Chapter 30: Embrace of Innocence

The hag’s body fell to the floor like a lifeless heap. Her head skittered across the floor, leaving bloody stains wherever it bounced, only to end up at my feet. It turned, slowly, to stop with its face turned to me. Her eyes had been closed at the moment of death, otherwise I feared I’d have to live with seeing her face every time I closed for a long time to come. This, this I would get over in a week. 

I leaned my back to the wall and gave myself a lookover. I’d certainly seen better days, that was for sure. Three ivory spikes were deeply embedded into my body, one in the shoulder, thigh, and abdomen, respectively. The wounds didn’t bleed a lot, but the fucking things hurt—as they should. 

“Is it over?” Nea groaned. 

I glanced at her. At least there was someone who was worse off than me for once. “Yeah. She’s dead.” 

“Fuck…” she muttered, and pressed her hand to the hole in her abdomen. How she was even conscious was a mystery.

I nodded. “Agreed.”

Yusuf limped over to her, and offered her his shoulder. She whimpered as he helped her to her feet. It gave me a better view of her wound. It wasn’t pretty. And it was much larger than I first thought. Larger than my fist. 

Her face wasn’t nearly as pale as it should be after that amount of punishment. 

I prodded at the spike embedded in my thigh and swallowed a whimper. Just the lightest of touches sent vibrations of pain speeding through my leg. I pulled my hand away like the spike was on fire, and bit my lip. Trying to find something to distract me. That’s right, I thought. “You sure pack a punch for someone with a non physical blessing.” 

She clicked her tongue. ”And you can take a hit for someone who can only conjure magical string.” 

I really could, couldn’t I…? I raised an eyebrow, and looked at Yusuf. He’d taken a few hits as well, not as bad as me, but his condition was way worse. Sure, the guy was dying of cancer before he was dragged here, so he might not have been the best person to use for comparison, but even compared to Nea I was faring pretty well for a guy thrice impaled. 

I didn’t have an answer as to why I held up so well, but if I had to guess it had to do with Sera, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to tell people about her yet, if ever. “Yeah? Perks of being me, I guess…” I said with a huff and began the short but arduous walk to Samara and John. 

Neither of them woke up as I nudged their shoulders. And I didn’t feel like my condition warranted courteousness. Also, I kind of wanted them to know I didn’t appreciate them sleeping while the rest of us almost became wigs. So I did what any reasonable guy would, I gave Samara a gentle slap across her face. 

Nea gasped as Samara jolted awake. Her eyes darted around wildly, her cheek adorned with my red hand print. She stared at me, jaw hanging open, then growled like a beast and lunged, only to find her arms and legs bound by some kind of boney hand-cuffs. 

She fell to her stomach, cheek pressing against the floor. I chuckled at the sight of her squirming around like a mad shrimp. “Wha- whe- Nea?!” she screamed and turned to her side, glaring at me. “Uncuff me you loon!”  

I sighed, and summoned Silent scream. The blade was thin enough that I could shove it into the locking mechanism, but I was no lockpick. Instead, I just used the handle to smash the ivory cuffs to pieces. 

As I got to work, I mulled over the fact that the summoning time had shortened considerably. It hadn’t been this way fast before killing the hag. I glanced at the severed head of the crazed woman and shuddered. Whatever the case, I had time to find out since we all lived through the damn encounter. Maybe she was famous. If so then my killing her could have an impact on my blessings growth… But nothing’s certain. It wasn’t like anyone was planning on telling me any time soon. So many secrets, so little time. 

The cuffs finally broke, she pushed past me to go support her bleeding friend. It hurt a little. Not even a ‘Thank you, Cal’ or ‘What would we do without you, Cal?’

Acting like it wasn’t me who killed the damn monster and saved the day… I clicked my tongue and got down on my knees to investigate the loosened tiles under the surgery table. I lifted it up and took a peek. The insides were dark, but not magically so. 

A cellar within a cellar… 

Or maybe it was more accurate to call the place a crawlspace. 

“Go inside,” Sera whispered. I jumped, and banged my head against the table. The others went quiet and look at me before continuing what they were doing. They were busy caring for Nea, binding her wound with spare cloths, doing anything to stop her bleeding, really. It didn’t seem like they were going to miss me, and curiosity already gnawed at me. I removed the wand and satchel before lifting off the tile.

While the hole wasn’t very big, neither was I. I squeezed inside without too much difficulty. I felt like I was going to die when I accidentally hit one of the spikes against the floor. But I didn’t. If I learnt anything from my time in this hellscape, it’s that pain is easy to endure when you know it’s just momentary. 

I shook it off when the moment of agony passed and dropped down. The floor crunched under my weight. The bones in the hidden room upstairs was nothing compared to this. I couldn’t even see the floor. There were just bones. So, so many bones. 

I shuddered, but crawled further inside. 

“Dig,” Sera whispered. 

“Why?!” I didn’t want to get any more bone caused wounds. Who knew where they’d been? Just the thought of it made me shiver. 

“Dig!” she repeated.

I groaned. “Shit. Alright. But if I get tetanus I swear I’m hiring an exorcist.” 

I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was rolling her eyes at me. 

The bones weren’t broken into a bunch of small sharp pieces like they had been upstairs. A scant consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. Handful after handful I dug, until finally, I felt the soft touch of skin. I recoiled back and hit the back of my head against the tiles above.

I groaned and rubbed my crown.

“That’s it!” Sera twittered. 

Of course… Of course it had to be the most disgusting thing in a pile of literal human remains that she had me dig for. 

I gritted my teeth and shoved my arm inside the small pit. The soft cold of dead skin pressed against my fingers, I had to bite my cheek to avoid the outburst of disgust brewing within. I held my breath, and heaved it up. 

It was a briefcase. A briefcase of dubious material. I pulled out the dagger and stared at Sera with my best iteration of puppy-eyes. 

She nodded excitedly at the briefcase. “Go on, open it!” 

I sighed. Of course not. 

It hadn’t been more than a few days since she last told me to open something sketchy. I hadn’t forgotten it… But still, I couldn’t contain my curiosity. 

With my free hand pressed to the wound on my abdomen I clicked open the ivory clasps holding the thing together. 

A dark beige armour with a shiny surface laid neatly tucked inside. A multitude of arm-like decorations layered around it, as if embracing the wearer. It was light, and kind of looked like a straightjacket with no arms. I picked it up and read as the runes swirled to life around it. 

Embrace of Innocence

Rank: Foretold

Type: Bound armour

Description: The Hand-holder was once the proprietor of the largest foster-home in the seventh layer. She was loved and respected by all who knew her, yet after being exposed to the touch of the Outsider, corruption took root in her once warm heart. Driven mad with longing, she nailed the arms of those she was sworn to protect to her body, so that she could always feel their loving embrace, even after she sent them to the infinite dark. As her proclivities grew more perverse, so did her creations. Her favourite is the armour fashioned from the skin of those she held dearest. 

Embroidery: Lover’s embrace, Skin stitching

Effects:

Lover’s embrace: The armour has moderate defence equivalent to a low grade plate armour, but grants the high mobility of a light armour. The armour’s strength increases the closer the wearer is to the one they hold most important. 

Skin stitching: Temporarily swap the defence and mobility granted by Lover’s embrace.

I swallowed and glanced down at Sera. “That’s human fucking skin!”

She smiled menacingly. “Try it on.” 

“I just said it’s human skin. Are you crazy?” 

“Again with the crazy.” She rolled her eyes. “It is fine. You can trust me. Besides, you already bound it.” 

“Wha-” I whipped back at the runes. Sure as shit they said accolade was bound. “How?! When?!” 

She craned her neck as if to peek over the daggers edge, to hint at my hand with her eyes. 

There was blood on it, blood from pressing down on the wounds. I groaned and leaned back, until I realised I was in a pile of probably human bones. Where the hell did all the bones even…  

All the rooms. With the little beds and coffers. All the games and toys.

All the dolls.

I pressed a hand to my mouth. “...Oh god… They were children.” 

Sera groaned. “So what. A life is a life—nothing more. We have spoken of this.” 

I stared at her, hard. Her logic was so very messed up. There was no redemption for one as lost as her, and by extension, one such as I. I rubbed my eyes. Everywhere I looked his face popped up. Round rosy cheeks, curling red locks. A patchwork smile of milk teeth. 

“I need to get out of here,” I whispered and grabbed the armour. “Anything else I need to pick up while I’m here?”

“No. Just the armour.” 

“How did you even know this was here?” 

She shrugged, her eyes growing distant. “Old stories. This place has been here for a long time” 

I knew that look well enough to know she wasn’t going to say more about it. The brones poked at my hands and knees as I crawled. “By the way, why am I in such good shape?” 

Sera studied me with her chin resting in her hand. “I was wondering about that too… I suppose more than just my personality is leaking into you.” 

I snorted. “Great.” 

Although I sounded sarcastic, it was actually pretty great. More powers meant more ways to survive this damn place. And an easier way to make a career as a blessed back home. 

I heaved myself out of the hole. The others stood huddled around the table, looking down at me. Nea rested against Samara’s shoulder. 

I smiled sheepishly. “Oh. Hey guys.” 

“What are you doing?” Samara asked. Multiple shades of doubt clouding her eyes. 

“Just exploring.” I grinned. “Found this.” 

The macabre armour smacked against the floor. Yusuf stepped back with a disgusted expression, eyes darting between me and the armour. Nea peeked her head out from behind Samara. “What the fuck is that?” 

“An armour?” I tried to play it cool.

“Of skin,” she coughed. 

I groaned. “Yes. But hear me out…” They waited. “Okay I don’t really have a good argument.” 

“It’s bound?” Samara asked.

“Yes, to me.” 

“Why?” 

I shrugged. “I was bleeding when I found it.” 

“Shit!” Samara spat and turned, chewing on her nails. “Gods be damned… Never a break.” 

I crawled out from under the table, dusting my legs off while making sure not to touch the still impaled wounds. “What?” 

She twirled around to face me, looking down her nose. “It would serve us better with Nea.” 

I scoffed. Typical. She wanted it for herself—greedy brat. “Listen, I earned this fair and square. I’m not your fucking lackey. I won’t just give you things for free.” 

She sneered. “Obviously you’d be compensated. It doesn’t matter. We can’t transfer it without an anchor anyway.” 

“Er…?” 

She groaned. “You need to be in an anchor zone to be able to trade bound accolades.” She spoke as if it was common knowledge that I should know by now. But we all couldn’t be esteemed daughters of high and mighty families, could we?

Yusuf stepped between us.“Let it rest. You can argue all you want after he’s treated.” 

She cursed under her breath and led Nea away. Yusuf wrinkled his nose as he watched their retreating backs, then turned to me. “Sorry. They usually get their way.” 

“Yeah?” I chuckled. “You go way back with them too?”  

“Our parents are acquaintances,” he said and ripped off a part of his robe, handing it to me. “Sorry. This is the best I’ve got.” He gestured to the operating equipment. All the tools were green with mold. 

Yusuf nodded at the spikes. “You’re going to have to pull them out yourself. It’ll be better that way.” 

“Already suspected as much,” I muttered and studied his condition. He was paler than even the day before. The robe was ripped and torn in multiple places and bore stains of blood and dirt. He kept a hand pressed against his side, wincing as he limped. He must have broken a rib or a few. 

Before giving myself time to think about it, I pulled out the nails piercing me, one by one. The first hadn’t been so bad. Pain was just temporary, after all.

But it still hurt like hell.