The long steps of the stairs were nice and easy to take, bringing her quickly to the door. Fumes of light still played around the slab of stone that now blocked her path. It kept close, like a drop of tar in water, not even illuminating her hand as she reached out and touched the surface. Numerous runes were etched in, to make this last layer of defence sturdy. The person who had made this had been careful that breaching this thing was as close to impossible as it could be.

However, there was no magic that didn’t have a condition to unravelling it. There was no guarantee, no way to design something to be flawless in its purpose. No matter how well made a sword, metal could still be melted, no matter how well-made furniture was, wood could still rot and no matter how intricate the magic, it had to be created with rules and a structure that was, ultimately, exploitable.

Reysha, however, was no mage. It was possible to learn the craft of prying open magic even without being one, but that was something she had no idea of either. What she did hold was the key. A simple phrase, that only Gizmo and the Cardinal should have known, but Apotho had pried from the alter ego who had made this place and bestowed it to Reysha.

Her voice sounded hollow, uninspired and so sombrely sane that it was scary in its own right, “No strife in heaven, the trauma’s birth.” What it meant, she didn’t care about. That she had just killed someone, she didn’t care about. Reysha had murdered before, gleefully whenever she thought her victim deserved it.

At least, she should have thought about the things that didn’t line up. How she believed that Evmeria hadn’t been there with lethal intent, but didn’t believe that Aclysia had told her these things. The same concoction that made that double-think possible blocked her from questioning it. She took no glee in the murder, she didn’t question it, she didn’t feel any remorse. All there was, was the mission and the revenge. Whatever price necessary, she would pay it herself or have others pay it for her.

Four lines of green light ran through the stone barrier. They defined the outlines of runes in their almost straight path to the middle, met, then became the rims of the four stone slabs the obstruction turned into. The slabs floated backwards, then opened the way into the room behind.

It was shaped like a dome, a flat floor with a curved ceiling no walls separating the two. It was the exact same size as the glade the house of Gizmo was located on. Several other things were the same. A carved block of wood symbolized where the house was. A pool of water symbolized the pond. Green painted rocks were scattered around the floor, symbolizing grass. Most importantly, and the only thing Reysha immediately recognized, was an exact replica of the fence.

Hard metal, covered in runes, with spikes pointing inwards, a construction for keeping something in. What this symbolism was meant to represent, what the magic was meant to affect, was defined by the bright green runes that were carved into every surface that didn’t represent the inside of the glade.

All the energy flow seared itself into her retina. Even without the immediate lifeforce of the Cardinal getting sucked in to power this warlock designed cage, the sheer power that was needed to operate this thing was ridiculous. Everything about the intricate design and the maintenance of this thing was absurd. A situation where it was the practical solution was so infinitely unlikely to happen that only the Omniverse with its sheer infinite worlds bore the possibility of it being applied between several actors with their own will.

All of the energy flowed towards a central point. In large arches of green energy, appearing as a mixture of fire and electricity, the power jumped from the tips of the spikes of the fence into an object in the middle. It was pitch black, clearly visible despite the cloud of plasmatic magic surrounding it.

That was the object she was looking for. Without any kind of self-preservation instinct, she climbed over the fence. The die-like object was hovering too far up, even with outstretched hand, she couldn’t quite reach it. She could have jumped, but this didn’t appear to be a task where she wanted to run the risk of missing.

Instead, she walked to the carved block of wood. At about half-a-metre tall, it would give her the extra height she needed. When she started pushing it, the whole circle began to screech. Several of the runes flickered, burned out, then screamingly came back to life. The further Reysha pushed the block, the harder it became to move. A magnetic force was pulling it backwards, to the place it was meant to be at. The magical circle was attempting to stabilize itself.

At the cost of the visible energy flow, the arches of electric fire losing their fluidity and moving in much more erratic, unstable fashions. The energy nexus around the focusing object was most affected by this, turning from a concentrated point into a rapidly flickering nova, expanding, collapsing and flaring in rapid intervals.

Reysha was unbothered by all of this. Although the resistance grew and would have doubtlessly become too much to handle if she ever tried to move the block outside the fence, she had enough strength to shove the block under the focus. The pull back went into action when she climbed on top, but without a source of fresh power to draw on, the self-correction only worked slowly. Although there was an emergency protocol in place, it relied on someone of the power of a Cardinal to be around to supply magic to properly activate. Multiple parts of the system were failing at the same time, unable to fall back on each other.

Not to any advantage to Reysha, really, as she reached out to the focus. The torrential energy seared her hand before she even touched it, scorching it properly when she did. An unstable magic barrier encapsulated her arm. The pain was registered, not felt, otherwise she would have screamed, at best, and immediately collapsed from the torment, at worst.

Remaining magic in the focus prevented it from being moved, while fresh magic still sought to flow towards it. In combination, this meant that Reysha was stuck tugging against an object stuck in the air, while the power that couldn’t find its usual target flowed into her body. Magical energy sought flesh, especially the power of warlocks, twisted to feed off life as a source and be converted into something else. In the right hands, it was malleable, the body of the mage was a conductor, flowing and shaping the energy. Like a flow of water through a pipe that spilled into a beautiful ice sculptur.

When directed through the flesh of a weaker, magically unskilled person, it was more like a lightning strike hitting a large tree. Except that the lightning didn’t ease off after a single blink, but continued to flow, destroy and sear.

The pale green force seeped into her arm. The force cooked, then scorched, finally charred and melted, every single cell of skin, muscle and bone, every last bit of tissue, on its way further down. A pillar-like flame of energy excess exploded out the side of her arm as it reached the crack. Her hand was just coal covering half-molten bones now, joints permanently locked into the grasping shape.

Ruining her arm down to the shoulder, the power continued to flow into her, threatening to make the rest of her body follow the fate of her hand. With the resolve of the heartless, she continued to pull. Although her limb was useless, the rest of her body was still capable. Something would give eventually.

It turned out to be her footing. The block of wood was sliding back, slowly but steadily, until she had nothing to stand on anymore. She let it, not that she could let go at this point. Gravity pulled her down with more force than she could have. The sorry remains of her sinews strained, locked, molten joints creaked, she dangled.

A sudden flare of energy, a last excessive overflow of a failing system. A pulse of magic went through her entire body, reaching even her head, causing a torment that even made her dulled self scream. “WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?!” the words left her, in a sudden sense of realization that she was not right in the head. Even less right than she usually was.

‘The potions… the fucking potions… they did more than make me… focus-‘ She had no time to wonder over just how far the wish for vengeance had brought her, nor to think of the consequences. Not right now. The wave of magic died down, leaving the concoctions to continue pumping through her veins to take hold again as she dropped to the floor.