Season content notes: violence, injury
Mobb stretched out on a couch, her injured leg propped on pillows. She shifted uncomfortably at all the beady-eyed mounted animal heads staring down at her, left by the previous owners of the cabin. The rest of the team was gathered around her holding half-eaten bowls of soup.
“I hate to ask it,” Quickmoon said, “but are we safe to stay here?”
Blade shrugged and ran a hand over his face. “Our old place certainly wasn’t safe, and the only way we found this place was with Mentor’s help. How secure is it, really?”
Mobb nodded, quickly at first, but then slowed. The more she thought about it, this hunting lodge really was an amazing safe house. And… “But… he doesn’t know where it is, remember? He made sure only we knew the location. That’s why we had to meet him in the park.”
Salem bounced in place. At least her soup bowl was empty enough not to spill. “That means he really was protecting us, doesn’t it? That he wasn’t lying about wanting to help.”
They all looked at each other, uncertain. They hoped, but they didn’t know.
“At least, in this case, it does,” Astaroth finally said.
Mobb sighed. “For now, it means we are safe here, at least for a while.”
Astaroth nodded. “Okay. I think that’s enough talking for now. Mobb needs to rest, and I think playing with our powers is a good idea. Let’s the rest of us do some two-on-two play later. See what we come up with.”
Murmurs of displeasure rippled through the group. It was far from ideal, but what else could they do? They finished eating quietly.
The man MourningDagger called ‘lieutenant’ slipped down a darkened hallway in the heart of the castle. The dark prince couldn’t keep its weaknesses from his most obedient weapon for the last few millennia. And now the former lieutenant was back on Terra. His homeworld. The majority of its inhabitants would never welcome him after MourningDagger’s little display in the courtyard, but this was his chance to finally come home.
Left, then left, then right, and he came to a cross corridor and flattened himself against the wall. A squad of scaled creatures with lynx heads and chimpanzee bodies hurried past. One paused to test the air with nose and tongue. The squad leader yelled and it continued on. Two more turns and he stood at the door he needed. Carved black stone pulsed with shielding magic that trailed little glittering teal highlights in the reliefs.
The room was off limits, even he was rarely given access to it. But he had planned this out over many long, hopeless years. His trick would only work once, but once was all he needed now. Just a sliver of golden magic and the door swung open with a mere touch. The renegade lieutenant slid inside and left the door cracked for easy escape.
The walls were lined with wicked blades glittering with magic in every color. One cabinet held mundane explosives, and another kept the magical incendiaries from taking out the entire castle. But the one he was looking for… There, in the center of the back wall. It was a massive conglomeration of black and teal crystal. The crystal itself was highly sensitive to any disruption, so it was kept contained in its own personal forcefield. It was the work of a moment to open the forcefield a tiny bit and seed some magic into the crystal.
Moments later, he was out of the room and hurrying to the back courtyard, careful not to attract attention. In that courtyard, hidden by walls from the forcefield and the cameras watching beyond, was the inlaid transportation spell that MourningDagger’s forces used to escape their prison and attack his homeworld.
The former lieutenant had only three minutes, but that was more than enough time. Then, it and everything nearby would be gone and MourningDagger’s forces would be trapped in the castle until they could rebuild the spell.
He triggered the spell and didn’t bother with anything fancy — just set it to four dozen yards away. All he needed was to get somewhere in the city, where he could disappear while he figured out his next steps. The spell activated and the castle blurred around him. When he could see clearly again he stood on a near-empty street. Several late-night drunks startled as he appeared. Ignoring them, he hurried down a nearby alley, looking for a good hideout.
As he ran, a shrieking crack tore through the air. The forcefield he’d sabotaged was giving way, releasing its energy within MourningDagger’s castle. The shock wave from the explosion bucked him to the ground. He propped himself up on his arm, looking back to see that the force field the children had conjured held. Only the tremors affected the wider city. The nameless one, the one the child heroes called Mentor, shook with suppressed laughter that threatened to overwhelm him.
Distracted, he didn’t notice the child — a child in truth, even younger than the child-heroes — approach and look down at him. The kid asked, “Hey mister. Are you okay?”
The sudden eruption shook MourningDagger’s castle to its foundations. The dark prince immediately sent troops to survey the damage and report back, then called his highest-ranking officers to report. Poniard and Falchion came immediately to the summons, but his ever-obedient lieutenant was nowhere to be found.
Other minions were sent to reinforce the guards and for the follow-up attack which would most likely follow the explosion. MourningDagger had no idea how they had managed it, but those foolish children must have caused the explosion somehow…
Under MourningDagger’s orders, Falchion and Poniand led a search of the castle, fully expecting to find one or more of the blasted children skulking about somewhere. But they found nothing. Worse, there was no sign of his lieutenant. And the teleportation spell in the back courtyard had been destroyed in the blast.
MourningDagger threw his head back and roared his anger to the sky.
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