Chapter Text
Azriel’s face when he handed him those coordinates was burned into the back of Eris’ eyelids. He wore the same expression Eris had seen so many times when conducting meetings in the Hewn City, but…there had been something else in those depthless eyes. Concern, obviously, his friend was injured, but there was also pity, or maybe even sympathy.
Eris has dreamed about this event many times, but this had seemed so much clearer. Every vein in Azriel’s magnificent wings stood out just as clear as the first time he had seen him, his shadows swirling around him, casting the Illyrian in an ominous cloak.
.
Eris realized that his eyes were still closed. The dream occurred only when he slept for a good few hours, so it was likely that he actually had a decent night's sleep for once. But Autumn wouldn’t run itself - Beron didn’t care enough to monitor the council or the trade routes, so all that fell to Eris to manage. So, he gave up on his quiet dreaming, and forced his eyes open.
.
Darkness. This wasn’t Autumn. The court of flames always had fires in the hearths, the early morning sunlight always flowing through the open windows. This place was cold, and damp. Eris made to get up, to see if he could figure out where he was, and why, only to notice the chains bolting his wrists and ankles to the cold stone floor.
Chains. Darkness.
Flashes of another cold room, another set of chains, far from here, came into his mind so quickly he almost gasped. A pale hand holding a whip, the end jagged and dipped in faebane, the crack, the harsh sting of pain.
No. Focus.
A knife sheathed in flame, carving invisible scars through his freckled skin. The sound of his bones snapping.
.
Eris sucked in a breath, then another. This wasn’t the Autumn dungeons, Beron wasn’t here with his impossible expectations and sadistic punishments.
.
Although, that was part of the problem. If he was in Autumn, he would be able to find his way out, but here? He wasn’t in control. And that was terrifying.
He needed to find his way out.
.
Eris probably could have melted the chains, but that would likely end with the metal melting into his skin, which would be exceedingly painful, not to mention inefficient. Of course, he could keep his screams silent, as to not alert any guards, but it would be slow, and not worth getting put under heavier surveillance than what he probably had.
.
Next option, a glamour. He had never attempted a glamour more significant than covering his numerous scars, but it was as good an idea as any. If he could pull it off, he could make it seem like the chains were empty, giving him even a chance at escaping. Eris closed his eyes and reached into that boiling vat of power in his core, summoning it to his left hand, and willed it to match the look of the mossy stone of the damp floor. The normally infinite pool of magic seemed more depleted than usual. He furrowed his brow, pulling even harder. And with one last tug- there. When he opened his eyes, his hand had become mostly transparent, identical to the ground beneath it.
He would keep practicing, and take whatever was thrown at him