Tursed my worid upside down

It was already dark outside when Klaus got out of the car and found himself in the dirtiest and oldest part of the city. At least, he had never seen so many shabby, crumbling five-story buildings before that day. And in the basement of one of them, Egor was sitting now, shaking with fear and waiting for his help.

A large, noisy group was sitting on the benches in the yard, but they did not react to Klaus's appearance. The group was clearly engrossed in drinking alcohol. They were definitely not possessed. The prince took a phone out of his pocket and dialed Egor's number.

"Where are you? You can go out. I'm here."

A sigh of relief was heard in the receiver.

"Are you sure there's no one there?" the fair-haired guy asked fearfully.

"At least you have no one to be afraid of."

A few minutes later, a familiar silhouette slowly emerged from around the corner of one of the houses. He stopped, looked around, and, seeing Klaus, stumbled towards him.

"Thank God you're here! I thought I was finished! There were so many of them, he began hesitantly."

"Everything's fine now. Let's go home," Klaus put his arm around Egor's shoulders and led him to the exit from the yard."

"Wait, the young man protested." I know where they are. I know where the one who controls them is! If we don't catch him today, he shook his head. "I'm scared, Klaus. He controls entire groups. What will happen to them?"

"We can't just come to the enemy's lair without preparation. Tell me where it is and I'll sort it out myself."

"No, I'll go with you!"

"You'll only get in the way! You need to go home. I'll come back as soon as I've sorted it out."

"No," Egor said firmly. "I'm going with you. You won't find him without me!"

Klaus sighed heavily, pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He hadn't fully recovered from the drink yet. The prince didn't want to argue with Egor, the only thing he wanted now was to find himself in a cool shower and then in a warm bed. But Egor was right. They couldn't miss such a chance.

"Good. Let's go."

Klaus followed Egor, who was confidently walking ahead. They left the yard, passed several houses and turned the corner. There was a half-abandoned building there. It looked like it used to be a small store, or maybe a post office, or some other uninhabited premises. Of the six dirty black windows, only one had a yellowish light.

"It's here," Egor said, turning around and looking worriedly at Klaus, whose T-shirt was completely wet, and whose breathing was rapid, as if he had just run a considerable distance "Are you okay?" with these words, he extended his hand to the prince's forehead, but the prince abruptly grabbed his wrist.

"You better not touch me now," he hissed through his teeth. A bad feeling had not left Klaus since the moment he saw the outline of Egor's figure coming out from around the corner. He could not understand where it came from and decided that it was another side effect of the drug.

Still holding Egor by the wrist, the prince realized that the feeling had intensified, and he involuntarily glanced at the boy's hand. Something was wrong here...

"Egor," he said slowly, turning his wrist. "Where is your brand?"

Egor jerked his hand away sharply and cursed loudly.

"The show is over," he said, baring his teeth in an unkind smile.

"What's going on?" asked the prince, although he already understood everything perfectly well. Egor was possessed. He didn't run away from the kidnappers, they grabbed him and when the leader realized that this was not the one he was looking for, he made bait out of the fair-haired guy

Klaus felt movement, looked around sharply and realized that they were surrounded. How had he not noticed this before! Damn Sasha with his damn drug! Why today? Why now? He turned his gaze to the still grinning Yegor and abruptly grabbed him by the neck. He didn't even have time to understand anything, as he found himself on the ground in an absence. Klaus quickly checked the guy's pockets, took out what he needed, and leaned the pearl-white ball against his friend's hand.

Klaus didn't have time to wait for the magic to finish transfusing, so he put the stimulant in Egor's hand, stood up and took out a blunted short sword.

Fighting them was useless, they didn't feel pain and were completely absorbed in their mission. Kill them all? Even if he had chosen that path, he wouldn't have been able to cope with so many people, having only a blunt toothpick in his hand in his arsenal. The leader was somewhere in this building and the only chance to avoid unnecessary casualties was to get him before his puppets could get the prince. Having made his decision, he abruptly turned towards the dilapidated structure and ran, pushing, knocking out and throwing away those who blocked his path from this side.

Having broken through, he tried to barricade the door with improvised means, but he understood that it would not hold them back for long. He went on. In the direction of the only source of light. Behind him, he heard the sound of breaking glass. His pursuers were catching up with him. He abruptly pulled the half-open door towards himself and immediately ran into another obstacle. Before he could take a step, something sharp pressed against his side and the next second went deep into his flesh. Klaus took a convulsive breath, dropped his useless weapon and tried to pull out the knife, which was still stuck in him.

Those from whom he had managed to escape were approaching from behind, five people stood in front of him, all but one, holding knives at the ready, and behind them stood a lanky man with gray hair reaching his shoulders and a shiny bald spot on the back of his head. His victorious smile kindled such hatred in Klaus that the young man even growled.

"Your Highness, I am so glad that you have honored me with your presence," he said, mockingly bowing before the prince. "Please, come in," after these words, they grabbed him by the arms and tried to drag him forward.

Klaus began to resist. Someone pressed on the knife sticking out of his side. Everything swam in the prince's eyes from wild pain, and he went limp. Then they led him into a small room, leaned him against the wall and shackled him with shackles driven into the wall from above and below, apparently especially for him.

"I hope you will appreciate my hospitality," the man asked, still smiling, and Klaus noticed a tattoo on the back of his hand in the form of a little man with thin threads extending from his arms and legs. The tattoo was framed by three circles.

- Who are you? - Klaus asked as calmly as he could, trying to push away the white wire hanging over him with his head, which stretched from a lonely dirty lamp on the ceiling to the wall where Klaus was chained.

"I am the faithful slave of my master, the highest air mage - Adamas."

"And who is your master?" the prince asked, gritting his teeth from the pulsating pain.

"You don't need to know that. Today, your life will end in tragic circumstances, only a part of charred skin with a tattoo will remain, so that no one will doubt that the heir to the throne is really dead."

"Bastard!" Klaus growled, jerking with all his might - You won't get away with this!

Adamas laughed out loud.

"And what will you do to me, puppy? In case you haven't noticed, the circumstances are far from in your favor!"

"I will get you from the other world!"

"Empty threats, Prince. Well, there's nothing else you can do."

"Go all of you and finish the preparations. I won't need your help here anymore - the magician addressed his puppets, and they all, as one, moved towards the exit."

"What preparations?"

"I told you that you would die tragically? And what could be more tragic than burning alive? But first, I need to cut out your tattoo. What do you think? Which one would suit you better?"

Adamas slowly approached him, grabbed the knife sticking out of Klaus's body, deliberately pressing harder. The prince hissed, gritting his teeth so as not to give the bastard more pleasure and not to scream. The man abruptly pulled out the knife. Hot blood gushed with renewed vigor, soaking the white T-shirt and slowly flowing down, collecting in a red puddle under his feet.

"What a beautiful sight! I am so happy that the master entrusted me with such an important mission. I always dreamed of finishing off a high-born brat with my own hands, but I never even dared to dream of killing a scion of royal blood!"

Adamas brought the tip of the bloody knife to the prince's cheekbone and pressed lightly. Klaus felt another thin stream of hot blood. A loud croaking was heard from the front door, which distracted the man from his victim, and the next second a large raven flew into the room, aiming its claws at Adamas's face.

The man yelped, trying to fight off the bird. Klaus reached his fingers for the white wire and yanked it sharply. Once. Twice. Three times. Until the exposed wires tore away from the flimsy lamp. The shrill cry of a raven being stabbed with a sharp knife, the hollow thud of its body hitting the concrete floor, a column of sparks from the ceiling. The light went out. Klaus was holding the exposed wire in his hand. A bolt of electricity struck him, his body jerking convulsively. In the complete darkness, Adamas tried to grab Klaus by the hair, but instead received a sharp bolt of lightning in the chest and flew towards the opposite wall.

The shackles could no longer restrain the prince. He pulled them out of the wall with one jerk, and then tore them apart with his bare hands. The enraged prince slowly moved towards his tormentor, whose eyes were frozen in horror. Klaus illuminated his path with a multitude of intertwined lightning bolts in one hand and loomed over Adamas.

"What was that you said? The circumstances are not in my favor?" a bestial grin lit up Klaus's handsome face, "and now you will tell me everything!"

Egor opened his eyes. His head was in a fog. He tried to get up, but his whole body ached, and his vision was swimming. He pulled his legs up and buried his face in his knees. Egor didn't remember how he got there. The last thing he remembered was opening his eyes and seeing the disgruntled face of a man with gray, mouse-colored hair down to his shoulders and an impressive bald spot.

"Who are you?" he asked Egor discontentedly. "Where is His Highness Klaus Deffender?"

Egor stood up abruptly (he was lying on the floor and the unpleasant yellow light of the lamp, which was swinging on a bare wire under the ceiling, was shining in his eyes), but a pair of strong hands quickly pinned him back down.

"I think I asked you a question," the stranger continued impatiently.

"I don't understand who you are talking about," Egor lied.

"Don't lie to me, boy! You have a search mark on you. You were close to the prince, so close that it got on your body, not his. I repeat once again. Where is His Highness?"

"Old man, you seem to be out of your mind! What century are you stuck in? Didn't you know? In our country, kings have long since sunk into oblivion. Try your luck in England, for example." Egor answered him with feigned impudence, although inside everything went cold with fear. He understood that they would not let him go and at best they would kill him quickly and painlessly, and at worst... Goosebumps ran across his body.

"It doesn't matter," the stranger waved in his direction. "He will come to us himself."

The man disappeared from Egor's sight for a few minutes. Now he was being held by his arms, legs and head. When the puppeteer's face appeared before Yegor's eyes again, he was holding a small stone with some barely discernible symbols on it. The young man realized what was waiting for him and began to twitch.

"No," he screamed! "No!!!"

"So you know what it is?" the man smiled, then suddenly became serious. In his other hand, he was clutching a stimulator ball. Silver threads from it stretched out to the stranger, pumping magic into his body.

As soon as the process was complete (it took only a few seconds, many times faster than pumping magic into the ball), the man began to speak in a language unknown to him, monotonously pronouncing the words, without taking his eyes off the stone. The stone lit up and suddenly went out. The puppeteer looked into the young man's frightened eyes:

"Now you are my slave. Your life is in my hands from this moment until the order is cancelled on my initiative."

The stone touched the young man's forehead. Everything went dark in his eyes. He realized that the meaning of his life was this man's words, his desires and needs.

"Yes, my lord," he said and fell into darkness.

As far as Egor could remember, all this had happened to him just a second ago, but now he was lying on the street, in the dark. He lifted his forehead from his knees. His eyes began to see more clearly. He looked around. It was dark around, even in the neighboring residential buildings there was no light, as well as street lamps. He heard some movement and looked at the building in front of him. There were people there who were silently laying out something around the dilapidated structure and pouring some kind of liquid on it. Several people stood a little to the side, illuminating with flashlights from their phones so that the rest could work unhindered.

Egor stood up. He realized that if he had come to his senses, it meant that the puppeteer had achieved his goal and Klaus was already in his hands. The possessed were still here and were carrying out another order, which meant that the puppeteer was still alive. And what about Klaus?

He felt sick. Again, he had gotten into trouble because of Egor, and all because Egor had decided to show his character at the most inopportune moment. And what had he achieved by this? The young man slowly rose to his feet, took the now pearl-blue ball and put it in his pocket. He carefully moved toward the building, but the possessed seemed not to notice him at all. They continued to do their own thing, even when Egor passed them and went through the door hanging on one hinge.

He noticed a flashing light on the side and slowly walked towards it. He looked through the half-open door and saw the puppeteer sitting on the floor, leaning against the far wall, and Klaus was hanging over him, holding something resembling ball lightning in one hand. In the dim light of the incomprehensible object, Egor noticed how pale the prince's face was. His T-shirt was soaked with something red on one side.

"You won't learn anything from me," the man answered Klaus.

"I know many ways to loosen your tongue and believe me, none of them are pleasant."

Egor's hair stood on end from the prince's icy voice, soaked in hatred and contempt. He came even closer to get a better look at the situation. A dead raven lay on the floor, next to it were torn shackles, and near the wall not far from the door was an impressive pool of blood.

"I have been a slave since I was eight years old. Your threats do not frighten me. Whatever you do to me, my master will be even more merciless. I will not utter a word," the puppeteer's gaze slid to the door and saw Egor, who was standing with his mouth open. An unkind half-smile spread across the man's face, he closed his eyes.

"Klaus, watch out, he is up to something" Egor shouted. The prince turned around.

- Egor? Have you come to your senses?

He heard footsteps behind him, Egor turned around and almost bumped nose to nose with the butcher in an apron, who abruptly grabbed the young man. Two more came up behind him. And now Egor is standing surrounded by the possessed on the opposite side from Klaus, and a knife is held to his throat. Egor saw what a bestial expression Klaus's face acquired, how he abruptly grabbed the puppeteer by the collar and put him on his feet!

"Tell them to let him go, or else..."

Adamas burst into loud laughter, throwing his head back.

"Or else what? What will you do to me, Your Highness? Come on, where are your promised tortures? Where is your bravado? Is this boy's life really more important to you than information? You have only one way to save him and no time to think."

Adamas turned his gaze to the thug with the knife. Klaus understood that in the next second Egor's throat would be cut and, without thinking, he sent a ball of lightning into the puppeteer's chest. He died quickly, almost painlessly, with a victorious smile on his lips. All the possessed fell to the ground at once. Egor stood with a glassy gaze, slowly wiping a thin stream from a small cut on his neck. Klaus fell to his knees and hit his fist on the bare concrete, lowered his head and made some inarticulate sound.

Egor sees the prince in such a state for the first time. "Oh, God, what have I done." He slowly approaches Klaus, who is still kneeling, and sits down next to him, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me," he repeats.

Klaus looks up from the floor and looks at the pale, frightened Egor. He does not blame him for anything, but he cannot say it. He wants to calm his friend down, but he cannot squeeze a word out of himself. No, he has not lost the power of speech because of the failure. It is not that he is very upset about the information he did not receive. He has simply weakened to such an extent that he cannot move, speak, or even think clearly. Klaus shakes his head, opens his mouth, but only a weak groan comes out of his throat.

Klaus turns his gaze to the door, next to which lies a short, blunt sword.

"Sword. Take the sword," he barely audibly squeezes out.

"Sword? What? I can't hear you, repeat," Egor turns his gaze to the door and sees the bodies of unconscious people blocking the exit, knives that were ready to pierce him, it would seem, an eternity ago and notices some kind of gleam.

The room is dark, only a few flashlights from mobile phones are burning, which are lying next to their owners. Egor takes his mobile out of his pocket and turns on his flashlight, squinting from the unusually bright light. He moves away from the prince, goes to the door and finds an ancient short sword decorated with beautiful stones, picks it up and goes back. The light falls on Klaus, who is breathing intermittently and sweating, on his bloody T-shirt and on a pool of blood next to him.

"Klaus! We need to call an ambulance, you've lost too much blood."

The young man runs up to the prince, grabs him by the shoulders, touching the bare skin on his neck.

"You're all ice!" he screams in horror.

Klaus shakes his head slightly, raises his clouded gaze to the fair-haired guy and tries to smile, but his facial muscles do not obey. Taking a convulsive breath, the heir to the throne falls on his side and freezes.

"No! Klaus, please! No!" Egor screams, trying to bring the prince to his senses, who does not react to his attempts. In a panic, Egor dials the number, but not an ambulance, but Pauoka.

"Grandma," a hoarse voice was heard in the receiver "Grandma. I don't know what to do. I'm so guilty. I didn't mean to. What should I do?"

"Egor, I don't understand what you're trying to say. Explain it in human terms," she answered. Cold goosebumps ran across the woman's skin. She felt that something terrible had happened, but she reassured herself that at least her grandson was alive.

"He... he - muffled sobs were heard in the receiver."

"Egor. What happened?" she tried to ask in a calm voice. "I can't help you if I don't find out."

"I killed him," and then Pouoka heard that Egor had given up. He was crying like he hadn't cried since the day he found out that both his parents were dead.

"Darling, who did you kill? Where are you now?"

"Klaus. Grandma, I'm a moron. I'm a stubborn, weak a moron, and he came to save me again, but," a sob, ragged breathing "Grandma. There's so much blood here. He's not answering me. Grandma, what should I do?"

Pouoka went cold. It can't be that the prince was killed. Egor was getting something mixed up. The old woman knew that now was not the time to lose her composure. The boys needed help, and judging by what she had heard, she couldn't just call an ambulance.

"Tell me where you are. Help will arrive soon. Just hold on, do you hear? Everything will be fine. We will figure it out."

Egor told her incoherently, very briefly and not in chronological order what had happened and where they were now. Pouoka cherished the thought that Klaus was still alive, just lost consciousness. She knew only one person who could help. As soon as she turned off her grandson's call, she immediately dialed another number.

"Good evening, Andryusha. I ask you for help and I hope that you will not ask unnecessary questions."

"Pouoka, are you contacting me yourself? Does this mean that your newly-made grandson is not able to call? Or are you planning something to bypass the younger generation?" laughter was heard in the receiver.

"I am in big trouble."

Egor was afraid to touch Klaus. Afraid to feel the cold of his body. He did not believe his own eyes, but in the bright light of the flashlight, he saw a scarlet puddle, the prince's pale face and closed eyes. He brought the sword to his face. A blunt but beautiful antique. Klaus was ready to defend him even with such a worthless weapon.

The young man reached out to the prince's cheek and touched the once tanned skin with trembling fingers. Cold. He lowered his hand to Klaus's neck and felt a weak movement of the pulse. Alive. He was still alive. This sobered Egor. He cut, or rather filed, the edge of the bloody T-shirt and tore it on his chest. He chose a clean area, cut off a semblance of a bandage and bandaged the wound in the side of the black-haired youth, first turning Klaus over on his back. The fabric almost immediately turned red. Egor pressed his trembling hands to the wound, hoping to at least stop the bleeding a little.

"Where am I?" a surprised voice was heard from behind.

Egor turned his head and saw that all the possessed were starting to come to their senses. "Damn, that's all I need now!"

"Sit down by the wall and wait for the others," Egor answered the lost teenager, who did so without further questions.

Within about five minutes, all the possessed came to their senses and sat by the wall, looking around in surprise and waiting for someone to explain what was happening.

"You are all crowd scene. They were filming a scene for a new movie here. You agreed to participate for free. The scene was never filmed, as the main character passed out from exhaustion. We thank you for your help. You may go."

There were a few disgruntled voices, but no one doubted the veracity of Egor's story. A side effect of possession. Still, it was a useful thing. You could come up with any absurd story, and they would believe it, despite the lack of evidence. They were not even bothered by the fact that there was one dead and one half-dead person lying in front of them, that there were no other people, cameras, or decorations nearby - nothing.

Gradually, the crowd dissolved, leaving Egor alone with the corpse of the puppeteer and the bleeding Klaus. He sat and stubbornly pressed his hands to the wound, which had become slippery with blood. What was he waiting for? Egor did not know, but he was sure that his grandmother would do something. Again, someone else would solve all the problems for him, nothing changed, and most importantly, he was happy. Happy that he would not have to sort out all the mess, that he could just sit here and try to make sure that Klaus stayed alive.

The silence was broken by cautious steps. Egor's eyes were blinded by the bright light of a large lantern. A man stood on the threshold, quickly looking around the room, lingering his gaze on the young people, then turning his head and shouting somewhere into the darkness:

"All is clear. They are here. We need a stretcher and a body bag."

All subsequent events passed as if in a fog for Egor. He saw how a crowd of people with flashlights on their heads entered a small room, how a stretcher was placed next to him. How someone tried to pull the guy away from Klaus, receiving weak resistance from him. The prince was carefully transferred to the stretcher, and Egor trudged after him, trying to touch the cold hand of the black-haired man. He took one last look at the dead body of the puppeteer, which had already been placed in a black bag, noticed several people in white suits and high yellow gloves and went out into the dark corridor, and then out onto the street.

They got into some shabby van. He heard voices around him, but he didn't understand the words, or rather, he didn't perceive them. He watched as some man gave Klaus an IV drip with a clear liquid. He saw how the man turned to him and opened his mouth. "He's saying something," the guy thought, but his brain didn't want to turn on. Then he felt someone shaking him by the shoulders, and then he felt a burning sensation on his face, and realized that he had been hit on the cheek for the third time. This brought him to consciousness.

He heard the conversations around him. He realized that the man with the IV was asking him about the prince's blood type.

"I don't know what his blood type is," Egor answered quietly.

"Bad," the man shook his head, "If he has a fourth, then we may not be able to get it in time. I don't have it in my reserves."

"And what should we do?" the young man asked fearfully.

"First, we need to get him to the clinic. Alive, which, judging by his condition, will be problematic."

"What did you give him?" the fair-haired guy pointed to the IV.

"This is a regular saline solution. There is nothing we can do now, this will at least partially replenish the fluid in the body."

Egor looked at the prince's naked torso. The wound was bandaged. The bandage remained white. At least he was no longer bleeding. The man felt Klaus's pulse, put an oxygen mask on him, while Egor watched in fascination as the mask became cloudy from the inside and then transparent again. This was the only thing that allowed the guy to know that his friend, new brother, or whoever he was for Egor, was alive. He was still breathing.