The Elixir

~Bridges

 In a split second, the five of them are back together once more. To Owain's right, Vieva tumbles to the floor, silver hair shielding her face. Lysabel leans against the wall, face drawn and limbs shaking. Xara's gaze flickers to the four of them, but her normally stormy eyes are empty and dull. Derald gasps, clutching his chest. Then, once he calms slightly, finds Vieva in a heap on the floor, still. He stumbles to her, digging his hands under her body to hoist her up. She leans against him, head lolling against her shoulder, too weak. In the flickering candlelight Owain catches sight of an angry red wound across her lower cheek, creeping down her neck slightly. He looks away, squeamish. Blood has always made his gut roil nervously.

"Is everyone alright?" Xara's words crash into each other, almost gargled. Her voice seems to fail her.

Lysabel manages a faint nod, her delicate face pale and shimmering with sweat. Derald, still holding Vieva awkwardly in his arms, also agrees. Xara turns to Owain. Owain dips his chin.

He's not exactly sure what had happened to the others, but the result isn't good. The illusion he'd faced had been terrifying- he'd been thrown into never-ending blackness. Alone, terrified, and paralyzed with fear. He'd almost believed, in that moment, that the others had left him. That they'd realized he's nothing but a burden they want to offload.

Xara kneels beside Vieva, who Derald had lain on the floor. Her face is taut with tension, and the wound on her face glares angrily.

Then her eyes fly open, and she gasps, gulping in the stale air of the chamber.

Owain starts, scrabbling back in shock. Vieva's chest heaves repeatedly and her head whips back and forth, regaining her bearings. Derald and Xara both hold her in place, whispering calmly.

"Where are we?" She finally asks, clutching her chest again. "What happened?"

"We escaped," says Xara, brushing some hair away from her face.

"Oh," is all that Vieva manages to say. She slumps against Xara, relief written plainly across her face.

"Not that I'm unhappy you woke up, Vieva, but we need to go," prods Lysabel after a few moments. "Can you move?"

Vieva grimaces. "I'll try."

"I can carry you again. You're light." Derald offers. Vieva rears back in surprise.

"You carried me? When?" She asks, outraged.

Derald folds his arms. "When you were passed out on the floor."

Vieva concedes, a dark look on her face. It seems as though she's back to her cynical, patronizing self. Xara glances up, holding her hand horizontally against her brow.

"I have no idea where we are. How far we've come."

Lysabel jerks a thumb towards the tunnel. "That's the way we have to go."

Owain narrows his eyes at her. Why is she so insistent on going? In the multiple times they'd been together, Lysabel had always struck him as someone on the meeker side. Not that he disliked that part of her personality; in fact, he'd found it nice to have someone to empathize with. Judging from the calculating look on Xara's face, she had picked up Lysabel's odd behavior as well.

"Let's keep going," Xara decides, with one last look at Lysabel, who purposefully avoids her intuitive gaze.

Owain stumbles slightly over the uneven stone, shouldering Derald in the process. Vieva, determined not to lean on anyone, hobbles ahead with the girls, trying to hold back the pain by holding her spine erect and lifting her chin. Her breath catches with every step, a testament to how much pain she's actually in.