The wizard had experienced a wave of emotions that ran the gamut from rage to embarrassment to fear and once more to fury. The omnipresent power of the Thayne was unimpressive to him; for as powerful as the ageless little paleface might be, he wasn’t doing a damned thing to further their desperate position. When they were given word of Canen’s disturbance, they moved without word, or opportunity to reconcile the differences exposed amongst them. For now, there was only a flourish to get to the cell before Arius could escape.

Storm Veritas couldn’t recall if his feet touched the stairs on the way down to the cell. Flickering yellows of metal-caged torches guided the path to the cellar, as the normal smell of must was replaced with something that hid him with a wave of acrid resolution.

Shit. Too late.

Indeed, the thick, muscled frame of Canen Darkflight was no more. Standing back to take inventory of the moment, the electromancer could find no hint of the enemy that had made his hands buzz and hum. Instead, a bizarre mass of meat, bone, blood and skin was heaped upon the floor with the skull-less face of Canen draped atop it, a soft flap of flesh.

“Is he… Is he dissolving?” Aghast, the mage covered his mouth as he stepped backwards.

The mass continued to lose its humanity. It appeared that the bone mass left first, as apendages bent soft and limp about impossible angles as a sizzling sounds hissed away. The overall size of the heap continued to shrink inwards, the mass of musculature fading and skin tones blending into a singular beige hue.

The girl moved past the wizard, bold and brazen without a touch of fear. Had she seen this before? Shinsou had arrived at some point; whether he had found Canen first or after Storm seemed immaterial at this point. Canen was bound to him; they were true brethren. The normal stoicism of the Telgradian was lost here, as Vaan Osiris’ nostrils flared and eyes widened. Like a wolf, his lips curled back in a snare of horror and rage, the brilliant warrior trying and failing to repress his visual fury.

This will ruin Shinsou if he doesn’t process it. I know the path of that type of loss handled poorly… that way lies darkness.

Interesting, the peculiar little General seemed to be taking in the information in a manner that seemed very procedural. Almost devoid of visual cues, she assayed the area for information, appearing to mentally document each and every element in a smooth, systematic fashion. Storm could avert his eyes from the grotesque display to steal a long glance at her.

Heh. Maybe one of us can keep their shit together.

The question lingered; it was obvious but needed a voice.

“Mephisto… how did he get out?”