Son of Perseus ✓

liii. the Witch

Karralan was a dump in Yakim's opinion.

     Every where you looked something was always on the precipice of falling apart; every roof looked like it was damn near ready to collapse in on some poor unsuspecting soul, effectively crushing them under the weight of what had fallen.

       As Yakim continued on, seeing more and more of the buildings with shabby roofs and little to no support in their foundations, he shuddered. If Karralan's this bad, I'd hate to see what Criyidu like. He grimaced a little to himself at that thought.

    When it came to boroughs and sectors of Hell, Criyidu was by far the biggest slum of them all; all the other sectors—-Xogrecyre, Kolasí, Tayuxar, Vustrenia, Xamyth, Anilan, Iakkaven, Averim, Riokliven, Aexiazan, and the Prizrak Realm—-didn't even hold a candle to how trashed Criyidu supposedly was.

    Now, when it came to other sectors in Hell and in the paranormal world, Yakim wasn't quite sure about Xuviphas as he had never seen it himself and would most likely never see it.

        Lukyan, he thought to himself, sorrowfully.

       Yakim's soul began to feel heavy. He exhaled, upset.

         Lukyan gave his life… He gave it to save Jasoslav… To save Nykifor… to save me… to save us all. And how did we repay—-scratch that. How did I repay that favor? By becoming one of the most notorious monster hunters in the world and slaughtering left and right?, Yakim thought to himself.

      The monster hunter couldn't help but feel guilty—-he couldn't help like he was disrespecting the ideals of the dead and dishonoring Lukyan's Xuviphas-bound spirit.

        Yakim hung his head a little as he continued to push through the roadways of Karralan.

         Finally, Yakim made it to one of the prison buildings. He slipped through the front door.

          Yakim continued to keep his head low and he pushed through the building and into the prison ward, hoping to not attract the attention of the guards.

        Yakim pushed on through the dark, cobblestone lined corridors of the prison ward.

        Yakim came to a halt in front of a large, heavy iron door.

        A huge lock dangled from the handle of the door.

       "Crap," Yakim cursed to himself. He let his gaze patrol the hallways for any sign of danger. He let out a sigh of relief when he didn't see any guards whatsoever.

      He examined the lock before swallowing. "I can't get in there." Jasoslav, he began to call out.

    It was a little while before Yakim got his response. Yeah?

    "I can't get into the holding cell sector… I don't have the tools with me to. So… I'm gonna need your help," Yakim explained.

      You're going to need my skills then, Jasoslav began. But the question is: are you actually going to let me front?

      Yakim sighed. "Yes. Yes, I will."

      So… What do you need me to do? Portal in there? Talk to someone?

       "Yes," Yakim began. "I need you to speak with the woman people call Astrid Octavien…"

       Astrid Octavien. Got it, Jasoslav noted.

      It took a moment for Yakim to step back into nothingness, but he eventually did it, allowing Jasoslav to take back over.

      Jasoslav sucked in a breath. "Here goes nothing." He closed his red eyes for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes again, he was behind the locked door. "Okay," he began to whisper to himself, softly. "Let's find this Astrid Octavien…"

         The young demon trudged on before stopping in front of a cell that a young woman resided in, slumped over. "Excuse me," he began softly.

       Jasoslav was a lot more soft spoken than Yakim was.

      The woman's head rose a little.

       "Are you Astrid Octavien?" Jasoslav asked.

        The woman got up quickly, heading to the bars of the cell. She examined Jasoslav. "I am… Who are you?"

      "I uh-" Jasoslav began, nervously. "I'm Jasoslav Sklairov…"

       "Let me guess… You're Perseus's boy?" Astrid began to query. "...One of Dasha's children…"

        Jasoslav nodded. "Y-yeah…"

        "Is there something I can help you with?" The witch asked.

          Jasoslav nodded. "Y-yeah… My father has been working with… a man by the name of Marvin Greeley… Marvin wants me dead…" He swallowed. "I was wondering if there's anything you can tell me about my father's colleague…"

        At first, Astrid wanted to say no. She wanted to say that this whole ordeal wasn't her problem. But this is just a little boy…. Dasha's little boy…, She thought to herself.

     Even after all of the centuries that had passed, Dasha still meant the world to Astrid.

       "I don't know much about him," Astrid said. "All I know is he's a Gorak… So…" Astrid sucked in a breath. "He doesn't have the abilities that an Akrixian would have…"

       "Thank you, I-" The young demon was cut off.

       "Is someone in there?" A guard's voice called from the outside of door of the holding cells—-this was followed by the sound of jingling keys.

          "Go… They'll be in here any minute…" Astrid told the boy.

         Jasoslav nodded, before pushing away from the cell.

         "And Jasoslav?" Astrid called after the boy. "It was nice to meet you."

      Jasoslav looked over his shoulder at Astrid briefly. "You too, Astrid." With that, Jasoslav took off through the corridors of the holding cells where he'd find another exit.