Bronte woke up, his head ringing. He was in a dimly lit room, his arms, legs, and neck held against a wall by metal cuffs. Cuts raced over his arms and legs the most major being a huge gash on the side of his stomach. Based on his experience, if it got infected he would probably die. Wonderful. Bronte's memories came flooding back. He had been relaxing in his castle, after a particularly long day of council work. Then out of nowhere, several neverseen members had jumped him. He had obviously smiled and inflicted on them. And it had worked! Until a member he recognized as Gisela, plunged a knife into his stomach from behind. He gasped in pain, and slumped to the ground, unconscious. Every part of his body was absolutely agonizing, but he was proud to admit, he did not let a single tear escape him. After a couple of minutes, Gisela and Gethen walked in, grinning like cheshire cats. "Enjoyed you little nap?" Gisela asked smirking.

After a few hours of absolute torture/interrogation, Bronte was sure that this suffering would end soon. He could barley breathe, and at this point he had been burned, knifed, had limbs broken, and been kicked. Blood pooled around him, giving off a sickening iron smell. "What the hell do we do now?!" yelled Gethen, frustrated. "Patience. He will break with time." responded Gisela."Yeah, if he doesn't die from his injuries!" "Let him die. it will send a message to the council at least." "Exactly what kind of message would that be?" said a voice from behind the metal door. The door suddenly swung open, revealing none other than his very own brother, Fintan Pyren. "I am taking charge of this prisoner from now." "But-" "You are gifted, both of you. However, you are no Ancient. I know this elf better than he knows himself. I can get him to spill." Gisela nodded to Gethen, who tossed Fintan a pair of keys, and leaped. Gisela glittered away as well. Fintan immediately dropped to his knees, and unlocked the chains. Bronte slumped down, but Fintan caught him before he hit the ground. "I'm getting you out of here, be quiet. On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you feel?" Bronte managed to shake his head. "Great." Fintan scooped him up, fireman-style. Bronte moaned, and Fintan glared at him. "Are you still on good terms with Oralie?" Bronte nodded weakly. Fintan leaped them outside of Oralie's castle, and banged on the door. Nobody was home. "Ugh, where do we go now!?!" "Foxfire?" suggested Bronte meekly. "Fine." Fintan rummaged in his pockets, and took out another crystal. They leaped to find that Sir Heslage and Councilor Terik were there. "What the HE-" started Elwin.

"NO TIME TO EXPLAIN I HAVE TO GO COVER FOR HIS DISAPEARENCE GOODBYE!" shouted Fintan, trying to shock them with the volume of his voice. However, the panic in his voice must have shown, because they made no move to stop him from going back to the hideout. The last thing Bronte thought before falling in to a restless sleep was

You're lost,

Not gone.

Authors Note:

So what did you guys think? These guys are my favorite characters ( sorry Foster) and I would like to write more about them, if you want them! Put any requests in the comments!

Yours,

Azrail