STRANGULATE | Markicest

EPILOGUE

Syl and Ox stumbled through the hallways.

    Equinox, Voxe, and Eyes spotted them, brows furrowing when they ran up to them.

    "Tear Stealer—" said Ox, pointing at the door. "We need to speak with the Tear Stealer."

    Equinox's brows furrowed. "He went off with Mark," she said. "What's wrong?"

    "Did you burn the body?" asked Syl, voice intense. The three exchanged glances, confused. "Did you burn Antinstine's body?"

    Equinox gaze snapped onto him, and her eyes narrowed. Voxe and Eyes went pale.

    "No," she said, stepping forward. "No, we didn't. Why?"

    Ox ran his hands over his face, and he stared at Syl, eyes wide. Syl pulled at his hair and shook his head, pacing.

    "Well, it's gone," spat Syl, shaking. Equinox's eyes widened, and she glanced back at Voxe and Eyes, who went still. Syl cursed and threw his glasses on the floor.

"Antinstine's body is gone."

———

It was dark, and damp, and cold.

    Water dripped far off, echoing with a steady drip... drip... drip...

    A droplet landed on a man's skin, and he stirred, brows furrowing. Ropes bound his wrists, his ankles, keeping him bound to a chair. He groaned and squinted through the darkness, flinching when another droplet splattered on his face.

    The click of a heel echoed through the dark.

    The man's breath caught, and then the darkness stirred, giving way to color in the shape of two figures. Their auras. One purple with fear, and the other one sputtering blue like—

    His eyes widened.

    Like electricity.

    "You can see me," breathed a scratchy voice, "even without the lights on." The footsteps grew closer, heels clicking into puddles. "Can't you, Xilef?"

    Xilef sucked in a breath, and he tugged against the binds, his heart beginning to race.

    No. How did this happen?

    A light clicked on, and Xilef squinted, the auras giving way to bodies.

There stood Antinstine, looking like a wreck with tattered, bloody clothes. Xilef looked up, breath catching when he met his eyes. Or, eye.

Antinstine didn't even bother with an eyepatch. He kept his ruined eye on display, the socket still wet and gaping with fresh blood and nerves. His lips curled into a grin, and he draped an arm over the other person's shoulders.

"You missed quite a lot," breathed Antinstine, blue eye glowing. "That Viper character, or—Mark—as he calls himself—killed me. Damn bastard." Antinstine glanced at the person in his arms. A woman, thick-set, with hollow eyes. "I've got to thank Wither here for reviving me."

A Necromancer.

Xilef eyed Antinstine's aura, a weight setting in his chest. He knew something was different when he saw it.

Antinstine was already unstable before he died. But now that he was Revived...

Xilef narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from me, Antinstine," he growled.

Antinstine's eye glittered, and he pulled away from Wither with a grin. He began to circle around Xilef, too close for comfort.

"You're Dark's right hand," he breathed, as if that was answer enough. "You're valuable."

His fingers skated over Xilef's shoulders, and Xilef glared, fury rising in his throat.

"After that little... stunt back at the mansion," said Antinstine, like the whole ordeal was an inconvenience, "I've realized where my people's loyalty really lie." He clapped his hands together, and Wither suppressed a flinch. "So! I've decided to make alliances my way."

Antinstine snapped his fingers, and another aura flitted in the shadows around them. This one was red and undulating like waves: the sly kind of danger, the kind that burrows under your skin and bites once you're unaware. Menacing, hostile, confident.

"This," breathed Antinstine with a wave of his hand, "is Host."

A man stepped into the light, adorned in a trench coat. A blindfold settled neatly over his eyes, but Xilef could still feel his stare transfixing on him. The influence of his aura thickened the air, and Xilef leaned back in his seat, pulling against the binds.

"You want to know what he does, Xilef?" breathed Antinstine, smirking. "He controls people, just like a puppet. Uses their minds against them."

He circled around the chair, planted his hands on Xilef's shoulders, and leaned down, breath hot over his ear. "So when I say that you're going to join my side..." He smirked, and Xilef stared at Host, who stood completely still, looking like something straight from a horror movie. "It means that you really have no choice."

Xilef grit his teeth, and he struggled, trying to throw Antinstine's hands off his shoulders.

"When Dark finds out—"

"Oh, he won't be a problem anymore," Anti said, and Xilef froze. "He's dead."

"No—"

Antinstine nodded up at Host, and the man went down on a knee. He leaned forward and grabbed both sides of Xilef's head, grabbing on tight, nails sinking in. Xilef bared his teeth and struggled, color flaring from his hands like fire. It burnt through the rope, freeing his hands—but then Host's thumbs dug into his temples, and the world tunneled around him like he was falling backwards, plunging into black, ice-cold water.

Host stood up, carefully pulled his hands away, and stepped back.

Antinstine untied Xilef's ankles, then stood beside Host, grinning with delight.

"Stand up," Host ordered.

And Xilef obeyed.

Antinstine whistled with pleasure, rubbing his hands together.

"Ohhh, this is perfect, Host," he breathed, still able to see the fight in Xilef's eyes. He tried escaping Host's spell, but it was too strong; once people were under, it was impossible to break free.

"I'll take back what's mine," breathed Antinstine. "And as for Mark..." He smirked and ran his hand along the scar over his heart, right where the dagger used to be.

"I'll take my time with sweet, sweet revenge."