Being a Barrow - A Sequel to Barrow's Boy

The Knight Versus The Dragon

tw: mentions of past suicide attempts. A lot of blood. I'm so sorry, everyone; we're in some dark territory for a bit.

    It was hard to miss the cause of Linington's death. It was evident in the gaping, red-stained hole at the front of his shirt. The tear of the fabric that exposed the likewise torn flesh. Theodore had witnessed internal anatomy before, but that had been a precise and orderly surgical process. Nothing as violent and gruesome as this. 

     He could only hope, as he ran out of the chapel, that the one person he trusted to help him would be available. A foolish hope, considering how late it was. But he had to try. 

    It was miraculous even that he had gotten into the building without issue, but Teddy thought nothing of it as he ran up the stairs and, breathing heavily, began knocking on the right office door. 

     Please, please, please-

    The door opened, revealing the dishevelled and confused Dr. Woodward. His hair was in disarray, and he ran a hand across his tired face. His expression turned to one of concern as he looked at his student.

    "Theodore?" Woodward placed a hand on Teddy's shoulders, still rising and falling quickly with every panicked breath. "What are you doing here? What's happened?" 

    "They got Linington."

    "They got-" Woodward came to a realization in the middle of his repetition. He opened the door wider, bringing Theodore into the office before closing and locking the door behind him.

     Teddy looked around the room. It was much the same as he remembered it, though the blanket was across the sofa even more so now than last time. Students' papers, seemingly in the middle of being marked, sat across the desk. Woodward grabbed the blanket, tossing it aside and motioning for Teddy to sit. He did so.

     "How do you know?"

     "What?" Woodward sat in a chair across from Theodore, reaching down to grab his glasses off of the table.

     "How do you know that they got Linington?"

     "Saw him, dinnit I?" Teddy replied. "Stab wound in his heart like he was the Juliet to Rosaine's Romeo."

     "God Almighty," Woodward breathed. "Should we go and get the body?"

     Theodore considered it, biting hard on his lip, then shook his head. He pulled his sleeves over his hands as he replied.

     "No. Silvae and Amicus are- That is, Ratcliffe and Rayfield are there. They didn't see me, but they might if we go back. They were talking about me."

    "Wait, Rayfield is-" Woodward stopped, then started again. "Talking about you? What were they saying?"

     "He said something about it always being the ones like me who are dead."

     "Ratcliffe?"

     "Yes," Theodore replied. He loosened his tie as he tried to remember more of the conversation. "Delenda. What does delenda mean?"

     Woodward frowned but gave his answer.

    "To be destroyed," he explained. "Let me guess, he said something along the lines of 'Barrow delenda est.'"

     "Something like that, yeah," Teddy responded. He couldn't find it in himself to sit still, legs bouncing as he tried to remember past the gory image of Linington's penetrated chest.

     "What I'm gathering is that there must be some common theme among every chosen sacrifice that they think you meet," Woodward explained. "Do you know the names of any others? I may be able to do some digging."