How to Be a God [ManXMan]

Chapter Thirty-One: Jailbreak

~Chapter Thirty-One: Jailbreak~

The magically-sharpened knife slides through the rock with little difficulty, crossing out the Latin word for 'slavery' that was carved into the cliff wall hundreds of years ago. My hand is sore from the many hours of slashing and carving, but I am almost done and giving up now is not an option. Water splashes up and hits my heels when I move a little lower down the side of the cliff to carve a new symbol – an ancient rune of destruction.

Slightly above me and to the left, Cynbel curses just loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves. "What?" I call up to him, hoping that his swearing does not mean we will have to start all over again. If it does, I might reconsider my decision not to give up.

"I almost dropped my head," he shouts back. I snort, wondering why he insisted on helping me carve these symbols when he could have been waiting on dry land instead, not having to worry about dropping and losing his head to the crashing waves.

What happens when a Dullahan loses their head?

When I finish carving the complicated rune, I climb to the right and slash out the Latin words for 'magic depletion'. Below it, I carve the Celtic rune for 'decay'. Unlike with the destruction rune, this one actually begins to take effect right away by slowly – as fast as a snail might move – starting to eat away at the rock around it. I would be worried, but there are thirty other symbols slowly doing the same thing on this wall and nothing interesting has actually happened yet. And nothing will, until Cynbel and I activate the destruction runes, which will basically make the entire cliff explode.

I look down at the crashing waves, which are almost touching my feet, and wonder if the witches at the time of the prison's creation would have been crazy enough to carve lower. Since they did all of this on a cliff, I would not be surprised, but the real question is if I am willing to risk going lower to check.

Begrudgingly, I lower myself further, until the waves are striking my calves, causing my knees to hit the mountainside with an unpleasant amount of force. Thankfully, though, there does not appear to be anything lower than what I had previously carved. Or, at least, I hope not. Because if Cynbel or I miss even a single symbol, there is a chance – slim as it is – that the prison could be rebuilt with the magic no one of this age remembers enough to still practice.

Above me, Cynbel curses again and I actually see him almost lose his head this time. "Go back," I shout, having to be even louder now that I am so close to the water. "I will finish the rest."

The Unseelie King does not wait to see if I am serious before climbing back up the cliff with great difficulty. After making it only one metre in ten or so minutes, though, he simply teleports away, leaving me to finish crossing out and carving. Thirty minutes later, the entire cliff side is covered in decaying runes, and feels of both old – left over from the witches' symbols – and new magic. Satisfied, I teleport without hesitation to the point where the demons and Fae are waiting.

This is the second prison we have attacked today and the fight to claim this one was bigger than the last. Scorch marks mar the once-untouched trees of northern Maine. Odd rock formations jut out of the ground, having been created by demon or Fae magic rather than natural means. There is red blood, though not a great deal, covering the gravel ground with not a spot of silver or black mingling with it. Two hundred or so metres away is the cliff that I was carving on.

All the prisoners have already been freed, leaving the prison completely empty. Two boats arrived shortly after the prison was liberated and the captives that did not want to stay went on the boat to the nearest demon camp, where they would be healed of any injuries and then returned to their homes within a few days. Or hidden away, if it is too dangerous for them to go back.