For the World We Cry

Beatrix sent a text so her phone was on. Freyja didn't even bother reading it, immediately tracking her. She grabbed Arthur and sent Bloom back to the party with limited worry signs showed. 

Freyja strapped everything she'd need wherever she could. She noticed the wind picking up outside the window. Arthur held his sword and looked on at the innocent teens. "What if we'd been like them?" Arthur asked reminiscently. Witches always brought up bad memories, namely the ginger's torture.

"We'd be dead," Freyja concluded with the simplicity of war. She took the keys to both cars and pocketed one set. They followed freaking GPS all the way to her abducted friend's abandoned house. Freyja had Arthur text his boyfriend and her girlfriend before sneaking off. It was hardly sneaking if the engine roared, with how fast Freyja belted out of there. 

The house was decrepit and overgrown when the pair arrived, but it had probably been like that long before they pulled up. The two moved slowly, communicating with only their hands. The weather beat objects against them, sending debris but no rain their way. 

Arthur knew going in he wouldn't leave the ginger's side. They traversed the suspiciously empty house no further than a foot apart. Once they were on the second floor, they agreed there were no witches here. A sound from below put them both back on defense. 

Freyja held the flashlight, though her blades were hidden as meticulously all over her as ever. Arthur had his sword puled constantly and he stood slightly in front of but to the right of his teacher. There was a basement. Of course  there was. The villain's lair always had a basement. But the home looked like it was inspired by those of ancient times, prior to the invention of doors or glass. Because the entryway and the windows were just hollow gaps in the walls. So, of course, the way downstairs, into the dark was obvious and exposed. The wind outside howled, screaming through every gap it could use. 

They moved down together and in unison. Arthur white-knuckled his sword. Freyja's breaths shallowed. The flashlight gave no clarity. The shit light barely showed the bottom of the stairs before they stepped to another step down, but they managed to see in time to level out. A squelchy movement sound got louder and more desperate as they neared, as if it sensed them and their intentions of cutting off its consumption. 

The doorway had no blockade, of course, and the light did nothing for their vision. The beings' tentacles glowed the silver of Air Magic, alerting them to their location better than their light. The scraper glowing lunged for Freyja who smacked it with the butt off the flashlight. She felt the air disturbance of a falling object and dodged. 

Arthur swung his steel down to pierce the glowing slug. But these creatures were faster. It squirreled away and converged with its friends. 

The pair retreated to the room with Beatrix. The girl was dressed nice, still ready for the banquet, but she was coated with dirt. Her arms were littered with the marks Devin was covered with. She was sweaty and pale and bloody and she wasn't awake. So how could she possibly text Freyja? And if she'd woken up to do so, she would have moved, tried to escape. 

Freyja would have to give the girl a full examination back at Alfea, but she started a mild one while they had time. The squeaking stopped. Freyja didn't notice, dropping to her knees beside her friend. She felt the air shift with each gasp the injured girl let out. Still needing reassurance, Freyja kept touching the slightly warm skin. She touched the inflamed skin around the bites, relieved they weren't feverish. Finally, the silence donned on the ginger and she moved very slowly. She first leaned back to sit on her feet, simultaneously looking up at Arthur. 

The blonde was well accustomed to her facial expressions, battle or otherwise. He held his blade a bit tighter, the leather strained under his grip. 

That's what called the scrapers to attack.