Dean charged, not even waiting for his allies, or his enemies, to draw their weapons. Roaring like a man possessed, he tore across the field. The way the men only smiled wider at his approach pissed him off further. Dean kicked a tuft of grass he hadn’t seen, but instead of dislodging it like he expected, he stumbled over it. His next step caught another bump, and he fell onto his sword, cutting himself slightly. He roared again and tried to stand, only to find that his wrists and ankles were surrounded by turf. The ground itself was moving, and as he looked up to assess his enemies, he saw only one, who was still unarmed, smiling viciously at him.

“Tut tut. Is that any way to greet a fellow human? For shame. Not to worry, we won’t let you embarrass yourselves further. You see, we’re experts at teaching mann- AHHH!” His shitty monologuing got interrupted by a concentrated mass of Mana colliding with his face, courtesy of Rav. Dean used the distraction to wrench his arms free from the suddenly pliable dirt, and tore forward again. His swing connected easily with the distracted man, but instead of cutting him in half, the strike threw him to the side. He struck the ground several times before sliding to a stop, groaning. Dean narrowed his eyes. Where had the other one gone? As if in answer, a club materialized in front of him. He didn’t even have time to be outraged at the unfairness before the blow destroyed his nose with a sickening crack. Sparks danced in his eyes as he fell bonelessly to the ground. He could dimly make out the pained cursing of his original target as he tried to deal with the results of Rav and Dean’s attack. Dean suddenly found himself being lifted, before pain seared through his side, and he screamed despite himself.

“Another shot like that and he’ll be done, magic man. Now, how about you and shieldsy over there put down any weapons you have and lie face down on the ground. Don’t bother charging another blast, unless you’re planning on killing your poor friend over here. That’s right. Bradley, SHUT THE FUCK UP. I DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT YOUR FACE! BIND THEM, YOU DINT.” Dean had to fight to retain consciousness, but the way the man was waving him around and aggravating his wounds made him wish he would just die. Pain screamed through his face and side as he was thrown to the ground, and he felt the restraints slide into place again. Where had his sword gone? He couldn’t really see, his eyes were too swollen.

“Now you, Mr. magic man, do you see what you did to sweet old Bradley over there? Now, is that any way to treat someon- Hey! *Crack* Bastard… spit in my face, will you? After all this hospitality? That’s some fire you’ve got in your gaze, magic man. I like that, a whoooole lot. So much, I think I’ll keep those eyes.”

Dean had never heard Rav scream before, even when his hand was torn off by a Carnine. He had stoically continued trying to fight with everything he had. He’d been almost scarily quiet, but Dean would have preferred that a thousand times over the tortured cry that pierced the air. Dean hurt on a fundamental level hearing his friend’s agony. He had to stop it. His body was too broken. He found himself rising to his feet, the dark ball of hurt in his stomach lifting him out of the earthen restraints. His sword was in his hands again. He didn’t care how. He couldn’t see, but he knew where the noises came from.

He didn’t hesitate.

He felt a moment’s elation as his blade cut into flesh, and the tortured sounds Rav was making lessened slightly, but his blade stopped too quickly. He couldn’t have hit bone already, and it wouldn’t have stopped him even if he did, so why…?

His wrist exploded in pain, and he felt his sword drop away again. Something hit his chest, hard, and his wrist radiated pain with every bounce on the ground. He tried to push himself up again, but the ball of anger didn’t help this time, and he failed.

“Urgh… thanks for the assist, Bradley… though you wouldn’t have NEEDED TO if you just HELD HIM LIKE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO. Fine, fine.”

Dean felt himself be turned over. “Well, this won’t do.” A liquid splashed into his face, burning for a moment before becoming almost pleasant. Dean’s eyes flipped open, revealing the man who had disappeared during his charge. He was a greasy, unshaven mess. Black hair, an ugly moustache, and a nose that was just begging to be flattened against his face. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Now that those baby blues are open again, take a look over at your friend over there.” Dean didn’t want to, but the man forced him to look. Rav was kneeling, trapped under bindings of dirt, with blood oozing from two dark red holes where his eyes had been. Dean tried to lean forward to avoid vomiting on himself, but the bandit held his head still, causing him to gag and try to force it down instead. His head spun. It was his fault. He had asked Rav to come here… and now…

Anthony could heal it. It was ok. Things would be ok, they just needed to not die.

“Now I want just ooooone thing from you. A con-ver-sation. You give me what I want, and we’ll forgive all that nonsense earlier. Bygones, and all that. Right?”

“What…” he croaked, “do you want?” The murderer’s smile widened.

“Tell me, where are you fine folks camped?”

----

The last book slides easily into the shelf, filling out the top row. Along the spines of the book, a visible row of runes connect perfectly. Every spine contains a piece of the larger picture, and individually or out of order, they make no sense. Not that I can identify their meaning now either, but they look right.

Lauren and I stand by, waiting for something to happen… but nothing does.

“Are you sure this is right?”

“Positive. The runes are there and everything.”

“Maybe… your mentor lied?”

I shoot her a glare. “That makes less sense than the problem being us not having solved the puzzle.” As I’m talking to her, I realize the probable answer. Runes can be fueled by Mana or Energy, seemingly to different results. This is the home of an Energy user, so… Imbue Energy.

The runes pulse with a dull glow, starting from where I’m touching, and moving across the row. I continue pouring Energy in, making at halfway through my pool before all the runes are filled. The runes instantly intensify, seeming to swim in my vision when I stare at them. I blink a few times, trying to clear the effect, but it doesn’t stop until I look away.

“Holy. Shit.”

I look back, expectant. The bookcase… vanished. In its place, a set of stairs with an ornate framing. A framing that looks exactly like the wood of the bookcase.

“Did… I just turn a bookcase into a door?”

“It fucking… melted, and reformed into… what the fuck.” Lauren mumbles to no one in particular, awestruck. Damn, now I wish I hadn’t looked away. Whatever, there will probably be other times.

“Guys, watch out for traps. Calminus warned me about some hidden dangers.”

With that, we descend, our footsteps echoing eerily on the perfectly carved stone steps. The walls are lined with runes, following us the entire way down. I’m slightly worried, as I don’t know what they mean, but as long as they’re unpowered… it should be fine. They can’t hurt us.

My nerves only increase as we reach the bottom without incident. The promise of traps is fine, but when I can’t find them… I can’t know which step will be the one that fucks us, so each one is a nerve wracking experience. At the bottom of the stone stairs, we enter into a large, stone room. A book sits on a pedestal in the center of the room, and there are several intricate stone sconces illuminating the room. The light is steady, like an electrical light. Three doors, equally spaced, break up the wall. I walk carefully forward, eyes darting around, with Lauren following slowly behind.