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Record 5: As Beyond, So Within

“LUCAS!!”

Elated at the sight of the recrafted barrier finally shattering, Nora charged forward through the fog, revolver swiveling left and right as she desperately searched for her son and the perpetrator behind the slowly fading fog.

While the cold weather of the season had made them ignore it initially, the instant it became apparent the fog wasn’t natural, the Enforcers stationed around the area (herself included) had dropped their cover and raced forward, warning bells going off in their heads. An unseen recrafted barrier, however, had resulted in several Enforcers suffering concussions from impact, with the rest being spared only due to the yells of pain and surprise from the newly injured. After testing out some rounds on the barrier to no avail, Nora had grown restless by the time a few recrafters had been gathered to take down the obstacle. It had taken almost thirty minutes before their labor bore fruition.

“GET RID OF THIS F*CKING FOG, ALREADY!!” Nora barked, struggling to see more than fifteen feet in front of her. “I swear, if he’s got so much as a freakin’ scratch on him-!”

“Chief! Preparing to clear the fog!”

“DO IT!”

Not five second after the words left her mouth, she felt the air shimmer with heat, and the fog rapidly dwindled until she could see the trees once more, and the other Enforcers with her.

But not a single sign of her son, no matter where she looked. Instead, with fresh blood pooling around them, were the torn bodies of enforcers that had been inside the barrier when it went up.

“...We need some menders over here, stat!” she ordered. “We don’t move quickly, we’ll lose them!”

‘Gireld’s moon, we were set up!’

“CHIEF! OVER HERE! I THINK YOU SHOULD SEE THIS!”

In the blink of an eye, Nora was next to the enforcer, eyes wide with anxiety, immediately spotting the object of interest. On the ground where the enforcer was pointing, there was a circular patch of dead grass. And barely visible in the center, Nora glimpsed a sliver of something else.

“Chief? Any thought-?”

“Ward off the area, and search for anything else suspicious. Get everyone’s statement, and gather back at the station in three hours, stat. Understood, Petty-Cadet?”

“Uh, y-yeah-Of course, Chief!”

As the officer ran off to relay the orders, Nora replaced her gauntlet with a more resistant glove, and carefully picked up the sliver she saw. Her eyes narrowed as a small amount of ice slowly began creeping from the sliver onto the tips of her covered fingers.

“Just how long were they planning this...and where did they take my son?”

…..

All was darkness.

In a still sea of nothing he floated, unable to move. Try as he might, he could not steer himself away from what he felt.

Sheer cold.

It crawled up him like vines, creeping inch by inch, instilling tension with each step. At first, it had outlined his form, a line of ice snaking it’s way from his head to his toes. At first, nothing had happened once it was shaped. Then, it began to spread, and soon, ribbons of frost appeared, creating new rings around his person.

By the time it reached his stomach, he had passed the point of anxiety, and his body shook with his unvoiced scream, the cold sapping away his strength with each passing moment.

Would this, perhaps, be the day he died?

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted from his back and a parade of colors exploded all around him.

….

Wearily, Lucas opened his eyes, blinking as he struggled to see in the pitch-black room he found himself in.

‘Ugh, what happened? Last thing I remember, I was…! Cr*p. I’ve been taken prisoner, haven’t I? Okay, self-examination time: Let’s see, can I move my arms?’

Lucas’ felt cold steel pull him back, chains clinking ever so slightly above and behind him.

‘No, no I cannot. Are my legs bound?’

Twiddling his toes, he then rotated his feet, then attempted a kick, almost succeeding before foot was jolted to a stop

‘Okay, that’s something, at least. Now, there gotta something in here that can help me see-!”

Leaning forward, Lucas felt his cheek brush up against straw fabric, and his shoulder rub against metal. Experimentally, Lucas tried tilting his head to his shoulder, and felt a cold metal disk push up against rough burlap.

‘Aaaand there’s a sack over my head, with a metal disk to boot. Fantasic, now I look like a rejected scarecrow. My sword’s probably being kept somewhere-Ma’s NOT gonna be happy if that thing’s broken-, and I’ve got nothing to do in the meantime, but wait for these psycho’s to check on me.”

The abrupt, heavy sound of a rusty iron door slowing swinging open greeted his ears.

‘Aaand guess who’s here!’

“Remove the sack, but keep his eyes covered. Arch-Brother Maxwell wishes him to be of adequate health when he is indoctrinated.”, solemnly commanded one of Lucas’ captors.

‘So, that’s the name of this cult’s ringleader, huh? A last name would help, but I’m guessing they forsake those when they join up.’

As the sack was partially lifted, Lucas used a bit of the energy he still had to abruptly sweep his head out from under it. His eyes freed for the moment, he was able to quickly glimpse at the cultists before him. Something he noticed immediately was how dimly lit the room was, with the surprised individuals before him only illuminated by the light of the torches behind them.

‘Hmm, not the old man I think I saw before passing out, but A face is better than NO face.’

For whatever reason, unlike his masked companions, the individual before him had left his face exposed. Frazzled, pale-red hair and baggy eyes, the color of the sun, square jaw and missing teeth; those were what Lucas saw before his captor hastily pulled a hood over his head.

Letting out a cocky laugh, the cold impairing his vocal cords a bit, Lucas remarked “So, are you gonna stand there gawking, or am I gonna get an audience with this ‘Arch-Brother’ of yours soon?”

The figure before him trembled slightly with rage, then let out a sigh before placing the sack over Lucas’ face, grabbing his chin to hold his head in place. Lucas heard a finger snap before foul tasting powder was shoved into his mouth, and a bare hand forced him to swallow.

Choking almost instantly, Lucas spent a few minutes coughing violently, his throat feeling like sand-paper had been forced down it.

“We shall return later, Brother Vaulen, once your wounds have properly healed.”

The exit door slammed shut, and Lucas felt some of the shallow wounds he had received begin to heal, and the pain from the blow to his torso very slowly began to subside.

‘Ugh, I almost forgot; werewolf healing is much weaker at these temperatures. Come on, man, focus on what we’ve got! Pebble-mouth mentioned indoctrination; If they’re trying to brainwash me, they why not just kidnap me in my sleep, instead of subduing me using Frigid Horns? Hmm, might be because of the security measures that Dolson had put in place. Or was it because there’s ALWAYS someone up in the Den, and they knew they didn’t stand a chance against a Knight, much less everyone if the alarm was raised?...Yeah, that’s sounds about right. And following that logic, given how much time and effort it must have taken they to get those horns, they’ve probably been targeting ME specifically for quite a while.”

Lucas smiled grimly.

“They probably wanted some serious werewolf muscle in this cult of theirs, and a werewolf Abater DOES sound right up THAT alley, huh? Not to mention the fact that Ma’s the chief of the Enforcers, so I double as good hostage material right there. But then, why did they use that powder on the others? If they wanted to lure me out, why not just steal my weapon and-!”

His eyes widened in realization

‘They want strength in numbers!! But, then why use the powder? If they just wanted more members, as all they’d need to do is kidnap them in their sleep instead!...wait a minute...were the depressed states a sign of this ‘indoctrination’, and not just a result of that powder mom’s men found?...Those b*stards, they were planting spies!’

Beginning to tremble, Lucas took several minutes to calm himself down.

‘I swear, they’re gonna pay for this…’

Leaning back a bit, Lucas mustered up what strength he had, and howled.

“You’re all gonna PAY!!”

…

“D*mn it!”

Nora Vaulen slammed her fists on the table before her, knocking several pins off the map of High Beacon before her.

Meeting with the evidence gathered, the Enforcers had quickly discovered the extent of the wool that had been pulled over their eyes.

“Chief, we did what we thought was the best course of action given the circumstances. There’s no way we could have known they were trying to lure out your son.”

Nora simply glared at the speaking Enforcer, who quickly recoiled.

“Can’t say I like admitting this, but I’m almost impressed by these crackers. Rather than risk drawing too much attention by outright kidnapping the civilians, they just altered their behavior with an alchemical agent, allowing them to bolster their numbers and keep themselves under the radar until it was too late.”

“Watch yourself, Reggie.” Nora growled, whipping around to glare at her second-in-command.

A rather short, but imposing, man of dark skin, with a truly magnificent beard that reached his neck, Reginald Torres simply held out a hand in defense as his superior attempted to incinerate him on the spot with her gaze alone.

“Just giving credit where credit is due, chief; they’re still a bunch of twits if they thought kidnapping Lucas was anything but rubbish. I’m sure he’ll have already taken care of some of these gits by the time we find out where they are.”

Eyeing him for a few more seconds, Nora eventually returned her gaze to the map.

“We got word back yet from those shops?”, she asked.

“Just got the last of them, chief!” stated one of the other enforcers present, pinning them to the wall they were using for information on the case. Taking in as much of it as she could, Nora looked around at everyone under her command

“Alright, I want this thing solved yesterday, people! Let’s move it!”

Incoherent chatter broke out immediately as the gathered officers began shuffling around, comparing information and theories, to try and pinpoint the cults location.

“Hey, is he really gonna be alright? I mean, he’s a knight, but with the alchemy these guys have access to…”

Nora and Reginald turned their heads to the left; one of the lower ranked enforcers (Juan, if Nora remembered his name correctly) was giving them a worried expression, a file clutched in his hand. Blinking once, Nora returned her attention to the map of High Beacon before walking over to the wall of information by the table, lighting a cigarette in the process.

“He’s my son; we might not’ve known he’d been the target from the start…”

Arms folded across her chest, Nora gently clenched the jacket of her left arm.

“But I made sure to take all the precautions I could before this whole ordeal even began. Trust me, he may be in deep, but my son’s far from helpless right now.”

….

“You are still awake, I presume, Brother Vaulen?”

Breathing heavily through the sack tied around his head, Lucas’ could only hazard a guess as to where he should glare...and a slight chill ran down his back as he did so.

He knew that voice.

Without the fog, it was clearer, and within the cell, it echoed.

No longer was he huddled within a cave as stinging winds ravaged the mouth, no longer did the wind twist and turn between the dry stones, spires, and no longer did the sea erode and flood the cavern floor.

No.

Now he heard a sandstorm, in the dead of night. The freezing air cut him like a millions razors.

Gritting his teeth, Lucas swallowed lightly, and bore with it.

“...That’s a bit of a relative term, you old cryptkeeper. The cold in here’s reeeally making it hard to keep my eyes open.”

Something shuffled in front of Lucas.

“A temporary measure, I assure you, Brother Vaulen. Sister Bruna, if you will.”

A dim-lit room soon flooded Lucas’ eyes as the sack on his head was lifted, and along with it, the faces of his captors became clear...or, as Lucas, much to his discomfort, immediately found out, the masks of his captors.

White as porcelain, they completely covered the cultist’s faces. The gaunt face he had seen before capture was simply a feature of the mask, a large, curved stroke of grey color covering the sides of the face; He might as well have been looking at a human skull.

It was the eyes that truly disturbed him, though.

While human enough, they were as large as a fist, and at the center of each, the eye of a terrified wolf had been attached.

“Are our appearances disconcerting to you, Brother Vaulen?”, the center cultist intoned, stepping forward.

“I’ve seen worse; I’m guessing you’re that ‘Arch-Brother’ they were talking about.” Lucas replied, noticing the more elaborate markings on the mask compared to the others. A long, black line seemed to split the mask between the eyes, with a small black circle in the dead center.

The masked man before him tilted his head to the right.

“How astute of you. I am the one who shall open your eyes, Brother Vaulen. Today, you shall finally see what awaits all our brethren.”

Snarling, Lucas tried to lunge at the deranged cultist, his shackles holding him in place.

“Feel free to continue, Brother Vaulen. You simply hasten your fate.”

Breathing raggedly, Lucas swallowed, his snarl gradually replaced with a smirk.

“Why don’t we test that? Come on, use some of that pixie dust on me; I can shake it off no problem!”

Arch-Brother Maxwell simply leaned forward, and Lucas squirmed slightly under the gaze of the mask.

“Are you aware of how much time has passed, Brother Vaulen?”

“Kinda hard to keep track of it when you’re being kept in a dark, dank cell-.”

“-It has been approximately three hours since your mother granted you immunity to our method of enlightenment, Brother Vaulen.”

Lucas’ blood ran cold.

Reaching into his robe, Maxwell pulled out a satchel, and poured out a familiar blue powder into his other hand, and knelt before him

“We are aware that the Enforcers were able to come up with a way to prevent your enlightenment, but such measures are temporary, at best. Why do you think we waited until now?”

And with that, Arch-Brother Maxwell blew.

The powder flooded Lucas’ olfactory passages, reaching his brain within seconds. Lucas went into a violent fit of coughing as he was forced to inhale the chemical weapon, saliva and such dropping onto the floor, and tears welling up in his eyes.

Simply nodding in appraisal, Maxwell rose.

“Just as all before you have, so you too shall see the werewolf, all of our kind, as the wretched existence that it is.”

Turning to Brother Alain, he handed her a tattered book from beneath his robe.

“As you were instructed. Wait until the twenty minute mark..”

Walking to the only door Lucas could see, Maxwell turned one final time to Lucas, the young man starting to sag in his position.

“You shall be the first of our greatest messengers, Brother Vaulen. Truly, it is one of the few privileges Our Kind is permitted.”

Lucas slumped over against the wall, arms slack, head drooped, and hair shadowing his face.

Maxwell closed the door, and Alain stood before Lucas, book in hand, and began to read.

...

It was hours later when Alain opened the door, letting in two other Bound.

“Have you become aware of the great sin, Brother Vaulen?”

Remaining silent for a moment, Lucas gave the barest of nods.

“Name it, then.”

Tilting his head up slightly, Lucas spoke, his face framed by shadows.

“...Our existence is a sin.”

The words came from a defeated voice, the whispers of a man who had accepted his fate. Alain remained impassive, and opened his book.

“Elaborate. How are we, the decrepit beings known as werewolves, a sin?”

“...We hold within us a Beast, a Destroyer, a great evil, something not worthy to walk amongst other mortals, not unchained, not to walk in the glow of the sun…”

“...And so you have seen the truth.” Brother Alain nodded solemnly. “You have listened well. Now, do you see how we must enlighten the rest of our Kind?”

“The only path to truth, is to subjugate and expose Our kind to the cloud of fate.”

“Unbind him from the walls, and replace his shackles with our own.”

Saying nothing as it was done, Lucas struggled to his feet, shivering slightly from the cold. One of the Bound handed him a plain, if somewhat ragged pair of hooded robes, and a mask.

“Come, Brother. You must have nourishment if you are to contribute.”

Flanked by four cultists, Lucas wordlessly followed Brother Alain, leaving behind him the depressing, cold atmosphere of the prison. Marching onwards down the hall, they were only illuminated by the lamps sparingly placed along the walls, revealing other doors along the way.

One door was open to reveal a robed figure, kneeling in prayer, a grail of strange liquid by their feet. It was here that they stopped, nudging Lucas towards the figure.

“First, we must be sure you have truly Awakened.”

Taking a dagger out of his robes, he placed it into Lucas’ hand.

“This pitiable woman has refused to Awaken, no matter how much we have tried to make her see reason.”

He leaned forward, his voice taking on a more commanding tone.

“Do what must be done for those we cannot sway.”

At first, Lucas was as still as a statue, dagger in hand.

Suddenly, he strutted forward, Alain observing his movements. Walking up behind the woman, he promptly knelt on his knees, wrapped an arm around her neck, raised the dagger…

And plunged.

The woman immediately stiffened, quivering in shock, and for several precious seconds, not another soul moved an inch.

“You have truly have awakened, Brother Vaulen. Keep your distance from the corpse now; I must ensure she is truly-!”

In the middle of his sentence, Lucas had raised the dagger, and plunged again, a soft ‘squish’ sound echoing in the small room.

“...Brother Vaule-?”

The dagger, now coating Lucas’ hand in blood, raised into view once more, and plunged, drawing more blood, and the captive quivered with each subsequent stab.

“That is enough, Brother Vaulen!”

Lucas halted mid-plunge, his dagger wielding hand now dripping with blood, a small pool formed under the captive.

“I applaud you for trying to be thorough, but I’m reasonably certain she was dead after the third time.”

Lucas swiftly stood up.

“My apologies for getting carried away, Brother Alain.”

“It’s fine, Brother Alain; just...save your energy for where it’s needed. Now, hurry; you have passed the second test, and we must meet the others in the dining hall.”

Letting Lucas exit the cell, Alain took one last look at the hole ridden corpse on the ground within, and let out a small shiver at the ferocity he had just witnessed. Giving Lucas a slightly greater girth, Alain and the other cultists continued their escort, walking down the winding hall. Passing another door, barely a crack open, an unknown aroma seeped through, and briefly flooded everyone’s nostrils with a cooling scent, one that was almost...relaxing.

The remaining open doors...perhaps there were some things best left unsaid.

Climbing a floor of stairs, they traversed into a hallway, zealots dotting the few intersecting corridors ahead, a sense of grim foreboding lingering in the air. Passing by one on the left bore the sight of a door being closed, a single gleam of something shining barely visible before it was shut and locked. No other doors bared their contents, and at the end of the hall, Brother Alain opened another to reveal the dining hall, a barren place of stone with three long wooden tables. Seating themselves, they waited until all were gathered, and Arch-Brother Maxwell took his seat at the other end of the center table.

“Brothers and Sisters.”

All turned their heads to him.

“Today, it truly begins. For too long, we have been allowed to languish in the same sun as the pure, never receiving the just punishment for our very being. For years we have strove open the eyes of our brethren, so that we might all make the Final, Truest Amendment, but with limited success. But with the conversion of Brother Vaulen, that shall change. With his might, and the Enforcer’s influence, all our kind shall be gathered, and this foul lineage of ours can be put to an end, and the world cleansed of our taint.”

Directing his gaze to Lucas, the rest soon followed.

“Rise, Brother Vaulen. Rise, and let us see the face of the newly enlightened.”

Wordlessly, Lucas obeyed and rose, a hand pulling down his hood, and the other revealing his face to those gathered.

Standing before them was a statue, a melancholy figure. Carved out of marble, the faded green eyes reflected nothing of the people before him, skin as pale and life as the stone at his feet.

“I have seen the truth of our race, and shall do all that is necessary to ensure its demise.”

“And thus, the cycle is broken.” was the unanimous chorus from around the table.

“Be seated, Brother Vaulen, and sate yourself for the crusade we embark upon tomorrow.”

Lucas nodded, his gaze resettling on Maxwell, not a flicker of emotion within his eyes. Taking his seat once again, Lucas slipped his mask back on as Maxwell continued with his speech...and, only slightly, allowed himself to grin.

‘And the stage is set!’

This was one of those times where he really had to thank his mom for thinking ahead. It was one thing to make sure everyone had a dosage of the antidote in their system, but it was another thing to prepare a second vial of the stuff, and hide it behind his molars in case the initial dose ran out. True, he hadn’t anticipated that three hours had already passed, but the minute he had heard Maxwell speak, he had gently dislodged the vial from his teeth and immediately shattered it, swallowing the contents as fast as he could

‘Time for some spy work…’

As the Arch-Brother’s speech ended, Lucas resumed his emotionless persona, and placed his mask on the table along with every other fanatic. As the meal of hot soup and bread began, Lucas focused his senses to pick up whatever information he could while he ate. The spoken word could only carry you for so far, and to gather information properly, one needed to be aware of the non-verbal part of the conversation.

Body language.

It was something he had picked up on while on assignments while just starting as an Abater. Sometimes, clients (especially the upper-class) withheld information that could mean the difference between life or death, for a variety of reasons. A nervous habit, pausing in between sentences, or just a slip of the tongue; over the years, he had honed his skills whenever the opportunity presented itself, and he could confidently say he was d*mn good at it!

(...Granted, he had asked his mom, and later, Millie, to teach him about it when he realized just how outclassed he was compared to the more experienced, but still!)

And so, he focused on the people surrounding him; the whispers, the shifting eyes, and the twitching of fingers. Careful as could be, he observed, he listened, finishing his meal quickly, and kept himself wary of Maxwell. A few hours later, and Lucas found himself being escorted to the resting chambers, a cup of hot tea in his hands, flanked by two fanatics. Blowing on his drink to cool it, he took one final sip from his drink, Lucas glanced as subtly as he could behind him at his guards

‘I think I got just enough information. Time to put it to use. But first...’

Lucas came to a halt.

“Excuse me, brothers, but there’s something that I think needs to be brought to Arch-Brother Maxwell’s attention.”

The taller of the two placed a dark hand to his chin..

“How vital is the information? I shall call someone to pass it on while we bring you to your quarters.”

“The information I feel is rather...sensitive. I think it might be best if it was just between him and I for now.”

“I suppose that is a valid concern...very well. I shall retrieve a few pieces of parchment, so there is no unnecessary-! AGHHHH!!!”

During the conversation, Lucas had slowly closed the distance between the three of them until he was within range, and threw the still hot liquid into the cultists mask, going right for the eyeholes. Judging by the surprised (and pained) reaction, his aim had been true. As fast as he could, he smashed the now empty ceramic cup at his other foe, then grabbed his arm, and tossed him at the one writhing in agony, knocking them out. Kneeling down, Lucas immediately dragged them over to the most dimly lit part of the hallway, and promptly searched them for weapons managing to come up with a vial of the powder that they had used against him, and a small dagger. Pocketing the vial, he glanced around and eyed the weapon now in his hand, and then back at the cultists.

‘They things they’ve done, and what they’re planning…and It’s make things more difficult if they woke up and told everyone I had tricked them.’

Putting the blades edge near the throat of the larger cultist, Lucas gulped, the weapon shaking in his hand. For what seemed like an eternity, he stared at the space between the neck and the dagger’s edge, the distance shortening until the blade made the smallest possible cut in the skin. At this point, his hand was shaking, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

Eventually, he scowled behind his mask

‘....The Final Horizon-!’

Abruptly getting up, Lucas sheathed the dagger in his pocket and raced off, the two cultists left alive.

‘This is gonna bite me in the *ss, I just know it!’