Chapter Twelve

Farren

M y heart leaps, I'm here, I'm in the cell.

"H?" I question, hope screaming through me dangerously.

My men aren't here, but I'll take what I can get at this point, and if I get to see my light, then I can fade completely, more at peace than I was seconds ago.

"Ren, fuck Ren," H's panicked voice echoes around the tiny cell as he tries to step toward my corner, "what the fuck have they done to you?"

I smile. It's so nice to hear his voice. The peace it brings me. It's incredible that he can do that for me, and I'm so fucking grateful.

"Ren?" H's voice asks again, "It's bad, it's really fucking bad. My magic is panicking, and it's never panicked before."

"I'm tired, H," I manage to say, and wince when my voice comes out weak, barely above a fucking whisper.

I shuffle closer to him, trying to get as close as this weird barrier will let me. I want to soak up as much of that peace as I can before I die. I'm not naive, this is my last wish being granted, I'm dying as we speak, when this dream ends so does my life.

His panicked eyes search my corner as he moves as close as he can to the barrier as well, and I force myself to shuffle so I'm standing in front of him. The only reason that I can walk right now is because I'm dreaming, and his magic is trying to fix me. It's a last mercy that I've been granted.

"I know, Shade, I know," he replies.

"I want it to stop hurting. I don't want to be in pain anymore." I whisper as a sudden wave of excruciating pain comes over me; it's so strong that it makes me gasp, and my knees buckle beneath me.

Shock courses through me as I land against a solid chest, and strong arms wrap around me.

"It's okay, Ren, Shade, I have you," H says as he pulls me further into his arms and sinks to the floor as my hands clench weakly in his shirt. "I've got you."

"You can see me?" I gasp.

"No, just feel you." He says just as quietly, holding me like I might break.

The thing is, I am already broken, and right now, I want to feel comfort.

"Can you hold me tightly," I ask. Usually, I'd feel embarrassed about such a request, but now is hardly the time to worry about such ridiculous shit.

He takes a big breath as I feel his heartbeat pound under my ear, "I don't want to hurt you; you're already in so much pain."

"Please, H," I ask, "it's my last chance to feel something other than pain."

His arms tighten around me immediately as his breath stutters in his chest, and his head comes to rest on top of mine. My eyes fill with tears as I feel wetness drip onto my head.

This giant, terrifying demon is crying for me. I don't like that.

"It's okay, H, don't cry for me," I say, trying to comfort him. "I'll be okay. I'm ready to go, I'm in so much pain. I don't want to hurt anymore." His arms wrap around me tighter, as more tears drip down onto the top of my head, "I know we haven't really talked about it, but since this is the last time I'm going to see you, I figure what the fuck, if you are real I need you to find me those guys that I started telling you about. I can tell you their names and where to find them in the Shadowlands."

Somehow, his hands manage to find my cheeks, and he gently turns my face to his. His eyes are closed as he rests his forehead against mine, and I once again marvel at the fact that I have a connection like this with him. We stay like that for a moment before his eyes open; when they meet mine, not that he can see me, his eyes blaze with determination, and when I say blaze, I mean they're literally alight.

His grip tightens on my cheeks, his thumbs instinctively rubbing away the tears that have overflowed, "Fight, Ren. You have to fight. I need you to fight this."

My heart breaks, "I don't think I can, I want to, I do, but I'm so tired."

I know he wants me to fight; I can see just how much he wants me to in his blazing eyes. I can feel it in how tightly he holds me, and I want to, I do, I want to fight for him, for the guys, for Poca, Meri and Oryn, but I don't think I'm strong enough.

Without the Void, I'm nowhere near powerful enough. I'm becoming weaker by the second, even now; in this dream world, I can feel the effect it's having on me, and not just my physical body; I'm mourning the loss of the Void. It's like I've been cut off from a vital part of my existence, which I suppose I have.

H shakes his head, "You can. I know it's hard. I am real; this is a dream, but I am real, Ren, and you just confirmed that you are, too. If you are real, then I can help you, but it's going to be hard; it's going to hurt you more than anything that you've ever been through. But you can do it. You're so strong. You need to fight for me, your guys, and especially you."

Somehow, his words trigger the fight in me. I thought it was gone, but it flickers, and as the guy's faces flicker through my mind, this time, they look at me with determination, not sadness; their expressions are begging me to fight, not to give up, and it's working.

I feel my face dip into a frown, "How? You're a figment of my imagination."

He frowns heavily, worry clouding the determination in his eyes, "I'm not Ren, I just told you that. I'm going to need you to focus."

"You're not a figment of my imagination?" I question because my memory is getting cloudy.

"No, Ren, I'm not," he confirms, "now, I really need you to focus, okay? We're running out of time."

I nod. I can feel that we're running out of time, but I want to fight. I do, so I take my good hand, the one not missing a finger, and dig my fingers into one of the many wounds on my leg.

"Ren, why the fuck did your pain level just spike?" H asks, no demands.

I sigh, my voice clearer and my mind more focused, "As fucked up as it is, pain has always grounded me and cleared my mind, helped me to focus. I'm in worse shape than I have been, I think ever, thanks to a change of circumstances, I guess you could call it, anyway; because of that, I have no idea how long this clarity is going to last, so whatever it is that you have to tell me, I suggest that you do it quickly."

H's eyes fill with a small amount of relief, "There she is. I have to warn you that this isn't going to be easy; it's going to feel like you're being torn apart."

"The alternative is death, and I'm used to pain," I reply, my fingers still buried in the wound.

"You're fucking strong, I know you can do this." He pauses, "I'm going to give you as much of my magic as I can while we're in this dreamscape; I'll help you as much as I can."

I nod; I'd deny him his offer to help, but one, I don't think it is an offer he's telling me that's what he's going to do, and two, I instinctively know that if I have any hope of surviving this, I'm going to need him.

Images of my loved ones flash through my mind again, possibly for the last time, but they slip by too quickly; it's not until the image of me tearing apart the princes, grinding them down and pulling at their souls that the flame of desire to live blazes to life.

Revenge.

That's what I will cling to throughout this pain.

I'd worry about what it says about me that revenge is what makes my will to live and fight grow brighter, but honestly, there's no point. I'm either going to die from the wounds inflicted by the princes and my lack of access to the Void, or I'm going to die trying to get to my magic.

"Whatever you're thinking about right now, don't let it go. It's lending you strength, and you're going to need all the strength you can get." H says.

My smile is sharp and no doubt bloody; I'm sure he'd be horrified if he could see me, but I reply, "Don't worry, this image isn't going anywhere. Now, what do I do."

"I can show you how you can access your magic; if it works, you'll still be in the cell. I can't help you escape from there," he warns me.

My smile grows, "Perfect, I need to visit a couple of princes anyway."

H's eyebrows rise as he looks surprised, "If you manage this, you're going to go after them for revenge?"

"You bet your fucking arse I am," I reply with absolutely no hesitation.

"I knew I liked you," he smiles, and then leans back further, his arms still around me as his face becomes serious, "I need you to sink into your centre where you would usually find your magic."

"I can, but it's wrapped in so many spells," I explain.

He nods, "Yes, and this is where it's going to hurt like a motherfucker. You're going to have to attack yourself; you need to pull, tug, and claw at the spells; you're going to have to tear yourself apart and hope like hell that you get to your magic before your body gives up completely."

I wince as nerves start to build, I can't help it. What he's suggesting that I do is horrific, intense, and not something that anyone would ever recommend you try; it's practically suicide.

But I have nothing to lose and potentially a whole lot to gain. You know, my life, my men, revenge.

"That's it?" I ask when he doesn't carry on talking. "No spell, no other instructions, just attack myself."

H winces, "Pretty much. I'm going to help you as much as I can. I'll give you as much of my magic as I can, but it won't work unless you are the one who breaks the seal around your magic; no one else will be able to do it. Only you."

I nod and then remember he can't see me; he's doing such a good job of actually talking to me that I kind of forgot that he couldn't actually see me. I guess feeling where my face is has helped him know where I am.

"Got it," I reply, a thread of determination; I then add, "I already know how painful this is going to be. Whatever you do, don't pull me out of it; I have a feeling that I've got one shot to get this right, and if I'm pulled out, I won't be able to go back in."

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, and his eyes darken with shadows, but he nods. "Got it, don't die."

I smile, "I'll try not to."

I move my hand to another wound to help ground myself and then take a deep breath, sinking into my Centre. Even sinking into it is more effort than it should be, but I push away all of my nerves.

As I reach the dark and desolate place where my magic resides, all I can see is a tangled and barbed ball of spells wrapping around my magic, the glow of which I can barely see through the layers. I reach out to it and immediately get zapped, a jolt of pain shooting through me. Yeah, this is going to more than simply hurt. I can't even tell if my magic is still trying to pick apart the spells from the inside or not, and I'd be willing to bet that it's because I'm so much weaker than when I last tried to get to my magic.

I feel H's magic wrap around my physical body like a blanket, warmth, and comfort that I'm grateful for and that I utilise while I still can since I'm not sure that I'll be able to in a minute.

I have to admit that I take a moment just to enjoy the feeling before I push it away. I call on that darkness that I love to help me and lend me the strength that I'm going to need to get through this.

I push forward, reaching toward my magic and gritting my teeth as the spells attack me; I tear at them, snapping the strands and watching the magic fizzle out, attacking me as it does. Clenching my teeth, I carry on, working my way through the spells as each one attacks me. I feel H's magic surge as he tries to help me as much as he can; there's only so much that he can do. Just knowing that he's still with me is enough though, since I'm no longer able to feel my physical body and would have no idea if he left me or not otherwise. After what feels like hours, I can no longer keep my screams of pain inside, and with each shred of magic against my already battered self, I scream, I holler. I know that I writhe in pain, but still, I keep going; I have to keep going; I need to get to my guys, my safety, and the first people to make me feel that way. I want to meet H in the real world, this mysterious supernatural that's become my lifeline while I've been living in this hell.

I slow in my attack of the spells as a lilting lullaby. No, it's not soft enough to be a lullaby; it's a war song. It comforts me; it goads me; it lends me strength and stokes the flames of fight that were starting to wane. The voice that sings it is deep, soulful, and unlike anything that I've ever heard before; somehow, even in this state, I can feel goosebumps rise all over my body. It's intense and strengthens me in a way that I didn't even think was possible.

With renewed vigour, I speed up, tearing the spells apart and getting a tiny bit closer to my magic. I know it can feel me coming for it because I can feel it start to pull apart the spells from its side. The problem is, my magic is exactly that, mine, so I'm getting double the amount of pain, and for a second, it takes my breath away.

The strength of that song increases and echoes around me, soothing my hurt and helping me to ride it out; as soon as I'm able, I pick up the pace again. Renewed hope lights my heart as my guys, Poca, Meri, and my uncle; all flash through my mind as I imagine them screaming words of encouragement at me.

Bring it on, you bitch arse fucking spells.

H

S he's been at it for hours. Each scream, each whimper that leaves her, stabs my heart, and I know without any doubts in my mind that they're going to haunt me for my very long existence. It's not just her screams but the way that she's writhing in pain, her back arching. My magic is desperately trying to help her, but it's barely managing to scratch the surface of her pain, and I'm not weak; I should be able to help her more than this. I hate it; I have never wanted to help someone more than I want to help her, and I can't fucking help her.

Instead of losing my shit, I do something that I have never done before in my many years of life; I try to comfort her. I hold her as gently as I can while still ensuring that I don't hurt her even more. I wish I could see her; for me, it's like I'm trying to hold on to shadows. During periods of quiet, when she's not screaming, I whisper comforting words. I highly doubt that she can hear me, but I say them anyway, just in case she can. Although I have to admit that I don't really know if what I'm saying is comforting at all, it's been a long time since I've heard any sort of soothing words, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I ever have, but I try to offer her comfort.

When I run out of words, I sing.

I haven't sung in centuries, but for her, it's easy; I pour my entire being into the songs and pray that somehow something is getting through to her, that somehow, I'm helping her to fight. I have never known someone to have to fight for this long before, the longest I've ever known is two hours, and he didn't fucking survive. Fortunately, time works differently in the dream world, and although it's been hours in here, it won't have been out there.

She's been at it for so long, and I have no idea how she's doing it. She has far more strength than even I gave her credit for, and I already thought that she was strong. I think she's stronger than even she realises. I refuse to give up, refuse to stop comforting her, and every time a new scream tears from her, I sing louder, praying to the damn gods that it's helping her.