A sliver of Josef screams inside, as it does with every life taken, but that part grows smaller, quieter. In his drug-induced haze there is nothing that small part of Josef could do but watch and shrivel a little more with each death.
"Next," Loran says, making a small note in his book. He flicks his fingers and opens a portal, an invisible shove sending the body of the monk through it. The soldiers grab the last of the nearby prisoners and pushed her forward.
Things have changed recently. The experiments are happening more frequently, Loran's supply of prisoners has been all but exhausted. Now, they are used as soon as they are brought in. No, not used. Killed. Murdered. Josef has to remind himself of that. But it's becoming harder and harder to care.
The Source affixed to the end of the sceptre glows now, a flashing yellow light pulsing from within. There are no more prisoners left. The poor woman with buck teeth and watery eyes looked barely old enough to be called an adult, but that didn't matter to the Iron Legion. And Josef found it didn't matter to him either. Not anymore. They were all the same once their life was drained from them.
The two hundred and sixteenth body drops and Josef channels her spirit into the Source. It glows even more brightly than before, a high whine filling the room as the dead Rand within the Source returns to life. Josef tries to care about that as well, but he doesn't.
In the gloom of the Iron Legion's laboratory, a second Source begins to glow. Upon his writing desk sits a large Source with a flat side. It is too big to swallow, making it completely unviable to be used in Sourcery. Loran turns his attention to it, to the soft blue glow burning within the crystal. He glances back toward Josef, still holding the sceptre, the Source affixed there shining so brightly it hurts to look at. Then both Sources shatter in a scream that echoes about the laboratory. The light fades and they are left once more in the dim, flickering glow of lantern light. Another failure. So many failures. So many lives spent for nothing.
The soldiers cower. Their good humour evaporated when Loran started involving them directly in his experiments, and Josef sometimes hears them talking about running. But the pay is good enough to keep them around no matter the atrocities they must commit to earn it. Inran lets out an audible sigh and turns towards the broom leaning against the far wall. It was ever the little tahren steward's job to clean up after Loran, and he often complained about finding shards of Source for weeks after each experiment.
Josef stands, holding the empty sceptre, numb from the Sweet Silence Loran drugged him with, and from the consequences of so many lives taken. He can feel the strength of his innate Biomancy growing all the time now. Each experiment, each life taken makes him stronger. He cuts himself from time to time, to see if he still bleeds. He does, but only a trickle. The wounds close in moments and don't even leave scars.
The room shakes. It's a subtle thing at first, but the tremors grow even as Josef focuses on them The room, the halls nearby, the cells below, the very earth around them is quaking. It's not a natural tremor, Josef needs no Geomancy Source to know that, but instead it's was coming from the Iron Legion. Loran's face is tight, jaw clenched, and eyes screwed shut. His hands are balled into fists and shaking. Every bit of the man is too tense, taught like a bow string, and power flows out of him. It's not just Geomantic tremors, sound travelled bizarrely in the laboratory, one moment booming and the next, all but silent. One of the soldiers gasps as his sword twists and curls like rope caught in the wind. Portals snap open, leading to some unknown realm, and vanish in an instant. Golems break themselves free of the very rock around them, all reaching up from the floor or walls, half pulling themselves free before crumbling to chips of stone and dust. Josef feels a tide of rage sweep over him and, even numbed, he feels angry enough to scream, and then it's was gone.
Two of the soldiers collapse, hands pushed against their heads, sobbing from the tumult. Inran braces against the wall, just a few paces from the broom, his head twitching from side to side as though trying to smell the threat.
Josef glances down at the sceptre in his hand. It was unornamented, solid metal and weighty even without a Source affixed to the end, certainly heavy enough to inflict damage to an unprotected skull. The Iron Legion's back is turned, his magic flaring out in uncontrolled bursts. His shield might be suffering the instability too. There's no better chance. Josef will get no better chance to end it all, to free himself and all the others still trapped in the cells below. But he doesn't take it. Because it doesn't matter. He doesn't care enough to try.
"All for NOTHING!" the Iron Legion roars and the sound booms around the laboratory knocking everyone off their feet and making them all cover their ears. Inran is affected worst of all. Tahren hearing is much more sensitive than a terran's and the little steward is knocked unconscious by the burst of sound. "All these years of planning. All my experimentation. Made useless by an oversight!" The Iron Legion turns furious eyes on Josef. "Chosen one. Chosen ONE!" Again, a burst of sound accompanies the word and Josef groans from the pain.
The Iron Legion advances on Josef, stalking closer. "It was never about one at all, was it?"
Josef groans again, the only response he can manage, and he can't even hear that over the booming of the Iron Legion's voice.
"That is why you succeeded where all my other candidates failed. That is what makes you special. Not a chosen one, but a chosen two!"
"Eska?" Josef forces the word past gritted teeth.
"Yes. Helsene. Apart, you are useless. There is no escaping the laws of existence, Yenhelm. The Rand and Djinn are linked, inextricably paired. I cannot bring back the Rand without also bringing back the Djinn. Do you understand what that means?" Josef feels strong hands gripping hold of his tunic, shaking him, but the light had grown so bright it hurts even through closed eyes. "Twice as many lives needed for each resurrection. Twice as many chosen ones needed."
"No!" Josef fights through the pain and the haze. Tries to make his words mean something. Tries to protect the only person he can still care about. "Leave her alone."
The assault ends. The laboratory falls dark and silent in an instant, and the shaking subsides. With the pressure gone, Josef rolls onto his side and throws up, tears streaming from his eyes and stomach heaving.
"It's too late for that," the Iron Legion says in a mournful voice. He sinks down next to Josef, legs folding beneath him. Suddenly looks old. The weight of his years, both natural and not, have settled upon him. His hair stands up in thin clumps, only white wisps remaining. His skin is wrinkled and mottled with dark brown marks. His ears are too large for his head and two of his teeth had already fallen out, leaving gaps hidden behind sagging lips. "I gave her to that fool of an emperor."
Josef turns away from the Iron Legion and lets out a secret smile. At least she is free of the Iron Legion. A small compensation, but anything would be better than this torture.
"She hung herself twenty-two days ago," Loran continues. "The Red Cells get to everyone eventually."
Josef laughs but there's no humour in it at all. It's a manic thing that he can't stop.
"I'll have to start again," Loran says. "Expedite the process somehow. I know how it works now. I can make it work again."