RP:The Cancellation-Spawned Impromptu Series Finale

Part of the The Seven Sins of Sagittae Arc

Summary: Seteth takes his fate into his own hands.

The Tower

Had it been weeks since his imprisonment? Or months? Time held no more meaning. The only thing that the thief from Sagittae now felt was violence, as though violence were an emotion all its own. It coursed through his veins like fire. He could taste the hate on his lips, stopping him from giving the cell guards in Octavius' tower the satisfaction of watching him slurp up foul soup from the cold stone floor.

The changeling was dead. Seteth couldn't remember her name anymore. His own name was a whisper from some faraway shore. He was the only one left to rot here, and Octavius had been using him in gruesome experiments. His skin was purplish. Or were his eyes betraying him? After all, he could barely even see anymore. It didn't matter. It wouldn't matter. He was about to pay that twisted bastard back in kind.

Octavius entered the cell. The wizard's crystal shone an eerie light. It pulsed in tandem with Seteth's violent need.

"The angrier you become," the bastard chuckled, "the more powerful this crystal becomes. The more powerful I become," he amended after a savored pause.

Seteth couldn't move much more than his hands anymore. He was practically caked to the ground, a prisoner not just from iron bars but also the failure of his own body. If he were any other man in Lithrydel, he would be entirely at Octavius' mercy. But Seteth possessed one thing, one pitfall, one weakness, that no one else on this continent had suffered. Octavius had made a mockery of the thief's lethargic efforts to bring his arms forward; a mockery enough, in fact, that the wizard had grown complacent watching Seteth try. It was true that Seteth would never be able to compel his muscles enough to reach out and choke Octavius, and even if he had, he'd die from whatever strong magics were swiftly cast in retribution. Seteth only needed to bring his own wrists together and force his fingers to work. One last time.

"Not speaking anymore?" Octavius smirked. "That's alright. The changeling gave me the silent treatment, too. Near the end," the wizard damn near purred. "But you, you're my prize. Your resilience is uncanny. Most would be dead three times by now. I can do whatever I please, practice whatever fell arts I acquire. You will stubbornly cling to life." The crystal's pulse increased. Octavius was covered in its reddish glow. He looked gleeful.

He looked like a clown.

"I simply never saw the point in choosing one's last words carefully," Seteth answered meekly. "I mean, why should I care, you know? When I'm about to be dead, anyway?"

The wizard snorted derisively. "Don't give up on me now. I will resurrect you as many times as I please. I will keep you clinging within an inch of your pathetic existence."

"I sort of wish I could do the same to you," the thief from Sagittae said with a sneer, pivoting one wrist over the other. It was incredibly painful, but what followed was even worse. Forcing his fingers to move was worse than Seteth had anticipated. He felt the bones crack like eggs. Realizing that a few of his fingers had broken from the effort, he pried loose the pin on one of his cuffs. The cuffs that his masters from Sagittae had shackled him with. The cuffs that guaranteed his cooperation -- his slavery -- in locating and procuring seven legendary crystals. He had only ever succeeded in locating two, including this one, and he had failed to wrest either from their proud owners. He had completely failed in his mission, but as the pin dropped to the stone floor with a surprisingly loud thud, Seteth grinned. It was never his own choice to do any of this. Not to come to Lithrydel, not to seek out mighty artifacts for ugly, fat barons who would probably kill him afterward, anyway.

This was the first time in a long time that the nineteen-year-old street rat had done anything for himself. He smiled, thinking of Quintessa. She might have been proud.

Slowly, Octavius' face changed from smug superiority into abject horror. "What have you done?"

"I've found my freedom." Maybe last words weren't so overrated, after all.

First, the cell exploded. Both men died instantly. Then, a rolling boom like thunder overwhelmed the entire tower as the flames spread. The crystal, now shattered, intensified the eruption. The tower shook like a bowl full of jelly and then imploded, taking every single person in Octavius' employ along with it.

When the dust settled, the arc ended.