Several of the Brethren screamed as soon as their mind registered what was happening. Firebolt after firebolt was tossed at them, the sound of bubbling flesh overpowered by the screams of pain of the Brethren, the nauseating aroma of burnt and cooking flesh overpowering all other smells. She was dropped, and the three remaining captors met grisly ends as she cooked them alive, spending her magick. On one of them, she found two keys. She hoped they were the keys to Drathen's cell.
She knew that the sounds of the Brethren screaming in pain would bring more to her, so she acted fast, wiping the blood from her eyes and splashing a healing potion over her bleeding scalp. It knitted together quickly, and she kept hold the the bottle as she searched the rest of the dead men. She looked up and saw a door and rattled it.
Locked.
She tried a key, then the second. It popped open to reveal a room full of disturbing sights. Shoe piles, clothing piles, and trinkets littered the floors and shelves, as well as weapons on racks and armor in a half open chest. She recognized her armor as she turned her head, pulling Dawnbreaker off the shelf.
No time.
She grabbed Drathen's sword and her pack and slid out the door, backtracking to the cell. She saw Drathen lying on the floor, five or six stab wounds in his chest.
"Gods!" She said, unlocking his cell. Her blood-smeared face showed genuine worry as she pulled her strongest healing potion and tilted his head back and poured the potion down his throat. "You're already as cold as ice!" She looked over at his sabre, which he had set gently against the cave wall. "My potions work quick, and you can kill whoever did this to you. Just bear with me for a minute? Okay?"
Dawnbreaker pulsated and glowed, unbeknownst to Kayla. Heat emanated off of it as its focus trained on Draken. Kayla paid no attention and gave Drathen a sympathetic look.
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