The sergeant put his fingers to one of the children's necks. He was no stranger to war, and all its atrocities. It was not the first time he had seen children fall victim to great evil – though he had never quite seen it in this way.
"This one's alive," he informed them, before moving on to another. "And this one too."
Beam watched, allowing him to work. His feet were near rooted to the spot, as he gazed around the room.
It was nearly as big as the Elder's main house, with damp stone-brick walls enclosing a thoroughly dismal place. It seemed more a corridor than a room, with the children lined up with their backs against the walls on either side.
There was a door at one end – a thick door, but the wood seemed rotten. With the children arranged as they were, in a thoroughly twisted sense, it seemed as though they were guards lined up in a welcome of a king, as a man of great power walked his way towards his throne.
Only, these guards showed no signs of life. There were no weapons on their hips, or life in their eyes. Even their clothes were ragged. They weren't dressed in the clothes of village peasants – instead, it was a simple long shirt of dark grey for each of them, reaching down toward their ankles.
There were collars on their necks. Dark metallic collars, with blue crystals embedded in their centre. The crystals looked dull, as though something had sucked all the colour out of them.
"Stephanie isn't here..." Nila said. She didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.
"They... They all seem to be breathing," the sergeant said. "But what of the damnable collars? How do we wake them up again?"
Nila touched Beam's hand. "They're all alive, Beam. Everyone who went missing under your watch. It was only these poor three, who went missing so long ago, that we weren't quick enough for."
She attempted to reassure him, even as she held her own tears back. Her heart throbbed with anxiety for her younger sister. The horrors that she'd been exposed to did very little to assuage her fears. She could only be glad that Stephanie was amongst the corpses, but glad for no more, for it was a twisted and cruel situation that they had found themselves in.
It took a great effort from Judas not to look offended.
"Michael," Nila said, taking over, holding the little boy's hand. She offered him a smile. "It's okay, Michael. You're safe now."
The little boy seemed to recognize Nila, for he relaxed a moment. Or at least, he relaxed enough that he could begin to cry. Big fat teardrops welled up in his eyes, and streamed down his face as his shoulder shook. Nila patted his head kindly.
"Dangerous..." The boy croaked. "It's too dangerous!" He said, his urgent whisper coming out with all the force of a shout. "You have to leave... It's too late," the boy murmured, shivers taking over his whole body.
"What's too dangerous?" Nila pressed. "The Elder? He did this to you? You don't have to worry about him anymore – we'll protect you."
But that seemed to do nothing to relieve the boy, for he shook his head frantically, but no matter how much Nila pressed him on the issue, he couldn't bring up any more than a croak in response. Finally, she relented, and in a desperate plea, she put her own worries forth.
"Michael, do you know where Stephanie is? They took her too, didn't they?" Nila asked, unable to keep the emotion from her voice.
Michael looked confused for a moment, as though the name was foreign to him, as though the idea was foreign. And then he looked at the floor, as though ashamed. "I'm sorry... They took her..."
"Where did they take her, Michael?" Nila asked, her grip on his shoulder just a little too tight.
"The woods... The mountains... I don't know!" Michael said, shaking his head, causing his tears to fly.
Beam patted Nila's shoulder. "If they've only taken her, then there's still a chance," he said, his voice weaker than it had been earlier.