If they weren't preparing to run for their lives, Sedgewick would have had more time to appreciate the irony of becoming prey in the place he used to be the predator.

They rushed around the room in a dizzying blur, tossing things to each other and shoving them in their respective bags. Sedgewick thrust his bag at Feyla and snatched up hers. "The discs are at the top. See if you can fill them on the run but don't let them explode."

Feyla swallowed and nodded her head.

Sedgewick stuffed his remaining notes into Feyla's bag and slung it onto his shoulder. He knelt beside the spell-weaver and traced a finger down the cool metal poles below the arches. "A genuine Lendris. Finest of craftsmanship. I always order from him." He yanked the top half off and detached one of the legs. "Almost seems wrong."

"What does?" asked Feyla while she double checked the discs in Sedgewick's bag.

"Using such a fine piece of equipment as a blunt weapon," he answered, sighing as he weighed the four-foot metal bar in his hand.

Feyla smirked. "Didn't you once tell Fenroy that you'd rather get blasted in the chest than have to use—"

"Yes, yes, there's no need to dig up the past," he grumbled. Sedgewick grabbed the torch off the wall and crept to the door, beckoning Feyla closer. He pressed his ear against the door and closed his eyes. The sound of water droplets hitting stone was broken by another door being slammed open, this time even closer than before. "Stay close," he whispered as they slipped into the tunnel.

Tucking the metal pole under his arm, Sedgewick held the torch in one hand and the map to the surface in the other. The hiss of a blast hitting the damp wall in search of another door lingered behind them like a sinister ghost drawing closer. Perhaps it wasn't Tyrinn but whoever it was, he highly doubted they were just visiting their fellow neighbors-in-hiding. His limbs ached to run but the noise would echo down the tunnel and they were close enough for their ghost to pinpoint where it had come from. The comforting pink of Feyla's magic glowed beside him as she poured her magic into one of the empty discs. They turned down a corridor right as she finished imbuing the last one.

Shadows floated across Feyla's tawny skin and light shone off her blonde hair as she grinned in the torchlight. Normally, he might have taken more time to admire the effect, but he was too busy trying push down the rolling of his stomach as she slid the three discs into place. Sedgewick clutched the torch, wishing its light could push back the dizzying sensation of the tunnel curling in around him. This was it. Everything he'd gone through, narrowed down to this moment.

"Found you."

Sedgewick whipped around. Zedeya stood in the corridor entrance, smirking in the light of her fireball. He gripped the metal pole in his hand but a blast hit his chest before he took a single step.

Light flashed in his eyes and the world slowed as he fell backward. He stared down at his chest, searching for the burning hole that was doubtlessly bleeding the life out of him. But it wasn't there. Relief washed over him and for an instant, he smiled.

Until fire lit his veins.

Sedgewick slammed against the tunnel wall, a cry of agony escaping his lips. He writhed on the floor, his limbs twitching uncontrollably. Orange burnt out everything in sight and a sickening thrumming clogged his ears, sounding as if a deluge was crashing against the fire inside him. He gripped the clammy tunnel wall, desperate to feel anything besides burning, burning, burning...

A crash cut through the thrumming. His vision cleared just enough to make out Feyla wrestling Zedeya to the ground. Feyla reached for Zedeya's neck to knock her out but the other woman blocked her. And then summoned her magic to finish the job.

Cold fear mixed with icy rage, cutting through the haze of the fire. Sedgewick raised one shaky hand, bracing himself against the tunnel with the other. An orange glow flickered to life and a familiar buzzing filled him. Zedeya finally realized what he was doing and tried to raise a barrier ward.

Too late, he thought.

Sedgewick's blast slammed her against the wall, not quite strong enough to cause permanent damage. Feyla jumped to her feet and his strength left him as he slipped back to the ground. Feyla snatched up the half-extinguished torch and wrapped her other arm around his chest.

"Do not pass out, you understand?" she ordered, tugging him upright. Sedgewick nodded, only partially grasping her words. Feyla half dragged him away from the unconscious sorceress and down the old aqueduct. He stumbled along beside her, not truly seeing what was in front of them. His vision shifted between dark shadows and burning orange fire. Wind brushed his cheeks but the heat still bubbling beneath his skin refused to snuff out. They'd finally broke the surface.

Feyla let him slip to the ground and collapsed beside him. She pressed her hand against his forehead and he leaned into her cool touch, aching for anything to soothe the fire inside him.

"You're on fire!" she exclaimed, panicked lacing her voice.

"Isn't everything?" he slurred while the orange returned, blocking out his view of the underside of the bridge they'd come out below.

"Sedgewick, I— I can't fix this, I don't know what's wrong. Your eyes are practically glowing and your skin is way too warm, please, tell me how to fix this!" she begged.

Shadows ate away at the orange again and his eyes slipped closed. Feyla latched onto his jacket and violently shook him. His eyes cracked open and Feyla began babbling something, her voice washing over him like a comforting brook. Sedgewick half smiled at the sound while the words she said remained nothing but noise. Such a pretty voice... Maybe she'll put her nice, cool hand back on his forehead...

Then the fire and shadow claimed him and he remembered nothing.

The fire gave way to ice.

Sedgewick woke with a shiver, twisting against the sheets. A hand touched his bare shoulder and he stilled, his eyes cracking open.

Feyla's face came into view. She let out a cry of delight and smothered him in a hug.

"Finally," she murmured. "You were so warm; I was afraid..."

"Where—" His voice cracked. "Where are we?"

Feyla held a cup of water to his lips and made him drink. "Shhh, you rest. I got us back to Crayden's. After I hit you with the spell from the discs, you just fell to pieces. And took another decade off my life from worry. I've been trying to get your fever down since we got here. Didn't know what else to do."

"Sorry for the trouble," Sedgewick said, his mouth no longer parched. He sank back into the bed and finally took in the room. His shirts and coat sat neatly folded in one chair with Feyla sitting by his bed in the other. A small table was piled high with wet rags and a bowl of half-melted ice.

"Well, it'll be worth it if you're magic is still working." She half-laughed. "It might be worth it just for the chance to get that awful dye out of your hair."

Sedgewick touched his hair. It was still slightly darker than normal but now undeniably red. He chuckled. "Was it truly that horrid?"

"It was so much worse," Feyla said, stroking his head fondly. Her smile faded a moment later and she withdrew her hand. "Sedgewick, the discs. I dropped them when I was fighting Zedeya and they— they shattered." Her ears drooped and she hung her head. "I'm sorry."

Sedgewick stared at the ceiling a drew a shaky breath. He could still feel a slight simmer from the battle between the curse and the counter spell raging beneath his skin. It was working for now but he wouldn't relax until the curse was completely broken.

"It's...fine. We had a chance to test them. They worked, or at least partially. If something goes wrong, I still have my notes and we can get more materials from Crayden."

Feyla bit her lip. "About that, if you're feeling better then I really think we should go. Crayden's acting—"

The door slammed open. "You know, Alverdyne, you must be the only man whose skirted death more times than me," Crayden said, striding into the room. "About time you woke up."

"Your hideaways are easier to find then I remember," Sedgewick growled while sitting up in the bed. Feyla passed him his shirts and coat. He slipped his tan undershirt on and slowly stood from the bed.

Crayden leaned against the wall. "Well, after what you paid me, you couldn't really expect one of the best ones."

"I had more than enough money!" Sedgewick snarled, wrapping his over shirt on and knotting it closed with a jerk.

"Maybe half a century ago. Rates have gone up. You should be grateful I didn't jip you on your curse breaking supplies."

Sedgewick stilled. His eyes met Crayden's, a warning in them. "Do you truly want to get wrapped up in this?

Crayden held his gaze. "I think it's safe to say I already am. Might as well see how my services are being used. Go on, Alverdyne. You're supposed to be smart. Show your old friend how you got your magic back."

Sedgewick narrowed his eyes. Crayden had an angle. The man was testing him for some reason. Sedgewick glanced at the room's only door. Crayden took half a step further in front of it and Sedgewick realized the room didn't have any windows. His mouth went dry.

Feyla moved in front of him. "Sedgewick needs to rest—"

"Know what the final giveaway was? Your little lady friend. I took one long look at her and realized there wasn't any way a girl like that would be hanging around a wizard." He smirked at Feyla. "Too innocent-looking." The smirk faded into a scowl and Crayden crossed his arms. "Show me your magic. You managed to trick Hobrin when I sent him to check on you, but that won't be happening with me."

Sedgewick turned to Feyla. Her hands were shaking as he gently pulled her to the side. Their fate now rested in his own curse-stricken ones. If the curse had truly broken then Crayden would have no choice but to let them leave. He wouldn't dare mess with Sedgewick at full power.

But even the best mages rarely perfect a new spell on the first try.

Sedgewick cupped his hands and began calling on his magic essence, begging it to materialize into that comforting, familiar energy. A warm glow flickered to life. Crayden stiffened. Sedgewick tensed his hands and willed his magic to form an essence flare, a simple ball of his energy. The magic swirled in his palms, growing slowly into shape. Feyla gasped beside him but he didn't look away. This was going far too slow. He should have been done by now.

A now-familiar pain curled its way along his veins. Sedgewick sucked in a breath and redoubled his efforts. If he could just hold it long enough for Crayden to—

Sedgewick fell to his knees before he even realized the pain had struck. A guttural scream escaped his throat. The magic in his hand withered into a sickly black before vanishing. He gripped his head in his hand as his body shook uncontrollably before stopping with a snap. The counter spell had broken.

Feyla was beside him in an instant. He tried warning her to run but only a moan left his mouth.

Crayden nodded. "Figured it was like that."

He snapped and the room flooded with his men.

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Hey, everyone! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I need y'all's help with something. I'm working on making some character banners for Sedgewick and Feyla! I want to put a quote from each of them on them. Does anyone have any suggests? And I keep forgetting to mention but @LuckyPlum redid her amazing picture of Feyla! You should go check it out!