It is subtle and almost unnoticeable, but there it is:

A flinch.

It's hard to say if Benethuil was fighting Aledüne's spell, or if it was just his reaction to it. He doesn’t pull back, but it feels like he wanted to. There was, no doubt, a struggle going on his head right now.

But most of all, he seemed to be fighting the urge to grin.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, have you?"

A den of fanatics? A dangerous ritual? Or something else...?

"She will certainly appreciate your efforts, you know that? It's a shame you don’t want anything to do with me after tonight - we could certainly do business if you wanted. But alas..."

He didn’t look terribly vexed by that either, to be honest. Benethuil bended to grab his mask, the one that slipped away in his initial struggle against Aledüne's minion. His "coworker" laid there, still, and the man barely spared him half a glance before turning back to Aledüne. His handshake was firm, and while the vampire knew the man to be under his spell, there was something highly impersonal about him; someone driven exclusively by his own logic, however warped it was.

A cold man, one who would never spare a thought to things such as feelings. Not even his own.

"I will get you out of here, don’t worry. At least for tonight, we're together in this. I will call the guards and tell them some story or another of how I managed to catch you - I hope your acting is good enough. If you do this right, you'll be in a privileged position when it all starts. Which is soon, so we should hurry."

With his mask once again in place, he showed him the mana shackles.

"Well, then... Ready for act two?"

"No, I don't know much of what I find myself in. But I do not care either, and will do what I want when I feel like it. Unlike them, or perhaps even you, I do not allow my actions to be guided by anyone but myself. It is my ultimate freedom and power, and right now I feel about ready to act upon my pent up frustration from my travel here. So yes I am ready for the second act, and to blow a hole in the foundation of this blasted cult."

It was made clear to Aledüne that the driving force behind Benethuil force of will and the motivations for his actions was something he had to be careful of. The man was a danger even if he had become charmed. He just saw himself lucky that he seemed to have gotten the jump on him with his mind tricks instead of having to confront the man physically as he was not confident in his victory, yet this was no longer the time to be hesitant in working with him.

After having been placed in cuffs again, and the guards called to claim him for the ritual. Aledüne goes over his own side of the plan. It was a risk, but Benethuil needed to know. The man didn't say much at the idea as if processing his own flow of ideas and thoughts. Weighing risk and reward in all things as the guards came and picked up their prisoner. Benethuil followed behind as if to make sure he would not break free again, as Aledüne was being led down several corridors and hallways in the massive complex. How anyone could find their way down here was a mystery, but eventually they arrive in a vast chamber.


The chamber smelled strongly of blood. A metallic smell that would seem unpleasant to most. But in the undead it only increased his bloodlust and desire to unleash himself upon the people present. Brought into the circle of the room, he is brought to his knees as people stand around the circle in prayer. Six priest of the order stood on podiums, and in unison began reading prayers that echoed in the halls as they escorted Kamille inside from the top and unto the topmost podium of the ritual circle.

The ground around Aledüne, as the prayers were uttered were painted in runes in blood. And the one doing so was none other than Benethuil with his mask on. The two exchanged a quick glance, as if to acknowledge that the sabotage was complete. Now they had to wait for the ritual to finish before trying to escape, using the chaos and confusion to their advantage.

As Kamille is taken to the edge, Aledüne looks up at her and gives her a reassuring smile. He knew what was about to happen, but she didn't, and the confusion and fear was likely getting to build up within her. He hoped his confidence could bring her some as well.

The place was overflowing with magic, a faint tinnitus sometimes reaching the conscious mind to remember everyone how much magic converged to that one place. Not that it was easy to forgo the feeling, the skin crawling, and in some places, even the hairs and soft fabrics standing up as if charged with stactic.

As Kamille was brought up, it was clear her treatment had been much different from that of the other prisoners. Cleaned and pampered, there was no visible marks of mistreatment - and the white wraps of clothing they chose for her left little to the imagination. She was still in the mana-cuffs, but on top of that, the Witch had her mouth tapped shut. If the good Witch was giving her captors an earful, or if she had tried to sweet talk her way out of that, they seemed to promptly put a stop to that. 

At first, she seemed to calmly walk along her captors, two burly guards that guided her along the way. Halfway through she stopped, and didn’t look like she could be convinced to move forward, fear evident in her eyes. It got to a point where one of her guards had to carry her bridal style towards her place. Then, as her eyes darted around, they found his. And he smiled. Kamille didn’t waste much energy trying to hide her feelings: she was scared, confused, and had no idea how to get out of that situation, her resources tested to the limits.

Or so she thought. Aledüne's smile seemed to ignite her resolve - he was up to something. 

They must've predicted she was not going to be a calm offering, so there was a chain near her spot that was locked to her shakles, keeping her in place.

The air was heavy, and as the prayers echoed within every inch of the chamber, the arcane energies shifted and twisted onto one another, the blood runes lighting up the way, one by one, spiriling up towards the edge of-

"What do you think you're doing?! You! Go fix that!"

"Right away, Lector!"

Surprizingly, it was not Benethuil's own inscriptions that were faulty, but across the room a couple of cultists gathered to quickly fix what appeared to be some wrong runes and symbols, jamming the circuit the magic seemed to follow. It seemed to be by design, as Aledüne knew it diverted attention towards the other side of the room.

The energies of the chamber grew more and more instable, shifting before their eyes and tearing at the fabric of reality. It didn’t take much, just a slight pull out of the energies that were so packed, so concentrated that made the air feel thick to breath- 

"Lector? What are you doing?"

Despite the attention being diverted, one of the cultists closer to him noticed as he stepped back a couple of paces, easily ripping the continuum to open a portal behind the rest of the cultists. 

And from the rift, two hell hounds jumped forward.

The chaos became even worse from there. Most of the cultists had their attention split between the hellhounds and the runes that were about to destroy the ritual. One of the priests, closer to the centre cursed under his breath, jumped down towards Aledüne and took out a knife to slit his throat. "The Ritual will be complete even if I have to do the deep myself! All glory to Lunala!" 

Aledüne still in his cuffs doesn't seem concerned, but rather happy that the man came willingly, he lifted his chin as if welcome the cold steel to his neck. For a moment time slowed down as Kamille could see the flesh parting, giving way to the red liquid that started to flow like a thick vicious substance. The life in Aledüne eyes was about to fade, but as it looked like he had given up an explosion followed. An explosion of dark viscera and shadows enveloped the entire room before gathering around Aledüne again, at least where Aledüne had been standing that is. 




Instead of Aledüne a dark angel stood in his place. Six large dark wings made of shadows sprouted from his back, the creatures entire form was in fact covered in the shadows, making its facial features impossible to discern. It was dressed in the same robes Aledüne wore, but beneath the pieces of clothing, a skeletal frame could be seen. The temperature of the room plummeted, and as it did time began to flow once again.

The cultist that had slit Aledüne's throat was standing in shock, dropped the knife and began turning away to run. It was quicker than anything human. A single punch to the side of his head caused the body of the cultist to fall limp, dead. The creature took a moment to look up at Kamille, a hunger in the void where its eyes was supposed to be. A prime evil hunger, older than civilization itself, a demon from the time before the collapse.

Before Kamille could gather any more thoughts the creature screams, and its focus shifts from her to the cultists in the room that had taken notice of it. Some start casting spells at it, but again, the demon's speed outmatched anything that they could throw at it. It started ripping and tearing its way through anything standing in its path, allowing the blood to flow. It stops for a moment, having killed about a dozen people in the span of a few seconds. It ripped the head of a man it had trapped in its claws, and holding the severed head over its face, it fed.

Amidst the chaos, the first thing Kamille did was to try and take off the tape over her mouth - a bit easier said than done. Other than that, they had been very thorough in completely sealing her mana and abilities to render her docile. Her chains were locking her in place, but at least she had her voice back - that should be worth something!

And then her voice got caught in her throat.

The glint of a knife flashed, close - too close - to Aledüne's skin. Time stood still, the fear clear in her eyes, too worried to notice the vampire's actual lack of concern regarding his own life.

A second later, blood and tears flowed.

"NOOOO!"

Anguish and pain echoed in the chamber for some brief seconds, and she barely registered that the high pitched scream came from her own lips - or the tears that streamed on her face. The next moment, the explosion took everyone by surprise, and the little organization that was starting to form to step up to the hellhounds and the twisting, uncontrolable energies of the ritual, were once again thrown into chaos. Wings and bones, void and darkness. Old as time, and almost as much as cruel. That much she could feel from the creature that emerged from the vampire, raising itself to all its glorious black wings.

If dread had a face, that would be it.

A couple of acolytes that had been trying to control the mana of the ritual were quickly slain, making the arcane energies lash out uncontrolably. The creature that emerged from Aledüne's place was as terrifying as it was powerful, and for a moment Kamille wondered if the ritual had actually worked, and that was meant to consume her.

Only..... When the creature faced her - an unending, primordial, evil hunger - with empty eyes, locking her teary eyes in its deadly gaze, Kamille fully expected that to be the end.

But it wasn't.

The creature turned its fury towards the other acolytes and cultists, leaving her with her own life to collect her thoughts and tears.

And while hell broke loose, as the two hellhounds happily chased down their victims, one particular cultist - "cultist" - danced between the shadows of the chamber, kneeling down and using the mayhem around him on his favor, lacing the circles on the ground with his own enchantments. The revelation of the "prisoner" being much more dangerous than Benethuil anticipated hardly made an impediment to his plan, if only he could focus and pull it to the next step-

"I knew I couldn't trust you."

One second too late.

A ray of dark energy hit him on the shoulder, before he became a shadow once again and reapeared to face his attacker at a much longer distance, face to face. He expected nothing less from the cult leader to imediately pinpoint the spark that started all that chaos: An imposing presence on his own, Hanzo Jihn stood to face Benethuil in all his wrath, distorting the fabric of reality around him. Because he was seething, that much he understood. Hanzo would've wanted that night to go perfectly, smoothly like Benethuil promised him. Yet his promises were as empty as his voice was cold. His promises were poisoned gifts meant to kill whoever believed him.

Benethuil lied. Not for the first, nor the last time.

"Is Matthew even your name?"

"Of course not."

"I knew there was something wrong with you..."

"I expected more of you, too, Hanzo."

Quick to anger, passionate. Fiery. Easy to taunt.

Reality trembled with the sheer amount of mana that shifted between the chamber, stretching its fabric as much as it could. The tall cult leader let his anger shape a deadly corrosive blast, and Benethuil was quick to cast a lightning bolt in return. When their spells met in the air, the whole chamber shook.