Sunder

Caleb’s been here before. It’s not an unfamiliar sight, though it’s never been something he could call a comfort.

He can’t look down far enough to see what he’s standing on, can only look ahead and out into the murky void. It swirls with a dark purple fog if he looks hard enough. There's whispering in his ears loud enough to drown out any of his own thoughts. The magic Caleb’s come to know is an incessant itch crawling up his arms and chest. If he could move he would dig his nails into his arms to make it stop.

The whispering surges in volume and Caleb wants to cover his ears and scream, but he can’t. He’s stuck, frozen in what can’t be his own body.

There’s a choking feeling and when he blinks next he’s back in a familiar stone room, with a familiar desk in front of him. Trent is leaning over his arms still, blood pooling under on some dirty rags and the pain hits him just as suddenly as being able to take a breath.

“Stay with me, we still have a long way to go.”