another eternity

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts They followed; his eyes watching Amalia – casting back and forth for Kiada, for signs of other impending torment or danger, the unknown such a beckoning, bestial throng. When they finally arrived at the pit, he listened, but also crept up to the edge, glancing down at the massive hole, the cavernous wake keeping prisoners at bay. He strived not to think about his friends suffering down in the dungeon, how it could’ve been so much worse (the chains, the tethers, the lines caught at wrists, gates never opening, torturous screaming, sacrifices meaning more than just entangled memories). There was the aforementioned Adam currently sitting in its hold, and so he spent the next few moments ascertaining what could be done, how far the fathoms crept, while the rest of them discussed. For once, he didn’t listen. His analytical mind was content to crawl amongst these drones and intervals instead, useful and necessary; they thrummed and hummed, imagined something easily brought into the fold. Silent as the grave, he twisted his hands towards the ground, concentrating on the invocations he immediately implored – a breath, an inhale, a sigh, a pulse of his blood, before the items finally came to fruition, rope curling, coiling, and bundling along the earth. He continued adding to it, allowing the knots to form, to mold and piece and weave in amongst one another, a strong textile, meant to rescue and liberate. When he thought it complete, he merely maneuvered back to the trench, tossing a large bundle of it over the side, the end hopefully swinging next to Adam’s head and bouncing off the side of the soil: a gift, a means to safety and release. He left two feet or so in his grasp and trailing on the ground, easy to access if necessary. “Can you reach?” The beast called down, the first words he’d loosened, anchoring himself, muscles undulating, eager and ready to be utilized, so he could drag the man upwards. the last of a line of lasts