Idris took a deep breath. The air was cool as it entered his nostrils. He took another. This time it was sweet on his tongue. He smiled to himself. How long has it been since I had fresh air? I can only imagine what it’ll feel like when I’m out of this place. 

He began to climb the spiral. One step at a time. Each one was more difficult than the last. His body felt heavy, and his muscles felt weak. He figured he’d feel a bit out of his element…but not to this extent. Even the use of his mist to zip behind the magicians ate more of his energy then he’d like to admit. He held his hand out, channeling his mana. Summoning his sword. He would need it. 

But nothing came. 

He frowned at his hand, chalking it up to him not having enough mana

He gripped onto the railings as he continued. Even that was a burden. His breathing became labored and he could feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. I guess I am a bit tired. And hungry. 

That was another issue. The bloodlust. His hunger only made it worse. But only the feral would transgress and consume human flesh and blood. The orange eyed fiends. He would never stoop to that level, and that's exactly where the problem was. The urges were always stronger when hunger overtook a vampire. In his case, calling it hunger was being tame. He felt like an animal. Like he should rip into one of them and drain them for all the nutrients they hold. But he had to stay strong. 

It felt like the end of the stairs was never coming. Whatever light the opening was let through somehow seemed more dim the more he got closer. His thoughts began to spiral. How long have I been out? What happened after they captured me? Is my family okay? Tsk. I doubt anyone even survived that bloodbath. Those damned magicians. 

The anger pushed him forth, giving him the ability to drag his way up to the top. Once there however, he met another obstacle.Through the light that snuck in from the trapdoor he could see them. Those damned magicians. 

Six of them to be exact. He sighed. He thought about blitzing them, but the energy expenditure would be too much for him. I’d end up losing it if I did that.  

His smile began to grow. I have a better idea. 

He hunched down, inching higher and higher until two of their heads were in clear view. None of them were facing the actual entrance, all away from it. Guarding to make sure no outsiders see hmm. Interesting. 

He pointed his finger at one, a dark tendril of smoke began to flow from its tip. It snaked its way towards one of them, slithering underneath his robe. It was enough to make them jolt, and turn their heads towards him. Bingo. 

The magician locked eyes with Idris. Within the darkness, the magenta stuck out, catching his attention easily. That was exactly what he needed. The magician froze. Idris’s eyes began to glow, a luminescent pink shone through the blackness. Touhom. The Al-Bey clan’s hypnosis. 

Do me a favor and take care of your friends for me. 

The magician went into a frenzy. The others around him turned towards him startled, wondering what nonsense he was up to. 

The magician screamed. Madness tearing its way out of his throat. He spun on the nearest of them and unleashed a bolt of ice point-blank. The blast detonated with a concussive crack, hurling the unfortunate mage across the clearing.

“Have you lost your mind?!” one of the others shouted, already raising a barrier.

Too late.

The hypnotised magician laughed, eyes glassy, movements jerky and wrong. He tore through spells he barely understood, overcharging them, mangling them. Water twisted into raining arcs. Ice condensed into razors. He lashed out wildly, every spell fueled by Idris’s whispered command echoing in his skull.

Idris watched what he could from the shadows, chest rising and falling heavily. His vision swam, but satisfaction cut through the haze. Good. Tear each other apart.

Before the frenzy could burn itself out, Idris let the hypnosis collapse. The magician stiffened mid-cast, confusion flashing across his face just before a retaliatory spell from one of the survivors punched straight through him.

Silence followed. Ragged, broken.

Idris didn’t slow.

When he crested the top, the scene greeted him like the aftermath of a storm.

Bodies. Turned earth. Cracked stone. And standing amid it all, only three magicians remained. All injured. All exhausted. All very much unprepared for someone who could still move.

They turned toward him as one.

Idris closed the distance in a blur, ducking under the first desperate spell and driving his elbow into the caster’s throat. The man folded. A pivot, a kick to the knee of the second—down. The third managed to raise a ward, but Idris smashed through it with brute force and slammed his fist into the mage’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Silence settled again. This time, final.

Idris stood there for a moment, chest heaving, then exhaled sharply and staggered a few steps away from the carnage. He dropped down beneath a nearby tree, back against the trunk, letting his head fall back as he stared up at the sky filtering through the leaves. The sun was beginning to reach its peak. It’s warmth that he always hated so much felt like a blessing. Even as it drained him of what energy he had left, he felt relieved that he could see the sky once more.

“Damn,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “I need a minute.”