Retaliation [Max]

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Freedom was a taste Winston never thought he'd experience again. He'd been locked away for crimes he admittedly had committed. There was no regret there. The weak were fodder, prey for the strongest, for the Pure as Alyson liked to call them. But without her guidance he had grown sloppy. He'd admit that. Alyson had always been the cleverest of them. It had been why Winston had been happy to follow her. She'd rewarded him well. They'd had a good understanding and their rise had been certain. But then she'd disappeared in that Flux. Left him with nothing but the thirst, the need, the want. And for several years he had devoured the weak, growing strong on their sacrifice until the Light had trapped him and locked him away in eternal darkness. 

But Azkaban had not truly weakened him, only in body was he a shadow of his former self. The darkness of prison was just an echo of his soul. You could not be driven mad by despair if the ideal of happiness did not factor in your life. Happiness was something the Weak aspired to to give their lives meaning. A fluttery emotion with no worth. Nor did he feel guilt or remorse. 

He was strong, always had been. His power supported by the Shadows themselves and strengthened by blood. Alyson had encouraged that side of him, the side that consumed all Light. And now she was back and he was free. She was still young but she'd always exuded a presence beyond her years. Her body was just a shell for the almighty power within her. He was content to follow her still, to share in the power that she controlled.

The power that hadn't been shared as was meant to be. Oh the ritual had been glorious. Blood and Shadows. Life and Death. Light and Dark in a power play that only had one outcome. The power that had filled the clearing had been dizzying, the air electric, the coppery smell of blood almost sending him into a frenzy. And then it had been ruined. By a boy desperate to save his girl. Pathetic.

Alyson had found him a few days after and told him what had happened. Together they shared a common understanding. He'd known about her sister, been impressed at Alyson's usage of her sisters energy to break him and several others out of Azkaban, been even more impressed at the level of power in the Ritual. Rowena Covington would certainly be a prize cut of meat if he had not been forbidden from going that route. Instead his Mistress had given him a different and equally rewarding victim. Max Kameren would pay for interfering in matters that didn't concern him. 

Which is why he was patiently waiting in the shadows of the Catacombs under the hospital where the boy worked. A bloodied body was in the corner of the room, nurse, healer, patient... Winston didn't know or care. It had been readily available, waiting for him as he'd arrived in the maze of tunnels. The meat hadn't been particularly good, but it would serve it's purpose. 

There was a whispering sound and it seemed the shadows moved, circling around Winston. A sinister grin spread across his face, twisting the scar that covered half his face. The boy was coming down as Winston knew he must at some point. It was time. 

Winston gave a swift harsh kick to the body and it whimpered loudly, holding it's stump of an arm even as blood gushed out of a large wound in it's side. The empath wouldn't be able to miss the pain coming from his victim and healers didn't ignore people in trouble. And then the shadows coalesced around him as Winston shrank back into the darkness.

[Max Kameren]

To the Catacombs. The fucking Catacombs. It seemed every time Max turned around lately something needed to be fetched from the hospital’s dank, dangerous basement and Max was the only one able to help. He’d tossed off his robes in his office, hoping to be on his way out the door to meet Rowena when he’d been stopped in the hall by one of the new trainees, pleading with him for help. Please Max, she’d asked, I don’t feel comfortable going down there anymore, not since the attacks. Please.

For a trainee she’d known well enough which senior healer to lean into and Max obliged. He took her notes and headed for the lift, pressing the button to call one for the Catacombs. He was only fetching files; it wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Ro would forgive him if he were a minute or two late if it was for the hospital.

A heavy sigh escaped him as the flickering lift rumbled into place in front of him. He shook his head and entered anyway, pressing the button for the archives and shaking his head as the door lurched closed. Each time the lift paused Max reflected on the sheer amount of galleons Eden had given Mungo’s for the express purpose of fixing up the Catacombs; was it ten grand? And they still had broken lifts and only two renovated sleep areas? Where did the money go? He shook his head, running a hand through his hair tiredly as the lift lurched to a halt at the archives. A bell rang, and the door opened.

Then, he felt it.

It was like a scream, but there was no sound. Just a tendril of pain rushing in a thin spike through Max’s mind, calling him for help in another part of the dungeons. Max had felt pain like that before in patients; whoever it was, they were hurt badly. He felt around: no one else’s aura registered in his mind. They were alone, probably some poor healer on their way down for a rest between shifts and they got dropped in the wrong place. Seemed plausible. It had happened to him before, after all. With a sigh Max shook his head and stepped back, narrowing in on the aura he felt and pressing the corresponding button to navigate there.

No bell rang, and this time as the door opened the light in the lift flickered out. Green eyes stared out into pitch darkness, the only sounds he could gather the distant dripping of a ceiling and the labored breathing of his colleague. With a flick of his wrist Max’s fingers lit in a Lumos charm, illuminating the area around him.

He zeroed in on a slumped body on the stone floor a few meters ahead; with his long stride Max made it to him quickly, rolling the wizard over to reveal one of the night-shift orderlies. To his horror the orderly clutched a stump-arm gushing blood; Max’s eyes widened and he moved quickly, sealing the man’s arm and trying to pull him to his feet and push him towards the lift.

“Go. Go. Now.” Max’s hand pulsed brighter to try to illuminate the shadows of their crevasse, eyes darting around and extending his aura to search for any other presence – or the Presence – among them.

This wasn’t an accident. This was a trap.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

“Tut tut Kameren,” a dark voice said from the shadows, “Didn’t anyone teach you it was bad manners to steal someone’s food?”

Dark shapes rushed towards the orderly, surrounded him for only a few seconds before dissipating. When they left, the man stood there, eyes full of black, just staring at Max, blood dripping from the wound in his side.

‘You failed. You didn’t save me. Now you're dead. She's next.’ whispered the shadows as they danced around Max headless of the light he projected, taunting him. They were not subject to the whims of nature, they were fragments of energy, dark magic given form. And they surrounded Max, containing him, flicking against his skin leaving angry painful welts.

And as they did that, Winston revealed himself, stepping behind his first victim with a gleeful smile. A knife in his hand swiped neatly across the man’s neck, leaving a gaping hole, the blood gurgling and bubbling as the man gasped for air.

“A sacrifice. Just like that other healer. What was he called? Oh yes… Bryn. His blood was delicious. But a Kameren... I have long wanted to taste a Kameren…” It would be suitable revenge for the elder Kameren, involved in his capture. And possibly even a bit more of a challenge. Winston looked forward to the fight, and even more so to the acceptance of death.

“My Lady is extremely displeased with your interference. I wanted to punish the girl. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But what my Lady wants, she gets. So while I wait for the pleasure of feasting on your woman, I’ll enjoy the taste of your flesh.” Winston said as he stalked forward, shadows dancing around him absorbing any attack Max might cast his way in a similar way a Protego might. When he got closer, his hand made a cutting motion and several shadows sharpened, slicing into Max's skin. Winston's mouth watered at the sight of the red blood that dripped from the cuts.

He was a cat, playing with his prey. Why rush the delightful pleasure of feeling that special moment when your prey realized it was over? The moment when they knew they couldn’t win. Where was the joy in the green light of an Avada Kedavra? Quick and painless. A waste of life. A disgrace of death.

The true glory lay in the sacrifice. The moment when the victim gave up on life and embraced death instead. The power rush one could get in those seconds was addictive. And Winston was an addict.

Max Kameren was not a mere weakling. Winston knew the boy had a few tricks up his sleeve. If he had not so obviously been of the Light, he would have been welcomed into their ranks. Past Kamerens had been Shadowloved and done well but there was a taint in the family these days. It was such a taint that Alyson sought to remove, leaving only those worthy of their bloodlines.

But first it was time to play. “I don’t like my dinner served on a silver platter though. Fight for your life boy. I’ll even pretend you have a chance and call off my friends.” A wave of the Shadowloved’s hand and the dark shapes melted away as if they had never existed even as a twisted wand appeared in his other hand, his aura darkening and a manic gleam entering his eyes as he felt Alyson's strength join to his. His Lady was watching and he would not disappoint. 

[Max Kameren]

“Tut tut Kameren,” a dark voice said from the shadows, “Didn’t anyone teach you it was bad manners to steal someone’s food?” 

Max spun around in search of the voice. How was he not picking up on the aura’s location? He felt frazzled and deaf, reaching out in the dark and coming back empty-handed. He expanded out his Lumos spell to flash bright, shining a blinding light throughout the crevasse. It had little affect; the shadows moved independently of light, as if they had a mind of their own. They were too quick for him and enveloped the orderly in their haze. Max’s breath caught as he felt the man’s aura not just lose contact, but invert. It was like falling into a black hole: everything the orderly had been reversed itself, sucking psychic energy out of the world instead of contributing to it. Max felt the pull and recoiled, putting up shields to protect himself mentally and physically.

‘You failed. You didn’t save me. Now you're dead. She's next.’ Max’s shields didn’t help much. The shadows were amorphous, able to slink in and out of his defenses with little he could do. They broke through and surrounded him, taunting and prodding him. The shadows carried the same gravity as the inverted aura; they pulled at his mental faculties, sucking energy from him bit by bit. Max gave up on the conventional shields and released a repelling charm from his chest, trying to make space. If he couldn’t keep them away with a barrier, he would have to get creative.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows, and Max could barely feel him. His presence was unsettling; it was like there was barely an aura for him to feel, just the faint ether-smell Max usually absorbed with a death. This man was death. He lived for it.

Max’s hands pulsed with light as a knife appeared in the man’s hands, but Max knew it was too late; it would be best to save his own energy than to save the husk of an orderly standing before him with black eyes. He reinforced his mind, straightening and meeting the man’s eyes as the orderly’s blood flowed. “A sacrifice. Just like that other healer. What was he called? Oh yes… Bryn. His blood was delicious. But a Kameren... I have long wanted to taste a Kameren…”

“You’ll have to keep waiting.” Max tensed, his mouth thinning to a grimace. He finally pushed the shadows off of him with a burst of silver light; from the light came a cat-shaped patronus, forming itself and coming to perch over its caster’s shoulders. Conventional shields hadn’t worked, but what shield was designed to keep dark magic at bay? A patronus. The cat-image of his father’s animagus sent out pulses to keep the shadows back, turning on his shoulders to meet whatever shadow was trespassing on Max’s personal space. The healer’s hands balled into fists, pulsing a deep purple. He let the man speak; this was unfamiliar magic, the more this strange wizard spoke the more Max could strategize.

“My Lady is extremely displeased with your interference. I wanted to punish the girl. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But what my Lady wants, she gets. So while I wait for the pleasure of feasting on your woman, I’ll enjoy the taste of your flesh.”

Max let out a wall of purple light at the man but it was enveloped by the shadows, consuming the energy and moving in for his prey. With his attention diverted to the action in front of him Max neglected his back protection and one of the shadows sharpened, slashing him across the back. He grunted in pain, the shock of the cut making him misstep in his defense and get slashed again in the arm, then on his side. He felt the warmth seep into his clothes, the soft tickle of streams of blood running down his back. His patronus flickered out and Max recast it just as quickly, this time assembling it as a protective bubble, pushing the shadows back.

“I don’t like my dinner served on a silver platter though. Fight for your life boy. I’ll even pretend you have a chance and call off my friends.” The man’s deadened aura gave way to the shrieking pain of the Presence, and Max’s head twinged with the pain of it. The shadows faded but Max’s patronus stayed up, suspicious they they wouldn’t really be gone. Was this man really just playing with him?

Max’s hands lit up with spells he’d learned with the aurors, ones specifically to contain dark magic that might not be as susceptible to conventional means. Spells that he hadn’t cast before, not outside a training setting. Now he was on his own, facing someone who very obviously was more powerful than him. Emerald eyes darted for the lift, then back to the man; he couldn’t lead this… whatever it was back up to the hospital. Up to the patients. He had to fight.

With an even breath and one quick motion he let his shield down and fired back, weaving together a runic chain of dark-magic binding spells to surround the man in front of him. They flowed out of his fingers individually like whips, batting away spells headed for Max and braiding themselves together around his target.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Winston’s face lit up with twisted anticipation as Max fired off his first true attempt at an attack. This was much better than with most of his victims who were usually pleading for their life or that of their loved ones. Pathetic. Their lives were much better served in death. Given a meaning beyond their imagining.

But still, the attack was pathetic. The boy was using his own Dark magic against him? He, who was a master of the Dark! Foolish wizard. The aurors had made those mistakes for years before they’d finally found a way to catch him. Light Wizards always thought using their Darker, more forbidden spells would be the answer. As if they could defeat Dark Wizards and Witches, men and women who had dedicated their lives to such magic when they themselves were just lowering themselves to it, playing with the tame basic spells in the Darker spectrum.

Admittedly, the Kameren boy’s attack was a little more than just a basic ‘Unforgiveable’, but still. How long had he be using this kind of spell? Winston was sure the boy meant it, had the intention needed to make the spells work, but did he have the heart?

The Shadowloved smirked at Max, retaliating with a few curses of his own. He allowed himself one second of surprise when his attack was negated by the boy’s spell, before quickly stepping to the left and disappearing into Shadow. The pleasure of a Leap was still new to him, a ritual only recently completed, and the impossible coldness of the Shadow, though it lasted less than a second, lingered as he reappeared just inches behind Max.

There was no hesitation as he cast Crucio. Basic spell it may be, but it was so much fun to watch your victim squirm. Winston found he couldn’t resist the call of Max’s blood, reaching down even as he sent a new wave of pain through the curse, to swipe some liquid and taste it.

“I knew you’d be delicious,” he said as he stepped back, licking his lips. He removed the curse and spread his arms wide, invitingly. “Care to try again? Defeat me and you may be able to save all those people you love. You have sisters if I’m not mistaken. Two lovely girls, at Hogwarts. It’s not as safe as it used to be you know. So many ways in and out. I bet they’d taste good too. Little girls always do.”

[Max Kameren]

Max held his own for the moment, at least staving off the stranger’s spells even if he hadn’t hit. He figured the only way he had a chance was with sheer bombardment; as soon as his chain of binding spells ceased he followed up with stunning and battering charms that wove together and snaked around the room, their red and blue rays of light illuminating areas the man’s magic had cast into darkness.

As he cast he tried to familiarize himself with the man’s aura, to better track and anticipate his movements. He felt around inside his head, finding the seam where this man fused with his Dark Lady. He felt the coldness of their auras, the unfeeling thirst for blood and power. A chill went up his spine when he felt the small thrill that went through the man at the sight of the blood soaking into Max’s flannel shirt and dripping down his back. Again he eyed the lift, shifting himself in his casting to make the possibility of escape easier.

Then, the man disappeared. He didn’t apparate: he just stepped into nothingness, then stepped back out behind Max with his wand at his back. Crucio.

Max could say rather confidently that he had a high threshold for pain; he’d felt many kinds of it, mental and physical. He lived with it chronically, getting used to the idea of working around it and living with it like an inconvenient companion. But this: Max had never felt pain this way before. With the man’s word every nerve ending in Max’s body shrieked with pain. His spells cut off and he seized, falling to the ground at the man’s feet. The seizure waned and started up again with each wave the man sent through him. During the waning periods he managed to turn himself onto his back, watching helplessly as he took a swipe of his blood and licked his fingers. For the first time in their encounter a small trace of fear went through Max’s body, mixing with the unimaginable pain.

“I knew you’d be delicious,” The torture spell finally ceased and Max went limp for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Trying to figure out his next move. “Care to try again? Defeat me and you may be able to save all those people you love. You have sisters if I’m not mistaken […] I bet they’d taste good too. Little girls always do.”

Something snapped in Max. He pushed himself up again to his full height, looking down at his attacker with his characteristic sharp gaze. The spark he usually had had changed; it dulled, deadened with a kind of anger Max didn’t know he was capable of.

Without a word or a motion Max reached out his aura and enveloped him: first in a way that was quiet like he’d been observing him, then with hot metal claws he struck, crushing all he overtook in his mind. With his empathy Max slashed and tore at the mixed consciousness that taunted him in any way he could. He lashed out, raking the sharp heat of his own anger across the other man’s consciousness. This man may not care for happiness, he may turn away from the light, but he still had emotion. He had sensation. He may have the upper hand in dark magic, but Max had his own abilities that no shield or spell could deflect.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

The little shit. It was all Winston could think as his body reacted violently to the pain Max was subjecting it to. The Shadows lightened, slowly disappearing as all his focus was zeroed in on his pain. There was very little he could do, his hands scratching at his own head trying to get those claws out, out, out! He tore a chunk of hair from his head without a second thought, his only aim to make it stop. It was pain beyond anything he’d ever experienced. That power though. Such misfortune that this Kameren was subject to that Light taint.

But he was forced to leave such contemplations as he registered his Lady’s anger. She’d also felt those claws, had mostly retreated in the seconds he’d been writhing in anguish but Alyson’s displeasure at how quickly the tables had turned was evident. She’d warned him to be careful with his taunts. They’d both witnessed what happened when a Kameren fought for his family. Curse’s true breaking point had been when Mosrael took his son. It seemed that very son’s point was his sisters. It was good information to know. Alyson was not looking to repeat past mistakes.

But it did not help Winston lessen the pain that was his mind, shrieking out in outrage at the abuse the boy was inflicting. It was almost as painful as what Max was doing to him when he had to admit defeat and ask Alyson for help. Her mind was full of spikes, her anger obvious that he had let this happen at all but her power flowed through their link. He could feel the Shadow in her mind, that dark seductive presence that fed him images of a broken body writhing in pain, begging for release. Let me in and I will take away all light in his life, it promised and Winston felt the bliss of that promise open up the gates of his mind. Dark tendrils drifted through, coiling around Winston’s self before he felt Alyson snap, her tone sharp and angry.

‘Mine!’

Winston wasn’t sure who she was referring to, but the Presence melted away either way. Instead, she shared an image of the scene as she could see it with her Sight. The boys aura, his magical energy, pulsating, red and full of rage all around him.

‘Open to me Winston,’ came his Lady’s voice and he did so without hesitation. He lost control of his body, watched on as if a spectator, as Alyson, or at least her aura pushed past the debilitating pain and instead joined to it. He could still feel the agony of the boy’s power and was once again reminded why Alyson, girl as she was, was and had always been, the one in charge. He watched on in awe as she did what she had been born to do and began to absorb the energy directed at them. She was a sink, an endless black hole, a darkness unlike any other, nightmares given form. Shadows blossomed at once around them, returning as the pain lessened to tolerable levels and Winston regained control. Still higher than most would bear, but Winston was a Shadowloved and hurt was an everyday companion.

Alyson withdrew as she felt her follower recover, releasing most of the energy she had just taken. There would be a discussion once he completed his mission. She had not planned on interfering so much. Winston felt a fresh surge of power, knew he would pay for costing her so much, but thankful for her strength.

Supported by his Lady’s power, Winston flung his arms forward, forgetting his wand, his games and fun and resorting to true magic. The anger and the pain Winston had just endured fueled the darkness and the shadows rushed passed him and towards Max. A wall of darkness to crush his insolence. A black wave of despair and power to remove any hope that he was leaving this place alive. Any spells that Max tried to cast through it were absorbed, creating a small hole that was quickly filled by the masses. And just in case the boy thought he could repel such force with his little Patronus, Winston Shadowleaped, moving from his previous position to right in front of Max in the blink of an eye.

His punch was aimed to hurt, powered by the anger the boy had released into his mind, and there was a satisfying crack as Winston’s fist made contact with Max’s chest. Without pause, he continued by grabbing Max’s face with both hands, his thumbs pressing into his eyes, hard enough to hurt but not destroy. Not yet. The boy was going to watch as Winston tore limb from limb off his conscious body. “You’re going to regret that boy,” he growled as he darted forward and bit into Max’s ear lobe, tearing the flesh and reveling in the taste of blood filling his mouth as he stepped back, shoving Max away from him, the Shadows dancing around his body, ready to defend or attack at their master’s whim.

[Max Kameren]

Max’s empathy twisted with his anger, compressing and crushing the other man’s aura. Max stepped forward, trying to exert his power over him until he retreated. He’d never felt this way before; he wanted to crush him, turn his consciousness into dust and scatter it to the winds. He could attack Max, torture and break him, but this man wouldn’t touch his sisters. He would see to it.

The tide shifted when the Presence overtook the man’s aura, shielding him from Max’s onslaught. He set his jaw as the Presence pushed back at him, falling back on his heels and preparing a defense for the storm that was about to blow back on him.

He was right to prepare. The man pushed back harder with even more fury than he had before, his shadows descending on Max and enveloping him in darkness. Max reached out, cast spells, and tried to create a patronus to push the shadows away, but the crushing despair that intruded on him from the shadows made grasping for the the memory he needed to cast it impossible. He’d finally gotten a spark when the man was suddenly in front of him.

Somehow the man’s physical punch was harder even than his spellwork; Max caved in around his fist, wheezing in pain as his breath left him and his ribs cracked under the impact. There wasn’t time to catch his breath as the man continued his physical attack and Max grabbed his wrists as he wrapped his hands around his head and pressed his thumbs into Max’s eyes. As he pressed his fingers into his attackers wrists Max’s fingertips burned white-hot, trying to get him to release on reflex.

“You’re going to regret that boy,” he growled as he darted forward and bit into Max’s ear lobe, tearing the flesh.

Max wheezed out a soundless scream as he felt teeth bite through his earlobe and tear away.
The man pushed Max backwards and he fell against the wall of the crevasse. He felt his ribs crack again as he tried to take a breath, sinking down onto the floor. His cat patronus reappeared from behind him, pacing around its master and keeping the shadows at bay so Max could focus on getting air into his lungs. If he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fight. If he couldn’t fight, he would die here.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Winston scowled at the bright cat dancing around it's Master, keeping the taunting Shadows at bay. How he hated the sight of a Patronus. A decade ago, he'd been overwhelmed by several of the Light constructs, they'd contained him, negated his magic, weakened him and ultimately been the cause of his capture. But this was just one, barely held together by a broken man. Winston flicked a hand in it's direction sending a torrent of darkness it's way. It was a drain of his power, a sacrifice in order to overwhelm the stupid cat, distract it, contain in, wear it out.

And in that moment of distraction, Winston struck again. A force hit Max, pinning him down, and Winston stalked around his fallen prey. A hand lay on the ground, calling his name. He was back in control. What had happened earlier was a minor slip up, but things were back in their proper order now. Now it was time to deliver his message.

His eyes rolled upwards in ecstasy as he slowly, carefully, methodically stepped onto the hand with his boot and then ground it down, crushing bone. He added his magical strength to ensure that when he finally removed his foot, there wouldn't be anything bigger than a needle left inside the boy's hand. After a long, what was sure to be agonising, wait, he stepped off and continued to stalk to the boy's other side and currently healthy right hand.

"This is the very hand that ruined so much. All you had to do was leave those runes alone but no, you had to cut them, ruin them. Let's see how much you like it." Another wave of his hand and a dagger appeared from black mist. "Scream for me boy," Winston snarled as he pressed the magical blade against the ring finger and cut through skin. He quickly hit bone and took great delight in sawing through it. By the time the finger was removed from the hand, Winston was salivating in anticipation. He snatched up the fallen digit, sucking at the bloody mangled edge of it with a grotesque slurp. "The organs are better really. A human heart is a thing of delicacy, a true feast, made all the sweeter from pain and fear. Did you know you can taste emotion when you eat meat?" Winston conversed as he threw the remainder of the finger away.

[Max Kameren]

After a few moments of forced wheezing Max’s broken ribs finally settled into place and he could breathe regularly again. However, in that time his assailant had gathered more momentum, using his shadows to drain Max’s energy and attention defending himself. Before he knew it he was pinned again, arms spread as an invisible force held him.

A spell glowed in Max’s fingertips to try to free himself, but was snuffed out by a boot. Max yelled in pain as his food ground down, crunching and crushing bones beneath his skin. He writhed and pulled at his invisible bindings, but it was no use: in this kind of pain spells couldn’t come to him, and if they could he couldn’t cast them properly with a hand so broken. He could not physically fight back in this position.

After what felt like an eternity, centuries of pain digging into his hand and making sure no bone went unbroken, the man lifted his boot. Max’s emerald eyes moved with the man as he methodically moved to his other side, in front of his other hand. He took a shuddering, wheezing breath, prepared for the torture to start up again.

"This is the very hand that ruined so much. All you had to do was leave those runes alone but no, you had to cut them, ruin them. Let's see how much you like it." His eye caught the blade and he prepared himself for the worst; he’d seen the orderly’s bloody stump. Now it was his turn. He took a deep breath, eyes cast towards the dark stone ceiling. You’re going to lose your hands. After what he’d expected, it was almost a relief to feel the cold blade press into his ring finger at the base knuckle. It’s just a finger. You can survive just a finger. "Scream for me boy," Winston snarled as he pressed the magical blade against the ring finger and cut through skin.

Max spit on the man, grimacing and setting his jaw with the pain: he would not give him what he wanted. His wheezing got louder and faster as he sawed into bone, but Max did not sway. He bit his tongue, biting back his horror with everything he had. His eyes didn’t move from the ceiling: he couldn’t look, or he would lose it. He needed to belittle it, to justify it. It was just a finger, he wouldn’t die. He could still fight this man off with nine fingers. More like four, he thought to himself with another painful throb from his left hand.

When it was finally removed it was a welcome relief from the pain. Max forced himself to look, a pit forming in his stomach as he watched the deranged wizard suck blood from his lost digit gleefully. Max felt bile in the base of his throat and he retched, turning his head away. His eyes came into focus on his other hand, swollen and misshapen like an oven mitt made out of raw hamburger. He retched again and closed his eyes; there was nowhere to look away.

"The organs are better really…” As the man rambled a thought occurred to Max. He couldn’t get out of this binding spell, not on his own. This man wanted his victims to give over to death; whenever Max paused, he felt the rise in his aura. He needed to conserve his energy, and his blood loss was wearing on him. He knew what this man wanted, how to get him to end him easily: submission.

With a last shuddering breath Max relaxed, staring straight upward at the ceiling and feeling the pulsing pain from his many injuries take over. His breathing evened and his eyes slowly closed. Submission.

At least for now.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Winston paused, his dagger already pressing into Max's middle finger, blood flowing around the cut, when he felt the boy stop fighting. Really? After all that anger, he was giving up already? Winston hated to be disappointed, had wanted to feel the fight in the boy until the last cut. He'd expected much more from a Kameren. 

He withdrew the blade from the deep cut he'd already made, sitting up and considering the boy. He slowly weakened the binding spell, ready to strengthen it again if the boy was fooling him, but he needed the Energy for his next step. 

"Did you know there's a way to contain a person's aura in a single body part? A way to ensure they cannot die even if you destroy every other part of their body? I've heard it's agony beyond imagination, helplessness unlike anything else. Shall we begin?" he said grinning manically at Max. 

He licked the edge of the knife for another taste of coppery rich blood before slicing the top of Max's shirt, revealing his upper chest. The blade sunk into flesh once more, carving runes which Max had already seen before, preparation for the final sacrifice, the true meaning of Life : Death. 

When he finished the carving he pressed his hands into it and let Shadows flow through him into the cuts, filling them with power. And then he gripped Max's face with one hand, squeezing his jaw, and tilting the face so that he had the right angle. 

"I think the eye for you. Poetic in a way, that you will see and experience all this pain. And your eyes are so distinctive of your bloodline aren't they?" 

And then he began, a cut that went into the softness under the eyeball, curving into runic scripture, chanting softly but still aware of the boy, his other hand holding tightly.  Two tight v shapes bled once he was finished making the boy look like he was crying blood. He was just about to start the upper portion on the lid when his Ladys presence rushed into consciousness. 

'WINSTON! I need you! Leave the boy. We'll come back for him.' 

He started, anger and frustration making his power waver. But he was so close. Revenge for his capture. A broken body for a nephew, thei ultimate failure for Alex Kameren. 

[Max Kameren]

It had been fake submission: it was according to a plan. Max felt the binding spell weaken and strengthen as he tested him, testing his will. Max waited, but as he did he felt himself sink into the stone floor. He was cold, he’d lost so much blood. It could be so easy, if he just…

The blade cut into his next finger and pulled him back from the depths. He wheezed back to life, emerald eyes looking wildly around before focusing on his torturer.

"Did you know there's a way to contain a person's aura in a single body part? A way to ensure they cannot die even if you destroy every other part of their body? I've heard it's agony beyond imagination, helplessness unlike anything else. Shall we begin?" he said grinning manically at Max.

“Then I will share,” He rasped, slowly smiling as his eyes closed again.

With the last bit of energy he had and no healthy hand to cast spells with Max used the last weapon he still had: his mind. He didn’t have the wherewithal to tear at the man’s aura like he had before, so he used what he did have in abundance: pain. Max opened up his mind and gave the man a share of everything he’d inflicted on him. When he sliced into Max’s chest the man felt it too, felt the bending of his broken ribs under the pressure of the knife and the tearing of flesh. When Max’s shuddered breaths stretched too far, the man felt his chest buckle. He felt the pulse of Max’s ruined hands when he held the knife, his fingers burning with pain with every slow heartbeat that passed through his victim’s body.

Max’s eyes opened again as the man grabbed his face and tilted him towards the blade. "I think the eye for you. Poetic in a way, that you will see and experience all this pain. And your eyes are so distinctive of your bloodline aren't they?"

He tried to move his head away as the blade made contact; even if he made a wrong move and poked his eye out, it was better than whatever this man had in store for him. He wouldn’t be left like Bryn, just another nightmare to haunt Rowena as the shadows closed in. Anger built in him as the blade cut; he wasn’t ready to go yet. He wanted another night holding Rowena close after a long day at work. His sisters needed him. He wasn’t ready to meet Dad yet, wherever he was.

It was decided, and adrenaline burst through him. He raised his bloody hand and caught the blade with his already cut-up fingers, moving it away as the man tried to move above his eye. The effort wasn’t needed; abruptly the man started and pulled away. Max felt his anger and struck; he assaulted him with a quick flash of pain in his aura, like a firework going off in his head. He pushed himself up and managed to stumble past, using his four-fingered hand to put up a small barrier-formed patronus to protect his back as he made it for the lift.

Desperately he closed the door, smearing a long streak of blood along the buttons as he pressed all of them – any of them – anything to get him away from here. He leaned against the cool metal wall and thanked all the gods he could think of as it started relatively quickly into motion.

Max hadn’t seen where he’d selected the lift to go: when the doors opened he burst forth, reaching out with his swollen, bloodied hands and grabbing the first passerby he could reach by the shoulders. He wheezed, falling to his knees and wiping blood down their arms. “E – Ev – Uh – Evacuate the Ca-catacombs. They’re – uh – “ He coughed and blood from his perforated lungs bubbled from behind his teeth. His eyes came into focus on a familiar face above him just as darkness closed in on his peripheral.

“They’re here.” Max collapsed, broken hands cradled to his broken chest. He fell to the side, hitting the cold tile floor.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Winston roared, hands lashing out as his mind exploded. He'd been able to bear the pain the boy was sharing with him before, cuts and breaks were routine. He'd carved his own kidney out for the glory of a Shadowleap, but that quick blinding sudden onslaught caught him unawares, his mind already distracted by his Lady's command.

By the time the quick flash of pain receded the boy was already up and running for his escape. Coward.

"I'll get you boy. I'm going to make you suffer like you've never suffered before. I'm going to cleanse the Kameren line once and for all. And your ancestors will thank me for it!" he shouted even as he sent a new wave of darkness after him. It crashed against the closed doors, twisting the metal violently but Max was already gone. 

'WINSTON! Now!'

With a last disgusted look at his failed attack, Winston Leaped. This was not the end. 

[Rowena Jones]

Rowena was tired, her body ached, her muscles screamed in protest after she'd asked more of them than she'd ever done before, but it was a good exhaustion. A natural one. And more importantly it was proof that she was doing something. She may have accepted her death at some point during this Fight, but it didn't mean she was giving up. She was still determined to make that Presence pay for all damage it had done already.

She ran her hand through still damp hair and glanced the clock, frowning. She was the late, forgetful one and even she was ready on time for once. So where was Max? He'd been working, maybe something had come up. Hopefully, a normal every day thing that had kept him. Before everything, she wouldn't have thought twice about him staying late at work, but anything was cause for concern nowadays and despite her best attempts, she'd never been able to get rid of that image of Max from her very first nightmare almost a month ago now.

It didn't take long for her to decide to go find him. If he was still working, she could help out and then they'd get to enjoy each other as planned that little bit sooner.

She apparated to Mungos, pushing past the dread that always seemed to fill her these days as she walked the halls of the hospital. She checked his office first but it was empty, and looked like he'd left it. Rowena frowned. Where was he? She tried to ignore the tendrils of fear that began to curl in her stomach, instead leaving the room and grabbing the first staff member she could find.

"Have you seen Healer Kameren?" she asked, unable to keep the slight twinge of desperation colouring her voice.

"No Healer Covington, sorry. I think Chloe mentioned that he'd gone to the Catacombs for her earlier... but that was a while ago now..."

Rowena released the trainee even as her face paled. People always said you knew when something bad was about to happen to those you loved, that you got this sixth sense that you were going to receive bad news. The sinking feeling in her gut felt like that. Why had he gone to the Catacombs? Alone? Why hadn't he sent a message or something? Both of them had spoken about the very real possibility of retaliation after he had interfered. Damn him and his constant belief that he could fight! If something had happened to him Rowena didn't know what she was going to do. But first she had to find him. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe he was fine. She ran to the nearest lift, smashing the button desperately. Please let her be overreacting. Please. 

The doors opened and it was as if her nightmare stepped out. A bloody broken version of her boyfriend. Her heart stopped as his bloodied hand grabbed her and she had to forcibly stop herself from screaming, running. It was too similar to her nightmare, blood dripping from his eye and his ear, smearing over her body. The noose was tightening around her neck. First her parents. Then Max. And she came next, swallowed up by darkness. 

 “E – Ev – Uh – Evacuate the Ca-catacombs. They’re – uh – “ Max coughed and blood from his perforated lungs bubbled from behind his teeth. Rowena finally moved into action even as tears fell silently down her cheeks. 


“They’re here.” Max collapsed, broken hands cradled to his broken chest. He fell to the side, hitting the cold tile floor and Rowena fell to the floor with him, wrapped herself around him, gaze taking in his numerous injuries even as she shot out sparks to notify the hospital staff and sent a Patronus to the first person she could think of, Alex Kameren. Numerous cuts - was that a rune?-, broken ribs, and oh Merlin, his hands... "You're safe Max. I'm going to fix this." she said, almost to reassure herself of the fact as well as she brushed his hair back, staring at his mutilated face.

When the Healers rushed down the corridor to take him away to a private room, she refused to let go of him, her shocked brain desperate to stay with him, make sure he was there, with her. It was only when Milton arrived on the scene to sharply remind her that he needed treatment that she snapped out of it. She went to follow the other Healers but Milton held her back. "You're too close to this Rowena. We both are. They'll look after him."

Rowena stared at him with horror. No she needed to be there,  she needed to fix him, needed to make sure he was ok. Max...

"Rowena. Take this." Milton handed her a potion. Dreamless sleep. "You can see him when you wake up. I promise."

Fresh tears spilled as she slowly took the vial from him. "He'll be ok? You promise?" She wasn't a Healer right now. It was taking even that from her. All she could think of was Max. 

Milton didn't answer the question. It wasn't something anyone could promise right now, but he'd make sure everything possible was done to save Max, or as much of Max as they had left. Instead he led her to a small private room of her own and watched as she shakily took the potion. He hoped eight hours would be enough to get Max stable.