If only I could use my magic again! If she could shift into a rat like her children, Anya wouldn't need to worry about using up all of her stamina so quickly. A smaller body would carry her further... But she couldn't. Knelt down on a stair, arms grasping onto the handrail for life itself, she just listened to Light.
"It is a castle, if there are many castles, or if its a tower of the castle and beyond that is what I can't ascertain, I'm not exactly familiar, as I've said, I got dragged across and beyond different spots til I didn't recognize a thing anymore"
So he was useless, as a guide. That was fine. Anya could feel that surge of energy that beckoned her, and she was confident she would find the source if she just kept following it. Why did it have to be so many floors down?
"How badly is it that you're so hellbent on getting your audience with this devil of yours? Are you planning to meet him as you are, right now you're a mess"
"So kind of you to notice," Anya said spitefully, though not toward Light. So she
was a mess. Who cared? Tears welled up, and the 100 decaying rats that had been following them began to swarm around Anya's feet, some going as far as to crawl into her lap and cuddle her. It would be a strange sight to see, especially given that they were zombified, but Anya seemed to find comfort in their presence.
"You wouldn't understand," she said, voice teeming with hatred.
"You don't have to understand." Anya had held it all in up until now. She had maintained her cool, but now the anger was seeping back into her. Light stepped closer, and Anya curled protectively around her rats.
"I don't care that I am a mess!" Anya screamed, lashing out. Her voice echoed along the stone staircase.
"I will make him pay! I will make him suffer! He locked me up and left me to die! Why not just kill me? No!" The waterworks began, but it was not tears that fell, it was blood. Trails of blood fell from Anya's eyes, and the rats seemed to stir at this.
"The only way to survive was to eat my children! He made me a monster!" Anger spurred Anya forward. Hatred gave her the strength to stand, and fury carried her legs down the stairs. Still leaning heavily on the rail, Anya forced herself onward despite her exhaustion. She was as good as dead without the use of her magic, but she didn't care.