Creeping forward cautiously, Torrin kept his head on a swivel. The lava's orange glow colored everything. Eerie, liquid shadows danced in the corner of his vision. Every time he tried to focus on them wholly, they seemed to still. Nothing but a patch of darkness. His heart was slowly resuming its race, his sweat pouring down his face.

The cavern was circular in shape, a vast open space with the only change in landscape the stalagmites and flowing lava. The jutting earthen spikes seemed randomly placed, nature having taken its course. They added to the distended shadows covering the walls. The lava streams originated from holes in the far wall, twisted through the cavern between the stalagmites, then disappeared down shafts near the stairwell that Torrin could only assume led deeper underground.

A scraping sound drew his attention. He turned to face the source, and found a wolf staring at him. Or it would have been if its eyes hadn't been replaced by sickly green flames. It carried a smell of sulfur, blood, and death, permeating the already stifling air with its cloying stench. The only relief Torrin found staring at the creature was the fact that it looked like a normal wolf. It raised its head and howled.

"Ah, fuck. That's not normal..." Torrin grumbled as he readied his blade. When the wolf had opened its mouth, its jaws had unhinged to an absolutely unnatural degree, shadow-writhed blood seeped from its maw, dripping from its teeth like saliva. When its mouth closed, its gurgling howl completed, the blackened blood wriggled its way back into the creature's mouth.

Three more wolves walked from the darkness, from what Torrin had thought to be the far wall, the shadows sluicing off them like water as they prowled forward. Their green-ember gaze was no more inviting than the first's had been. The stench in the cavern near overwhelming.

'What is this?' Torrin wondered.

Not giving them the initiative, Torrin burst forward. The air screeched as it was parted by his blade, the leading creature joining the noise as its snout was sliced clean through by Torrin's downward slash. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, his arm changing direction to slice the second wolf's head from its shoulders in an upward-diagonal strike.

The second wolf was a bit quicker than the first, perhaps less surprised, for it stepped cleanly to the side and countered his attack, its too-wide, gaping maw closing in on Torrin quickly. He pushed himself back, avoiding the bite, only to spin his torso sideways immediately, to dodge the third wolf's attack.

His free-hand shot out towards the third's head as it passed him. Sword aura covered the appendage and sliced easily through the creature's flesh, leaving a deep gouge that spewed its putrid blood onto the ground. The fourth creature took a more cautious approach, choosing to circle around behind Torrin to box him in.

Torrin enhanced his perception. As a mana thread entered his brain, the creatures slowed, as if trapped in thick syrup. Torrin saw the first wolf leaning its face toward the ground, writhing darkness seeping from the remaining half of its snout, reaching toward the missing piece of its face that lay sizzling on the floor.

The third wolf's wound veritably shut, glued together by that same dark blood that poured from it. The second wolf eyed him warily, its ember gaze somehow conveying hatred. Torrin took a deep breath, focusing himself for the task ahead.

Mana threads poured from his hand, seeping into the earth behind him to raise a partition between him and the fourth wolf. More threads poured to a stream of lava just beside the second wolf. His blade was readied, prepared to defend against the first and third wolf on his right side.

The lava was unlike fire, it moved more like water, was firm like earth. Torrin found it much easier to manipulate than actual flame. He pulled his arm, raising a tide of lava that drenched the unsuspecting second wolf, coating it in a layer of the burning liquid. A stench of burning hair and flesh, of boiling blood, joined the already fetid air of the cavern, but Torrin's heightened perception kept it at bay for the moment.

His wall prevented the fourth wolf from closing in from behind, so it took a place next to the third wolf, on his right. Torrin was already moving. Running with the world seemingly slowed was strange. Time stretched. The five steps he took forward took nearly half a minute to him. His eyes narrowed as he watched the first wolf gnashing its teeth, as if hoping to get a bad taste from its mouth, but more likely trying to get used to its face being whole once more.

Mana gathered in his open palm as he went, his sword cocked back to strike forward like a viper. He let time resume after seeing the beginning of the wolf's reaction to his approach. He nearly retched as the cavern's stench assaulted him, but shoved the reaction down. He stepped to the left, avoiding a bite, pivoted to face the wolf full on and heaved his sword down in a terrible arc. It split the wolf's flesh without resistance, his sword energy sharpening his cut to a terrifying degree.

His hand cupping a fresh mana bomb extended as the wolf fell headless to the floor, sending the projectile to the two remaining wolves. It lacked the usual chaotic power of all four elements, but exploded all the same, destroying the remaining wolves. His eyes roved the cavern, making sure all threats had been eliminated. He sighed in relief.

He tried searching for a way forward, but all the walls were covered by the dense shadows. His heart was still pounding in his chest, the shallow breaths he took into his mouth not enough to help calm him.

Torrin began moving forward once more, summoning a retinue of light orbs to help beat back the shadows. He moved the floating orbs with mana threads, there were ten in total now. The glowing lava seemed to have little effect on the shadows, but the light cast from his orbs made it shrink back, as if it were afraid.

On a whim, Torrin put his sword away and summoned the runes for a fireball spell. He shot the fireball into the shadowed recesses of the room, and he was pleasantly surprised when the shadows moved from its path. Torrin repeated the process many times until he found the opening that led forward. As if trying to beat him in a race, the shadows in the room gathered and writhed their way through the open doorway.

'I... Don't understand.' Torrin thought to himself. He was unsure if the shadows and creatures were part of the fire temple, or some strange and unknown power that Dawn or Fierren commanded. He put it out of his mind, sure that he would find out soon enough, as he approached the opening in the wall.

Before he followed, he examined the opening. Two large pillars rose on either side of the doorway, intricately carved to depict...Something. He'd expected to see a carving of dragons, but they more resembled humanoid figures. Getting closer, the light from his convoy of light orbs allowed him to get a clearer picture. They looked familiar, but Torrin couldn't place exactly where he'd seen them.

He shook his head, 'This isn't the time to be admiring the art,' Torrin scolded himself. He took a deep breath to ready himself, regretted it, nearly retched from the terrible smell of the cavern, and trudged through the doorway. He passed the opened door as he did, seeing some ancient text on it that was indecipherable to him. He ignored it and continued on.

Torrin was actually able to see the smooth stone of the tunnel he entered, granting him some relief. The tunnel was about ten feet high, but Torrin could stretch his arms to touch the walls on either side. The tricky shadows weren't infesting this hallway.

The heat had been steadily increasing as he traversed the hallway, and by now he found himself nearly panting. Hoping for some respite from the heat, he downed a flask of magical water. Though it didn't lessen the heat, it helped soothe aches he'd been ignoring, reinvigorating him..

Putting himself back to the task at hand, he stored the now empty flask and continued on. No more traps or enemies assailed him, just a downward sloping tunnel, the temperature ever increasing. He was unsure if he'd even be able to make it to the bottom at this point. As if in response, his Saen core slowly began to spin, absorbing the dense fire mana around him.

"Damned thing only works when it wants to..." Torrin grumbled as he went. The air seemed ever so slightly more tolerable now that his core was feasting on the fire mana. It surprised him how effective it was, though he knew that it shouldn't. His Saen core, though obstinate, was truly a wonder. Hushed whispering ahead drew his focus back to the present.

Enhancing his hearing with Saen, he tried catching snippets of conversation, but failed. Ahead of him, he could see another opening coming into view as the sloping tunnel plateaued. Torrin reached the end of the slope, standing on the even flooring, looking through the gap ahead. It was a simple, square room. Lava bubbled in small pools on the edges of the room, fire leaping up randomly from them.

He saw three figures standing in the center of the room, facing him. Two cloaked figures flanked Dawn on either side. Torrin's brow rose of its own accord as he took in her appearance. Her clothing was pristine, a black robe with silver embroidery hung loosely on her, a silver sash garnering it at the waist. What surprised him was the disarray her hair was in. Gone were the intricate braids framing her face and flowing over one shoulder.

She stood, hair askew, black and silver locks mingling together wildly. Her face was covered with sweat and soot, her brow pinched together as she saw him. Under the mask of grime, he saw a variety of emotions cross her face. They were too inconsistent and quick for him to catch them all, but the one that stood out the most caught him by surprise--relief.

"And the guest of honor has arrived," said one of the cloaked figures, a deep and rich baritone that he assumed was not Fierren.

"That he has, brother." Came a sweet, feminine voice from the other.

"What shall we do? Is he here to hurt us, do you think?" asked the brother, mockingly.

The cloaked figures stood roughly the same height, shadows covering their faces. Torrin couldn't parse which one was which, but decided it didn't matter.

Fierren gasped theatrically, hand raising to her shadowed face, continuing in a sulky tone, "You think he would? What ever have we done to deserve that?"

"Enough!" Torrin growled, tired of the charade.

"Oh no, sister, I think he's lost his patience. We're surely in for it now." The brother said, his mocking tone grating on Torrin's nerves.

"You must be right, brother, for I see no reason for him to act so rude!" Fierren replied in a petulant tone.

Deciding that answers weren't actually necessary, Torrin raised his hand and began gathering a mana bomb.

"Look, brother. Torrin's going to blow us all up! Even the fake little princess! How cruel!" Fierren exclaimed.

The mana bomb dissipated like mist. Torrin? Fake princess? The words struck Torrin like lightning. His face contorted in confusion, now realizing answers might be worth it after all. Torrin knew the only reason they should know his name was if they learned it from Virtus. He wanted confirmation.

"How do you know my name? What do you mean by fake princess?" Torrin demanded. His will swept through the room as he stepped into it. His muscles were tensed for combat, Saen infusing his body even as the small core drank greedily of his environs, his sword clenched in a white knuckled grip.

"How do we know your name?" The brother asked.

"We were told it, of course." Fierren answered playfully.

"By. Who." The question was a demand, hardly more than a growl.

"My father..." Dawn spoke at last, her voice weary and sad. Her expression seemed almost apologetic.

Confused, Torrin halted his forward progress, "You're saying the king knew my name?"

Was it actually not Virtus? Or was the king part of Virtus after all? Torrin didn't know.

The cloaked figures burst into laughter, bending double, "The king, he says!" cried the brother.

"He doesn't even know!" Fierren exclaimed between a fit of laughter.

Torrin scowled deeply, "Enough of the games! Either speak, or die. Those are your choices."

The cloaked pair took a long moment relishing their mirth, before they straightened once more.

"Poor Torrin... Dying so young, thrust into grand machinations you could never imagine," Fierren tutted, "It is sad to see your supposedly noble nature brought so low, threatening three innocent lambs like us."

The figure he'd gathered was Fierren stepped around Dawn to her brother's side, "We are only following orders, Torrin. Surely you can't be angry at us for that." Her tone was pleading, with an edge of mockery.

Sweat poured down Torrin's face, his clothing drenched. He was truly angry now. The rage inside him rekindled itself, building itself up with the mocking words. Mana coursed down his pathways, sinking into the jewel at the pommel of his sword. Lightning surged to life along his blade.

"Death it is." Torrin spoke softly, his voice losing its edge. He resigned himself to his choice. The pair of cloaked figures were clearly crazy, or demented enough to enjoy the suffering they'd wrought on the elven group. He had no remaining doubts that Yawnel's shift in behavior was caused by one, if not both, of the siblings.

He hadn't gotten all the answers he wanted, but the most necessary one seemed evident. Virtus was responsible, meaning he needed to exterminate this threat. He could finally take his first step on the path of getting revenge against the group.

"Rin, please. Wait! I can explain." Dawn's face seemed settled on an emotion. Regret. Or maybe it was guilt. Torrin winced. He'd known from the beginning something was off about Dawn, and never fully trusted her. But he could admit he felt hurt by her betrayal. Disgusted that she'd allow her own people to be treated so terribly.

"What is there to say, Dawn? You're sorry that you let Yawnel imprison, beat, deprive, and even kill the elves you left behind?" Torrin asked, venom lacing every word, "I no longer want your explanations, seeing you here with these depraved lunatics is answer enough."

Dawn stepped back as if struck. Torrin was unsure in the soft, orange glow of the room, but he thought she paled as well. Seeing her reaction gave Torrin pause. Hadn't she told Yawnel to distract him? Given the bastard leeway to treat the elves however he pleased?

"H-he did what?" She asked in a quiet voice, her usual resolve and fiery nature nowhere to be seen. Torrin's brows furrowed.

"Silence," Fierren growled, her words reverberating in the air, tickling Torrin's mind like some strange, ethereal fingers brushing his brain. He resisted the effect easily. Dawn's mouth clicked shut.

Torrin's eyes narrowed on the cloaked figures, "Then was it you?"

Fierren pulled back her hood, revealing her face. Her features were that of a normal elven female, if a little plain. Dark, red blood was smeared across her eyes like war paint. Blotchy symbols were drawn in the stuff across her face.

Her brother's hood followed. His face was near identical to Fierren's, though slightly more masculine. He wore similar markings across his face, also painted in blood.

Fierren smiled grandly, "I truly didn't think my little puppet would take it so far. Putting a collar on him was smart, though, you nearly broke my soul-binding," She paused, as if considering something, "I erased his inhibitions, of course, prompted him to do whatever he deemed necessary to complete the task Dawn had given him. But to think such darkness lay within him...It surprised even me!"

Torrin glared at the elf, "But why? What do you gain from this?"

"I told you, already," Fierren waved her hand airily, "We are only following orders."

"Whose orders?!" Torrin shouted, his rage and agitation forming a lethal mix. In his anger, his thirst for answers, he nearly allowed his will to slip back to him. He was thankful he hadn't, for he felt the shadows encroaching behind him, pushing against his will.

"Her father's, of course!" She said, placing her hands on Dawn's shoulders, "And before you ask, I can't tell you who he is! That's not my secret to spill." A feline smile graced her lips. Dawn looked panicked. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

"Sadly, it looks like Dawn's not one for conversation today," The brother said, mock sadness in his voice.

A presence emerged smoothly from the shadows behind Torrin, and he swung around. His sword easily parted flesh and bone, ending the life of the creature who sought to sneak attack him. The twins began clapping.

"Bravo!" cried Fierren excitedly.

"Very well done," agreed her brother.

Torrin ignored the pair, his attention on the creature he'd slain. It looked to be some type of giant spider, whose head had been replaced by the torso, arms, and head of one of the missing elves. Sour bile surged up Torrin's throat, and he turned his attention away from the poor elf, eyes burning with rage, to land on the pair that was happily cheering. He saw that Dawn looked sick.

"What have you done?" He asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Aren't they wonderful? My sister is truly talented," The brother spoke, pride evident in his voice.

"Oh, stop it, Fiel, you'll make me blush," Fierren said, her hands pressed to her cheeks as if embarrassed, "You know I just gave those useless elves a purpose. Made them better. Made them beautiful."

Useless? Gave them a purpose? Made them better? Beautiful? Torrin's mind couldn't comprehend the sadistic words coming from Fierren. His stomach churned.

"Why... Why would you do that to your own people?" Torrin asked, bemused.

Fierren sneered, "These are not my people. These are merely prisoners of their own design. Scared sheep, being led around by the even more scared shepherds they call leaders."

"Do you even realize you're not making sense?" Torrin asked plaintively.

"What would you know, Torrin? High Warrior of nothing. Idiot boy following the orders of a deranged old hag. You're as much a sheep as the rest of them." Fiel spat.

Torrin shook his head, "It doesn't matter. You'll both be dead soon anyway."

Without further delay, Torrin surged forward. His rage burned bright, his mind set on destroying the pair before him. He'd keep Dawn alive for questioning. Dawn's eyes widened, her head shaking, her mouth opening and closing in silent warning. Panic and dread were in equal measures across her features. Torrin ignored her, his eyes set on Fierren.

A space of twenty yards shrank quickly, turning into only ten. A torrent of shadows followed on Torrin's heels, trying to catch him. He could feel their pursuit with his will. More shadows poured from the cloaked figures, Torrin realizing the cloaks themselves were made of some sort of living shadows.

Beasts and creatures poured from the shadows, impeding Torrin's progress. Mole-bears and elf-spiders, chicken-squirrels and something Torrin couldn't even comprehend all poured forth. The incomprehensible creatures had humanoid legs, but their upper bodies were a strange mix of beast and bird, covered in chitin.

The abominations' eyes were gleaming green flames, their heads and chests that of a small bear, with gigantic raven wings stemming from their backs. An exoskeleton covered their backs and part of their arms and legs. Their arms transformed from fur at the shoulders to a strange, chitinous black material their forearms didn't lead to hands or paws, but large, sweeping blades. They flew into the air above.

Torrin swung his sword like a scythe through wheat, his blade parting flesh and bone alike. A squirrel-bird went down. He continued his onslaught. Creatures of all types fell before his blade. Those not instantly killed, were stunned into submission. More creatures poured from the shadows behind him, his mana tendrils sweeping swathes of lava over them.

He ducked a strike from one of the flying creatures, keeping his head, but still nearly being split in half, his back saved by his mana shield. His sword struck out and took off one of the creature's bladed arms as it retreated. Torrin noticed dimly that the trio of elves had moved to the back wall, watching the fight intently, Fierren moving her hands as if commanding puppets, her eyes glowing emeralds, standing out starkly with the blood that adorned her face.

A smaller creature was trying to scrabble at his leg, deflected by his mana barrier. Torrin kicked out, punting the creature into the cooling lava behind him. Torrin pivoted, dodging another flying creature, his hand shooting mana tendrils to grasp at the fire mana in the air, his grip tenuous, but enough to cause the creature's wings to catch flame.

Torrin stepped back, his sword parrying a strike from a mole-bear. Webbing caught his legs, but he ignored it, his Saen enhanced strength enough to tear it to shreds. His will told him of something closing in behind him. Without looking, he moved his hand to stop it, a burst of Saen blasting the creature apart. Torrin's breathing was ragged. His core draining quickly.

Shadows tried taking the job of the webbing, wrapping themselves around his leg, pinning him in place. With a Saen infused leap, he crossed the distance to the far wall, his blade arcing to take out Fierren. The elf smiled, raising her hand. A storm of shadows appeared before her, dampening his blow, but it wasn't enough to halt it completely. A torrent of green flames burst through the shadows, impacting Torrin and causing his strike to miss, his mana shield taking most of the damage.

"Come along, dear, your father will string us up if we let you die," he heard the elf say, pulling Dawn along like a wayward child.

Torrin turned his attention back to the creatures, there were still eight of them left and they were closing quickly. He leaped forward to avoid another gout of emerald flames from Fierren, or maybe it was Fiel, his blade singing through the air, taking down one of the last mole-bears. His mana threads ripped the earth up, skewering a squirrel thing. A spider-elf shot webbing at him that he burned in mid air with a fireball.

The flying amalgamation had reattached its arm, flying toward him, its arms slashing like an X. Torrin dismissed his weapon, rolled under the sweeping blades, his sword appearing once more, and taking the other flying-bear-humanoid-insect that had been grounded previously in the head as he leapt to his feet.

Torrin continued his path forward, parrying a strike from a mole-bear and countering with a mana bomb to its face. The force knocked him back, but the mole-bear was destroyed completely. A squirrel-bird tried taking advantage of him being off-balance, sinking its claws into his shoulder. He grabbed the creature's neck and squeezed. He threw the corpse to the floor.

There were two elf-spiders and one flying abomination left. His pulse roared in his ears, his throat and lungs burning from the scalding air and effort. His core was empty, drained thoroughly from the abuse his mana shield was taking.

He activated the absorb rune on his core, his mana shield fading. He shot forward, Saen enhancing his speed and strength. His blade met the flesh of the elf-spider, splitting the creature in half. A scythe pierced his back. Torrin turned around, allowing the blade to rip free from his flesh and slashed his blade, removing the creatures arm once more, a cascade of dancing lightning flowing up the creatures shoulder, causing it to retreat in the air. He didn't let it go free this time, bunching his legs, he shot from the ground in pursuit.

His sword cleaved the bear head from its body, and it fell to the floor, fetid blood cascading from its open neck. As he returned to the ground, he slashed his sword in the air, as if he could reach the final spider creature. His sword was too far away, but the arcing sword light sliced the creature to bits. Torrin landed softly on the floor, knees bent to absorb the impact. A fireball met him as he landed, taking him by surprise. Without his mana shield, he took the full force of the attack, his enchanted clothing proving most useless as it lit up in green flames.

The pain was excruciating, the lambent green flames spreading to encompass him, his skin charring, his hair catching flame. Torrin shut out the sensations, Saen pouring from his core to cover his entire body with restoration. An insane bout of willpower kept the Saen under his control as it left his body.

Whether the flames ran their course, or the Saen doused them, Torrin was unsure. But they eventually winked out, leaving behind the odorous smell of sulfur and burnt hair and flesh. Torrin's core was more than half full now--more than enough to end this. He glared his hatred at the trio of elves in full force, forcefully avoiding looking at the corpses of spider-elves that lay on the floor.

A sense of hunger nagged at him, causing his rage to flare hotter. His eyes narrowed as mana seeped from his core to coalesce into a new barrier around him. He strained his senses, pulling in the little earth mana that permeated this place to bolster his defense.

"Well, that was just fascinating. I especially liked the part where you blasted that one creature with Saen. And your healing? Marvelous. First time I've gotten to see it in action! I'm jealous that I lack such abilities." Fierren cooed.

"Shut up already..." Torrin said between labored breaths. He walked towards the trio with his blade in hand, stepping around the various bodies on the floor, avoiding the sticky patches of webbing.

"Rude!" Fierren cried.

Torrin ignored her, his steps slow but sure, his rage burning hot. Saen coursing through him, helping him to recover. He made his way ever closer to them.

"Alas, dear brother, it seems that my efforts were not enough." Fierren lamented.

"Do not worry, sister, for I am a willing vessel. Please, take my strength." The brother replied.

The words seeped into Torrin's mind slowly, his understanding of them lacking. His steps continued onward, closing the distance, his strength slowly returning as Saen cycled through his pathways, nourishing his body. His steps began to speed up.

"Thank you, brother. Your soul, for the cause." Fierren said, the first real hint of emotion tinting her words. It sounded as if she were praying fervently.

"My soul for the cause." Fiel intoned, closing his eyes and raising his head to the ceiling.

Torrin's eyes widened as a gleaming black knife appeared in Fierren's hands. The blade was mesmerizing, a series of crimson and silver runes ran the length of the foot long obsidian black blade. With one swift motion, Fierren slid the blade across her brothers throat, a frown tugging at her lips. Her brother smiled grandly as his blood spurted forth.

Torrin was appalled by the scene. Dawn backed away from them slowly. The blood twisted, and writhed. It followed the length of the blade, up onto Fierren's arms, seeping into her skin. Torrin had never seen the like. He noticed all too late that he'd halted his approach, but couldn't stop watching as Fiel became a dried out husk. Dawn's gaze was plastered to Fiel's emaciated body, as well. She was shaking like a leaf in a breeze, despite the hellish temperature of the room.

Fierren reached down, her brother's corpse disappearing into some storage device. She turned, meeting Torrin's eyes with a steely determination. At this distance, he was finally able to see her eyes clearly. A deep, vibrant green, with flecks of red interspersed. Her face glowed, the dark blood that coated it now gleaming a vibrant hue. Torrin stared at the bloody elf in turn, unsure of what he'd just seen.

"Playtime's over." Fierren said, her voice a husky growl.

Torrin didn't like the change. Sure, he'd hated her playfulness, contrasting with her dire, revolting actions. But this new Fierren was intensely creepy. Terrifying. Torrin felt fear. Coming to a decision, Torrin grabbed two vials from his ring. One was Grams' super healing potion, which he downed immediately. The other, a strength potion. He hadn't used one yet, but looking into the manic, bloody, terrifying elf's eyes, he was sure that he would need it.