Camelot, 1885 pt1

     Centuries had passed since the last breath of Arthur Pendragon. The world continued to turn, the sun continued to shine. Though Camelot did not fall, most forgot those primitive days.
     The modern Camelot was all that mattered, securely protected by the Council of Sorcerers. It was they who, late in the night, dragged a thrashing, bound woman through Camelot's gates.


     Ezekiel was awake. He found that on certain nights, he simply couldn't relax his mind to sleep. With arms on the windowsill looking upon Camelot's main courtyard, he was on high alert for any sorcerers. The Council had specific expectations from Merlin's last living descendant, far greater than that of any other sorcerer.
     To be caught awake and alone at this hour would only lead to trouble. When a hand landed on his shoulder, Ezekiel froze.
     "What on earth are you doing here, Zeke?!" The voice belonged to Adam, Ezekiel's best friend, and one of Arthur's descendants.
     "I couldn't sleep," Ezekiel answered, turning to face his friend's mischievous grin.
     "Sure, couldn't sleep," Adam rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I came upon you!If you'd been caught out here alone..."
     "I know, I know," Ezekiel sighed.
     The two young men fell silent as grunts of exertion and muffled, unknowable sounds reached their ears. Adam jostled in next to Ezekiel, and the two peered out the windowsill.
     Several High Council sorcerers were wrestling with an obviously restrained young woman. She was gagged, but also had magic-killing shackles around her wrists. Despite her frenzied, near mad movements, it was in vain. They were moving her via spell, almost as if they didn't think they could contain her otherwise.
     Before the two men's eyes, she was guided into the jailer's tower, obviously meant to be housed in the dungeons below.
     "We must see what's going on!" Adam exclaimed in an excited whisper, voice vibrating with delight.
     "Not until tomorrow night," Ezekiel shook his head. "Security will be too tight right now."
     "Alright," Adam let out a thoughtful exhalation. "Let's return to our chambers. After dinner tomorrow, that's when we go."
     Ezekiel nodded in consent.
     The pair took care returning to their rooms, managing to avoid the various security patrols.


     For the whole of the next day, neither man could think of anything but their upcoming evening activity. Each of them carefully completed the day's tasks but right before dinner, Sinbad, the man-at-arms to the duo, summoned them.
     "Solomon wants to see you both in the jailer's tower," He explained. The men exchanged glances.
     Sinbad led them to the tower, stopping only when they'd arrived, and leaving them to enter on their own.
     Solomon was a rather imposing figure. A large man composed of only muscle, he had thick eyebrows, a permanent serious expression, and a well cared for beard. He was also the most approachable member of the High Council. When the men entered, Solomon rose from his seat.
     "Ah, boys!" He boomed in deep baritone. "The Council has decided to entrust you both with a rather, shall we say, unprecedented situation. Follow me." There was no time for questions or protests, as Solomon had already begun the descent to the dungeons. The males had no choice.
 

     The stone steps were slick and damp, humidity soaking the three travelers through their clothing. A musty smell pervaded every atom of air. Finally, they reached the bottom. Only one cell was occupied - by the beautiful woman from the previous night.
     When they first saw her, her eyes were closed. As they approached, her eyes snapped open, and fixed on them. Dark purple bruises had surfaced on her neck.
     "Stay away from me, savage," she hissed in a scratching voice that was painful to even hear. Her gaze was fixed on Solomon, no attention set on Ezekiel and Adam.
     "I've told you before, girl, that was an accident." Solomon shook his head. She merely sneered.
     "This is..." Solomon sighed, focusing on the two men. A frown flickered briefly on his face before he cleared his throat. "This is a vampire." Both men reevaluated the captive with shock.
     "No way," Adam muttered.
     "Yes, well," Solomon cleared his throat again. "She is also a sorcerer." Ezekiel's eyes snapped to her. The ethereal, deadly beauty caged before him was not only a bogeyman of Camelot, but some sort of sorcerer?
     "What's your name?" Ezekiel asked, stepping closer.
     "Don't speak to it, boy!" Solomon grabbed his arm. "It will only lie to you."
     "Well," Ezekiel turned away from her with reluctance. "What is her name then? Solomon's face reddened at the question, and she let out a harsh laugh.
     "My name is Cassandra," she stated in her broken voice. "You're man there wouldn't know that." her eyes met Ezekiel's and she smiled at him. "You're of Merlin. Then you, and only you, may call me Cassie."
     Adam nudged Ezekiel hard in the ribs, as if the significance of her words hadn't occurred to him already.

The Hellcast and the Fallen pt1

     No matter if it was night or day, the screams never ended. There was no option to be alone with ones thoughts as the damned begged for mercy. Too little, too late.
     Even with the pillow jammed over her head, Felial could hear them. How had it come to this? she wondered on those sleepless nights. No answers could ever be found.
     Sighing, she peeled the pillow away from her head, and sat up slowly. Phantom feelings in her back stretched out, as if free from being bound. Then, those nerves shrieked in pain as the lack of her wings was remembered. That never ended either, merely dulled before returning full force.
     The Spire wasn't a pleasant place, but far preferable to the rest of Hell. it was a towering, skinny conglomeration of sharp metal, dead wood, and glass shards. The mid levels were all of the dormitories, all housing the staff, the only ones who had freedom in Hell besides the nobility.
     Her dorm room was a silvery gray, and impeccably clean. Felial was no neat freak, but had no possession save for her clothes. Hell was not her home. Nor was Heaven. She hadn't been on earth long enough to have feelings about it. On the nights when the screams kept her awake, she pondered what things might have been like had she stayed on earth.
     She shook her head. Those thoughts would get nothing.
     Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she nimbly gained her feet, but only shuffled to her door. Even after slipping from her room and shutting the door, the screams emanated in muffled tones. A sigh of relief escaped her. Better than nothing.
     Unlike the rooms, the hallways of the dormitories were all stark white, plain. Each door was identical, the same shade of pain. It was a workable situation as all of the staff were hellcast angels or fallen. Their memories were nearly perfect, remembering their rooms was no trouble. As long as no lesser demon rose to staff, it would work.
     In her turquoise scrubs, Felial felt distinctly apart from the cold surrounding her. She strode quickly down the hall, turning down carious corridors -right, left, left, right, left- then it was a straight show down the hall until she reached Vitus' door. She rapped her knuckles on it twice, rapidly.
     There was the sound of rustling and a clattering bang before the door opened, revealing a rather disoriented Vitus.
     While Felial was fallen, Vitus was hellcast - an original supporter of the initial revolt. The two had formed a strange friendship, a mutual knship based on their personal logic and curious natures. Thus far, the two were normally paired for security work, a pair of bodyguards who complemented one another nicely.
     "Fel! I didn't expect to see anyone this late," he said, brushing a hand through his shaggy blonde hair as though embarrassed. "What's going on?"
     "Can't sleep," Felial replied, shrugging her slim shoulders.
     "Well, that's no good! Come inside, come inside." Vitus pulled back from the door and beckoned Felial closer. She slipped inside of his room, paying no mind to the general mess of the place.