Equinox had long since reached the tunnels of the underground shelter...
The prophet continued to argue with his stubborn spirit. She accused him of being too hopeless for her to even divulge the little information she had bothered to obtain of his virtue. This seemed rather counterintuitive considering that helping with the unknown was what one would expect of their spirit guide. Now, as an attempt to protest, Equinox himself would not bother with his own safety.
Yaga knew he was bluffing... but was she really certain?
Equinox sat cross-legged, several rolls of meat and bread sprawled on the ground in front of him. As he quickly chewed then swallowed the stringy meat roll, he would pick up another. "I can eat this at least, huh Yaga? Ivan says he's burnt the worms clean off! ...whatever that means. Wild spirits on Svarga don't have those... I think."
Yaga couldn't care less about the meat. She continued to stare intently at the back of the spirit standing right in front of them, unmoving like a statue, but with an undeniable aura of life. This foolish prophet was eating dinner right in front of a deceiver grade spirit!
"You bastard! Will you risk your life for the sake of being petty?!" Yaga scolded while Equinox continued to hum in pleasure. Ivanhoe was a really great cook--- That and Ikky had not eaten anything for several days now. So, this might as well be the best meal of his life. "Why do you care if I live or die? Last time I checked, you couldn't be 'bothered' to teach a brainless fool like me. Well, Yaga, this brainless moron knows nothing! What difference would I be making if I crossed this spirit's path?"
"Stop acting like you're powerless as you are right now! You have Lifwin, don't you?! Your first virtue does nothing but heal you from the curses itself creates, so what good would the other one do?" She sighed. "Look, just listen to me and you won't get killed at the very least, otherwise---"
"Otherwise? Look, I don't wanna argue, but you're really starting to piss me off! I don't need one more voice in my head, reminding me of all the things I could have been, if I was just born like everybody else." He pushed the food wraps into the moist earth as he stood up, then deactivated his charm completely. Equinox could feel his own cold essence blow violently into the atmosphere as it escaped the Vrykolakas.
A dark shadowy figure of a woman appeared right in front of him with her arms outstretched. But as soon as Equinox reached for it, she moved away. Equinox had already expected something like that to happen, so he just continued forward, pursuing the shadow until he eventually crossed past the stone spirit.
"What... your name?!" The spirit suddenly asked. The human surprisingly turned to it, revealing, "My name is Equinox Su---" Of course, before he could finish his sentence, Yaga pulled him into her shadowy form, the two exploding violently into starry black mist.
The second Ikky came to, there was a heavy club rushing towards his face. As his arms rose in defense, he waited... and waited but the club did not land.
"What... is... name?" The stone spirit asked again
Equinox stood straight and in confusion. 'Why were my arms raised just now?' He wondered, feeling fading yet still panicked thumps in his chest.
The spirit rose its club again, "What?!"
"Get behind the spirit!" Yaga seemed to have an idea about what had just happened. But it was already too late... Equinox found himself faced with the stone spirit as if for the first time.
"What? What is this?" His heart was beating frantically in his chest, and he was in a state where even a slight drop of water would trip off all of his alarms. Yet, the statue was stationary and unmoving. Equinox could not remember the last few seconds. His leg instinctively shifted back, his sandals shifting against the stoney ground. The stone spirit looked down at the confused prophet, asking for the first time: "What... is... your... name!"
----
Theseus Laskaris, the self-proclaimed second prince of Troezen, watched in horror as the prophets themselves brought chaos to the shelter. The people here seemed to be a different kind of mad. No one responded to names anymore and acted only on individual instinct. What made that instinctual drive frightening, however, was its frequency. Everyone seemed to be performing some kind of ritual on their brothers and sisters, the result of it being one more dead seer, and more weeping in anguish about what they had just done.
A man crawled over to Theseus, his flesh as hard as stone, yet withering like dead leaves. He could not even let out a tear as two other stoney prophets dragged him along.
"You are drawing your last breath... just give your life away for the sake of other people!" One of the two prophets said as he continued to pull on one leg.
"One life, for the sake of four. Your deeds will be honored in the 7th Lokah." The other grunted, struggling to pull on the man's second leg.
"Are you just going to watch them, oh prince of Laskaris?" A voice said to him. By now, this voice had already become a familiar and annoying one.
"These are not my people..." Theseus moved back in fear.
"And where... where are your people?" It spoke again. "By now, you must have already found out about what had happened to them. The very writings on those walls you were so intent to understand the meaning of have given you your answers, have they not? ... Curious indeed. Why haven't you gone mad yet? Why is the spirits screams not affecting... only you?"
Theseus's breath was labored, his chest thumping even harder as another desperate pair of eyes turned to his location. But he still had more vitality than the others--- he could not be used for the ritual.
The man that had just been dragged away from his feet was soon thrown into the stream, hot steam rising into the air as he struggled and struggled to get ashore. But the others would not let him. They would kick and push him back into the stream, knocking him down as if he was an exhausted insect trying to get out of a slippery sink, only to get pushed back into the rushing water to suffocate and drown.
The skin burnt off completely in a few moments, leaving a red transparent figure with no limbs. The head of this transparent figure had plastered on it, a face of one who had suffered immeasurably. But the other prophets felt no guilt or remorse from looking at it. In fact, their heads all turned to the glowing orb in the transparent figure's chest. Before other approaching prophets could get close enough to steal it, they sunk their claws into its chest, and ripped out this sphere, before dumping the body. All four of these prophets circled the sphere and embraced it before jumping into the water.
As for the prophets who had come along to steal the heart, they fell in defeat. These were the ones unable to take the lives of others yet would not mind reaping from the benefits of those that did have the ruthlessness to kill. One of these desperate few grabbed unto the worthless red shell of what once was a human, holding it tightly and then jumping into the stream. Two others followed with hopes that this desperate action would yield results, but by the time they realized it would not, many prophets had already surrounded both sides of the stream, their feet all raised to press the regretful faces of the prophets back into the water.
"I can't... I can't do anything. I'll, I'll die!" Theseus tripped and fell yet continued to crawl farther and farther.
At this point, the voice was already sounding frustrated, "Do you have any idea who your mother named you after? Have you not heard of the tales, the glorious epics? Stand up Theseus. Only you can fight for what is right!"
The second prince had heard those words before. But he was not the war general Laskaris who had slain countless foes, singlehandedly securing the borders of Troezen with his strength and wits; nor was he the nigh-omnipotent Laskaris who had rent the sky asunder and brought destruction to countless kingdoms with one hand. Theseus's greatest accomplishment was creating this shelter to hide in safety while his brothers fought. But clearly, even that could not save his people. They were all cursed to an eternity of their souls being used as renewable fuel... so was his pathetic existence.
"How many cycles has it been..." He muttered, attempting to remember just how many times he and his people had been revived just to get killed again.
"This shelter was crudely made, yet for some reason... it still holds. By who's hand was it fashioned?"
Theseus looked at his own dirty palms. "By these same arrogant hands that scribbled self-praise over her walls. But I can do no more than grovel and scrape my fingers through the mud. I cannot fight for these people."
M'raj responded, "All I ask, Theseus, is that you be willing to see this madness end. Lend me your hand, and your people shall be led to gardens where suffering doth not exist."