***
Kubathu immediately felt a loosening of his confines when Sevra took up the necklace, granting him a freedom of will that he hadn’t experienced in centuries. He crushed the remaining seals on his prison; the eleven diamonds running along the chain, nine still intact and one curiously missing altogether, cracked and exploded outwards with violent force. Yet he was not completely free. The walls of his crimson cage remained intact – the magi at the keep must still be meddling in some way.
Immediately he forced his will onto Sevra, sending her back to the Keep of the Celesti where they would deal with them.
Be on guard, they will try to take me away from you. Then where will you be, all alone again…
She was easy to manipulate; most individuals were. The key was finding what one most feared, and giving them assurance it wouldn’t come to pass. Belief and denial were the most powerful motivators.
He saw through Sevra’s eyes, now that she bore the necklace their connection grew stronger with each passing moment. As they trekked through the basement of the keep, he burrowed further into the small recesses of her psyche, a place he would call home until something more suitable presented itself. For years he dreamed of being free once again, and he was so close now. Kings and queens once bowed to him, those who did not he bent and twisted into submission. Under his command, the entire continent was united under his dominion. Opposition did not exist, could not exist, under his rule. He knew the deepest secrets of the mind, and used them to control countless thousands. Soon it would be so once more.
His dominion over Sevra was complete, through subtle suggestion or direct compulsion he could use her to exert his influence. It was always better to make the subject think they were deciding for themselves, however, at the moment he did not have the time for such intricate games. He needed to squash any remaining resistance keeping him encaged, quickly and efficiently.
The scent of blood hung heavily on the air, so thick Kubathu could almost taste it; death was nearby, recent by its smell. The distinctive metallic scent brought back long-forgotten pleasant memories, and an inner desire to draw the vital liquids forth from his victims. When his games of mental domination overstepped their bounds and ruined a specimen, it was never a total loss. That was when the games truly begun. He longed to feel flesh tear beneath his hands, unleashing a river of red.
Sevra stepped into the chamber where a dozen wizards had toiled endlessly to keep the devastation of Kubathu at bay. He admired the level of coordination they put forth in containing him, even more impressive was the level of secrecy. In the end, their efforts meant nothing. He knew he would be free eventually; it was only a matter of time. The mathematics of it were in his favor, and numbers never lied. For hundreds upon hundreds of years he only had to successfully breach one time, and his patience was near to paying off.
What surprised him was seeing each of the wizard’s corpses laying on the ground, lifeless and drenched in blood. He laughed at the grotesqueness, delighted in it; when he destroyed the remaining gems it also violently shattered the minds of the magi supporting them. Their faces were unrecognizable. All of the gems were destroyed, and so was the resistance from the mortals. He pushed against his confines, ready to unleash himself on the world once more.
Something was wrong. The crimson walls that confined him were elastic, endlessly stretching against his will. He tested them, trying to puncture through but unable. His reach extended for miles before he was finally rebound to the gem around the girl’s neck. Why was he not yet completely free?
Footsteps echoed from the adjoining hall, shuffling and slow. A cane tapped down in rhythm, step, drag, tap. Step, drag, tap. The steadiness and consistency of the steps showed a reliability belying their frailty.
It was Bernard. He stood tall and proud, grim-faced.
Sevra nearly called out, Kubathu having to force her thoughts down. The wizard had been addled for years, though right now he seemed to be completely lucid. He was relentless in the protection over the necklace for the time he carried it. Kubathu was glad when he finally broke the old man and the artifact was passed along to Antok, who had proved much easier to manipulate.
His anger surged. His freedom was denied, and he needed a target to lash out against. Searing heat built up throughout his mind, ready to be unleashed.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious why you aren’t free, Kubathu?” he asked. “It’s clear I’m not offering you any resistance. Not like it would make a hair’s difference at this point in time. You’ve obviously missed something.” He nodded in an exaggerated manner towards the necklace adorning Sevra’s collar.
Kubathu fell silent, allowing the spell to dissipate, while Sevra stood perfectly motionless like a helpless doll. He inspected the points of light outside of his walls, representing the once gleaming crystals securing his captivity. They were forever dimmed. Each of them was broken and shattered, spread evenly across his field of view - except for one gap, the vanishing point of light that started him along his trail to freedom those years ago.
No, it couldn’t be.
A single stone was absent from the necklace. It was the only explanation; no matter where it was, it somehow kept the last remnants of his prison intact. The realization infuriated him; he composed himself enough outwardly to prevent screaming out through Sevra, refusing to give Bernard the satisfaction of seeing him perplexed.
The only way to move forward was to face the reality in front of him and devise a new plan. He calmed; at least for a while, he was stuck with Sevra. By today’s standards, she was quite adept, though to him she was mediocre at best. With his additional knowledge and guidance perhaps she would prove sufficient. The relationship wasn’t ideal, but he would find a way to improvise.
Sevra’s eyes narrowed, distant and cold. They were not the same eyes Bernard had known, dark and malevolent. Calculating. He felt his neck constricting, the flow of air cutting off from his lungs.
“Wait,” he managed to choke forth through the collapsing airways in his throat, “I’ll be dead soon enough, with or without your assistance.”
Kubathu squeezed harder.
“I set events in motion, removing the first stone from the necklace and weakening the prison,” Bernard strained to say.
Kubathu stopped his attack, curiosity overruling his desire to kill.
“I’m sorry, Sevra,” he breathed, “You have a destiny in the fate of the stone. For better or worse. I’m sorry I’ve forced it upon you.”
“Why?” he asked through Sevra.
Bernard looked beyond Sevra, trying to peer into the evil overtaking her, “It is the only way to utterly destroy your pitiful soul.” He knew he was about to die, it did not lessen his resolve, or the belief that his actions were justified.
Sevra laughed, deep and incongruous with her small frame, “You fool,” she spoke. “All that you accomplished was unleashing me upon the world once again. I should thank you.”
Bernard smiled, taking an old journal from his deep pockets. “The very first wizards of the Magicus Celesti imprisoned you against their better judgment. Their leader knew you could be stopped, and he devised a means to do so before he was exiled. The power exists in the world to remove you from it completely. Eventually, I knew we would have failed at confining you. At least now… for now…”
The old wizard leaned against a nearby pillar for support, and he looked around as if he was no longer sure of his whereabouts. For a brief few minutes his eyes held the clarity and wisdom Sevra was accustomed to when she first met Bernard. Now, they were again glazed over and confused, his addled state of the last couple years returning. He collapsed to the floor, the last of his strength exhausted.
No longer interested in the events of the room, Kubathu retreated to the background noise of Sevra’s subconscious. He needed to think, plan their next moves. The girl ran to Bernard, sitting with him and propping his head up into
her lap. As his breathing became slower and weaker, she placed her hand on his cheek. A tinge of green mist hovered about her fingertips and the old wizard gasped one last breath, his legs flexing and straining for an instant. She carefully wiped a tear from her cheek and stood, smoothing her skirts. Now Bernard would be with her forever, too.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked silently.
It was not often Kubathu was surprised, but he was pleasantly so when without command she took Bernard’s life; perhaps she did have potential.
There is much work to be done young one, Kubathu thought back. There were cities to conquer, and minds to claim. A little patience would see him through. After all, he had an eternity to see it done.
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