Alex awoke with a start when a loud clanging sound filled his ears.

  Raymond was standing in front of the cell with a long metal rod in his hands and a malicious smile on his lips.

  “Markov will be here in the next couple of days. I am to... entertain you in the meantime.” Was all he said before exiting the room again.

  At some point, Alex fell asleep while pouring over all the different codex entries he had accumulated so far. He never really thought about it before, but the sheer number of objects a person came into contact with throughout the course of a day was mindboggling. It also seemed like his power to analyze defined ‘touching’ rather loosely as well, as it even analyzed the ground under his boots.

  What surprised him the most, was that the Codex also recorded the different types of magic his perception power could identify, although the information recorded was far more limited compared to the objects recorded through his racial ability.

  Once Raymond left, Matt walked over to him and hunkered down next to him, his dark mood from the previous night replaced with a worried expression as he studied Alex with his icy blue eyes.

  “He said I interfered with his ritual, but I barely even remember how I got here. Outside of telling them where the ritual spit me out, what can I possibly offer them?”

  “The man’s an idiot. No one interfered with the ritual; he just messed it up.” Matt said.

  “Is that what he is using you for? Were you there when he tried to summon – whatever it is he’s trying to summon?”

  “No,” Matt said hesitantly. “Markov’s using me for something else.”

  He didn’t elaborate and Alex let it go. Unable to muster the strength needed to pursue it.

  A loud bell suddenly rang out and Matt grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the back wall.

  “What’s going on?” Alex asked.

  “Listen to me, very closely.” Matt hissed urgently.

  “Anything Raymond does to you will be temporary. He knows Markov will kill him if there is any permanent damage to you. Answer all of his questions, or say nothing at all; it's your choice. But whatever happens do not agree to any type of deal or acquiesce to anything he offers to do, do you understand?”

  “Don’t agree to what? For him to torture me? I doubt that’ll really matter. He doesn’t seem like a ‘no means no’ type of guy.”

  Alric leaned towards Alex, his fingers digging painfully into his upper arm. Alex began to pull away in protest, but Matt slapped him across the face.

  The blow wasn’t hard, but the sudden act of violence shocked Alex into stillness.

  “For anything.” He whispered, his intense gaze boring into Alex’s wide eyes. “You may start to hear a voice in your head; ignore it, understand?”

  When Alex didn’t respond right away Matt shook him roughly.

  “Do you understand?”

  Anger finally overpowered his lingering paralysis, and he tried to shove Matt away.

  “Back off.”

  Alric’s grip was like iron though, and he refused to let go.

  “I said, do you – oof!”

  Alex’s anger boiled over into rage and his fist sunk into Matt’s stomach. They were standing too close for him to get much power behind the blow, but it was enough to serve as a distraction. The moment Matt started to double over his grip on Alex loosened slightly.

  Alex pried the hand from his upper arm, twisting Matt’s hand and wrist until his fingers were almost touching his own forearm. Matt yelped in pain and surprise, but Alex had the hold locked in now.

  With his free hand on Matt’s elbow, he pushed hard, forcing the arm to fully extend. Using the torque on Matt’s wrist to control his body like a puppet, Alex got behind him and stepped on the back of Matt’s knee, and the leg folded under his own weight.

  Alex released the wrist lock and shoved him towards the back of the cell. Matt’s head hit the stone wall with a dull, satisfying thud.

  “I said, back off!” Alex growled, biting off each word.

  Much like the slap, the blow to Matt’s head wasn’t hard. Well, not that hard.

  Hard enough to deter Matt from slapping him again, at the very least.

  Matt blinked rapidly for a couple seconds, before raising slowly to his feet. He put his hands up in a calming gesture in case Alex was going to attack him again, but Alex had already taken a couple steps back. His hands hung loose and open at his sides to show that he wasn’t a threat, but Matt could see the tension in the boy’s body, ready to spring into action if Matt tried to retaliate.

  Instead, a genuine smile lit up his grimy face causing Alex to glare at him warily.

  “You boys done, or should I give you a couple more minutes?” A voice called from behind.

  “Go away.” Both prisoners said at the same time without even turning to look at Raymond.

  “Better yet,” Matt said, the pleasant smile still on his face when he finally looked at Raymond. “We’ll call you when you can come back.”

  It was Raymond’s turn to glare but as soon as he opened his mouth Matt waived a dismissive hand towards the door and returned his attention to Alex.

  “You’re a warrior in your world, aren’t you?” Matt asked in a quiet voice.

  Alex gave a self-deprecating scoff and shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve had some training, sure, but warrior? Not even close.”

  “But you’re a soldier.” Matt persisted. “I could see it, even when they dragged you in here unconscious.”

  Alex knew what he was talking about. For him, it was more than a look; it was a feeling. How many times had he seen someone at an airport or passed someone in a bar and just knew? They drew each other's attention like lodestones. Deep calling unto deep.

  “I have a feeling that being a soldier means something very different here.”

  For the majority of his time here, Alex had been either running through the wilderness, fighting off monsters, or held captive in a cell.

  His respite at the Odde house – before they drugged and imprisoned him, that is – was pleasant, and wandering through their library gave him a feeling of nostalgia that he often felt when visiting museum exhibits. there was a definite old-timey charm to the place that made Alex feel like he was touring a medieval cottage.

  The cottage wasn’t what he would call primitive, but it was like the existence of magic in this world was compensating for the disparity caused by the technological advancement his own world had. This world had lights and plumbing that operated much the same, but instead of electricity and complex plumbing systems, they used magic and ritual circles. The hand-stitched leatherbound books and scrolls of rolled up parchment were mostly handwritten, but even the books that weren’t handwritten looked like they were created by some kind of magic ability instead of a printing press.

  If this world was some sort of distorted magical version of his own worlds medieval time period, it stood to reason that the people here would be too, right? A soldier from the thirteenth century was vastly different than a soldier from the twenty-first.

  “Enough!” Raymond yelled. He still held the metal rod from earlier and it clanged loudly off of the bars. He pointed the rounded tip at them menacingly and Alex could see two small prongs poking out the end of the blackened rod.

  “Come to me boy. Markov wants me to... Interview you before he gets here.”

  The hungry, triumphant smile on the man’s face told Alex that it was going to be a very, very rough interview.

  Matt moved to position himself between them and a bright blue ball of light shot from the tip of the metal rod Raymond held. A deafening crack rang out and the crackling ball of light streaked across the cell, hitting Matt full in the chest before he finished taking his first step, and he dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  “Matt!”

  Alex knelt beside him, placing a hand on his chest.

  “He’ll be fine.” Raymond said, pointing the rod at Alex. “Now come on. You can walk out on your own, or I can use this and carry you out. Your choice.”

  “He’s not breathing!”

  Raymond looked confused for a second and then burst into laughter.

  Alex checked for a pulse, nothing.

  “On your feet, boy. Or the same thing might happen to you.”

  Reluctantly, Alex stood up but didn’t walk forward when Raymond beckoned him.

  “You killed him.” Alex whispered. “I’ll make you pay for this. I swear it.”

  “Oh, to hell with this.” Raymond said, rolling his eyes.

  He fiddled with something on the rod and another loud crack! filled the room. Alex barely registered the flash of blue before everything went black.

  His body fell gracelessly to the floor and Raymond heaved a long, satisfied sigh.

  “Fucking Outworlders.”

  * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

  Matt’s eyes fluttered open briefly to see Raymond dragging an unconscious Alex across the floor of their cell by a foot. He was whistling that same haunting tune he always did when he had Matt under his knife.

  Get up. Get up!

  Matt slowly pushed himself into a sitting position – or tried to, anyways.

  His traitorous body was completely numb, and his arms pushed ineffectually at the ground with a strength that wouldn’t pick a leaf off of the ground, let alone his body. Matt looked back towards Alex, but he was gone.

  Had he lost consciousness? He should have seen-

  Matt’s head dipped once again, his cheek barely bouncing off the polished metal floor from the impact.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Sometime later, he stirred once more. He no longer felt numb, but like thousands of tiny little needles were piercing him all over his body.

  What was he doing here? Something had woken him. It was a noise, wasn’t it?

  Another scream filled his ears, clearing some of the fog from his mind like a gust of freezing air dispersing the morning mist.

  Alex.

  Raymond had taken Alex to the ritual room. Well, torture chamber if he was being honest. Markov may have assistance from on high, but Raymond was nothing more than a butcher. The only thing he could accomplish in that room was satisfying his own bloodlust.

  Matt tried to sit up and his body locked up with a cramp so powerful he thought every muscle would tear itself free from his very bones.

  The full body cramp curled Matt’s limbs up to his torso like a dying spider, forcing him into the fetal position. Matt’s vision faded into black and white spots and his muscles burned with fire while his skin felt like it was encased in ice. Unable to move, unable to scream, all he could do was wait for it to pass. Hope that it did pass.

  Damn Raymond. Damn these restraints. The collar may have sealed his powers, but it was the wrist manacles that made him so weak. Weak enough that a normal ranker was able to get the drop on him not once, but twice. Rank for rank there were very few people that posed a threat to Matt – martially, at least. Putting his bruised ego aside, he had to admit that the boy showed real promise. Hopefully they would both survive this hellhole.

  Matt had been investigating rumors for months before making his way to Dunmere and finally tracking down Markov. He could have shut down the laboratory then, but Markov’s experiments were but a single piece in a much larger game.

  Rumors of disappearances took Matt all across the continent. Most of these leads resulted in a dead end, but some revealed the existence of a hidden laboratory similar to Markov's. Even then, he wasn’t able to locate all of them, and the ones he did find had already abandoned as though they knew he was coming.

  Finally, he caught a break in the small port town of Silverbrook. He found the underground laboratory, and must have missed them by minutes only. They had fled, stripping the laboratory bare like the others. In their haste, they weren’t able to grab everything so they set the compound ablaze hoping to destroy the rest. It was sloppy work though, and Matt was able to recover documents pointing him to Dunmere.

  After arriving in the city, it didn’t take Matt long to learn of Markov and his work with the Magic Society. Armed with the documents he found in Silverbrook, and the information he dug up about Markov, he realized that Markov was barely even a player here. Talented researcher to be sure – maybe even a genius in his own right. But it took a certain kind of intelligence and cunning to run a clandestine operation on this level. From what Matt was able to gather about Markov he neither had the connections nor ability to pull this off without the assistance of someone much more powerful.

  The documents he found revealed a little of their ultimate goals, giving Matt an idea. Combined with his own knowledge of astral magic, Matt used that information to bait the spies Markov would have positioned in the taverns and inns. Judging by the other laboratories he found, Markov would have orders to either sanitize the laboratory and flee, or if their cover can be saved: to kill Matt and dispose of his body. Matt spent most of his time planting and gathering information in the two most popular taverns in the city. Located at the center of the commercial district was the Moonlit Mug. The tavern was known and frequent patrons consisted of both the common class and nobility. Lower nobility to be sure, but was easily the best spot to overhear gossip from both worlds. The other tavern was a seedy dive in the poorer section of the old industrial district called The Bitter Cob, and that was where Matt concentrated most of his bait. If Markov was snatching people from the city, he would focus his attention on the citizens least likely to raise suspicion if they suddenly disappeared.

  Matt let slip that he was in this city alone and was quite adept at astral magic. He laced in small details relevant to the work Markov was doing that was likely to be passed on, but would mean nothing to the spies.

  Hopefully, instead of trying to kill him or flee the city, Matt would be a prize too tempting not to snatch up. Markov was a cautious man by nature, but when his research was on the cusp of a potential breakthrough, he fixated on it with an absentminded focus that blotted out all else.

  Barely two days passed before he took Matt. Once he was in the laboratory, he could take Markov out without worrying about outside interference. Even with a suppression collar, Matt knew he could subdue Markov, preventing him and anyone else from destroying any evidence or fleeing. Once he removed the suppression collar, he would lockdown the lab and have all the time in the world to interrogate Markov and comb through his research.

  It had been a good plan. A little reckless, maybe. If a silver ranker was working with Markov he would be in serious trouble, but if that were the case, Markov wouldn't have been in charge of the lab here. Regardless of his intelligence or capabilities, the pride of a silver ranker would demand and be granted leadership.

  His plan would have worked – had worked – until he woke up with those damn manacles around his wrists, sapping his strength. He could have escaped that first day. Despite the weakening effect of the manacles but he was stubborn, arrogant in his abilities. He didn’t realize that the manacles would continue to weaken him the longer they stayed on until it was too late.

  Even now, as weak as he was, he had options. The best chance would be when they moved him to the ritual chamber, but when he was out of his cell, Markov made sure to keep his distance from him until he was safely secured to the alter. Making Raymond or Katjav move him from room to room.

  Sometimes, a scared looking man named Sylus transport and strap him down when the others weren’t available. Sylus was usually behind the control panel of the security array that was attached to this cell. It was right outside the ritual chamber and Matt interacted with him more than any of the others. He was terrified of Markov and was most likely being blackmailed into helping him. Matt immediately began cultivating him as a potential ally, conversing with him whenever no one else was around. but it would take extraordinary circumstances in order for Sylus to overcome his fear of Markov and help Matt escape.

  The muscles in his body finally loosened and he took the first deep breath in what felt like hours.

  He was covered in so much cold sweat that the dried blood and grime that caked his body loosened and left brown smears on the polished metal floor where he lay.

  Another scream pierced the silence followed by curses and insults.

  Matt shivered, but grinned despite himself. Alex was still fighting. As long as those curses and insults didn’t turn into begging and pleas of mercy, Alex had a chance. It didn’t increase the chance of surviving, but perhaps it would help him put the pieces back together again if he does survive. His defiance and refusal to break becoming the adhesive holding it all together like mortar between bricks.

  Matt slowly rose to his knees and a flash of movement caught his eye.

  “I thought you would have been used to the screams by now.”

  His voice came out weak and scratchy, as if he hadn’t spoken in weeks.

  Nevertheless, Sylus jumped at the barely audible words with a look stricken with guilt.

  Sylus was a pale, skinny man, but now his face was gaunt and as white as a sheet. His orange and blue covering sat askew on his head and he was sucking air through his sunken cheeks with such force that Matt thought he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

  Matt got to his feet and shuffled over to Sylus. His eyes widened in fear but he made no move to leave.

  “Is this really what you want to do with your life?” Matt asked not unkindly. He leaned against the bars opposite for Sylus and took his own deep breaths.

  “Be a party to abduction and torture? Is this how you honor your god?”

  “I didn’t want - I didn't want this!” He hissed through clenched teeth.

  “It was supposed to be a quick job.” He continued when Matt remained silent. “I was only supposed to set up the security around the cell. After – afterwards, he said that it was too complicated to manage by himself and he couldn’t trust anyone else to operate it. He said that I had to stay here and help him.”

  Again, Matt didn’t say anything and Sylus squirmed in the silence.

  “He took her!” Sylus pleaded. “He took my Mirella. He said she will be safe and looked after until my work here is done. She thinks we have been relocated due to my new work and that I will join her soon.”

  It was, in a sense, true; however, Matt didn’t need to point that out to him.

  Would Markov really let him go when this was all over? No. Sylus and his wife would most likely be killed once they were of no further use to Markov. Just two loose ends that need to be cut lest someone come along and unravel the whole tapestry with a single pull.

  “Do you really think Markov will let you go? You’re a smart man Sylus. You know how this will end. For you and your Mirella.”

  “I have no choice!” Sylus hissed again, his voice on the urge of panic. “What else can I do.?”

  “Help us.” Matt whispered. “Me and the boy.”

  As if reminding Sylus of his existence, Alex chose that exact moment to scream.

  “Is that all you got?!” Alex roared from the other room. “I know disappointed women who still got deeper penetration than that! If you’re not going to stick it all the way in, get the hell out of my bed! You limp-dick mother-”

  Alex screamed again, and despite the horror of what must be happening to him in there Matt had trouble suppressing his laugh.

  “You hear that, Sylus?” Matt asked. “He knows how this ends for him, same as you, but he’s still willing to fight. Why the hell aren’t you?”

  Matt leaned close to the bars, careful not to touch them and trigger the alarm.

  “Help us escape and I swear to you that the first thing I do is to make sure Mirella is safe.”

  He held up his shackled hands.

  “Just get me the key to these and I can handle the rest. You know what I am, what I’m capable of. Even with this collar I can kill Markov and Raymond. We can leave and rescue Mirella before anyone else realizes we’re gone. You love Mirella, right? We need you just as much as she does, and right now she needs you to fight. Fight like that boy is fighting now, because if you don’t, we are all going to die.”

  He was close, but Sylus’s fear of Markov – or perhaps his cowardice – had such a tight grip on him, that even the love for his wife wasn’t enough to motivate him to action.

  “I- I – I can’t” Sylus pleaded. “Markov keeps the key to those manacles on him. Always.”

  “I just need to get close to him.” Matt insisted. “Surprise him somehow.”

  Sylus shook his head as if he was asking for the impossible. Maybe he was, but unlike Sylus, Matt had no compunction with putting their lives on the line. Well, Sylus’s at the very least.

  “He’s too scared of you. The only -” Sylus cut off, wide eyes locking on to Matt.

  “What? You just thought of something, didn’t you? Tell me.”

  “The ritual chamber. He – he always gets preoccupied with his research, distracted. That’s why he has one of us take you into the room.”

  Matt realized what he was suggesting as another scream filled the air, but there no curses that followed this time, only more screams.

  “You want to use the boy as bait?” Matt asked darkly.

  “It’s the only way to guarantee you get the key from him.” Sylus said quickly, sensing the danger in Matt’s tone. “Markov just needs to get him in the chamber. Once they are inside, I can let you out and bring you into the control room where you can ambush him."

  Matt thought about it, then shook his head. His willingness to risk Sylus’s life was one thing. Hell, after everything he had done, he realized his own life wasn’t worth that much in the grand scheme of things. But Alex? Something about that boy niggled at him. He clearly had some kind of martial training back in his own world, despite his attempts at downplaying. He may be an Outworlder, but if Matt hadn’t already known that, he would not have been surprised if the boy told him he was an Adventurer, or maybe even a Hunter aspirant. Regardless, he was an innocent, and Matt would prioritize the boy’s survival over his own. Not that he was at much risk of actually dying here, but he would rather avoid certain messier escape options if he could help it.

  “The door seals behind him while he is in there to stabilize the ambient magic in the room.” Matt said.

  “I won’t be able to get to him until he finishes his tests on the boy. The boy doesn’t have a full essence set; he may be a fighter, but he won't survive that.”

  “It’s the best chance to catch him off guard. Maybe he can hold on? He is an Outworlder after all, his body is-”

  “No.” Matt’s voice was as soft and yielding as stone. “I will not throw away that kid's life. Either we all leave, or none of us do.”

  Or I escape with the boy and leave your sorry ass here, he stopped himself from adding.

  It wasn’t the time for threats – not yet, anyway.

  Sylus’s mouth worked like a fish and Matt sighed.

  “Can you get him to come out early? We’ll need to move fast, but if you can convince him to open the door, I can get to him before the kid is in any serious danger.”

  Matt wouldn’t have believed it possible, but Sylus’s face became even more pale.

  Grow some balls, man. If you can’t even find the courage to save your own wife, what value does yours have?

  “Is there someone Markov reports to? Someone that rarely comes here, but puts Markov on edge when they do?”

  “No, no one comes here.” Sylus said. “I’ve heard him complaining about unreasonable deadlines for someone before, but I never got a name. He was talking to Katjav, he would know.”

  Matt sighed and waived it away. He definitely wasn’t going to get into that right now.

  “Just think of something then.” Matt snapped. “Tell him that I somehow escaped and ran towards the library, or that there are people from the Adventure Society trying to break in. I don’t care. Tell him the fucking place is on fire if you have to, just get him to open that damned door.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Sylus’s shoulders slumped, but his face was resolute.

  Matt dipped his head in respect, but he had all the confidence in Sylus that he would have with a toddler who promised to always eat their vegetables and to never, ever complain.