The first sign of life that Molly had seen in his containment came in the form of a familiar half-elf who had a new companion with him. The woman accompanying him was a tall, wry elf with gorgeous pitch-black hair that fell down past her shoulders. Her dark eyes studied Molly through the bars with a conceded look to her.

"I don't suppose you're here to give me some entertainment down here. I've been terribly bored," Molly smiled. He sat with his back propped against the wall and he looked perfectly relaxed as he smirked up at his captors, his tail twitching a small bit as it thumped on the stone. It was so good to hear sounds again, to hear his own voice, and to see beyond his bars.

He now made out that his cell was one of many in some torch-lit hallway. The firelight blazed in the half-elf's eyes as he glared at Molly. With a clatter of keys, he unlocked the cell door and swung it open before the two of them walked in. Molly made no move to escape, though he was considering his options.

"Don't flatter yourself, Lucien," the woman answered cooly. "You can make this easy or painful."

"Oh, well I'm always up for playing rough," Molly smirked. The half-elf sneered and kicked his face, knocking the back of his head into the rock and making Molly hiss in pain as he held his now bleeding nose. He shifted to his feet and stood up, keeping a hand under his nose as he glared at the two of them.

The elf raised her hand and murmured a few arcane words, her eyes closing for a moment. There was a familiar feeling that flowed into Molly. He reminisced for a moment and thought he recalled this familiar sensation and how he had been subject to it before... Zone of Truth or at least something along those lines. 

He tried to resist it but the magic was strong and his empty mind was easy prey as there wasn't much truth he could share.

"There," the elf finished, turning to close the cell door behind them. "Ask him whatever you want and he will speak the truth."

The half-elf glared at Molly once more and threw another punch. This one, Molly avoided and he backed away from the blow.

"Where's the book, Lucien?" the half-elf demanded, fuming as he got into a fighting poise. Molly's mouth grew dry and he was compelled to speak the truth.

"I still don't know what that fuck you're talking about," Molly answered trying to get in a fighting position of his own. He felt exposed without the familiar swords on his belt which had been taken from him as soon as he had been captured.

The half-elf through another two punches. Molly took the first one to the face and managed to barely avoid the second.

"What that fuck do you mean you don't know?" The half-elf fumed, his attractive appearance giving way to cold fury in his eyes. "You found a way to come back from the dead and you just manage to forget it?"

"Apparently!" Molly yelled back, wiping the blood away from his nose.

"How much do you remember?" the elf demanded coldly from the back.

"Not much," Molly answered honestly. "I don't know who Lucien is and I don't have a fucking clue what this 'book' is you're looking for."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," the half-elf snarled, looking to the elf who stood off to the side of the cell.

"Then let me," she murmured, pulling two white gloves out of the pockets of her crisp outfit which was some dark suit with a high collar. She pulled the white gloves over her hands and strode up to Mollymauk who's felt as though this was something familiar... some magic he had seen before in those gloves.

He took a wary step back and prepared himself to resist whatever the hell was happening. His tail was twitching, showing his agitation. The elf's hand began to emit a gentle silvery aura and immediately, Molly made for the opening of the cell only to be grabbed by the half-elf who slammed him into the stone wall, knocking the wind out of him just long enough for the woman to lay her hands on Molly's head.

The room vanished for Molly as he was sucked from the present into his mind with an unwanted passenger. He stood suspended in the void, the silence and emptiness closing in.

"If you won't tell us, your mind will," he heard the elven woman murmur.

"Get the FUCK out of my head!" Molly screamed back. His voice was lost in the emptiness and, like he was attached to an unseen tether, he was suddenly jerked along as he was pulled into flashes of familiar memories.

The images of the young pickpocket girl, Jeremy the bartender, the three bastards that he had beaten up, the two would-be horse thieves. All of the memories that Molly held. The elf pulled at pried through those memories all the way back to the earliest one he had.

"MOLLY!" the familiar name that he had first heard and the struggle he had when he had first awakened with the sensation of dirt in his face.

But she kept digging.

She dug further into parts of his mind that he had been certain were empty, prying into the void of his mind.

He heard voices and saw memories that he had never seen. He sensed things... things that happened when he wasn't... alive. It was strange, he knew things that he knew he wasn't supposed to know... as if he had never left the material plane. Molly hadn't had too much time to contemplate what had happened to him while he was dead or think about the afterlife but suddenly, he had a warm thought that perhaps he had never left... perhaps his mind had simply ceased to be tethered to his body and he had continued to watch the world work and, in a way, had never really left his friends.

But whoever this elf was, she didn't care for this epiphany and drove deeper in Molly's unwilling mind, bringing back a terribly familiar memory:

"Respect," his murderer's voice snaked into his mind and Molly fought back against this prying. He didn't want to live this, he didn't want to see this, he didn't want this elf to scour his mind. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The half-elf watched with disinterest as the purple tiefling flinched under the effect of the spell. His eyes were glazed over and his body had gone slack. The only thing that marked the tiefling as still alive was the occasional twitching of his face muscles and the nervous flicks of his tail.

"Fascinating," the female elf murmured.

"What?" the half-elf growled. Her eyes were glazed over as well but her posture was composed and certain. Her other senses were dulled and the half-elf knew that she couldn't hear him as she tore into the familiar tiefling's mind.

"He's returned from the grave and has lost most of his memories," the elf murmured to herself.

"We knew he came back," the half-elf sneered, knowing full well she couldn't hear him.

"But it seems that he's returned twice which means that this is going to be time-consuming, be patient," she soothed him.

"Fuck," the half-elf seethed. "Can I do anything to speed this up?"

She didn't answer as she couldn't hear it and instead stayed focus on her quarry

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Molly looked up through his eyes at the familiar face of his murderer as the glaive was shoved into his chest. A name flew into Molly's recollection in a moment of clarity; Lorenzo. There was such sick, terrible loathing that came with that name that Molly's essence almost vibrated. What he wouldn't give to murder that bastard.

He was being pulled away from that memory and he reluctantly went, allowing the elf's will to pull him away from his nightmare. Memories flew by him at a breakneck pace, memories Molly had been trying to recall for so long. He tried madly to gather information or cling to them but they were too fleeting. Faces, emotions, sensations, they all rushed through him, and for a while, he desperately flailed about in his mind.

Then, he grasped something. A bright, tangible, strong memory that he was able to hold fast to, haunting the elf's search of his mind as he clung to it, refusing to let this one slip through his fingers.

Plunging into the memory was like taking a gasp of breath when emerging from water and it was an immediate moment of relief as Molly became grounded in a memory. Warm light filled his vision as he found himself in a rowdy tavern. Music filled the air; piano music, the smell of alcohol filled his nose, drunken yells and happy cheers rang through the air, some very familiar. He found himself in a lively tavern with chandeliers hanging from the roof and the room full of gnomes.

Waltz music rang through the air and Molly looked down to see a small goblin dancing with him, stumbling over her feet every so often, but her bright yellow eyes gleaming with happiness. Her porcelain mask had fallen from her face but she didn't seem to care as her toothy grin smiled up at Molly as the two of them danced... Nott... Nott the brave.

Her name came to Molly and brought a smile to his face as he immediately felt recognition fuel his joy. 

He glanced off to his side and smiled to see a familiar blue tiefling dancing with a drunk red-hair human who waltzed alongside her, a strange reminiscent gaze in his blue eyes. Caleb and Jester.

Molly smiled even wider and looked around the tavern as he danced. Fjord was there as well, drunkenly making his way up the stairs of the tavern. Beau looked rather wasted as well as she watched.

Yes... Molly was drunk beyond belief but while his consciousness had failed him, his subconscious was very active which perhaps was one of the reasons that Molly could so easily grip to this memory. This evening had been dream-like to his drunken state and it seemed that the only tangible memories were the ones that he shouldn't be able to fully recall.

It was amazing to be immersed in his old life. So many good emotions that filled his heart... so many meaningful thoughts as the dance ended and he found himself coming to Yasha's room where she lay on the floor, curled up with Kiri, both sleeping.

Was it possible to feel so loving towards people he had never actually met in this life? Even with a few glimpses, he felt a strong pull to his mind, a pull that urged him to cherish every one of these idiots. They were his idiots... they were The Mighty Nein.

Mollymauk could feel the elf tugging on his consciousness, trying to yank him away from this euphoria. She wanted information... something that he knew. There was a twinge in Molly's mind that warned him about her acquiring what she sought... he knew that nothing would come from her finding what she was looking for. He couldn't let her find this 'book'. He wasn't quite sure how to stop her either.

With a final jerk from the spell, Molly reluctantly left the memory of that wonderful evening in Hupperdook and allowed himself to be taken further into his mind. 

The memories that raced by him were more tangible now. The first taste of his old life allowed him to grasp snip-bits of his life. Hours on the road with his friends in the back of his cart, fights full of magic and swords with the occasional sarcastic remark and joke thrown in, and the restful nights by a crackling fire. 

The elf dug further, prying into life before Mollymauk had met Caleb, Nott, Fjord, Jester, or Beau. She found his days with the carnival, alongside Yasha. Becoming a performer, finding himself after his catatonic state. Finally, she pried into the earliest memory of that life... the memory of drowning in dirt and clawing his way out of his first grave.

"Twice," her voice murmured. "You've come back twice... and lost your memories both times."

"Get. OUT!" Molly yelled back.

She ignored him and tried to push further. Suddenly, both of them hid a solid wall. A tall block in his mind that prevented both of them from going any further. Molly felt it... the mental barrier separating him from whatever happened before he found himself in a grave for the first time.

A new name came to him... one he had been called by these two; Lucien.

He allowed himself to brush up against the wall out of curiosity and immediately recoiled when he sensed what lay beyond the wall.

Anger. Darkness. Wrath. Such powerful emotions and a haunting feeling that whatever came before... whoever he was before was not who he was now. Whoever this 'Lucien' was... he was not Molly, nor should the two ever meet.

But the elf kept digging, desperate to find her quarry. Molly knew he had to stop her... if she breached that wall...

If she found Lucien, she'd win... and something told him that he wouldn't just lose to these two assholes, he'd lose a battle to the first owner of his body. He'd lose himself.

Fuck. No.

Hell. No.

Go fuck yourself, absolutely not.

He wasn't losing himself again, it had happened too many times already.

No.

Suddenly, Molly had a body. He was standing before that mental barrier, looking at it and into some strange reflection. It was him... but it wasn't. The purple tiefling that looked back at him had shorter hair with no tattoo adorning his face. His red eyes held a hint of danger to them and his clothes were simpler. Few baubles hung from his horns and instead, he wore a sneer.

Lucien.

"Lucien," the elf called. Molly looked to his side and found the elf standing there, her hands on his mental wall as she tried to contact that tiefling that was staring right at Molly.

"You want to get out, Lucien... I feel it. You want to come back. You want your body back. Tell us where the book is and I'll let you out. I'll break down this wall and we can walk out of here as old friends..." the elf's words were clearly lies, with a solid line of truth.

Something in Molly wanted to take a chance... something in Molly wasn't Molly.

No.

No, Mollymauk would not allow this.

"Where's the book, Lucien?" the elf demanded, placing her hands on the clear mental barrier.

Was it a clear barrier? Was it even there... or was Molly looking into some twisted mirror. The lavender tiefling wasn't sure, but when he put his hands to his hips... he found his scimitars. He looked up at Lucien, realization in his face his gaze hardened.

Lucien couldn't come back.

Molly had so many unanswered questions but that was fine... they could wait... they never had to be answered. Molly had found the past he wanted to find. He had the truth he needed. Anything else was extra baggage, including Lucien and all the shit that came with him.

Molly didn't need Lucien... that tiefling had died long ago and fate hadn't allowed him another chance. Lucien had to die, once and for all.

Molly rushed forward, scimitars drawn, as he slashed out at the image of Lucien. There was no barrier between them anymore, there was nothing separating them.

"NO!" the elf screamed as Molly's blades ripped across his reflection's chest, drawing blood as they cut clean through his old life. He could feel it, the severing of ties as he cut away that weight.

The lavender tiefling stumbled back, stunned by Molly's blow, a hand on his bleeding chest. Lucien looked up, stunned for a moment as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Then, he smiled and nodded.

"Don't take shit from anyone, especially these two bastards," Lucien smirked at Molly. "That's all the advice I have for you, thief."

Then, he fell to his knees, his life and memories bleeding out and leaving Molly... leaving Molly forever. Lucien collapsed on the ground, covered in scarlet.

The elf screamed in frustration but Molly only smiled.

Suddenly, he was back in his cell and the elf kicked him in the stomach.

He gasped and took a moment to recover from the blow.

"What happened?" the half-elf demanded.

"He's as annoying as ever," the elf hissed. Her composed exterior faded as rage burned in her eyes.

"What happened!?" the half-elf ordered.

"He's somehow managed to block Lucien's life off from me," the elf answered in anger. "I need a moment to recollect my thoughts. We'll attempt this again,"

"Anytime you want, darling," Molly smiled, clearly hurting.

"Shut your mouth," the half-elf threatened.

"You know, with your attitude, I can't help but feel like your trying to compensate for something," Molly smiled, insinuating something less than pleasing for the half-elf who had no issue punching Molly for that remark.

Molly fell to the stone after that blow, feeling his dislodged jaw and grimacing.

"Molly? Are you there?" the familiar voice of Jester suddenly rang through Molly's head. Molly lay there for a moment, stunned as he tried to think of what he could say.

Before he had too long to collect his thoughts, he was kicked in the ribs again. He clenched his broken jaw and took the blow as gracefully as one in his position could. He allowed himself a pained chuckle as he glared up at the infuriated half-elf. The elf had stepped back and was watching the show, glaring at Molly with anger.

"Please Molly... answer... Molly? Are you alright? Are you alive?... You can respond to this message." Jester's voice was quivering with emotions and Molly knew he had to answer... they could find him and help him... maybe.

Mollymauk pushed himself to his hands and knees and looked at the stonework beneath him.

"Hey Jester," he managed in a wheeze. 

"What was that?" the half-elf challenged, kicking him again which made Mollymauk grunt. He managed to push himself to his feet and faced his attacker. Putting his hands up in an attempt at a defensive position.

"I'm alright, just got caught up in some bullshit," Molly muttered, praying the spell heard him.

"The hell was that?" the half-elf demanded. 

Molly flipped him off with a snide grin which infuriated the short-fused half-elf in a matter of moments. The first punch the tiefling avoided by some miracle but the second caught him on his already dislocated jaw, breaking it and sending him to the ground again.

He needed to tell them where he was... how to get here. Hell, he didn't even know where he was. They could figure it out, he had faith. He just needed to get them on the right path.

He was kicked in his face and he rolled off to the side, grimacing as his bruises ached and blood trickled out of his nose.

"Zadash..." he wheezed. Attempting to stand up once more. "Zadash."

The half-elf struck him on his exposed neck and something in Molly seized before his entire vision went dark and he collapsed on the stone floor, unconscious.

He hoped it was enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The half-elf, Tristan, and the elf, Vanissia, convened upstairs as they tried to consider their next move.

"I can' force him to remember something that he doesn't know," Vanissia explained darkly.

"Then this was all for nothing?" Tristan growled, walking over to a desk covered in papers.

"Seems so. It is another dead-end," Vanissia scowled.

"What the hell did he do with that book," Tristan growled to himself.

"We go for plan B, the tabaxi, she's our best chance," Vanissia sighed.

"She won't know much. Lucien kept this close, and obviously it worked," Tristan cried.

"The first time... how he came back the second time I cannot tell," Vanissia murmured.

"It doesn't matter. If he's of no use, then he's a liability," Tristan growled. "Gleam what you can from him and then kill him. We have no use for this 'Molly'."

Vanissia nodded in agreement, "There's no use for me to try and enter his mind again. I got all I could, this type of magic doesn't just get better the more you do it."

"That... I can do," she admitted.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sitting upon the house where Molly was held captive, a familiar green-cloaked diety sat watching the stars and looking at the moon.

"Well... ladies if we don't do something, I'm afraid we'll have to try and resurrect him a second time," The Traveler sighed. "Sounds like a pain for us, so it's in our best chance to give him some help."

He waited patiently for an answer.

"This, I can help you with," a soft voice agreed after a moment. The Traveler's verdant green eyes looked over at the picture of serenity behind him and smiled to see that familiar diety that stood beside him.

"Good... then let's go save this mysterious follower of yours," The Traveler chuckled.

"Yes... let's," the Moonweaver answered softly.

There was a loud squawk which made the gods look behind them at a strange rave perched in a nearby tree.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would show up," the Traveler smiled.

The raven looked to them all and clicked its beak before peering down at the city below.