The Forgotten Zodiac

Werr wasn't even screaming anymore. He just laid there, allowing the feast to occur. There was nothing to do to stop it, he had decided. It was going to happen. Might as well let it be so. He did whimper once or twice, but he didn't cry out in pain until his arm snapped under one of the chain's teeth. Then he started struggling again, however weak and feeble his squirming was.

Malice pulled his little living monsters back at this, licking his lips eagerly. "Ahh...delicious, as ever," he said. "You know, I wouldn't have to do this if you would just be friends with me. Think about it; no more pain. You could stay in a room, instead of this dungeon. Being friends with me isn't that bad. Is all of this pain worth it? I know you fear pain. I know you hate it. Why not end it? Is it really, truly that bad to be friends with me? Who else do you have? I killed your lion's spirit and your panther isn't coming after you. I'm all you have left." He held his long arms out, his clawed fingers wide. "Come, my child," he said, smiling. His face...Welk's face...smiling down at Werr.

Werr struggled to squirm away, looking up at Malice with fear. He sat in silence for the longest time, then did something he would probably regret for the next lifetime.

He reached his bleeding hand up and placed it in Malice's. "No more pain...no more..." He whimpered, trembling slightly as he tried to stand on his own. That didn't work; he collapsed on the floor, his hand slipping from Malice's as he landed badly on his broken arm.

Instantly, shadows shot out and scooped Werr up, holding him close to the demonic fallen god. Werr didn't see the smile that stretched over his face, but it was a vile, disgusting smile, full of darkness and evil. But Werr when looked at him, all there was was kindness. "Come now," he said, his cape holding Werr gently. "I assure you that our friendship will be most beneficial."

He didn't say it would be beneficial to Werr.

But he kept his word. Werr was taken up to the proper rooms, which were lavish and amazing. Having been a god, Malice saw no reason why he couldn't live in sheer perfection, as he once had. Werr was allowed a hot bath, clean, simple clothes, and his wounds were cared for and bandaged. The entire time, Malice stayed close, watching Werr's every move. Once the boy was settled, silver bands were placed on his wrists and ankles. "These are for your protection, I assure you," Malice said. They were made of the same thing the cell had been made of; all to ensure that Werr couldn't get away or try to kill himself. Then Werr was brought to a table with lush food spread over it, where he was allowed to eat what he wanted.

And the entire time, Relic dragged his lifeless body after them, leaving green trails behind himself as he decayed.

Werr didn't speak much at all. He sat in silence for the most part, only replying to Malice's questions - whichever ones he had - with a 'yes' or a 'no'. He didn't eat, not a single scrap. He didn't sleep in the comfortable bed, instead dragging the blankets to the floor and sleeping there. Days passed. Three, to be precise. Werr kept track of times by meals and baths. Bathtime was just before bedtime, and there was breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day.

Werr didn't do much. He didn't think much, either; he just sort of wandered around numbly, ignoring the oozing raptorix that followed him like a bloodhound. After the second day, though, he didn't have the strength to wander around anymore. So when he was dragged to the table, his bracelets fed him. They were a bit rough at first, practically shoving the food down Werr's throat. He hated it, he didn't want to eat, all he would say was, 'no, no, no'. But eventually, just like with everything else, he gave in. Another day passed. Six days total of captivity thus far, and Werr had been reduced to a shell of his former self in two. He was just sort of...broken. In the back of his mind, he was reminded of his captivity under Obelisk. That had been a little similar. Pushed out of his own mind. But no, he knew what he was doing this time. He was aware of every single bit of it. He could talk, but chose not to. He could try to escape, but chose not to. He could try again to kill himself, but he still chose not to.

It was just easier. Less painful. He said not a word because he knew that whatever came out would be nonsense; his mind was caving in on itself. His lack of struggling came from his desire to escape from pain. It wasn't really working. He hurt still. He hurt so much on the inside. So very much.

Six days total of captivity, two of which spent in a cell.

---

"None of this makes any sense!" Forin shouted for the twentieth time. "Oridanante, you have to tell us where the last artifact is! We can't search this foul desert any longer. Four endless days of searching, and we haven't even seen bandits! I thought this stupid desert was supposed to be crawling with people like that! Argh!"

"For the last time, Forin, he's comatose!" Ophile barked at the other Tartaran. Indeed, they had made their way back to Star Palace, thanks to it being their only known water source in the entire desert. They had to use this as their 'base' for now. It was the only way they could do anything, after all. But, upon their arrival, they had found Oridanante fallen to a coma thanks to his previous wounds and the shock of that. Forin and Ophile, getting a little high-strung due to the sun, were shouting more and more with every passing hour, it seemed.

"How are we supposed to find that Artifact without his help, hmm?" Forin snapped right back at Ophile.

"We did it with the others!" Ophile growled.

"There were people to question with the others! Do you see anyone other than us and mister sleepy-head here? Anyone?!"

"Maybe we're not looking hard enough!"

"Four days, you stupid wolf! If not for the dragons, we'd have died of starvation! Thirst, before that, without the pool! We're looking as hard as we can. Maybe it's your fault!"

"MY fault? MY fault?! Sure, because it's absolutely MY fault that I'm going blind! It's MY fault that my eyes are more sensitive to light!"

"SHUT UP!" Nate finally screeched at them. "Both of you, can it, or I'll lock you in Obelisk's old room and make you sit there in silence for the rest of the day! You're scaring Diana and Boko, and the rest of us are sick of hearing it!"

An earsplitting screech suddenly seemed to shatter all of the fighting, leaving them all clutching their ears. Cynyr panted, his hands curled at his sides and his body fizzling from the use of his wind powers, then he snarled and spoke the most words they had heard him say since 'Werr' had died.

"You all are acting like self-centered babies! Sit down, shut up, or so help me I'll tear your mouths out! I'm the leader of this pitiful thing now, and I'm taking charge! First off, Luen can generate ice, so he can give us water if we need it. Correct?!"

Luen, not daring to speak, nodded once, fearfully.

"Good. Now if you'll all SHUT UP long enough for me to concentrate, I might have a chance of locating the Artifact's magic!" Before they could stop him, he shoved his hand into his bag and brought out the Artifacts they already had. The ring went onto his finger, the crown onto his head, the necklace around his neck, and he pulled Werr's fire-sword out of its sheath and put the sword inside instead.

Then he turned and stomped back to the surface, spitting curses and a warning of "The first person to follow me gets their throat slit. I'll alert you when I've found something."

Once he was gone, Seria fretted. "I didn't want him to try that..." she mused. "What if the Artifacts sway him?"

"They likely won't unless complete. The Artifacts are naturally good, Seria, never forget that. If we can put them together without any influence from Obelisk or Malice, they'll regect both of them and only let those with good hearts control it. Which...would most likely be you, out of all of us." Ophile snorted, still a bit testy. "But, uh...that many of them...they'll do whatever it takes to be complete again, you see. They don't exactly have...brains. So it's hard for them to think anything through. If only you could hear the arguments they have..."

"Wait, they talk?" Nate blinked, confused.

"Yes, what seems like dull humming or vibrations to you is actually how they communicate with each other. Perhaps they might even talk to Cynyr, as he's weilding so many of them at once."

"Okay, but I thought they were just...things."

"The soul of Welk lives within a bear, do you not recall? Lots of faeries died the day the Artifacts were split into many. A few souls get absorbed, and here we are. If I'm not mistaken, the only one without a soul attached to it is the sword. Either that, or it's just awfully quiet."

Luna quietly slipped over to Forin, taking his hand into one of hers and rubbing his shoulder with her other. She put her mouth to his shoulder and closed her eyes, moving her hand down to slip it under the back of his shirt and stroke his back, calming him through her touch.

Death appeared suddenly in their midst.

Everyone, him included, froze at the sight of each other. The Grim Reaper's hand tightened around his scythe, then he quickly said, in his usual sad voice, "Pray, allow me pass to my cell. I hath not a wish to harm you, nor haveth I come upon orders of Malice. I simply wish pass to my cell, where I might take a moment of rare peace." He turned his sad red eyes on them, looking quite sheepish.

"We don't dare deny you," Ophile shook his head quickly. "Go right ahead, by all means..." Death wasn't exactly something they could overcome. If he had come for them, they would all be dead. If Death wanted them dead, it would be so. There was no question about it, no chance of fighting. He looked over at Forin, realizing that the other Tartaran was hiding Diana behind him, not willing to let her go as long as Death was in the room. Boko had squealed and darted up the tunnel to be with his mother rather than stand around one with such bad smells.

Death nodded to them, then seemed to float across the ground and disappeared into his cell, which had formerly been empty. The door swung shut behind him, sealing him in, and they heard a momentary sigh of relief. Then a soft poof and some purple sparkles wafted out as the door opened again, revealing that Death was gone. Somewhere, someone had died, and it was his job to collect the soul. He poofed back a moment later, his red eyes glowing out from the darkness of his room. "I know that soul," he said suddenly, and one skeletal hand moved out and pointed at Cynyr's abandoned bag. Inside, Welk shivered and tried to move, but couldn't, of course. "I was there at thy crafting, Fire-Soul. Lord Malice did not allow mine interferreance with thine forming. Thus was a mistake. Pray, shalt one of you bring him hither to me?"

Welk squealed in fear and started sobbing.

Death blinked at that, retreating his hand. "...Hm," was the only sound he made.

Ophile, ever the obedient one, nosed into Cynyr's bag and carefully picked up Welk in his teeth. He walked over to Death's door, setting the bear on the floor. "You should be aware that if he is harmed, Cynyr will suffer greatly and likely persue you. But I doubt that is what you want to see him for." He turned his nose down, sniffing Welk. "Fear not, Welk. If he wanted you dead, you would be so already."

Welk continued to cry, especially when Death placed his skeletal hand on him and pulled him into the darkness of his cell. There was silence for a while, broken only by an occasional squeak from Welk or a small sob, then Death slowly put his hand back out and set Welk down where Ophile could retreive him. "I have repaired what Malice did not do," the Titan said. "Fire-Soul, you shalt move without pain and find your powers at thy bidding once more. No longer pained to use."

Welk sniffled and managed to find his voice long enough to beg Ophile to take him away.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Death." Ophile smiled slightly before lowering his  head and scooping up Welk, placing him gently back in Cynyr's bag before curling himself around said bag, trying to do what he knew he could not; comfort the trapped soul. Ophile was aware that Welk didn't even know of Werr's demise; he preferred to keep it that way. Poor Welk might just give up altogether if he knew...

Welk was quiet after that, just floating around in his little sphere and listening to Ophile breathe, which was somehow comforting. And to a tiny, easily-breakable soul trapped in the form of a teddy bear, comfort was hard to come by. His depression was second only to Naybrin's; they both hurt badly inside, in a way that seemed to have no end. Welk pressed against the edge of his glass sphere, trying to move closer to Ophile's warmth. It was cold inside his orb. Endlessly cold.

Cynyr returned soon, his arms crossed over his chest. "I know where we need to go," he said, glaring at them.

"Do you?" Ophile looked up. "Good." He stood and shook himself off, nudging Cynyr's bag towards him. "I'm pretty sure we're ready to go, too. Why we didn't do this first, I don't know, but it's about time we found some clues."

"Get better, mister Oridanante," Diana patted the sleeping Guardian's chest, smiling slightly.

Cynyr grabbed up his bag and made sure Welk was still there, then slowly took off the Artifacts and put them inside. With each one that disappeared into his bag, his movements were slow, like he didn't want to remove them. He did, however, and led the way outside. The dragons were ready to go, and Zephyr pawed at some of the sand. "Let's be off," he said, ducking his head down to them.

"Yes, let's," Forin growled, helping Diana and Luen up onto the dragon before climbing up himself. He made sure they both were secure before double-checking the others. Nate settled down at the front, just behind Zephyr's ears. Ophile clamped his teeth around one of the spikes, as usual. When everyone was ready, they set off. Their destination? Deep underground, in unusual caves unlike any other. Caves Boko might be familiar with; the Silver Tornado's last hideout, as well.

Cynyr guided them in the right direction, making sure they were doing the correct way. The dragons flew onwards, and in a few hours, they had arrived at the entrance to the cave. Zephyr and Vaira landed, kicking up waves of sand as they beat their wings. Luen pulled Diana close and covered her from the sand until it died down, then helped her off. Luna flared her wings and alighted gently on the ground, watching Forin closely.

Cynyr leapt off and stalked to the front, glaring down into the cave.

Boko slid out of Vaira's pouch, nosing around the entrance. It was a bit incredible; a huge hole, half-filled with sand. Tunneling down at a sharp angle. So sharp of an angle that without the sand, it would be a long and bumpy trip down. In fact, the sand was what hid these entrances so well; they were all over, but the constant shifting sands would hide one entrance and reveal another.

"Mommy, Boko does not want you to be here..." He whimpered, looking up at his mother. "Mommy and daddy will be hurt..."

Vaira bent her head and nuzzled her baby gently, saying "Shh, it's okay, shh. We'll be fine." She stroked her muzzle up and down his back, then said "Just stay close, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you. You're my baby." She licked his forehead once in a dragon kiss, then pulled back as she and Zephyr turned to each other and kissed once. Then Cynyr headed to the hole and they followed, slowly going down into darkness.