WHATEVER IT TAKES

The following morning dawned with a mist crawling through the prison hallways. A distinct chill hung in the air, sharp and biting—hinting that winter was just about here and it's first snowfall was mere days away. I awoke before the others, my mind still restless from the weight of Elenion's truths last night. 

Elenion was awake shortly after and took a seat in the corner, a small array of tools and ingredients laid out meticulously before him. The mage looked different this morning—calm, resolute. He didn't meet my gaze as I approached, his focus entirely on his preparations.

"If we're going to do this, it has to be today." he said without looking up. 

I nodded.

He gestured to the parchment beside him, which he had shown me the night before. With fresh eyes I looked over the intricate diagrams that covered the page—arcane symbols and lines of ancient script. "As I said last night, first we'll need to inscribe these markings onto your body. It's going to be… painful."

Before we began, we decided to clue Triandal in—at least on the essential details. He was skeptical, of course, but surprisingly willing to help. 

"You're telling me," Triandal said, his voice low and laced with disbelief, "that you're going to give this human—this Shepherd—magic through some blood ritual?" His sharp eyes darted between Elenion and me, his tone hovering between incredulity and disdain. "And I'm supposed to just stand watch?"

"It's more complicated than that," I replied. "But, we don't have time to argue. This is our best chance of escape."

We finally had a plan. 

Triandal's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Fine. I owe you both for helping me out, but don't expect me to take responsibility if this backfires."

Elenion met his gaze, his expression resolute. "Once Shepard's magic is fully activated, the wardstone won't be able to contain him. Its suppression only works against the magic it was built to recognize. This power will be beyond its reach."

"And if he manages to destroy it," Triandal said slowly, his tone cautious, "then what? The guards won't just let him walk out. And there's still the matter of the rest of us."

"That's where you come in," Elenion replied. "Once the wardstone is destroyed, your magic will return, as with the rest of your men... and that of the other prisoners. The place will erupt into utter chaos. This prison thrives on fear and control. With the barriers down and the guards occupied. That's when Shepard will make his way back and aid in the escape. 

Triandal shook his head, his hands balling into fists. "You're asking too much of him," he said, his voice rising.

Elenion sighed, his age and weariness evident in every motion. "I'm asking him to survive," he said quietly. "And to make this mean something."

Triandal hesitated, his jaw tight, but eventually gave a curt nod. "Alright," he said, his voice laced with reluctance. "Let's do this."

With Triandal stationed as our lookout, Elenion and I began the preparations. 

Elenion spread out his tools: a short steel rod sharpened to a fine point, vials of ink made from soot, ash and unidentifiable powders. He gestured for me to sit, his expression unreadable.

"This is your last chance to walk away," he warned, his tone void of sympathy. "Once we start, there's no turning back."

I met his gaze. "I've come too far to stop now."

Elenion nodded. "Lie down," he instructed, his tone clinical.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Let's just get this over with." 

I took off my shirt and laid down on the stone floor.

The first cut was a shock—a searing, sharp line across my shoulder that drew a hiss through my teeth. Elenion worked methodically, carving the symbols into my skin with precision. His hands never wavered, even as blood seeped from the fresh wounds, mixing with the ink he pressed into them.

Triandal shifted near the cell door, his ears twitching at every sound from the corridor. "Hurry," he said. "We can't afford to get caught."

"We're moving as fast as we can," Elenion snapped without looking up.

As Elenion worked, his voice took on a measured tone, offering further explanation. "Your magic will be unlike anything you've ever encountered before," he began. "You won't rely on your own strength or adhere to the rigid formulas others depend on. Instead, you'll draw essence directly from the world around you—raw, unfiltered, and untamed. It's essence in its purest form, powerful and adaptable. As you grow, so will your magic, evolving into new forms and possibilities. But..." He paused, his expression grave and his voice firm. "The human body is fragile. You'll be like a cannon made of glass—capable of immense destruction but always teetering on the edge of breaking under the strain. Control, restraint, and above all, caution will be your lifelines. Without them, this power will destroy you before it serves you."

The longer the process went on, the pain became a dull roar in the back of my mind. The symbols began to glow faintly, their edges pulsing with a strange, otherworldly light. 

Elenion worked with an efficiency. His movements were purposeful and deliberate, wasting neither time nor energy. 

The symbols and scriptures were drawn meticulously across my skin, their intricate patterns snaking over my arms, chest, back and legs. The ink was cold at first. Elenion's hands were also surprisingly steady despite the complexity of the task. He paused only briefly between strokes, ensuring the alignment and symmetry of each mark.

The runes extended up the back of my neck, the sensation of the ink settling there sending a shiver down my spine. I sat still as a I could, feeling the weight of each stroke. The air grew heavier with each completed sigil, as though the very act of marking my body was drawing something unseen into the room.

Despite his steady pace, it still took nearly two hours to complete. Elenion eventually leaned back with a weary sigh, his was face pale but triumphant. "It's done," he said quietly. "The inscriptions are complete. Now comes the final step."

"You must take my life," he said without hesitation, his tone as steady as if he were giving simple instructions.

Triandal turned sharply, his eyes widening in shock. "What?"

Elenion ignored him, his focus entirely on me. "This magic requires a sacrifice to bind it fully to your soul. My blood will seal the pact."

Triandal opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, his expression a mix of fury and disbelief.

I picked up the rod, its tip still slick with my own blood, and stared at it for what felt like an eternity. 

Elenion stepped towards me. "It's time," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Remember Shepherd—whatever it takes. This is the path forward. Don't hesitate now."

With trembling hands, I gripped the metal rod and plunged it into Elenion's chest. His body jerked, his eyes locking onto mine in a moment heavy with unspoken words—just the shared understanding of what this sacrifice meant.

Warm blood spilled over my hands, pooling between my fingers as it dripped onto the cold stone floor. The markings across my skin reacted instantly, the intricate symbols pulsing as they absorbed the essence pouring from Elenion. A faint red glow began to emanate from them, casting an eerie light in the dim room.

"I won't let you down." I say to Elenion, as I watch the life fading from his eyes.

With Elenion's final, labored breaths, he managed a faint smile. "I hope... you find a way to live a good life. Thank you... and goodbye... Shepherd..."

Triandal, standing just out of reach, took a steadying breath and raised his voice. "Guards! Help! There's been an attack!" His tone was sharp, calculated—a perfect blend of urgency and fear.

The pounding of boots echoed through the hall, and I barely had time to steel myself as the cell doors flew open. The guards surged in, weapons drawn, their suspicious gazes darting between me and Elenion's lifeless form. Without resistance, I allowed them to grab me and drag me away.

They hauled me toward solitary confinement, as we predicted they would. My bloodied hands clenched into fists as the glow of the markings dimmed beneath my clothing. Every step felt like a countdown to the chaos that was about to unfold.

The cell door slammed shut behind me. Everything was in motion now. There was no turning back.