A marshal moves into the Castle of the Two Sisters, sent there to clean up the remanents of Nightmare Moon. Marshals belong to GentlemanJ, not me.
Timothy was just another marshal, wandering the country and taking care of what needed to be taken care of. Orders from on high come crashing into his life, and he finds himself sucked into the life of Ponyville. Or rather, sucked into the edge of Ponyville, as he squats in the ruins of The Castle of the Two Sisters. Hunting in his spare time, he ponders life as he slowly makes the ruins livable, and the Everfree a little safer.
Timothy shut the book he'd been reading, staring into the sky as he listened to the day birds singing. Tossing the book carelessly into his pack, he stood and stretched his back, cracking the stiffness out of it.
He looked out of the cave, eyes trailing up the impassive stone wall, full of cracks and a single precarious staircase. He looked back over his shoulder, at the slightly withered tree. His instinct told him it was very important to the world, yet its beauty was his only reason for believing so. He turned his back to the crystal leaves, leaning over to gather his pack and check the cinders of last night's fire with the tips of his fingers. Satisfied that they were cold, he wiped his hand on his long cotton coat, staining the already dark brown cloth further.
Reaching into a deep pocket with his other hand, he pulled out the reason he was here, a mysterious letter from one of the Princesses of the kingdom. Luna, Princess of the night. She still wasn't quite sure about ruling alongside Celestia, and she liked to send her own little copies along with Celestia's agents, even ones like the man he was supposed to be keeping an eye on.
While he couldn't outright ignore the orders, he had been told to keep out of sight, and he'd done so by trailing Celestia's marshal with a good two or three leagues between them. Even so, he could feel that the other marshal knew he was being followed.
Reading over the orders again, he re-rolled and tucked the scroll back into a pocket. He tightened the straps around his chest and shoulders, before starting into the sunny day filtering through the forest on the top of the cliffs.
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He'd walked into his bunk room, blank but for the desk, simple bed, and clothes and trash hampers, to find the scroll of orders waiting on his bed. Pulling at the drawer that served as his bookshelf out from below the bed, he'd put away his previously read stories and newly obtained books before pulling out a single older favorite and packing it away.
Timothy,
I realize that you've just returned from a mission, and need some time to cool down. Well, consider this a paid vacation. We've been asked to send an extra agent to safeguard another marshal again, and I feel like you could use the pay. You'll be tailing Graves this time, so I know I don't need to tell you to keep away if anything kicks off. His mission is as follows...
It had been here Timothy started skimming, noting the fact that some of the royal marshals were suspected of corruption, and memorizing the number of rouges.
Crammed in the shelf under his bed, alongside the top to bottom books, were a few clean underclothes he grabbed, throwing the old ones from his pack into the clothes hamper to await whatever unlucky new recruit was drawn for laundry duty.
Picking up the scroll, he'd read it again as he was walking out the door, hoping he was prepared for whatever the ranked staff had assigned him now.
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I should have brought more books, Timothy thought as he trudged along the path to town, skirting a pond and a few prickly black thorn bushes. Passing by a meadow, Timothy stared at a few of the wilder clouds for a second before shaking his head and walking on. While not truly bored (no marshal really could be, patience was drilled into them), he was well down the road to not wanting to be here.
Especially with Graves about. Trouble followed that man like a swarm. Maybe it was Graves, attracted to trouble…
Regardless, he didn't want to be anywhere around the man if he was on the hunt. Even if it was a bunch of soft-bellied idiots, Graves was not the type to go lightly, or give any warning to what were as well as deserters.
The trek took most of the morning, seeing the marshal navigating between trees and over small, rolling hills and large roots. Timothy broke the tree line just after noon, just in time to hear a faint cheering from town. Either Graves had arrived and introduced himself on a large stage, or the other bunch had shown up on a metaphorical cloud with thunder. Timothy was very inclined to believe the second one.
He dropped his hand to his side and patted the coat at his hip, smiling to himself. Looking around, he spotted a stump someone had decided to leave in the ground, and Timothy was inclined to marry his butt to the stump. Even if he wasn't supposed to be involved at all, there was a fight nearby; a barrel-keg of gunpowder waiting for a spark.
And Timothy just happened to know that there was a fire mage leading the so-called royal marshals.
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A flash of lightning slammed his eyes, and he quickly covered his ears for the almost physical wall that was the sound of the thunder. Fantastic, was the only thing that ran through Timothy's head, as the light show repeated. Nine times the light and noise struck, and it seemed to be ended.
Timothy had time enough to get off of the stump he'd chosen as a seat and dust his coat off before the final bolt struck, miles away from the town, barely close enough for the sound to come down from the hills. Pulling a spyglass from a pocket, he gazed in the direction of the last bolt, spying the person he assumed to be the leader of the rouge marshals twitching in the mud. Grinning, he slipped the spyglass back into his pocket and turned to the road he'd been sitting beside, starting down the trail. The rank would want to know of Graves's success, whether they were sure of it or not. Because if there's one thing all good marshals knew, it was this.
Sergeant Webber looked up at him, eyebrow lifting lazily.
“I mean, we didn’t send Graves out there for nothing. He’s been going way too hard, burning himself at both ends blazing more beasts than you’ve ever thought of.” He finished signing his name and rolled up the scroll, setting in between them on the desk and looking up into Timothy’s face.
“Besides, I said semi-permanent. You’ll be there when Graves needs to be covered for when he’s off doing… Graves things.” The sergeant leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes off of Timothy. “You’re kind of his placeholder. We would also like it if you could see your way into clearing some of the monsters from the forest while you’re in there.”
He tapped the scroll, flattening it slightly.
“If you’d read that, you’d know that this is a cake mission. The worst you face will be, well, however you much you want to. Anything too big, you report to us, we send to Graves. You’ll be a watchman at this post, or a fighter. Or whatever.”
The man behind the desk shook his head, waving a hand through the air.
“And all that’s not important, anyway. This will mostly be during your free time, with the exception of Graves’s absences. The rest of the time you’ll be given work, as per normal. All we’re doing is setting you up a base of operations…”
“In the middle of the bleeding Everfree,” Timothy pointed out, moving his long sandy hair out of his eyes to look at the map he’d been given. There was a small mark off the middle of the forest, and a few symbols indicating proximity to Ponyville.
“Yes, inside the Everfree itself. But, not without walls.” He traced a small box around the mark telling Timothy where he was stationed. “Right there, are a set of ruins. Some of the walls have fallen down, and a little of the ceiling as well, but after clearing it out, you should be able to live comfortably there.”
The sergeant chuckled as he looking into Timothy’s eyes. “You’ve basically got a whole castle to yourself, along with any resources requested… Within reason, of course.”
Timothy looked once again at the map, then the scroll, then back to the sergeant.
“Why me? Surely there’s someone more qualified, or at least in better position with the ranked officers? Why do I get the cushy mission and the mansion in the Everfree?”
The sergeant shrugged, unrolling the scroll to look over it. “Above my pay grade, kid. I was told you, I got you in here. I was also told to give you as little option as possible. Are you taking this, or are you going to become the object of whoever’s anger and take the job anyway?”
Finally taking the scroll, Timothy looked it over thoroughly and looked back at the map.
“So, this is just changing where I sleep at? I watch over this town,” a finger jabbed at the map, “when Graves isn’t around, and when he is I’m off doing my own missions? That I assume come directly from you, instead of the board as per my usual?”
“Pretty much. Again, take out anything dangerous, and tell us if something truly big happens by.”
Timothy nodded absently, rereading the orders one last time before sighing and rolling them back up. Tucking them in his pocket, he looked at the officer now smiling, ever so slightly, smugly at him.
“When do I start?”
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“Sonovah…”
Timothy jumped back as the remains of yet another door chose to collapse, this particular one falling directly at him. Cautiously, he proceeded into the room, holding an open handful of flickering flames. Feeding a little more mana into the runed circle inked into his palm, he looked around the room further.
It seemed to be servant’s quarters, not the first he’d seen but the best kept except for the door. The bed was hardly molded, although it dusted when he kicked at one of the side railings. It was mostly bare besides the heap that was now the bed, and a lone window faced the outside elements; the wood used to board it up mostly rotted away. At least one plank was completely missing, judging from a set of nails across from each other with nothing in the middle.
Looking at the stone walls, floor, and ceiling, Timothy tossed the ball of fire from his palm over to the wreck in the room, catching the bed and decisively setting up his room for the night. He dragged the door into the room and tossed that onto the fire as well, pushing the sides of the bed closer to the middle to minimize the small bonfire.
Unrolling his bedroll after kicking a few small rocks from its intended destination, he sat cross-legged on top of it and gazed into the fire, taking inventory of the bit of castle he’d gotten around to today.
He wasn't going to lie to himself, it was bleak. Besides a lot of rot, some graffiti declaring Bango Skank was number two, and some wildlife, there was stone. Lots and lots of stone, much of it broken. One hallway he had to dig out only to find nothing but an old kitchen, and another he'd left collapsed to keep the thing scratching at the other side in.
He'd tried to go into the basement once, but there had been a whistling of wind and a door slammed in his face. Touching the door, he'd withdrawn his hand quickly as the heat nearly seared his skin. Staring hard at the door, he'd retreated back up the stairs and found the room he was currently in, scratching his thoughts into a worn journal.
Looking out the window, he saw the moon had already risen. Closing his journal, he traded it into his pack for some chalk and cloth, and then walked over to the wall beneath the window. Running his hand in a circle around the hole in the wall, he cleared it of dust and the heavier dirt before quickly circling it. Pinning the cloth over the window, he drew a large circle in the middle and started lettering the outside of the circle, circling it again when he was done. Looking over his work, he thumbed away a rune and re-chalked it again.
Nodding to himself, he drew a seven-pointed star in the middle to connect the more important runes and laid his hand in the middle, thinking over the words and nodding to himself, slowly pouring mana into the cloth as he mumbled to himself.
"Saxum durum, mollia lignum, sit modus est autem dixero."
Slowly stiffening, the cloth turned a slate gray as the spell took effect, Timothy feeding mana into the circle until he felt it charged enough to last until he woke up.
Walking over to where the door had been, he drew a much simpler circle in the doorway, pulling out a tape-measure and setting the parameters of the door into the circle. A diamond was drawn into this one, and he pushed his hand into the middle once again.
"Leva," he intoned, quickly pouring his magic into the circle before snatching his hand out of the way as a thin piece of the floor slammed up to close the door, effectively closing himself in the room... and everything else out.
Kicking off his boots, he pulled off his coat and folded it carefully, laying it on top of his boots. Taking off his belts, he carefully set a long knife beside him, sheathe and all. He hid his other weapons inside his coat, as well as he could. Sliding himself into the bag, he set his knife in the space under his neck, arched his back a little to allow it to pop, and then let himself drift to sleep.
Timothy groaned, closing his eyes before reopening them and staring at the furry creature currently sitting on his chest. Fuzzy brown and gray striped fur puffed and spiked as it groomed itself.
Almost rat-like, its body was longer and tubular, with stumpy legs ending in large paws. Its eyes were blacker than charred stone, and just as hard. It seemed to be staring at him, even as it washed its front paws with its tongue.
"I don't suppose you're friendly, are you?"
It stopped bathing itself, looking at Timothy for a few seconds, then a minute. Slowly, it bared its teeth, opening a mouth that went far farther back than it should have, stopping where Timothy could have sworn its shoulders should have been. Hissing lightly, it just as quickly closed its mouth, and then went back to grooming itself.
"Right then," Timothy muttered, glancing to where his pack sat, unmolested. So far.
Slipping a hand slowly towards it, he sat under the mammal's watchful gaze as he passed by his coat, and slowly pulled out a strip of dried beef. Slowly he brought his hand up near his chest, meat sticking straight up, reminiscent of a baton.
Looking it over carefully, the animal stretched its neck, sniffing the offering lightly before wrapping its long tongue around the jerky. Relaxing his grip, Timothy watched as the tongue pulled the food to the tip of its snout, and then held his breath as the creature once again tore its head in half to feed the cutting blades that were its teeth. Closing its mouth, it chewed for a few second, and then swallowed. Blinking thoughtfully, it crawled its way up Timothy's chest, sticking its snout almost to his nose.
Staring him in the eye, it appeared to wink. It opened its mouth slightly and its tongue once again emerged, running the length of Timothy's nose as it cleared a line of dust up to his hairline before jumping off him and walking over to his coat to thoroughly sniff it.
Running a hand over his face to clear it of the unnecessarily sticky spit, Timothy slowly sat up and looked down into his lap, wondering where his life had left him. Tossing his sleeping bag open, he reached over to his boots, past the fuzz tube, and pushed his coat to the floor. Ignoring it for the second, he pulled his boots on, after making sure nothing else was hiding inside them.
Turning to the rest of the pile that was his clothes, he watched the creature as it watched him dress, noting it shying away a little as he belted his weapons to his waist, thighs, and back.
Stretching, he raised his arms to the ceiling and closed his eyes, silently thanking the goddesses for another restful night, and the fact that he was once again alive this morning. Following this train of thought was the realization that he didn't truly know whether it was actually morning or not. Walking over to the window, he pressed his palm to the cloth and released the rest of the mana holding it so stiff.
While it was indeed morning, it was only by technicality and it could have easily been midnight if not for the sky being ever so slightly lighter than the clouds that passed under it.
Stiffening suddenly, he looked down as the fuzzy tube ascended his jeans by way of claws, black hooked things of bone and razor. Hooked tips were the only thing stopping it from digging straight into the meat of Timothy's calf, and he felt the need to thank the goddesses again. Working its way up the sleeve of his shirt, the animal came to rest on Timothy's shoulder, opening its maw and hissing slightly into his ear.
"You're terrifying."
The creature licked his earlobe, and then went to staring out the window, watching the birds swoop back and forth. Carefully, Timothy reached up and scratched the creature's head, between the small pointed ears. It purred lightly and flicked its ears, and Timothy felt its tail twitch on his back. Sighing, he turned from the window and walked over to his pack. He stooped to pick it up, and then stopped, looking at his little companion.
"You're in my way, you know. I don't want to get your tail between a strap and me, and I doubt you do either."
It stared at Timothy for a few seconds, and then scampered down his arm onto the top of his pack, twirling a couple of times and sitting on top of its tail.
Timothy stared at it, then shrugged and slowly shouldered the pack. He heard the thing hiss lightly, and then felt it sniff the back of his head as he fastened the straps in front of his chest. Settling it on his shoulders, he looked to his left to see the bottom half of a furry head, and two stubby legs standing on his shoulder.
Walking over to the door, Timothy crouched and examined a large hole in the bottom of his impromptu door. Looking left again, he found the creature panting happily, staring blankly at the rock ahead. Sighing, he drew a simple rune circle on the door and tapped it in the center, crumbling the stone outward. Looking around both sides of the door, he noted a mass of muddled tracks all around the door, as though something had smelled him through the stone.
Something big, he thought, looking up at the ceiling and noting the line of clean cutting through the dirt. There's a line in the stone itself. Spikes definitely, maybe surrounded by fur or feathers for those softer smudge marks on each side...?
Moving his coat aside, he lifted the two blades from his hips and switched them with the ones on his thighs, checking their runes before he arranged them to his liking.
Fire and water, I wonder if my teachers would call me a genius or an idiot... Ha.
Looking up at the rodent, he noticed it was looking down the hallway, to the right, and twitching its nose.
"You smelling someone, socius meus?"
It jumped a bit when he started talking, and then hissed in the direction it was still facing. Taking that as his cue, Timothy unsheathed his knives and started jogging in the opposite direction, hoping that the thing was actually behind him, and that it couldn't sense him running.
He was only half lucky. Small shudders rattled the stones on the floor, and he increased his pace significantly. Rounding a corner, his coat flapped heavily, the heavy material lifting from his back as he picked up speed.
The animal riding his shoulder stared backwards, claws digging into an unfeeling shoulder. Timothy kicked off of a wall as he cornered, pushing himself away from the oncoming wall as he frantically tried to remember the way to the court hall.
Seeing it ahead, he had enough time to thank the sisters before something crashed behind him, sending chunks of wall in all directions. Mostly down.
Chancing a peek up at his furry friend, he paled when he saw that the teeth were showing once again, tiny sabers bared in a lasting snarl. Snapping his attention back to the front, he leaned forward and poured energy into his pumping arms and legs. A pulsating roar shook the air and stone surrounding him, shocking him at the volume of it. Reaching out a hand, he gripped for the frame of the door...
And caught it with his fingertips, wrenching it and slamming himself into the wall beside it, praying that the thing behind him couldn't match the turn. It couldn't, not on the two paws it was currently running on. Slamming into a pillar, dust and falling stones obscured it from Timothy's eyes.
Jumping onto the top of another decrepit pillar, Timothy drew his knives, Ignis and Aquae, and attached them to two pieces of rubber tubing that lead into his coat.
The creature stood, shaking its scaly head and roaring again, splitting its head sideways and showcasing its own ivory. The teeth seemed to pulse, moving anything closer to the throat of the monster's neck. Closing its mouth allowed Timothy to see its black eyes, clouded with what looked like white veins. All ten seemed to be rolling in their sockets, and the monster had to turn its green and brown head to the side to look up at Timothy, its nose flaring as it caught sight and scent. It currently stood on six legs, the two closest to its back clearly its main set. The muscles strained beneath its skin as it rose to just these hind legs, balancing itself with a long, feathered tail that ended in a long bone spike. Almost a sword, really, seeing as it seemed sharpened on two sides.
Its four arms waved in the air as it once again roared at Timothy, showing the marshal as it's intended destination.
"I really wish Graves were here," Timothy muttered before jumping from his pillar, to the next one over. Looking up, he looked to the ceiling for salvation in the way of a hole to another floor. Seeing one promising one, he crouched to prepare his jump over to the next pillar in his way, only to find his sight overtaken by teeth and scales as the large creature easily leapt from the floor to the top of the next pillar, teetering dangerously before adjusting to its new perch.
Timothy had time enough to curse once before the tail wiped around to catch his curled arm, swatting him from the top of his pillar and across the room into a wall. Sliding down the wall along with a few loosened pebbles, Timothy hit the floor on his feet and quickly tottered to his knees, sitting on his legs and breathing deeply. Again a shaking announced the terror's descent, and Timothy lifted his head to see it slowly walking over to where he was, on all six legs. It still eyed him, and he finally noticed the five eyes on the front of its snout, three having been apparently scratched out over time.
Well, I need to at least make my mark... Timothy remarked to himself, feeling a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling in his head. Shaking the laughter away, he shakily retook his legs and lifting Ignis and Aquae, siphoning some of his magic into them.
The terror's steps seemed to slow for a second, but then it stood on its hind legs and continued forward, quickly gaining speed as it spread its jaws.
Waiting until the thing was almost to him, Timothy dropped to his knees and swung, near screaming the names of his duel knives as he sliced forward.
Ignis burst into blue flame, crackling madly as he focused magic into its straight edge, turning the thin line into plasma.
Meanwhile, Aquae seemed to turn ice cold, collecting water to the surface of the blade, where it begun to cycle in a loop over the blade, speeding up as time went on, large ice crystals forming and spinning over the blade.
It was lucky that it sped quickly, as both Aquae and Ignis connected with the creature's front four arms, unluckily clustered around the same spot. They passed through with a moderate amount of pressure, the blades both quickly losing power as Timothy stopped concentrating on them and concentrated on keeping his head, which was quickly being enclosed in teeth.
Luckily for his head, but not so much for his ears, the creature noticed immediately when the knives made contact with flesh and loosed a pained screech as it raised its body, now with two holes, away from the marshal.
Looking up, Timothy pushed off with his left leg and rolled away from his current position, which become extremely occupied by the creature's chin smashing into the stone he had been sitting on.
As he rolled he unclipped Ignis, letting it fall as he clipped the knife that occupied the holster below.
Scrapping it along the ground as he rolled, he collected dirt as he rolled, moving as close to a pile of earth as he could. Looking up, he saw the creature once again running to him, head low and mouth wide as it charged.
Grinning, he spoke.
"Terrus."
Whipping the knife forward, he let the ground grow rigid as it crystallized along the blade, growing from thirty centimeters to two meters. Letting Aquae fall, he took the large crystal in both hands and held it over this head, slicing it down between the lizard's jaws. The jagged crystal cracked, but it sliced through to the creature’s stomach and a little further, the reeking scent of its bile and bowels hitting Timothy in the face.
He quickly jumped from between the jaws, watching carefully as the muscles in the neck tensed and the legs still tried to scrabble for purchase. Shivering, the creature stopped moving, its eyes still tracking Timothy as he moved over to a pillar to throw up on it. Moving back over to the terror, Timothy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before taking his knees beside the monstrous head.
They shared a gaze for a minute, than Timothy moved his hand to wipe away a white trickle that could only be tears. Keeping that hand on the thing, he moved down to where its ribs were, finding its heart. Taking a deep breath, he drew his fourth knife, a double sided hollow dagger named Aer, and plunged it between the beast's ribs. Taking a last shuddering breath, the beast breathed out a last flood of ivory colored blood before stopping forever.
Wiping his knife on the thing's hide, he walked over to where he had dropped Ignis, sheathing the other knives he still had connected to his coat on the way. Picking up his knife and glancing over it, he noted a scratch before sheathing it as well. Walking over to a clean pillar, he sat leaned against it and stared at the beast, starting and drawing Terra when he felt something brush against his leg.
He sheathed it when he saw what it was, and beckoned the furry thing to climb up his shoulder.
"Socia," he muttered aloud, naming it on the spot, "There aren't any more of those, are there?"
Socia sneezed and lay it's head on its paws, seeming to go to sleep.
"Okay," Timothy sighed, and then continued with his study of the monstrosity as the day grew older.
Timothy finally regained his legs, a little shakily. He'd wasted half an hour staring at the thing, and he still had work to do. He needed to find out where it had come from, mostly. He had a suspicion, and he needed to do something anyway. Looking back into the mouth, he gingerly reached in and touched the white blood splatter on the roof of its mouth, then scratched at it.
While normally blood would have been just sticky, the drops in the moist roof of a mouth were completely dry, and extremely powdery. Wiping the dust on the scales on top of the thing's head, Timothy took out a knife again. Carving a circle into the scalp of the creature, wiping away the already dusting blood, he carefully inlaid the runes for fire.
Pouring in the mana, he quickly walked away as the fire quickly spread over the skin of the beast. Looking back only when he reached the doorway he'd entered through, he watched the red flame and black smoke leave their mark on the floor and ceiling. Socia sniffed at the air, growling lightly. Turning his back, he hoped he hadn't poisoned the air. Then he hoped that the combination of creature and fire he'd set wouldn't consume stone.
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Timothy crawled over the pile of rubble that had been impassible the day before, blue fire once again his light. The walls on either side seemed to have been pushed over, and the remaining rubble had a trench in the middle. Looking at the scales and white splotches he found, Timothy figured that the thing had literally shoved its mouth into the pile and opened its jaws, pushing stone and dirt into the holes in the walls.
The air was wetter, danker on the other side, and Timothy wiped what appeared to be moss from the walls when he touched them. The ceiling here was covered in scrapings, both old and new, seeming to spiral and spin around themselves. The walls here were beat down, and small plants grew on either side, in the rubble and dirt.
In the left room was something Timothy had expected, but hoped not to find.
A nest of large, leathery brown eggs.
Looking away, the marshal pulled a knife and did what he needed to, making sure none of the eggs ever hatched.
Pulling a clump of moss away from the wall, he cleaned his blade and sheathed it, refusing to look at his handiwork until a happy chirruping forced him to look at his shoulder. Socia was tensing its legs, but when it tried to jump into the nest Timothy caught it gently.
"No no, Socia. If you're hungry I'll feed you, but please don't eat... that."
Socia snarled angrily, but she didn't bite or claw at him, just crawled back up his sleeve. Timothy reached into a pocket and pulled out a large chunk of dried meat, putting it directly into the awaiting maw. He had to snatch his fingers away as angry teeth mashed the food quickly, and with a swallow, Socia was feigning sleep on his shoulder.
Sighing aloud, Timothy stepped out of the room and checked the other side, mercifully empty but for flora. Walking down the hall, Timothy dodged puddles and scat, looking into rooms and peeking around doors. At one point he came across a carcass that looked like a slightly smaller version of his kill, and assumed it to be the father of the eggs.
After finding nothing too out of order, he came across a set of large doors, an enchantment shining across the wood. Touching it lightly after tossing pebbles and small concentrations of mana at it, he laid his hand gently on the wood. It felt warm, as though it had been sitting in direct sunlight for the last four hours. The surface hummed slightly as he pressed on it, not audibly but physically. Leaning against it produced a larger vibration, and a soft smack nearly numbed his arm.
Leaving it for now, Timothy continued down the hall, coming quickly to a dead end, of sorts. It lead down a steep set of stairs, and all he could smell from the top was water and decay. Muttering a spell, he condensed the fire he was using as a torch into a glowing ball, and then tossed it down the stairs.
Leaving small splotches of flickering fire wherever it touched, the blue ball was out of sight quickly, and Timothy had plenty of time to summon another torch before he heard the hissing as the fire met water. Clapping his hands over his eyes and briefly scrubbing them, he shook his head and wondered what he was thinking before taking the first steps downstairs.
A hiss sounded in his ear, and Timothy jumped and smashed himself against the wall when an unfamiliar weight jumped off of his shoulders. Looking up, he saw Socia standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. With a swish of its tail, it was gone.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at a copy of the same door that had stopped him earlier. He was two steps up from where the water started, gazing at the slightly darkened wood near the middle of the door, perfectly marking the shape of his hand. Looking into the water, Timothy stepped in and laid his hand on the door, covering the other print.
Once again the door buzzed, but Timothy pressed harder, gripping his other hand into a fist. The enchantment was weak, much more so than the first door. Dipping the fist into the water below him, he cocked it back and concentrated on the wetness of his hand.
"Glacia," he muttered, then rocketed his fist forward and moved his palm. The water on his fist crystallized, and shattered when it met with the wood of the door. The wood seemed to groan, then opened, forcing the water into a wave that crested on Timothy's knees before it was stopped by the wall. He massaged his chest for a second, before moving through the door.
The other side of the door was remarkably clean, but for the water covering the floor. Even it seemed clear, the liquid only marred when Timothy walked slowly into the hallway. Looking around, he noticed and walked over to a crease running along the wall. Peeking inside, he spied a row made of crystal, dotted every few meters with runes. Looking over the letters, he grinned and touched the fiery hand he was using for light to the nearest grouping.
Letting his mana course into the crystal, Timothy was delighted to see it seem to catch fire, mirrors reflecting the blue light into the hallway. He watched the line turn a corner and go up a specialized pillar, swirling around and flowing across several arches as Timothy slowly lit up the entire hallway.
Cutting off the mana when he felt that he'd put enough into it to have light for an hour or so at least, Timothy gazed around at his mostly plain surroundings, bathed in blue firelight.
There also seemed to be a stabilizing element to the runes, as the light didn't flicker like flames normally would have. Striding slowly through the water, Timothy admired what appeared to be marble walls as he walked down the new path he'd been presented.
Walking to the intersection the pillars stood at, he looked down the three ways he was presented, as well as up the walls. It really wasn't much of a choice, as two ways were completely identical to the one he had just walked down, closed door and all. Up was a smooth marble, mostly the same as the walls, except for the slow leaking of water from a drain. The last seemed to be pulling the water towards it, and Timothy cautiously followed it.
Near another turn he came to two steps up, out of the water. There was a steel grate in the bottom step, and the water cascaded into some unknown depth. Stepping up, Timothy half expected something to reach out and grab him. The only thing that happened is that he was now a foot higher than before, and out of the water.
Walking slowly around the corner, he came to the first unsettling piece of this hallway, a pillar lying across the hallway. The light on the other side was noticeably dimmer, with an incorporeal line connecting the broken segments. Pausing to kindle the lights on the other side of the break, Timothy stopped to chew on some of his jerky and to pull out one of the cords that connected to the inside of his coat.
Sticking the tip of his index finger into the opening and connecting to the silver filaments inside of it, he ate the food and drew on the reserve of mana inside of himself, pouring it slowly into the tube. He stopped when he was done with the dried meat, tucking the cord back into his coat.
Climbing over the pillar, he continued down an increasingly dusty hallway until he reached what seemed to be a door, another of the set he'd walked through and seen at the ends of the other hallways. Slowly laying his hand against it, he found this one lukewarm at best, and it easily opened as he pushed on it.
Instead of the stairs he expected, the door opened on a black room, dark as a night without stars. Looking over the walls, Timothy noticed a square of crystal, same as the trenches behind him. Pressing his palm to it, he slowly fed a little mana into it, lighting what seemed to be a dungeon. Instead of multiple cells, there was only one, directly in front of him, covered by what seemed to be steel bars. Caked in dust, they sat broken and torn, twisted away from the black pit that remained.
"Well Tartarus," Timothy muttered, moving into the room and gently resting a fingertip on the sharp end of a bar. "What was in-?"
He spun, his blades whirling out in front of him as he drew them. He was quick enough to see something, some shadow, disappear through the door. He gave himself some leeway on not noticing it quickly enough, seeing as it crawled along the Celestia damned ceiling.
He held his stance for a minute, calculating the odds that it had actually left for a moment, before he heard a large splash and quick steps leading away.
He looked back at the cell, then at the newly opened doors, before he nearly threw his knives at the ground.
