Chapter Text
There’s still a pressure nestled deep between his eyes that Lucanis waits to fade. Even when he’s gifted a fragment of peace, slipped out of the sweat-soaked clothes he’s worn for a year and tasted his favourite beverage once more, his guard had never dulled. The nerves that kept his shoulders tense, and the tightness in his spine as he examined the Lighthouse were all signs of his distrust.
After all, what kind of mage killer worked with a blood mage?
Lucanis knew what you were, even after escaping the Ossuary he could still feel the rancid afterimage of a cursed power. And you were the leader, of all things? He kept his eye on you as you strode the halls and spoke with the others, keeping note of your habits.
Lucanis took another sip from his cup, the warmth rising into his face soothed him too much. Fighting off sleep was a foolish struggle he would soon lose, his shoulder blades tingling with anticipation.
“SMELLS OF… BLOOD AND BANDAGES,” Spite hissed from underneath his ears, Lucanis suppressing a shiver. “SHE’S COMING…!” Thankfully, the Crows and the contract you and Caterina set up gave him an easy way to mask his lack of faith; Just another job for him to do.
You were courteous enough to knock and Lucanis calling you into his confined space. Seeing how relaxed you were made him tense his jaw. To him, he could barely separate you from the Venatori, the ones that tormented him for what felt like his entire lifetime. Your presence caused needles to tickle his vision, a twisted vignette framing your crimes.
“We have better rooms, you know,” you began, marvelling at the exposed foodstuffs that lined the walls. “Makes me wonder if you’re marinating yourself at this point.”
Lucanis allowed himself to chuckle, “I am content with this. I do not think I should be picky with the Lighthouse and its... strangeness."
“Speaking of which,” you smiled, resting one of your hands against your hip. He would have the advantage in a fight, strike before you could cast something. “I need your expertise.”
He could not help but shrug, “You already have it, no?”
“Come on then,” you turned, exposing your back to him, “Though it’s probably going to be a lot tamer than hunting Venatori.”
The Crow’s curiosity piqued, he pushed himself off the wall and stalked silently behind you.
“SO TRUSTING,” Spite mocked him, “WHERE IS OUR DAGGER?”
The small ones were underneath his sleeve and in his boot, not that they were a requirement for him to kill. But humouring the idea aside, Lucanis was not a fool to strike without a reason- a contract. There were things bigger than this, than him, that should be his primary focus.
He brushed away the chill from Spite dashing to his other shoulder.
“WE HATE VENATORI.”
“They are not Venatori,” Lucanis muttered quietly.
“What was that?”
You glanced at them over your shoulder, Lucanis quick to compose himself. You were already prepared with a knowing smile.
“Spite bugging you again? I hope the Lighthouse isn’t affecting his temper. This space won’t ever stop feeling weird, I think.”
“Something is always bothering Spite,” he replied, “Nothing to worry about.”
“Alright.”
With a bit of questionable jumps between floating debris and a few worried looks you tried to hide, your eyes eventually lit up. Nestled on a floating wall was a door, another mystery to this mysterious place. The mage killer could not help but feel uneasy in a space so ripe with magic, go figure.
“Could you pick this open?” you asked. “I already asked the others but no luck. May be simpler to open than throwing spells at it.”
“And I thought you wanted me to do you a favour,” Lucanis said confidently, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the lock. He was familiar with the delicate touch of a very convenient skill, but he was unsure as to how the Fade would alter his experiences. It started easily enough, inserting the right tools and feeling for the pins, but then there was a pull- a question.
Where did this door lead?
And as if it answered itself, the door swung open. Lucanis withdrew his tools, peering in briefly before gesturing you forward.
“Ladies first.”
“What a gentleman,” you smirked, stepping into the newly revealed section of the Lighthouse. He followed behind soon after, still pointing out the ways you left yourself exposed.
You, being rather fearless, were the first to see the newly uncovered space. The centre was a large flat room, though the walls were rich in weapon racks and straw dummies on standby. It even included magical artifacts Lucanis assumed would be for testing the mind, chimes and shapes to weave spells through. It was a training ground, perhaps one to keep the soldiers sharp as they hid from the Evanuris.
Predictably, you were drawn to the artifacts, your fingers brushing gently against the dusty surface. Spite sniffed the air, Lucanis’ nose tingling as he held back a sneeze.
“WHAT’S THIS? REGRET? HM…”
“I’ll get the others, show them where we can practice as a team,” you withdrew, wiping your stained fingers on your pants. “Thanks, Lucanis! If it was easy I hope you don’t mind opening more doors we come across.”
“Not a problem,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe. His shoulders were kept square, his eyes intent on you as you approached the exit… approached him.
Maybe he was being overly cautious, but Spite was quick to hover around you with his inhuman senses. Lucanis himself saw your furrowed brow, an old memory stirred at the sight of a place of learning. How long had you been hiding your wicked talents? A distant sensation made him squint, stepping to the side as he caught your scent with his human nose.
No hints of dried blood or bitter reagents, only the faint remnants of Harding’s garden on your collar, a delicate perfume imprinted within the worn fabric.
“Oh!”
He lent his attention once more to your call.
“Lucanis, if you need more time to settle in, just say the word. I hope I’m not rushing you into the job after rescuing you so recently.”
A shake of his head, “If anything, I need to work more than ever. I am rather behind on my quota, after all.”
“Spoken like a true professional,” you said before leaping across a gap and wandering off.
“... INTERESTING.”
“Figured anything out, Spite?” Lucanis asked, jumping over the gap with ease as he strode back to his nook.
“WE SHOULD KEEP SEEING ROOK. TO LEARN MORE.”
Made sense considering you were the leader of this confusing group of potential heroes. Lucanis swung open the door and returned to his now cold cup of coffee, though the flavour stayed the same.
—
Lucanis never left. Never escaped. He felt the straps tighten around his torso, his head. They got metal this time for his arms and legs to hold him against the table, and he’s still looking for an opportunity to bite.
But it never came, he waited patiently for his end, his naked body presented like a raw specimen to be dissected. He waited again for help, and the blood mages crowded around him. His eyes drift into the crowd of cultists, watching him with fascination as hands drift above him, crackling with magic that makes his eyes bleed in agony.
“Lucanis!”
He heard a voice- saw a figure shift in the crowd reaching forward.
“Lucanis, wake up!”
He did so on his feet, vertigo hitting as he stumbles into something soft and sturdy. It gently guides him to something to sit on, an armchair, allowing his spinning mind to ground itself. Then, there was a warm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. Your persistent smile had been replaced with palpable fear, worry-
“... Rook?” he mumbles, fighting off the drowsiness of an unfulfilling sleep.
“That’s me,” you reply, “You’re back? Spite… took over.”
“Mierda. What did he do?”
“NOTHING!”
“... He wanted to ask me something: how I learned magic. Not a normal topic of conversation for a demon. At least, not the ones I’ve met,” you said, sitting on the low table in front of him. “Nothing too embarrassing, don’t worry.”
Lucanis released a heavy sigh, leaning back into the armchair as his shoulders deflated. When will he be able to rest with no worries? Even with his line of work, there was always comfort in the Diamond or at Casa Dellamorte. But with Spite bound to him, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever find peace again.
“Forgive me, Rook. I had fallen asleep.”
“No apologies necessary, although maybe you shouldn’t feel bad for sleeping. Kind of important in staying alive, you know.”
“HOW CARING,” Spite laughed in his ear. “MUST BE UNUSUAL FOR A BLOOD MAGE.”
Lucanis would retort if he weren’t sitting right in front of you, but even then your hospitality hadn’t been left unnoticed. The team were quick to trust you, and you betrayed none of them with your… acquired humour but good morality.
You brushed a stray hair behind your ear, catching his attention with your delicate touch- the fingers of a trained mage. But beyond your delicate weapons, magic hidden beneath the skin, he could see it now up close, the dark circles nestled beneath your gentle eyes. The weight of a leader rested heavily on your shoulders, a mask so refined he only managed to catch a glimpse until now. He dared to believe you were genuine. He needed to study you further.
You got up, looking startled by your own thoughts. “I was meant to meet Harding and Bellara at the training room,” you said. “I’ll see you around, Lucanis?”
A question. Lucanis feared his apprehension around you was a bit too obvious. The smile came easy, and the effects relieved you of the tension around your shoulders. “Of course.”
You took his words with you as you strode out of the Library, Lucanis himself letting out a deep sigh as he leaned his head against his hand.