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Something was wrong.
The distant sounds of clashing blades echoed strangely through the dark space, and the absolute unknown of it all had Orion on edge. It was hard to make sense of… anything, really.
He sharply ducked, the handle end of a sword jabbing straight for his head. Close one. Orion righted himself instantly, muscles tense as he lowered his center of gravity.
Well, maybe if Orion could just get rid of this Marionette, then he could actually stop and properly get his bearings.
He shook his head, but the heaviness smothering his senses wouldn’t leave.
Orion swung hard at the Marionette, wincing as the brunt of his fist met sudden steel. With barely a thought, heat surged through his veins. He unleashed a burst of flames to push it back.
He used to be… somewhere else. He knew this wasn’t where he was supposed to be. But the dull ache in Orion’s head made it hard to recall his memories.
This specific Marionette was weird. It dodged out of his swings and hardly fought back, its hesitance beginning to make Orion apprehensive. As if it didn’t want to fight.
Orion was almost about to pause, but then his train of thought just– faded in smoke. He dug his boots in and leaped again.
The detached clangs rang out around him, things he couldn’t put words to. It was like his head was in a little glass room while everything crashed and burned around him. The sensation of wrongness was heavy in his bones and it freaked Orion out. He swore he could hear voices in the vastness.
He lunged, managing to yank the Marionette by the shoulder and tackled it to the ground. Its sword clattered to the side and out of reach. Orion grunted as the thing kicked at him hard, and he raised his fist.
Yet when he struck, the sounds around him echoed harsher, a second too delayed. He finally recognized it as a person's cry.
Orion froze. Wait, what?
Marionettes never talked.
He looked down, eyes wide, and the entity had its arms raised to its head and its shoulders were hunched. Bracing itself. The gesture was undeniably human.
Unconsciously, Orion’s arm somehow raised to strike again, and his muscles didn’t obey him when he tried to disengage. He dealt another blow to the Marionette, and the cry rang out again. Pained.
Ice shot down Orion’s spine. Holy crap.
It was coming from the Marionette.
He felt his body move of its own accord, preparing for another attack when everything in his soul screamed in defiance.
Wait, no–
He struggled, really tugged against whatever was seizing control of his limbs, and his arms finally jerked back.
But his brief autonomy only lasted for a moment before his hold over his arms faded like dust. The tidal wave of unseen force rose up and Orion yelped, his fist just barely missing the entity’s throat.
No, no– Why couldn’t he stop?
He grit his teeth, panic gripping his chest. All of a sudden Orion didn’t want to kill this thing– this person.
Nothing listened to him as his fist pulled back on its own and Orion was terrified by how little control he had. It was like trying to scrabble against a wall of hardened glass. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t find purchase.
And then, just when the force became overwhelming and Orion’s anxiety spiked, the Marionette just– disappeared. Fizzled out of existence before his very eyes.
In an instant Orion found himself alone in the dark space devoid of life. His limbs were finally his own, and Orion sat up breathless.
He looked out into the bleak expanse. His gaze immediately locked onto the one thing that wasn’t him. A pinprick of light, flickering a gentle golden at the edge of the shadows. It distantly reminded Orion of someone he knew.
The light grew stronger. Orion straightened. Kind of like magic, the fog in Orion's head cleared a little bit.
His focus suddenly sharpened. Something had happened. Wait– wasn’t he with someone earlier? His memories were slippery. He struggled to hold them.
Finding his footing, he began to head towards the light. With every step, the sounds around him grew louder, and Orion recalled– Oh no. Something really did happen.
He urged himself to move faster.
Finally, the bright light engulfed his vision. Orion lingered in the newfound silence that it brought.
In that weird dark space, every sound was more of an empty echo, barely tangible in his ears.
Then–
A snap of vivid copper.
The loudness of the real world came crashing back with startling clarity.
Orion gasped like he had resurfaced from deep water. All his senses returned in a rush. Knees on grass. Cold air filling his lungs. Scrapes and cuts stinging on his arms.
His head was pounding. He instinctively raised a hand, wincing in pain. Somewhere behind him there was a sharp shing of metal, and his thoughts immediately leaped into overdrive. The battle, he was fighting, wait, what had happened–?
Before Orion could even begin to take in his blurry surroundings, an invisible force flung him away, and he tumbled across the ground.
He used his arms to clumsily stop his momentum, then let out a groan. By the stars, everything was spinning. Orion saw grey skies, a glimpse of green grass, and he shakily raised himself up on his elbows and immediately regretted it. The ache in his head turned into a sharp nagging. Jeez, dude. Orion clenched his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breaths.
There was a prominent ache in his hands, as if he had punched something without properly aligning his knuckles. Which was weird, because he only ever forgot when he wasn't properly focused.
Then he heard the sound of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching.
Orion hurriedly pried his eyes open. The spinning was… manageable, finally.
Suddenly, a flash of yellow glinted at the edge of his sight. With the way his world had basically turned on its axis, he noticed it far too late. There was so much happening.
Wait. Was it coming closer?
Shit, move!
Orion tried to get up, but his limbs were way too sluggish. Panic shot through him. In a last ditch effort, he braced himself and hoped to live.
Then someone landed next to him, shaking the ground, and Orion felt a large hand cup the back of his head as he was forcibly tucked close against an armoured chestplate. A heavy crack reverberated through Orion's limbs, making him flinch, but he was otherwise unharmed.
The force of whatever just hit them left a black smoke that shrouded Orion’s vision, though it quickly dissipated. The person above him uncurled from their protective stance, and Orion looked up to recognize Galahad’s armour in total relief.
“Galahad– what–”
Orion watched the man reach over to pry something off the front of his shield and tossed it to the ground. A vicious-looking dagger landed on the grass, and Orion stared at it a little blankly as it poofed from existence in that same black smoke. Then it hit him.
Holy crap, the dark elf from earlier had tried to possess him. He needed to thank Galahad a million times over.
But something more pressing came to the front of his mind, quickly overshadowing all else. Okay, roll call. If Galahad was here, then where were the others? And where the hell was Vlad? That red-haired maniac had tried to spear Orion’s guts out.
A hoarse cough sounded out, and Orion whipped his head up.
He finally remembered the haunted look that overtook Daemon’s expression right before the shadows knocked Orion out.
His gaze darted across the field, tension within every fibre of his body, and he couldn’t help but gasp at what he saw. Orion stared in muted horror at the sight of their paladin.
A short distance away, Daemon lay crumpled on the grass, blinking up at the sky as he clutched his nose in a feeble attempt to stop the blood that was flowing down his face. And by the gods, his face. He looked like he was beaten up with how his skin was splotched red and bruised.
Terror lanced through Orion’s heart at the thought. Wait, did he–?
No.
He watched Daemon take in choked breaths. Exactly like the Marionette in his head.
No– please, no.
It was with sickening dread that Orion realized why his knuckles were stinging.
He felt his heart in his throat. Orion needed a second, a literal second to stop his head from whirling, but they were still on the battlefield. The fight waited for no one.
Orion hardly noticed when a blood red portal appeared on the grass. Vlad leaped out, spear in hand.
He was going straight for Daemon.
“Daemon!” Orion yelled. Galahad startled, and he was already halfway onto his feet, but it wasn’t enough. They were too slow, shit, they weren't going to make it–
A blur of green flew by.
Nathan– Nathan, thank gods– intercepted in a flurry of movement and parried Vlad’s strike. There was absolute murder in his eyes as he positioned himself over Daemon’s gasping figure. Nathan’s sword trembled in rage.
With his prey being stolen from him, Vlad cackled as he suddenly changed direction, darting away and looking back with nothing but detached mania in his eyes. Nathan knew an invitation when he was given one, and he chased after Vlad’s trailing laughter.
Orion had never been more grateful to watch Nathan indulge in his vengeful tendencies until now.
He numbly picked himself up and stumbled over his feet in his rush to approach Daemon. He heard Galahad’s frame close behind.
When Orion got close enough, his heartbeat thudding in his ears, he slowed to a stop and stared.
Daemon had managed to sit up, looking upon the grass with a detached expression. He looked as if his mind was in a completely different place right now.
The blood dripped down his chin.
Galahad carefully paused next to their healer. Daemon didn’t even notice their arrival. No one said a word, not even a breeze in this dead space, and the chilling absence of noise was suffocating.
Orion didn’t know what to do. The memories of him pinning down the Marionette returned unbidden, the awful feeling of his fist striking down, and he shuddered. He couldn’t get the cries out of his head. Daemon’s cries.
Orion had lashed out at him. Like– like a monster.
“...Daemon?” Orion murmured cautiously, a horrible tightness squeezing his chest.
Not even a flicker of recognition passed through Daemon’s eyes. He wasn’t there at all– maybe physically, but that was it. It was a wonder that he was still conscious.
Unbeknownst to them, far off in the treeline, yellow eyes watched with dark intent. The warriors were distracted, and yet, she didn’t act.
Orion thought he saw a glimpse of yellow in the trees, but it was gone when he glanced over.
Armoured boots shifted towards Orion, and Galahad held out the Rune to him.
Oh. Right.
Orion took it wordlessly, clutching the object tightly. Daemon was the one who initially found the Rune, moments before the two of them were ambushed by Vlad. It must've dropped from Daemon’s grasp when Orion– when he–
He did this.
Orion shook his head quickly, desperation choking up his throat.
“I– I didn’t mean it,” Orion stressed, but it sounded thin even to him. “Galahad, please– you gotta believe me, I would never–”
Orion looked over again, his anxiety threatening to eat him alive. Daemon’s eyes had taken on an icy blue tint, unnatural in its paleness. Orion had never seen them so hollow before.
If he had just been stronger, this would’ve never happened. He would have never attacked his friend, never turned into this violent, vile…
He clenched his hands around the Rune, and heat flared across his knuckles that he barely managed to tamp down. All his sharp, burning edges. Proof of his own uncontrolled brutality. Gods, he would never forgive himself.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and Orion tore himself out of his thoughts . He looked up at Galahad, dizzy from lack of breath. His armoured comrade stood close– a gentle masked titan.
Orion focused on the grounding weight, the comfort of Galahad’s touch, and really tried not to think about the growing abyss in his chest. He took one breath. Two. It didn’t feel enough.
Despite Galahad’s helm covering his facial expressions, there was a sense of urgency in the large knight’s posture as he pointed a finger to Orion, then to Daemon, then to the large blue portal off in the distance, the one that they emerged from. The simple gestures were easy to understand.
The mission. Right.
They had the Rune, so they needed to leave while they still had the chance.
“Got–” Orion coughed, “Got it.” He hated how his voice quivered.
Galahad nodded and leaned imperceptibly closer, but he paused at the sounds of violence that began to ring out across the open field. It was like he wanted to say something more, but his lack of voice and lack of time made it difficult to do so. Galahad gave Orion’s shoulder a firm squeeze, then turned and thundered towards the battle of green and red.
And now, it was just the two of them.
Orion glanced towards Daemon’s silent form.
He stepped closer and knelt on the grass, wide eyes peering at Daemon’s downcast ones. His hands automatically lifted, wanting to wipe the blood from Daemon’s face, just like how the healer would always do for them, but then he stopped.
“Dae?”
No. That didn’t feel right anymore.
“D-Daemon. Please talk to me,” Orion pleaded.
He gathered the courage to place a hand on his arm, and Daemon tensed ever so slightly. Orion felt a part of himself crumble.
The dark magma of his skin was stark against the white of Daemon’s sleeve. Orion lost himself. The names, the curses. They all came back, and Orion was convinced more than ever to believe in them.
“Monster,” People would mutter. He remembered every word.
No, but– he was still good.
Right?
Orion desperately needed to hear something from Daemon, but he wasn’t saying anything.
A particularly violent explosion of magic erupted in the distance, reminding Orion of just how exposed they were out here. The battle. They didn’t have time.
“We– we have to go.”
Even if she took control, it was still his hands that did it. Orion felt helpless.
It wasn't really him, he knew. He knew.
But his attention lingered on Daemon’s bloody split lip, the nauseating bruises on his jaw that were quickly turning dark. The marks that he caused.
With a cautiousness that he rarely used, Orion inched closer and took Daemon’s wrist. No reaction.
Orion swallowed, and slung Daemon’s arm over his shoulder and slowly hefted them both onto their feet. He felt Daemon’s light weight - too light - lean on him, and looped a careful hand around Daemon’s side to keep him upright.
The paladin said nothing, and Orion made the choice to start for the portal. He was unnerved by the lack of response as they hurriedly left the clashing of blades and metal.
He looked over, trying to catch Daemon’s eye, to try and convey just how sorry he was, but his friend would not meet his gaze.
Orion’s composure fell apart, rubble tumbling into the depths of the gaping maw, and his breath hitched. He felt sick as they trudged towards the portal.