Assassination

An invitation to power is an invitation to watch one's back.

Assassination

By the time we finally made it back to our quarters, exhaustion clung to us like a second skin. The hallways had never seemed so long, and each step felt heavier than the last. Mose stumbled in first, practically collapsing onto the nearest armchair with a groan that sounded more like a dying animal than a human.

"Never again," Mose muttered, rubbing his temples. "Who knew copying books could be more exhausting than an actual battle?"

Rolo, who had been leaning against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow. "Oh please, you're the one who insisted on copying every single volume. I think I've now memorized the smell of old parchment forever."

Mose shot him a tired but defiant look. "A good mage is always prepared. Besides, you never know when you'll need a rare recipe for 'Explosive Elixirs' or 'How to Befriend a Hydra in Five Easy Steps.'"

I chuckled, shaking my head as I dropped into the other armchair. "Or when you'll need to accidentally summon a book avalanche again."

Rolo smirked, flopping onto the sofa. "Honestly, Mose, you should write your own book. 'How to Survive Being a Disaster.' I'm sure it would be a bestseller."

"With a special chapter on 'How to Convince Your Friends to Clean Up After You'?" I added dryly.

Mose let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his arm over his eyes. "You two just don't appreciate my foresight. I'm sure those books will come in handy someday."

"Sure, Mose, right after we figure out how to stop you from causing the next natural disaster," I replied, my voice laced with mock seriousness.

Mose peeked out from under his arm with a grin. "Well, I'm glad you're both here to save me from myself."

Rolo, stretching his arms above his head, nodded. "Someone's got to do it. But seriously, next time, let's limit your book obsession to just one or two. Maybe three, if we're feeling generous."

"Four?" Mose ventured, looking hopeful.

I groaned, shaking my head as I kicked off my shoes. "Not a chance. My back can't take another night like this."

"Fine, three," Mose conceded, settling deeper into his chair with a content sigh. "But you'll thank me when we have a perfectly timed spell or recipe thanks to those books."

Rolo and I exchanged amused glances. "We'll see about that," I muttered.

I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment. "Alright, enough talking. Let's get some sleep before Mose convinces us to do something else equally exhausting."

Mose opened one eye and grinned. "Like planning tomorrow's library raid?"

"Don't even joke about that," Rolo said, laughing despite himself.

With that, the room fell into a comfortable silence.

I finally retreated to my room. The quiet of the space was a welcome change from the chaos of the evening. I sat down on the edge of my bed, pulled out my phone, and decided to check in with Alex and Lil before calling it a night.

First, I texted Alex:

[Survived a day at Livius's court. Spent half the evening cleaning up a book avalanche Mose caused. How's everything on your end? Still holding down the fort?]

Next, I shot a message to Lil:

[Today was a mix of battles, awkward dinners, and Mose's ongoing attempt to stir up some disaster here or there. What did you get up to? Hopefully something more relaxing than magical book-copying marathons]

After sending the messages, I stretched out on the bed, feeling the day's exhaustion seep into my bones. My phone buzzed almost immediately, signaling Alex's quick reply.

Personal Masterchef: [Cleaning up after Mose? Sounds like you're getting all the fun jobs. Everything here is quiet, just the usual.]

I smirked at his dry humor, imagining his bemused expression as he pictured me picking up scattered books.

Then Lil's response came in:

Trouble's Chauffeur: [Magical book-copying marathons? Now I'm jealous. My day was nowhere near as exciting. Spent most of it meeting other mages. I think I'd prefer dealing with a book avalanche. But seriously, sounds like you're having quite the adventure.]

I shot back quick responses:

[I'll trade chores with you anytime, Alex. You can be the book-cleaning expert next time.]

[Lil, trust me, the glamour of a book avalanche wears off fast. But hey, I'll take it over political bickering any day.]

I typed out a quick message to both of them:

[Good night. We'll catch up more tomorrow.]

With that, I turned off my phone and set it on the nightstand. I let out a long, content sigh as I pulled the blankets over myself. It had been a long day, but at least it ended with some peace and quiet.

I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day finally pull me into a deep, much-needed rest.

(...)

The room was pitch-black, the kind of darkness that seemed to swallow everything whole. I was drifting into a deeper sleep, the day's exhaustion pulling me under, when something sharp sliced through the stillness. It wasn't sound or light—it was intent. The air thickened, heavy with the presence of someone who didn't belong. My eyes snapped open, and I tensed, every sense on high alert.

A slight whizzing noise cut through the silence—a bullet aimed straight for my head. I reacted instinctively, my hand shooting up and catching the projectile in mid-air. The metal felt cold and sharp against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the burning bloodlust that ignited within me.

In the dark recesses of my mind, the monster stirred, its presence slithering up like a beast waking from a long slumber.

Huh. He came at the end. I tightened my grip on the bullet, sensing the intruder—Jareth—his presence like a foul stench. He was close, closer than I expected.

The bullet in my hand began to twist and morph, the cold metal reshaping into a spiked ball. The spikes dug into my flesh, tearing through skin and muscle, sending a shock of pain up my arm. Blood dripped from my hand, warm and slick. The pain was sharp, but it only served to make me laugh—a dark, low chuckle that reverberated in the room like a growl.

Jareth's face was partially illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had expected me to scream, to recoil, to show pain. 

A bug. Irritating, sure, but nothing special.

I let the spicked ball fall. I grinned, letting the blood trickle down my arm. I brought the hand to my mouth, licking the blood off with deliberate slowness, savoring the taste. The wound began to close, the skin knitting together. The monster inside me purred, amused and disdainful.

This one thinks he's something special. How quaint.

Without a second thought, I stood up, moving with an ease that belied the situation. In one swift motion, I crossed the room and drove my fist through the glass. The window shattered with a resounding crash, shards raining down like deadly confetti. Jareth barely had time to react before I reached through the jagged opening, grabbed him by the throat, and yanked him inside.

He stumbled into the room, his body crashing to the floor with a dull thud.

Jareth's face twisted in horror as he watched my wounds from the glass shards heal up, the crimson stains the only evidence that it had ever been there. I could see the panic creeping into his gaze, his pupils dilating as the reality of what he was facing began to set in.

For a split second, he was frozen, paralyzed by the impossibility of what he had just witnessed. Then, as if a switch had flipped, Jareth's fear transformed into frenzied desperation. His breathing quickened, coming in short, ragged gasps, and I could almost hear the gears in his mind spinning wildly, searching for a way out.

He moved back, his hand trembling as he reformed the bullet. The metal shifted, twisting and morphing rapidly. First, it became a knife, the blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light. It lunged at me, aiming straight for my heart, but I sidestepped effortlessly, letting the blade slice through the air where I had been standing just moments before.

Undeterred, Jareth retracted the knife, the metal melting and reshaping itself into a spiked chain. He swung it at me with all the strength he could muster, the spikes whistling through the air as they hurtled toward me. I raised my arm, letting the chain wrap around it, the spikes digging into my flesh. Pain flared up my arm, but I didn't flinch; instead, I looked down at the wounds with mild interest, almost as if I were examining a curious insect bite.

The monster within me was barely interested.

"Pathetic."

I could feel Jareth tugging at the chain, trying to free it from my arm, but I held it fast, tightening my grip until the spikes that sank even deeper into my skin. The wounds bled profusely for a moment, the dark red liquid dripping onto the floor, but then—just as before—the skin began to close up around the metal, sealing the wounds and leaving behind only faint scars that faded within seconds.

Jareth's eyes widened in terror as the blood flow slowed, then stopped entirely. He yanked the chain free with a frantic pull, the spikes tearing through my skin again, but the satisfaction he sought was short-lived. The fresh wounds he created started to close just as quickly as the previous ones. It was a dance of destruction and regeneration, and I was allowing him to lead, if only for a moment.

His desperation reached a fever pitch. The chain was pulled back, the metal flowing like liquid as it transformed once more—this time into a cluster of jagged spikes, each one honed to a deadly point. He launched them at me with a roar, his face twisted in a grimace of exertion and fear. The spikes tore into my chest and arms, sinking deep, drawing fresh blood. I staggered back slightly, more out of a desire to keep up the pretense than from any real pain. The wounds stung, sure, but it was a fleeting sensation, already dulling as my body began to repair itself.

I laughed—a low, mocking sound that filled the room like a sinister echo. I could see the fear in Jareth's eyes now, raw and unfiltered. He was no longer the cocky mage who had launched a surprise attack from the safety of the shadows. He was a terrified boy, lashing out blindly, hoping against hope that he could still turn the tide in his favor.

His face was a mask of horror, his mind unable to comprehend the futility of his actions. He was trying to kill a monster that wouldn't die, to conquer an opponent far beyond his understanding. He attacked again and again, each strike more frantic than the last. Knives, chains, spikes—they all flew at me with reckless abandon, each one crafted with the singular intent of causing as much damage as possible.

I let him entertain himself, dodging some attacks to keep the illusion alive that he was doing something. The more he tried, the more his desperation grew, and the more my monster found it all the more amusing. The spikes and blades he threw at me were nothing more than dull irritants, mosquito bites against an iron hide. The monster within me wanted to laugh again, to show him just how little he mattered.

But enough was enough.

With a speed that seemed impossible, I appeared before him, so fast that to him it must have seemed like I had teleported. Before he could even blink, I slammed him into the wall with enough force to crack the stone behind him. His body slumped, the fight drained out of him in an instant as he gasped for air, pinned by the pressure of my hand on his neck.

His eyes were filled with terror, wide and unblinking as he stared up at me, no longer seeing a man but a monster. And in his gaze, I saw it—his realization of just how outmatched he was, how futile his efforts had been. The monster within me was practically purring, enjoying the sight of this insect squirming under my gaze. 

The door burst open, and Mose and Rolo stumbled in, looking as pale as ghosts. They froze at the sight, their eyes darting between Jareth and me, trying to piece together what had happened.

I turned my head slightly, my gaze shifting to them, my voice calm. "Sorry I woke you."

The tension in the room deflated slightly as the two of them took in my composed demeanor. Mose, who had been on the verge of panic, let out a shaky breath, while Rolo's shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

"What… happened?" Rolo finally managed to ask, his voice a mix of confusion and concern.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Jareth thought it was a good idea to make a late-night visit. I think he's come to realize it wasn't such a great plan after all."

As I pressed Jareth harder against the wall, his frantic attempts to escape were almost pitiful. The desperation in his eyes was a stark contrast to his earlier bravado. He squirmed and twisted, his eyes darting toward the broken window like it was his last hope. But it was too late for him.

I could feel his panic radiating through my fingers, and a small, dark part of me found it amusing. He was like a bug caught in a web, wriggling desperately to get free, completely unaware of how insignificant he truly was in the grand scheme of things.

Rolo's voice cut through the silence, steady and composed. "Shay, we need to decide what to do with him."

Mose, still wide-eyed and pale, glanced between Jareth and me. "We should take him to the Sorcerer Lord," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "He needs to face the consequences of his actions."

I glanced at Mose and nodded, "Looks like you're going to have an audience with Livius after all. Maybe he'll be more inclined to listen to your excuses."

As Jareth made another futile attempt to escape, I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back from the wall. Jareth's eyes were filled with a mix of fear and anger as he realized his fate was sealed. He struggled weakly against me, but there was no escaping what was coming next.

We made our way through the darkened corridors, Jareth still writhing in our grasp. The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sound being the faint echo of our footsteps as we approached Livius's quarters.

When we reached Livius's door, I knocked firmly. A few moments later, Livius opened the door, his disheveled appearance and sleepy eyes betraying his abrupt wake-up. His expression shifted from groggy confusion to alarm as he took in the sight of Jareth bound between us.

"What is going on?" Livius asked, his voice rough with sleep but sharp with concern.

"Jareth decided it was a good idea to visit me uninvited," I said, my tone clipped. "He attempted to attack me in my sleep."

Livius's eyes widened in shock, quickly clearing the fog of sleep as he took in the seriousness of the situation. "What?"

Rolo stepped forward, his face etched with concern. "Yes. We restrained him and thought it best to bring him directly to you. It's clear this needs immediate attention."

Livius nodded, his expression shifting to one of stern authority. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a series of magical bindings. The chains glowed softly, their magic wrapping around Jareth and rendering him immobile. Jareth's eyes darted between us and the bindings, panic setting in as he struggled fruitlessly against his restraints.

"Please," Livius said, his voice steady despite the hour. "I will deal with this matter in the morning after breakfast. For now, he will remain here under guard."

Jareth, now fully bound and unable to move, glared at us with a mixture of defiance and fear.

Mose, glanced at me. "I think we should let the Sorcerer Lord handle it from here."

"Very well," I replied dryly.

Livius nodded, his gaze turning back to us. "Thank you. Get some rest; you've had a trying night."

"Let's head back," Rolo suggested, his voice tired but resolute.

We trudged back to our quarters, the oppressive quiet of the manshion making the night feel even more unsettling. Each of us was lost in our thoughts, contemplating the implications of Jareth's actions and the uncertainty of what the morning would bring.