edited: 19/07/2017

The cells were about as pleasant as they sounded—which was not very pleasant at all. Each was surrounded by metal bars and rotting brick walls that made Remy feel claustrophobic. It was cold, too. The humid air did not reach the underground cells, though there were a few envelope-sized windows just above ground where the orange rays of sunlight peeked through timidly. She crossed her arms over her chest, glad that the manacles had been removed, though now she was left with the pain of her exposed raw skin brushing painfully against her shirt each time she moved.

She glared at Maksim, who sat in the cell opposite her, and tucked her knees to her chest.

"You have made your dislike for me quite clear," he said, his hoarse voice bouncing off the crumbling walls. It sounded startlingly loud after having been sat in silence for so long. "There is no need to keep scowling at me like that. It will only give you wrinkles, and I have heard that you mortals already do not age very well."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "You don't even care, do you?"

"I care about many things, but rather than sitting here and listing them, I suggest you be a little less vague."

"You don't care that all of this is your fault; that because of you, we're stuck in here for the night." She could feel her stomach churning as she gradually became more anxious. Being trapped in a world where she did not belong was bad enough, but being trapped in a tiny cell whilst she awaited her punishment was too much for her to handle.

"Do you think I want to be here? Do you think I wanted any of this?" he spat back, his fingers brushing through his hair. It looked almost black now, as though the shadows had stolen all of its colour. "Believe it or not, this is not my idea of a fun night."

"But that's all it is to you!" she shouted. "A night. Just one night of your immortal life. I don't have your life, Maksim. I'm going to age and I'm going to die, and it's possible that that might happen sooner than I thought being as your warlock friends don't exactly like me."

"Do not be so dramatic," he sighed and crawled to the end of his own cell so that his face was clear between the metal bars. His boots scraped against the concrete as he did. "They will not kill you."

"Maybe not, but they're not just going to let me leave without some form of punishment."

He furrowed his brows, his blue eyes burning into her so that she did not dare look away. "Perhaps, but I will do whatever I can to prevent that from happening."

She nodded and lent her back against the cold wall, willing herself to stop panicking. She was broken out of her attempt a moment later when Maksim spoke again. "How did you know that I was immortal?"

She looked at him in surprise, and then realised that she had always assumed that, though she hadn't thought it could ever be truly possible. Hesitantly, she answered. "You call me 'mortal girl,' which says to me you're not mortal yourself." She paused. "And your mother. She looks more like your sister. I figured you age differently than I do."

"You are rather intelligent." His voice was quiet, as though he didn't like to admit such a thing. Remy waited for him to continue with a 'but' or 'for a mortal girl', but it never came, and she wondered if he was finally beginning to see her as more than all of that. She would not hold her breath, she thought. Maksim would sooner die than admit that she was worthy of anything.

"You underestimate me too much."

"Yes," he agreed. "Perhaps I should stop."

"Perhaps you should." She would have smiled had it been a different situation; had she not been shivering and uncomfortable on the damp concrete.

The atmosphere shifted suddenly, the air growing thicker and the silence broken by the sound of footsteps clicking against the stone floor. Remy peered through her bars to see who it might have been—Maksim's mother or another guard, she supposed—but could make out only a tall silhouette that made its way slowly towards their cells. She squinted as a flash of light flew from the figure's hands and illuminated the room so suddenly that the brightness stung her eyes. Maksim had done the same thing last night in her room, but this light was harsh and uninviting where his had been gentle.

When her pupils had adjusted, she gasped at the man in front of her. She recognised him immediately to be the man from her dreams, with the same hollow black eyes and dark stubble surrounding his thin lips. Even his clothes were the same, all black and tight against his muscular body.

Maksim seemed to recognise him, too. His eyes were wide and he swallowed in fear, but the man was not paying him any notice. His eyes were fixed on Remy.

She might have cowered away if she was not frozen in shock. She might have asked him who he was and what he was doing here if her mouth hadn't dried up so much. She might have stood up if she could find any feeling in her feet. Instead, she simply stared, the lines between reality and her dreams becoming blurred as she wondered which one this was. Had she fallen asleep without realising?

"You are the famous Remy, I believe?" He asked, though he sounded certain enough that he need not have. Remy knew then that this was not a dream. His voice was too real, and the fear on Maksim's face too great. "I have heard so much about you." His shoes scuffed against the concrete as he walked towards her and knelt down so that he matched her eye-level. "I believe you have something that I am looking for."

"No," Maksim answered from behind him, his voice loud and clear and not at all fearful, though she was sure a moment ago he might have collapsed in terror. Remy wondered how he could have found bravery so quickly. "She does not have it. Leave her alone, Ackmard."

Ackmard smirked at her rancorously and stood up to face Maksim. The first time that she had seen this man in her dream, she had thought he resembled Maksim, though his hair lacked the same vibrancy and he was much larger. Now, she understood why. They shared the same angular face, the same structured jawbones and expressions. They shared it because they were brothers. This was the man who Maksim had been looking for all along. How strange that it was also the man who haunted her almost every night.

When she looked again, Maksim was stood up, and he was not much shorter than Ackmard, though, of course, his build was nowhere near as powerful.

"I think you are lying to me, little brother," he drawled in his deep voice, the same voice that had spoken to Remy so many times in her dreams, "just as you lied to me before about the mortal girl. You do care for her."

"No," Maksim answered immediately, and glanced at Remy with a look of disgust that made her heart strain against her rib cage. "I tolerate her existence, is all, just as I tolerate yours, though I must say, I am beginning to grow tired of these little meetings now."

"Is that so?" Ackmard tilted his head to the side, though Remy could not see his expression. "Then you will not mind if I tear down the door of her cell and see if there is a certain key dangling around her neck, just beneath her shirt."

Remy's legs finally began to work again and she stumbled backwards until she could go no further, the hot metal of the key searing her chest the way it had when she had first met Maksim, only its power felt ten times as strong now. She made a special effort not to grip it the way she usually might have in fearful situations, thought it was of no use to hide it now. He already knew exactly where it was.

"You are so sure that she has it," Maksim responded, and this time he didn't sound very confident. "Why? Why would a mortal girl have a warlock's key?"

"I would love to find out," Ackmard said and a flash of blackness caused the metal bars to fly off their hinges and clatter against the adjacent wall, "once I have it in my hands."

There was a look in his eyes that Remy did not like one bit; a look of lunacy and determination, the most dangerous combination there ever could have been. She knew that there was no stopping a madman who was desperate for something.

Remy waited until Ackmard was close enough that she could feel his cold breath on her forehead before she made a move. She was not going to simply let this man take her necklace—the very idea made her feel so uneasy that her stomach turned—so she kicked him away with as much strength as she could muster and tried to run out of her cell.

She did not get very far. A blast of what felt like fire engulfed her and she was thrown back against the wall. Pain shot through her spine and seeped into every fibre of her being. Her ears rang, and she could hear somebody shouting her name in the distance, though she could not muster the energy to find out who it was. It was just like her dream, except everything was magnified: the pain, the noise, the feeling of somebody's fingers on her collarbone, and then the feeling of the scorching key dropping back onto her chest where it had just been lifted.

She felt as though she was drowning as the darkness washed over her like a tide; over and over again until one last, bone-crushing wave finally strangled her so that she could no longer stay conscious.

* * *

It did not take Maksim very long to act. One fervent surge of his magic was enough to fling the door of his own cell aside, though surely they were warlock-proof and therefore shouldn't have been affected. He frowned at it for only a moment before darting to Remy's cell where Ackmard knelt in front of her.

Her eyes were fluttering shut, and he swallowed his own panic down, instead focusing on Ackmard. He was reaching for the necklace, had already grabbed the silver chain on which it hung, when a burst of black flames ignited seemingly from his brother's fingers. At first, Maksim thought that it was Ackmard's magic again, but he knew that this could not be the case when the flames shot directly at him, curling and slinking around his hands like snakes.

Ackmard shouted out in pain, and it was all the opportunity that Maksim needed to use his own magic. A white flash blazed from his palms and hurdled into Ackmard's hunched figure so that he fell to his knees next to Remy. He was about to send him another blow, but a voice, an incredibly familiar voice, caused him to stop, though he kept his hand outstretched above his brother.

"What on Refilyn is going on here?" Hilda asked, her heels clicking on the concrete as she walked down the row of cells until she finally found the one containing her two sons. When she did, she gasped, her face paling so that it contrasted greatly with the darkened room.

Ackmard lifted his head to look at her, but if he felt anything upon being reunited with his mother after months of no contact, he did not show it. Instead, his expression remained balanced and smug as though he still had the upper hand, even with Maksim towering over him. "Mother," he uttered as though this might have been a pleasant reunion. "It has been a long time, hasn't it? I regret to inform you that I have not quite missed you."

"Ackmard." Hilda's voice was barely above a whisper, and she appeared to not have heard Ackmard's harsh words. This did not surprise Maksim. She had always been blind—and deaf, it appeared—to her eldest son's evil. "I knew that you would see sense and come home."

Maksim raised his eyebrows, supposing she had not noticed Remy's body lay behind him. "I am afraid that Ackmard is not here for you, Mother."

Hilda's green eyes, glistening with tears, widened as though she had just now noticed the situation in front of her. She eyed Remy, who was motionless but for her steady breaths, and then Ackmard and Maksim. "Then why are you here? What could you possibly want in these cells, and with that mortal girl?"

Ackmard stood up and Maksim watched him warily, his fingers tingling with magic that he could use at any moment. "Well, that is not really any of your business, is it?" The only sign that he had been hurt by Maksim was his slight limp as he made his way towards Hilda. "I am sure that Maksim will fill you in on the matter. Not to worry."

Hilda frowned at Maksim, but before she could say anything else, he had dissipated into the darkness of the cells.

"I wish that he would stop doing that," Maksim muttered bitterly, and without waiting for his mother's reaction, he bent down to tend to Remy. Taking her face in his hands, he examined her, searching for any wounds or bruises to indicate that she had been hurt. He was glad when there was none. "Remy?"

Her dark eyelashes flickered at the sound of her name being called, and she murmured something indecipherable as her lids opened slowly, her grey eyes flicking from Hilda to Maksim in bewilderment. "The key," is the first thing that she said, causing Hilda to give a sharp intake of breath. 

Maksim's eyes widened in understanding, and he reached for the chain on her chest only to pull away as the metal burnt him. "Ouch," he cursed and shook his injury with narrowed eyes. "That must have been what happened to Ackmard. He almost burst into flames before he could get it."

"It does that," she said and pulled herself up into a sitting position as best she could without wincing in pain. "When I met you in Calderdale, it would heat up like it knew you were there."

"And like it did not want me touching it." He gazed at Remy unblinkingly. "Like it was protecting you."

Her eyebrows knitted together. "But why would it do that?"

"I do not know. Magic rarely makes sense, particularly when it is of dark origin."

Remy gulped and clutched the necklace tightly. Her breaths were shallow and shaky as she bit her lip.

"You're hurt." He could not look away from her. He did not know why.

"Bring her to the Medical Wing," Hilda said suddenly. Maksim had almost forgotten that she was there, and turned around swiftly at the sound of her voice. It was even the way it always was, but Maksim knew her well enough to know that it was a front.

"I can heal her myself," Maksim responded perhaps a little too harshly.

"Can you?" She raised an eyebrow at the now destroyed cell behind them. "It seems to me that you have used quite enough magic for one day. These cells are magic-proof. How on Refilyn did you manage to open yours?"

Maksim's throat felt dry and cracked, and he found it difficult to reply. "I do not know," he said finally, looking back to Remy to avoid his mother's gaze. "It just happened. Perhaps they are not as secure as you thought."

"Or perhaps you used your magic without thinking. Perhaps you did not know your own strength. Perhaps you saw your little mortal girl being hurt and was so desperate to stop it that you did this." She sounded disgusted rather than proud, which is what Maksim thought she should have been.

"Next time I will sit in my cell and watch my brother commit evil, shall I?" He scoffed and positioned his arms under Remy so that he could lift her. "Here is an idea: you continue to speculate about my disobedience, and I will get 'my little mortal girl' the help she needs before she falls unconscious again."

He passed his mother without looking at her, and was glad when he reached the stairwell that led to the Central Hall. He had missed the light, and even though it was artificial, he was relieved to find it again after hours in his darkened cell.

Remy looked up at him and hooked her arms around his neck. Strands of her blonde hair stuck to her face, and in the light, she looked much paler than Maksim had expected. Perhaps he had underestimated just how hard his brother had thrown her. "Are there anymore pleasant family members of yours who I have yet to meet, or was your brother the icing on the warlock cake?" She questioned, though she sounded so tired that Maksim could barely recognise the humour in it.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally, careful to walk away from the crowd so that he could sneak to the Medical Wing without being caught. He could hear his mother's heels behind him, but when he looked, she was staring straight ahead, a strange expression on his face that he did not have the time nor energy to decipher.

"Have you ever been thrown up against a wall by somebody twice your size?" she replied quietly, her voice sounding strained.

"I cannot say I have, no."

She sighed and rested her head against his chest. He could feel her cheek, hot and damp, through his shirt. "It's not very nice."

It did not take Maksim long to find the medical wing once he had left the Central Hall and found the stairwell, and Hilda led him most of the way, though she barely said a word on their journey. Remy's eyes were closed again when they found a raven-haired witch who clearly worked on the ward. They were guided to a room whose walls were made of glass, and reluctantly, Maksim placed Remy down on the bed. She looked smaller and more mortal than ever. Maksim could barely look at her without feeling his stomach twist.

Whilst the witch used a healing spell, Hilda pulled him out of the room. He tried to ignore the relief he felt. He did not like hospital rooms. "Are you going to tell me what Ackmard wanted in those cells?" He suspected she already knew the answer. He had not been oblivious to her reaction upon seeing the key. 

Maksim sighed and focused his gaze on one of the signs of the ward reading 'CENTRAL HALL'S MEDICAL WING' in gold letters to avoid making eye contact. There was nobody else walking around, which was to be expected; not many people needed healing when they could simply do it themselves. "He is looking for a key. Remy has it. She found it in the Mortal World and decided it made rather pretty jewellery." He couldn't stop the bitterness from seeping through his words. He was angry, though he knew it was not really at her; it was for her. She should never have been mixed up in Ackmard's silly little games, and now she was, and Maksim was partly to blame. He had told her to keep the necklace on not twenty four hours before, and now it was that very necklace that had caused this.

"So all along, he has been looking for the mortal girl?"

Although he knew it was hypocritical, he did not like the way she labelled Remy, especially not with such disgust in her voice. "Remy," he made a special effort to pronounce her real name, "has what he wants, yes. She never knew this, of course, not until—"

"How long have you known?" she interjected. Her bright red hair was falling out of its usually perfect up-do, and she looked exhausted. It was one of the first times that Maksim had seen her look dishevelled. It was also one of the first times that he had seen her look remotely affected by anything. The other time had been when Ackmard had first disappeared. "Have you been keeping this from me all of this time?"

"Well," Maksim hesitated, but he knew that this had only confirmed his mother's question, "I didn't want to tell you until I understood it myself, and I didn't until last night when I saw the key."

"But you knew that they were looking for it before." Her voice was sharp enough to cut a hole in the pit of Maksim's stomach so that he felt even more achingly frantic than before. "You must have done."

"Yes, I knew that they had been looking for a key. I found out on the same day that Remy came through the portal."

She inhaled abruptly, as though the words had drawn the air from her lungs. "Do you have any idea what this means, Maksim? You have been keeping information about the Dark Ones from the Council. You knew what it was that they wanted and you did not volunteer that information." She paused, looking Maksim up and down before turning her head, as though the sight of him knocked her sick. "You are a disgrace, Maksim, a disgrace that I no longer wish to tolerate. You can deal with your little mortal girl on your own."

Maksim's mouth hung open, but any words he might have wanted to say remained in his throat, and there were so many that he felt he would gag. Instead, he simply watched as his mother strode away, her long green coat dragging along the shiny floor of the corridor behind her.

The medic from before emerged, her bright blue eyes and friendly smile too much to look at when he felt the way he did; guilty, wretched, a disappointment. "Your friend is fine, now. You are welcome to go in, though I was hoping to talk to your mother about her. Has she left?"

"Yes, she has left. Is there a problem?" He sighed, already knowing the answer.

"Well," she said as though it was obvious, "she is a mortal, is she not?"

"Do not worry. I am sure that my mother will alert the Principle Warlock of her whereabouts immediately."

The witch nodded, though she did not look convinced, and left Maksim alone on the corridor. He thought about going in and seeing Remy, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to put his hand on the door and push it open.

It seemed that the only thing that Maksim was good at was putting the girl in harm's way, so he slunk down into one of the chairs instead, waiting for the Council to take them both back down to the cells, as he expected they would. He just prayed that he would not get another surprise visit from his brother any time soon.