

"AAAAAAAAHHHH!"

A soldier screamed behind us. His knees were trembling on the floor, his head was hanging low, and his back was arching forward. He kept crying and uttering nonsense that none of us could understand. Another soldier approached him and asked him how he's feeling, only for the crazed-soldier to reply with more nonsense utterances with an occasional shriek similar to that of a demon possessing a poor man's resolve.

"IT'S COMING TOWARDS ME! NOOOOOO! THE WALLS! THE WALLS HAVE MOUTHS! THE WALLS HAVE MOUTHS! IT CRAVES! IT CRAAAAVES! IT CRAVES FOR MY BLOOD! IT'S COMING FOR MY BLOOD! THE WALLS HAVE MOUTHS! THE WALLS HAVE MOUTHS! IT'S COMING! HELP ME. IT CRAVES!"

That's the only reasonable answer we got from him so far. After that came nothing—all but the useless utterances of a blinded fool, eaten entirely by the unfathomable depths of his mind.

Illusion magic—whoever this caster is, they are strong if they can muster another spell of this intensity after the widespread paralysis ruin they cast earlier.

Another soldier came towards him, asking what's wrong.

"Leave him. He's lost. We cannot save him, not now, not with what we have. We must focus on leaving here."

"What's happening to him, Madame?" The first soldier who came towards the maddened soldier inquired in a defeated tone.

"Illusion, I fear. Leave him; we can't help him right now."

"But he's my friend, Madame!" The man dropped to his knees and hugged the now reddening mad man who had his saliva dripping from his mouth. "How cold, Madame. How cold to leave him like this."

"Then stay. I am not forcing you to do anything. Stay, and when that sorcerer followed our trail, protect him if you must."

The soldier remained, embracing the maddened soldier, both on their knees. We went back to our feet with only two soldiers beside me, running towards our ultimate goal as the darkness of the catacombs ate the two soldiers we left behind away.