The Dark Crystal (Anyone)

Well…he does have a point.

But I had made a promise. Giving up simply was not an option, even at this juncture. It did not matter that I did not know where I was, that I had no weapon to fight off the enemies that lay in the mountain, or that Khaz and the others would be near impossible to find. I would find some way to help them, and it did not matter what cost had to be paid. I had to.

“I do not understand what you mean by ‘home plane,’ but whether my flame is strong or not does not matter. The drow may do as they wish, but they will pay heavily for what they have done. Besides, Khaz and the others have a very distinct aura. In the presence of the drow, it will be even stronger. I have to at least try.” I turned back to the vast cavern, the deep darkness chilling me all the way through. Facing all of those horrors again to take a crazy chance was truly insane, but the man had forgotten one thing. My life was of no concern to me. If I could give it for an attempt to save another, that alone was more than I could hope for.

“I do not understand what you mean by ‘home plane,’" she said. Omentus blinked. For a little while, he was lost in his haze again. He finally came back when she said, "I have to at least try."

Having collected his things, he took a step forward. She doesn't know where she's from... she may not-- no, it is more likely that she does not know what she is. It was a fascinating contemplation, but he didn't have time to ruminate. "You should come with me," he said in his own voice. "You won't make it far enough to help them, if you go that way. If you really must try, then I can give you what you'll need to travel through a labyrinth of drow, and still be of help to them when you get there. I can't promise that you'll like it, but I can guarantee that you won't make it without my help." There was no sense in sugaring up his offer. No matter how it was put, this would sound like a deal from the devil.

On the other hand, from the sound of the girl's voice, she was convicted, if not desperate. With a demon he'd recently tamed waiting patiently nearby, it couldn't have sounded like an empty promise, either.

I looked the man over carefully now, strangely perturbed by the answer. Under normal circumstances, I simply would have asked him to take care of himself, to be away from the very danger that I was walking into. Heaven only knew that I wanted no more blood on my hands.

But this creature was no normal man. He kept referring to me as “girl,” a condescension that showed just how incapable I appeared to him. From the looks of him, he could not be much older than I was, but his demeanor, his voice, the way it kept changing…there had to be more than what only my eyes could perceive. It might go some ways to explaining all of the bizarre things I had seen since meeting him.

If that could have been called a meeting. The demon man had come from nowhere, suddenly appearing when a drow had been crushing the life out of me. He protected me from the surrounding enemies, healed my wounds in a terribly disturbing way, and then…then he had stabbed me himself.

Why?

Why had he taken me from Khaz and the others in the first place? It did not make sense that he would help me return back to the dire situation he had rescued me from. If he was trying to protect me— which made no sense in the first place— why had he taken me into the depths of the earth rather than the surface, where the power of the drow died in the sunlight?

“Your offer is kind, Sir, but I cannot accept it. Where I am going, none should follow.” My words sounded empty even to me, bolstered by the fact that I had backed away when speaking them. The unknown motive of the man and his “friend” frightened me, for their ominous presence implied something of darker nature. For all I knew, the man could be offering to take me deeper into the mountain, where he could do things as cruel to me as he had the deformed drow that still wriggled within my memory.

Taking another step back and a more defensive stance, I hardened the softness of my voice that had been the result of fear. “I think you may have underestimated my abilities, and you have no need to worry for me any longer. I am quite well.”

It wasn't often that Omentus made a decision he had not carefully measured beforehand, but he was getting pressed for time. The more resistant the faerie became to going with him, the more the apothecary feared he would need to bring her by force. As she was very valuable to him, hurting her was pretty low on his list of priorities. His face contorted into an expression of frustration, suppressed anger, and exasperation at the same time. He raised his left hand to about his chest, dropping the shirt and flask he clutched in it and made a short, strained sound. As soon as the flask cluttered on the rock at his feet, he glanced down in surprise.

As the apothecary knelt down, he took a long, calming breath and exhaled loudly enough to be heard. His red cloak covered his body as he knelt, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Finally, he said, "Look. I need you to come with me, and though you may not know it, you need to come with me. Despite how overjoyed I would be if I had underestimated your power and your abilities, I owned your powers not ten minutes ago." He stood up, pushing himself off from the ground with his left hand, grasping all of the dropped articles in his right hand and arm, which was situated against his body in a cradling fashion.

"As near as I can tell from your kind, there's something not right in your power. It's more destructive than it ought to be. Now, I'm an apothecary; it's my job to see to the health of others, and I've been doing my job for more than thirty years. Having wielded it myself, I know that you've got the potential to hurt a lot of lives, and I don't know what that change is going to mean for your lifespan. Moreover-" he stopped, biting his lip.

He looked to the side, and his eyes danced about uncomfortably. With a sharp sigh, he continued, but a little more shakily, "Moreover, I need you to come with me. Th- the same thing that's caused a change in you could save me... I, I made a mistake, somewhere, and I think you can help me fix it." He fidgeted, obviously ill-at-ease with his admission. Perhaps the worst part, to Omentus, is that he was telling the absolute truth, and he hated the idea of relying purely on another person for his own survival.

"You want to get back to your friends, great, but please. Please, let me see if I can help both of us, first. The city I'm going to is less than a half mile from here, anyway. There's a way out to the surface, there, and going overland will get you back to the crystal's chamber far faster than traversing the mountain will." He looked at Leonna, his eyes painfully honest and pleading.

"I'll do anything. I'll make armor, just for you, to accommodate your wings. I'll make you a new weapon, and a map, I'll brew more healing potion." He stopped and frowned, pulling out a tiny, jeweled white bottle from a pocket in his cloak. "You won't even have to travel there," he said, completely defeated. "You can use the other dose of my teleportation potion. All you have to do is envision where you're going, and drink it."


* * *

Dragonfire licked at Negaseus' underside, shriveling away the webbing that stuck him to the dragon's body. The beast's claws rent into his armor and scratched at his shell, and then he was thrown, thrashing, over the dragon's body. He landed on his back, and his opponent still had a grip on his gauntleted claw. Fighting to right himself for only a moment, Negaseus' frenzied mind decided it was better to make use of the current situation.

While Ren lunged down to bite the spider demon, the latter brought his webbing to bear. A stream of coldfire-laced webbing shot into the dragon's mouth and across his face, blinding his left eye as it hardened into a mess of thick strands. Half of the demon's legs inverted themselves in their sockets, and he gouged at the beast's underbelly with his other spear-like claw. He moved faster than the dragon, and his razor-sharp claws twitched and slashed furiously at his enemy's underbelly, legs and feet.

At the same time, Pharym and Canduth ground their feet into the ground and pulled sharply, heavily, on the strands of webbing that connected them to the stoneweb walkway that loomed over the dragon's head. With a mighty crack and a thunder-like boom, it fell, steered toward Ren's body by the familiar skill of the two suriliths.

Auauthia, the other surilith, lifted a ball into the air and threw it in Ren's direction. It fell short of the dragon, breaking open on the ground. From inside it, a tiny spider, invisible and undetectable, escaped and ran toward the Negaseus and Ren. Just moments later, Auauthia intoned the words of divine power, "Aylwa vami cuniue va," while spreading out a small collection of gemstones on the ground in front of her. The Spider Queen answered, delivering her favor to Negaseus in the form of a clinging web of magical armor and hardening his already formidable exoskeleton.

As the divine armor formed over Negaseus, the invisible familiar skittered away from him, and began to climb along the dragon's body. Between the rain of crossbow bolts that peppered his back, the dragon's thick scales, and the extensive spells that went into hiding the tiny creature from any form of detection, Auauthia's spider managed to climb all the way up to Ren's neck and hide between a set of bolts that had punctured his scales.

The surilith witch on the other side of the chamber smirked in her grotesque way, and uttered the words, "Hael, orit." The shape of her right claw changed drastically, becoming a chitinous hand and arm, with four fully articulating fingers ending in claws, and a thumb. She reached beneath her body and plucked a tiny blue-black gemstone off of a bed of webbing on the far end of her thorax. Holding the gemstone in front of her, she uttered the word of dark speech which made the fabric of the plane itself shiver in revulsion, "Ndethirangotun!" The gemstone flared bright blue, then vanished.

The effect was terrible to behold. A nova of sickly orange-black color, absolute corruption and evil, erupted from the body of the tiny spider on the dragon. The only other time the mountain had felt this spell was far away, when used on a demonic man who was, himself, a force of evil. The etherium-empowered vile word was at least three times as powerful as the first word, covered an area almost forty feet across, and was being used in the immediate vicinity of a creature who could probably not have been called evil. A creature who could harmonize in no way with the wicked dweomer that had been wrought on him. To make matters worse, the other demon, Negaseus, seemed to have been enlivened by the effect of vile word. Some of his wounds healed, and he became stronger again.


Qilintha knew a bad gamble when she saw one, and she was never a leader too prideful to know what it was time to cut and run. That had kept her alive plenty over her many years. Through the haze of the blossoming wave of corruption, she gave the nod to Auauthia. Responding, the demon retrieved two more gemstones from under her body.

The drow high priestess unsheathed the katana in her hand. The dark crystal was already lost; the child of her goddess would not be born through this medium. That did not mean, however, that the remains of the crystal were not still a source of great power, or a thing of great value. Akane's blade had been painted with the thin and sprawling image of a blade widow spider, the sign that it had been unhallowed by the priestess' magic. The priestess knelt down by the altar and slid Akane's point through the crystal. The dark presence inside the crystal pulsed once, then suddenly shone brilliantly in the room. Its radiance was as if all of the hope in the world had suddenly gone out.

The swathes of color in the crystal peeled back like the petals of a flower, revealing the form of a fetal goddess of liquid darkness, despair and worse things. She flowed into the altar, around the blade of the katana - further washing it in darkness and evil - and ultimately disappeared inside Qilintha. She gasped as the transfer became complete, and took a step back from the altar. With all but dregs of the crystal's power gone, only a soft glow pervaded from the stone. She withdrew the blade from it, and turned her attention back to the fight against the dragon.

OoC: Such peril!

BiC:

It was…difficult, to say the least. I was repulsed on a number of levels, and yet I felt pity for the man, as I unwittingly did for all those in need. He had stolen me away from my companions for his own gain, and drugged me into one of the worst nightmares I had ever had. It was embarrassing and chilling just to recall it! His talk of my catastrophic power— now that was a laugh. As if I had not known it was unusually destructive! There was nothing, absolutely no reason for me to help him!

The demon wanted to challenge him, wanted to simply take the potion he claimed would take me back to the others. There was no pity there, only anger, humiliation because of what this stranger had done. He had taken my power to use for his own purposes, and the demon wanted to make him pay. He had stolen everything.

But that was the demon. It was a force, which like my flame, I had learned to control. The larger part of me felt that unreasonable guilt, which sprang from the desperation of the man’s eyes and pierced directly into my heart. There was no way to numb that pain, to ignore the sharp stab that accompanied every thought to simply leave him. Selfish or not, it seemed that he, too, needed help, and if…and if the worst had already happened, this dark human being was all I had left. Besides, I could not blame him for the demise of anyone. He was not the drow. He had not captured and tried to sacrifice us. In all truth, it was most likely that he had saved my life, for even if I was still there now, could I…?

I fixed an austere gaze on the man, folding my arms defensively as if his pleas were nothing. This act alone almost made me cringe with guilt, but it helped to remind myself that this man was by no means helpless or innocent. “And what could you offer that I desire? My hopes are in vain and all is against me. I do not have the safety of my friends, nor the comfort of my staff, nor the light of the sun to provide any conceivable joy— it has all come to naught.

But I am not so wretched a creature as to lose all hope. If you are willing to help me recover those that I have lost, then I will consent to your desires.”

The faerie's eyes danced with thoughts he did not even want to know. It was probably better that he did not know. Ultimately, she responded with the same resignation that he had hoped for. It was, however, a harder one than he had expected. Eh, as long as the result's the same, who cares if I had the tone of the response wrong? It's not like this piece is critical to any other, he thought optimistically. His feelings, a mixture of relief and gratitude, showed in his expression. "Thank you," he said in earnest. "Thank you so much... I will not waste your time."

He put away each of the items he'd used in getting down here, and in the fight, back into his cloak, with three exceptions - he did not bother removing the cleats or the glove. He switched the copper ring on his finger, for the stone and metal ring. The paranoia ring, however, he placed on the the Jupiter finger of his left hand. In his vision, green flames appeared around the things that were hidden from him. These things done, he put his shirt back on. The simple act of putting his clothes back on did much for Omentus, making his appearance seem more human. He whistled, with an almost inaudible pitch.

Responding, the armor that rested in the earthen crevice slid across the ground. It came to a rest at Omentus' feet, and the latter knelt down to pick it up. "He's not a beast," Omentus said. "I know he looks strange, but he's a creature I.. er, found in a jungle city in the far south. The people there have something called lifeshaped magic. It's used to make creatures with specific purposes in life. This one's is armor, and he's usually rather content with his lot as my own." He looked over the piece in his hands, running the tip of his finger near each of the armor's cuts and bruises. "You hurt him badly," he commented with a frown. The creature made a very quiet noise while the apothecary looked him over, one distinctly similar to a whine. The man's lips pressed into a line, and his brow furrowed. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the creature.

Omentus looked down at himself. Already, his shirt was beginning to wet from the seeping blood of his injuries from the fight with the demon. He set his ungloved hand against the armor and incanted the words, "Tinsu mara fael." The armor's injuries slid off its body, across Omen's hand, and disappeared under his clothing. A moment later, he winced in pain as the many scrapes that the seromancer had split the injury into took root across his body. He gritted his teeth, but the armor was again in perfect health.

Omentus stood up, and bade the armor open on its sides. It moved in the fashion of sliding again, and donned itself over the man before suturing itself up with a fabric of webbing. Omentus lifted the living garment, adjusting it to be more comfortable. He paused for a moment, looking at Leonna, then at the dark tunnels which led to the city. "We'll be traveling through that tunnel-" he pointed out the one he spoke of, "-for about a half mile. It will open, close and develop deviations several times before we reach the city. Once we're past the beach, we'll be in the territory of the baen fuer'yon, which means 'fell beast' when translated from drow. It eats humanoids like you and I, but prefers the taste of drow over all other things. If we're lucky, it will be sated, or we just won't encounter it at all. If we're unlucky, I'll try to parley with it, and if that fails, then ... well, we'll see when we get there. I'm not sure yet. It hates the light, though, so if you can keep up a healthy glow, then our only concern should be being spotted by drow patrols. Again, though, the baen fuer'yon eats drow, so they generally don't patrol in this area. Their expansion hasn't officially moved out this far from the mountain, either.

Once we reach the city, we'll be further from danger than ever before. Well, ever since the drow first captured us, right? That doesn't mean that we'll be completely safe, but I think old wards are keeping the city safe from harm. I'll be able to set up my lab in a building there, and I have a few spells I can use to keep it protected from intruders." He glanced back at her, and his expression faltered. "I'm sorry, I'm asking so much of you, and it isn't really what you want. I know... I just, don't think there's any other way to help everyone, but there's still no consolation I've given you." He glanced down, and seemed to be searching for something. After a moment, he seemed to have found it. "The least I can give you is my name. My name is Omentus, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said.

What was there to say? I certainly had nothing to say. So repulsed was I by the sight of his creature that I could feel no remorse for it, nor any respect for the man who wore it. He already had admitted to his selfishness, providing me with nothing but this…this…

Was there truly any name for such a man?

And what was all this talk of baen fuer'yon and labs? Why did he need a lab in the depths of the earth? Why not simply take us where there would not be drow or fell beasts, to the surface above? Why not look for Khaz and the others first? Was his condition really all that life threatening?

I bit my lip, folding my arms again and wondering how on earth I had let all of this happen. It was certainly unwise to follow this Omentus when there was so little I knew of him, when he had the upper hand and certainly no reason to help me. There was too much to doubt, too little I knew, and almost nothing that I could do about it.

“Fine. Would you like to continue standing there, or shall we be on our way?” I made no effort to control my biting frustration, but I refused to be too soft. If Khaz and the others were ever going to be rescued, I would need to do all that I could, even if that meant I would have to negotiate with this creature named Omentus.

Khaz lay stunned on the ground for a few moments. His jaw hurt. It throbbed badly and sharp pains twinged through his neck that had been jerked roughly to the side by the blow. He wasn’t really sure what had just happened to him. The memory of the woman suddenly felt more like a very lucid dream that he had been suddenly punched out of … Wait a minute … Rontu had punched him!

He pushed himself up to find the bastard and yell at him that this was not the time to be fighting each other. The bursts of flames coming from Ren lit up the chamber enough for Khaz to see Rontu dueling with the beautiful drow female he had previously thought to only be a figment of his imagination.

Oh … well, that changed things. He still didn’t understand exactly what had just happened, but they were once again fighting for their lives.


Rontu didn’t wait for a pause or to stare her down for very long. He wanted to take advantage of the few things he had going for him. One was that female drow always underestimated their men. He wanted to kill her before she realized exactly what his capabilities were. It was his only element of surprise. Secondly, being a warrior had its advantages over the wizarding and mage-like classes. It usually took a moment for the mage to whisper a verbal incantation or gesture the casting with their hands. He didn’t want to give this woman any time to cast any spell. As a priestess, that would be her biggest strength and he wanted to keep her away from it as much as possible. So he would just have to keep coming at her, not giving her a pause for anything.

He had fought clerics before. Once, his mentor had shut him in a room with a handful of angry drow women. Angry because Rontu had managed to become the first male to ever attain the Scarlet name in the Drow Empire. It was nearly blasphemy for such a thing to happen. Sheinron had said it was to test his abilities and his “will to survive”. It was just one of the many tests and horrible experiences Sheinron had put him through during his training. He preferred to avoid reminiscing about those times too much.

Needless to say, he had killed all of them, though he had been much younger then and less experienced than he was now. He had nearly died during that test. As was the experience with most of the things Sheinron did to him for training purposes. All so painful and cruel it seemed more like torture than training. When he remembered those things it wasn’t hard to remember how much he loathed that man. Of course … it had all been his own choice in the first place.

He wished he had his sword right then. Verta Sael matched the most effective combat style he knew. This arming sword and knife did not even compare. Still, it had to do. He had to live through this. Like another test of will to survive. He had to make it work somehow. He was at least faster with the arming sword than he was with the lengthy katana. Sheinron had had Verta Sael altered to be heavier than it initially was. Because of the dragon steel it had been a very light blade, but heaviness matched the sword style much better. This was because it flowed with the momentum and weight of the blade.

He still had the range of his arms that where long and the arming sword would do for now. He could still perform the flowing movements of the nameless style Sheinron had taught him. So he whipped around with his sword, sending the priestess back with hesitation. It was hard to get in close with this style, it was meant to keep others back. The priestess was bound to be more informed about magic than sword play, so it would be more difficult for her to spot the opens that were indeed in this sword style.

It was always the vertical attacks that left him open and the more vulnerable to attacks. All the time Sheinron would tag him by side-stepping to the left or right when Rontu performed the verticals too much. They were easy to dodge if one saw them coming. Sheinron said to only do them when he was sure the enemy wouldn’t see it.

He played with her for a while, this was to ensure that she would go for the opening he was about to initially give her. Of course, she did fairly well against him. His sword never struck her once yet. She was a priestess and not to be underestimated. She was probably years and years older than him and more experienced, even for sword play. She had survived this far in drow society. That had to count for something. Not just any warrior would take her down.

When he let her bash his knife out of his hand, and her sword blocked his to the side, she came in with her other hand. There was a singular metal little claw on her index finger, reaching down to her second knuckle. Poisoned no doubt. Rontu threw his weight forward, lunging to meet her. His head slammed into hers, and his now empty hand grabbed her wrist and he quickly danced around her to twist it around her back and—snap!

She erupted with a scream of rage and pain. Rontu didn’t pause to give her time. Cold and without hesitance was their way. Never give a drow a chance. He drew back his blade to render her with it for the first and last time. He remembered clearly how much he hated priestesses and his gold eyes seemed so cold they burned.

The priestess gasped and snarled out a twisted word in their tongue, her lungs still strained from her scream. A shiny ethereal spot suddenly glowed in the air before her. She reached her other hand for it, and the light suddenly enveloped her, pulling her in. As she went she dragged the metal claw on her finger down Rontu’s wrist and hand. Once she had passed through, the portal vanished and left Rontu in darkness.

He let out a growl of frustration. Damn it. She got away. But she wasn’t really gone. She would be back and more prepared and pissed off. Female drow always hated it the most when a mere male managed to harm them. Rontu had seen it time and time again. It damaged their pride.

He suddenly felt the hair stand on the back of his neck, and he whipped around to see Khaz. But instantly he realized it wasn’t Khaz. He stood staring at him with a relaxed and somewhat placid expression which was almost bored. His dark blue eyes had become fathomless and devoid of warmth and feeling. A depth that did not exist in Khaz as much.

“Took you long enough,” Rontu growled.

Takai tipped his head to the side slightly, expression still calmly vacant of any human emotions.

“Sorry. It took a while to convince the fool. He can be quite stubborn when he wants to be.” Takai’s voice caused a strange shiver down Rontu’s spine. His voice was soft like velvet and strangely pleasant at the same time it sent an odd shiver for others. One was never too sure whether it was out of pleasure or fear. There was an inhuman quality about it. Too perfect and alien. And Takai never spoke very loudly. In fact, he was always very soft and quiet and yet still managed to capture another’s attention perfectly. He had an effortless gift at obtaining another’s listening ears.

“Ren needs backup. Can you handle the woman on your own?”

“Yes,” replied Rontu curtly, for that he needed his full attention. The good thing about Takai was that he somehow managed to be simple despite having a very complex mind. After Rontu answered, Takai simply vanished, being much too fast for him to see.

He looked down at his hand with the red bleeding scratch the woman had given him. Such a thing disquieted him. He was sure it was poisoned. He had a resistance to many poisons known and popular among the drow. Again, Sheinron would poison him with small amounts at first. When that had no effect on him anymore, he would up the dosage. Just another pain-filled experience of his training.

It was still troublesome because if the poison was strong enough it could still very well kill him in time, and he had no idea how much longer they would be stuck down here in this dark hole in the mountain. He had no idea when he would able to seek treatment for such a thing. Of course, first he would have to survive this priestess and getting out of this crystal chamber alive to find out.

Seeming to follow the same thought pattern, Rontu’s eyes jerked to movement he saw out of the corner of his eyes. A dead man on the ground was getting up, a couple yards or so away from Rontu, where him and Khaz had been hiding and fighting earlier. Slowly and with awkward clumsy movements, the drow stood up. Eyes open, vacant in a different way than Takai’s were. There was no mind or presence behind these eyes.

And then another rose with him. Finally a third and they came toward him now. Rontu gave another disgruntled snort. Damn it. Her escape had given her a chance to cast, of course. The very thing he had been trying to avoid. And now he wasn’t sure where she was, but she had to be close enough to animate these corpses. And these corpses were just a distraction surely, to give her time to do something much more foul.

And zombies were so troublesome. It took quite a bit of damage to take them down. A very big fat distraction. He remembered this from his days as a Dread Fang. Whenever it came to punishing a house it was the Dread Fangs who went in, which would happen if the house had failed in an attack on another house. It was their law. If you failed at getting away with a crime, you were punished. If you did not attempt to take advantage of another, you were punished. If you succeed, it was likely you would gain more of Lolth’s favor. If any witnesses were left alive from an enemy house, they would go to the imperial army, which dealt out “justice” for the houses.

The empire would then completely exterminate the house that had attacked the other. The Dread Fangs poured in with demons and spiders alike to kill all that dwelt inside the house. Sometimes the house would try to defend itself, but it would always fall to the might of the imperial army. Children and adults alike were slaughtered. Though, Rontu had always left quickly when it came to the children. Trying to flee the settlement before he would have to hear their screams. Trying not to let anyone see how much it disturbed him. Such things as pity and mercy were not accepted in their world.

He hated this all so much. He hated being here in this dark cavern with his people. Forcing him to remember everything again. The memories flooded with ease into his mind. Softly touching it enough not to completely distract him from fighting. It seeped into his body where it remembered everything too. The movements, the ache of muscles strained during combat, the scars left from injuries gained. The cold in his empty heartless chest. The ice that froze his heart away during those times, slowly. Each time he killed. Each time Sheinron tested him again and again. Each time he denied his heart, because it all hurt too much to feel. Because he could not gain what he had desired most with a caring heart.

If matters could not get any worse, a halo of blue fire flared around one of the corpses’ heads. The head twisted and morphed, transforming into the head of a spider with powerful mandibles. As the blue light faded great claws burst out of the dead man’s chest, snapping and pinching in the air. And then another transformed, a husky female chuckle tickled Rontu’s ears as the violet light that limned the corpse, illuminating the eight tentacles that writhed as it oozed from the body.


Ren got a mouth-full of that disgusting, cold webbing that went straight into his open mouth and across one of his eyes. It stung with bitter cold. And other sharp pains erupted around his underside. The spider was slicing around his belly and legs, right through his hard scales and into his flesh. Ren screamed his roar again, somewhat muffled by the webbing in his mouth and over his face, filled with even more burning fury. He attempted to slam his feet down on the spider, to cause whatever damage was possible. Dragonfire burned in his throat and erupted through his mouth. The flames came out a different color than the flames that had erupted around his body earlier. Instead of ordinary red flames, these were white and burned much hotter.

And then the walkway above him came crashing down upon his skull. The blow forced him to his knees and pain throbbing through his head, all still with the vicious little demon underneath him. And then something horrible was happening. Pure dread and despair and cold wrongness seemed to suddenly burst at the back of his head. It seeped deep into him touching all parts. Many of those being old parts. Parts of him that had sneered once at the powerless Hylians he had slaughtered in Kakariko village. Parts that rejoiced at how their powerlessness had made him powerful. And at the same time it had disgusted him and how he hated them and their helplessness, their screams of pain and pleas. They were weak and disgusting. Disgusting little bugs that couldn’t even defend themselves.

And he felt sick as this part of him suddenly seemed to creep back in from the dark reaches of himself that he had banished it to. With it came the fear that he would be powerless again. That these damn spiders would beat him down and he would be unable to defend his family’s honor. To retrieve his family’s sword from that damn woman. That shame and helplessness would be all that he would know.

“Child, do not resist the pain. To resist only causes more pain. Do not resist—Accept. And let the pain burn through and transmute you anew.” Thael’s voice boomed through him and suddenly all his words seemed to make sense. The pain was still there, even in Thael’s presence in his mind that usually caused such calm, but there was tranquility still. In the calm, he did not resist the burning pain of his soul. And burn it did, it felt as if his soul were suddenly aflame.

White fire wreathed the dragon who stood fully again. He felt the pain in his wounds and they burned as well, white fire flaming up from the gashes instead, springing up from his spilt blood. This was the true power of fire.


Don’t make me do this! Khaz cried to Takai as they neared Ren’s battle ground.

“This is the only way to have any chance at surprising it.” That was true. Takai couldn’t mask his overwhelming aura when he was in complete possession. The only way he could hide it was when Khaz was in possession. So he was now forcing Khaz to get closer and closer to the spider demon whom had been casting a number of troublesome spells. She really was the number one threat in the entire room. Though he also felt it when the drow woman absorbed the energy of the crystal into herself. That could become a problem later …

Oh my gods—It’s huge! Takai, don’t make me, Khaz continued to whimper as they neared the beast.

“Stop whining,” Takai snapped at him impatiently. “This time you’re doing what I say.”

They were just yards from the spider now. Takai forcing Khaz’s limbs along. He first wanted to get its attention while Khaz was in possession, and then surprise it.

While the battle of the dark crystal chamber raged on around her, the demon witch chanted in the haunting tongue of arcane spellcraft. She gestured in front of herself with her hands, tracing a double sigil in dim blue light with the etherium crystals she grasped. Out of the side of her vision, a young boy approached her.

He had no nerve to speak and seemed to be advancing on her with the intent to kill, but had no knowledge of how to start. The witch surmised that he was proficient in combating mortals, and was simply in horror of such a creature as a surilith. He had every right to be. Crooking her body, she shot a gob of liquid webbing at him. He nearly had enough time to react, but found himself engulfed in the stuff and flung over the edge of the walkway. She went back to chanting her spell, reasserting her focus on the demanding gestures and channeling processes necessary to cast such a spell. "Abroa tal fran isgh brontauuncivk orro," she incanted. One of the etherium gemstones in her hand shone brilliantly and reported in a puff of smoke as she finished the spell, intensifying its effect.

Pleased as she was with herself, Auauthia did not have time to see what effect she had wrought on the surrounding mountain. As she retrieved another etherium jewel for her next spell, a torrent of sharp but watery darkness torrented across her body from the left. Around her, and indeed around the mountain for nearly a mile in every direction including up, the mountain was steeped in umbra beyond the pall of the mortal world. Physically, the features of the mountain grew twisted and elongated, and many new stalagmites suddenly sprung up from the ground where there were none before. The supernatural shadows that pervaded the mountain abolished any true darkness from existing there, replacing it with a thick gloom that grasped at the body like a deep mire of mud, making it almost four times as hard for any creature to move through its thickness.

Any creature except for the shadow guardians, that is. These six creatures were inextricably linked to the demishadow plane that Auauthia had transmuted the mountain into. They could move through its twisting spaces and thick shadows more easily than fishes through water, and their link to the mountain made them unusually stronger. Almost naturally, Auauthia had chosen Negaseus to be the first of the shadow guardians. Qilintha was the second, the priestess fighting with Rontu was the third, and the final three guardians were certain other drow throughout the mountain, who had been pre-ordained by Qilintha during the command that the priestess had given the demon witch.

The forest outside the mountain became a frightening place where a canopy of rotting leaves blocked the sun and all the trees were strangely twisted. The shadows in areas of area with light undergrowth grew thick with shadows, becoming as impeding as heavy undergrowth, instead. To make matters worse, places which already had heavy undergrowth began to actively try to grab and entangle travelers.

The surface of the mountain itself became a place of jagged peaks, slippery slopes, and howling winds. Simple climbs became at least twice as difficult, and falls from a climbs, or loud noises, gained a chance as significant as 1 in 10 of starting avalanches. The air grew thinner, too, all altitudes effectively 10,000 feet higher than they really were.

To make matters even worse, some of the areas (mostly places that would otherwise be deep shadows) inside this new shadowy landscape of the mountain and the forest around it became portals to or from the plane of shadow itself. In that gloomy plane, creepy and twisted monsters live throughout. Since the worldstuff of the plane of shadows seemed to be stitched together from all the shadow in our own world, traveling across it can be weird - sometimes getting from one place to another can happen in a tenth of the time, sometimes it can take ten times as long.



Clawing sheets of shadow ripped deeply into her carapace, causing her to bleed heavily. The storm went on, gripping her in its undulant folds as it sliced a leg and most of her spinnerets from her body. She stumbled away from her assailant, cursing in the Stygian tongue. As she rounded herself to look at him, she saw the same boy she shot off the ledge just moments before, but his fear was gone. Another leg fell from her body and a burst of shadows struck her underbelly, causing Auauthia to stumble away and drop the etherium jewels. They clattered quietly on the stone ledge as they landed.

She concentrated, calling out to Zahpunhesiel, a demon who was indebted to the surilith witch. Normally, she wouldn't have called on his aid for help with a simple mortal, but she had been given Qilintha's command. As Auauthia retreated backward, Zahpunesiel appeared from the space where she stood.

He took the form of a tall, hairless man with pale skin, featureless and solidly colored white eyes, and no mouth or ears to speak of. Light grey, silken wrappings were bound about his body in a fashion like clothing, with gauzy white drapes of a thinner material shrouding his torso and hanging from his arms. Of his skin that was shown to the world, he glowed with an unearthly white light. More than a dozen glowing, transparent, tentacle-like wings sprouted from his back, shining brightly at their tips as they writhed through the air, reaching up to nine feet away from him. For twenty-five feet around him, the shadows of the mountain, and the shadows of Takai, were rejected in favor of the paranormal light which he radiated. With his right hand, he drew a shortsword of white light out of a sheath on his waist, and said to the boy in front of him in a quiet and stern voice, "Creature of darkness and shadows, hereupon your time ends."

Auauthia vanished, and appeared again on the other side of the chamber, two floors up and on the underside of the stone ledge rather than atop it. The demonic witch began to chant again, waving her hand with two etherium jewels in front of her. Moments later, one of the gemstones in her hand flashed brilliantly.

A thick, strong rime of ice appeared on the floor, in the center of the chamber. It surged outward and covered every surface of the caverns for a thousand feet in every direction, with the sole exception of the platform atop the dark crystal where the high priestess stood. As the ice appeared, it froze around the feet of anyone too slow to respond, holding them to the ground. As a chilling fog began to set in to the dark crystal chamber and the myriad tunnels radiating outward from it, tens of thousands of razor-sharp, icy spikes and shards erupted from the rime of ice. Most of them were only fractions of an inch tall, but most were as much as five or six feet tall and up to two feet wide, and a very deadly few were enormous - more like obelisks than shards, standing as tall as ten or twelve feet.

The icy shards shot from the ground with wicked force, impaling and slaying most of the remaining drow in the room in an instant. The shards did not simply stick up from the floor. Many of them shot out from the walls, the ceiling, and on the sides and the bottom of the stoneweb walkways that hung over the chamber floor. Some passages of the drow mountain were made nearly impassible for the thickness of the icy rime and keen-edged shards that pervaded them.

Naturally, no ice formed in the twenty-five feet around Zahpunesiel, creating a tight arena around the light demon and Takai. Similarly, the priestess that Rontu faced had managed to dodge around and perch herself atop a diagonally jutting shaft of ice. It wasn't all horrible, though. At least the arrows had stopped raining down on Ren.

* * * * *
* * * * *

Omentus worked diligently, but his brow remained furrowed. He and the woman had arrived at the tiny, beige stone building twelve minutes ago. The way had been difficult, as he had needed to re-convince her to stay with him on two separate occasions, but at least they hadn't run into the baen fuer'yon or some wayward drow patrol. His workspace was more than adequate, really, with three stone tables and several yards of counter space. The room had a set of windows, but they were now covered with the thick, wiry vines and brightly colored flowers of the harvest vine, thus keeping in most of the light that his work produced.

The faerie woman lay down on the longest of the tables in the most comfortable position possible, held up by the meager cushions that Omentus had managed to produce. A seromantic glyph glowed on the table beneath her, negating her remarkable resistance to the drugs that the seromancer used to keep her under. He had used his unique lifeshaping magic to painlessly open the girl's chest cavity, but without the help of whatever energy was normally coursing her, Omentus had found his subject to be surprisingly delicate. It made the work delicate. Since she went under, Omentus had used Alrohir's version of the Wound Transfer spell to absorb a set of memories from the subject. Her name was Leonna, and her life was mostly unremarkable, if tragic. There was nothing there that he needed to be aware of medically, however. All he had to do was work.

* * *

The minutes had passed slowly. Vamet had not returned with the sheaf of leather he'd asked for, but that was fine. Cows were probably at least fives minutes away, even for a surilith. The faerie's condition was stable, and Omentus was ready to apply the prepared blood spiders to her heart. He wrapped the slowly beating organ with the same brassy metallic substance as was on his chest and arm. It reacted to the touch of flesh, becoming soft and elastic, while still as durable as metal should be.

Next, he slowed her heartbeat further with a very small dose of adicep, and inset the first spider. Its capillary teeth sank into the muscle of her heart, and a touch of magic sealed it into place. The second spider went in next, but this one needed fine tuning once in place, and it wasn't something that could be done after healing the heart. He frowned, but continued working at the same steady pace.

* * *

The spiders were done. The first spider, containing a carefully tempered mix of Arienna's blood and Ceriwa's blood, was set to begin disseminating three microliters of blood into her heart per second for two hours in just eighty seconds, after which the dose would drop down to a remedial figure from that point on. The second spider, containing a mix of Nesconx's blood and Isalie's blood, was set to shut off the first spider and release four milliliters of blood into her heart whenever her adrenaline, platelet and endorphin levels reached a certain threshold. He set a finger against her heart and chanted the words, "Tinsu mara fael," just as Vamet came in through the door. The tiny wounds on Leonna's heart slid across his hands and came to rest on his shoulders. He reversed the magics done on her chest cavity, sealing it up as though he'd never been there at all.

Next, he used the same magic to remove the flesh around her forearms, thighs and ribs. He peeled back her bones, and inset the marrow inside them with a number of flexible, brassy apparatuses. In the marrow of her sternum, he set a violet crystal tab into the plate of the bone outside the marrow, and sealed her up again.

* * *

Now fully healed, the faerie woman lay on the table. Omentus was waiting for the drugs to work their way out of her system at the normal human rate, a thing which had been modified by seromantic circle that still lay beneath her. He wasn't just sitting around, of course. Presently, he was working on the same piece of armor that he'd promised Leonna just forty-one minutes earlier.

The armor was a jerkin with elbow lengths sleeves and hybrid origin. Partly, it was animal leather, but it was also vine leather, with invisible reinforcements of green wood. The armor wasn't dead; it had been treated with special drugs and certain godsbloods, mostly Arienna's and Eredaigh's. This meant that the wooden slats that reinforced the armor were living wood, and that they would heal over time, but grew as slowly as a well-tended bonsai tree. A number of special seeds based on the harvest vine were implanted into the flesh of the shirt along its shoulders and hips, allowing them to grow and cover the rest of Leonna's body with tough vines, then molt and start over again with enough time to recover. He had crafted a pair of slits into the back of the armor to accommodate her wings, as well as two slips of cloth that would protect their bases when she wore the wings out.

* * *

The girl was waking up, but she was still in that funny stage of it. Although her body was awake, and her eyes were open, she wasn't near conscious yet. Glancing over at her from his work on her new map, Omentus couldn't help but chortle when he noticed the trail of drool on her chin. She was looking about the room slowly and dumbly. He was certain she hadn't even noticed she was awake yet.

He didn't have enough time to make a proper map. Ironically, it was faster to make a magical one, using a few of the spells and arcane processes he knew from his earlier days in magic, while he was still working on the fundamentals of seromancy. He used the blood of Alrohir and Penrimaglos in the map's creation, and had inked a set of circles, arcs and runes deep into its vellum before doubling the sheet. When Leonna opened this map to look at it, it would draw itself, revealing the area she wished to see, in very great detail, and in the scale she wanted to see it in. The map itself was eighteen inches high, and two feet wide. Being made of thick vellum, it was also very durable. Further treatment had also proofed the map against damage from heat, fire and water and other such hazards, making the vellum sheet a valuable object even if it didn't make its own highly detailed and accurate maps on command.

Leonna blinked and sat up. Omentus glanced at her; she seemed a little more lucid. "Vamet," he said, "go outside and wait for my word." The demon spider obeyed, leaving the room through the door on the north wall. "Take it slowly, Leonna. I suspect you'll be quite tired until you're off that sigil, but everything is fine. The procedure went along without a single problem."

OoC: That was so... evilishly beautiful :'o

BiC:

"Pro..cee...dure?" I blinked in confusion, my sight disconcertingly blurry. Though I had repeated the syllables to make more sense, they were entirely meaningless to me. Everything was meaningless and incomprehensible. I could not tell what time of day it was, nor where I was, or who had spoken. It was a soft voice-- I liked that. As I focused a little harder, I saw that it must have come from some dark blob over in the corner of the strange room, and when I strained even harder, I saw that it was moving.

What had it said again? To take it slowly? Oh yes, it was right, I was very tired. My limbs were heavy even as I had sat up, and my blurred vision struggled to stay alert. I honestly wanted to go back to sleep again, to fall back into the black abyss that did not have leaden arms and tired breaths. Why had the blob awakened me when I felt so tired? Maybe I was still dreaming, though I could not recollect ever falling asleep...

Slowly, however, I was becoming aware of a new sensation in my body. It was this that kept me from simply falling back down again, that urged me to pay attention to it instead of drowsily looking over the room. Inside of my chest, I could feel an emptiness, a lack of air that made it hard to breathe. This emptiness was in the rest of me, too, making my limbs reluctant to obey and my head heavy, for there simply was no energy there. I felt drained, almost painfully so, but all of this was fairly numb, as was my mind. It was mixed with an even stranger feeling that lingered in my heart and chest, as well as other various parts of me. Oh, it was not painful, merely odd, a soft pressure and gentle soreness that was not native to my body.

And then I felt the cold. At first, it was almost impossible to detect, but it was very quickly becoming bothersome. It pricked at my skin unpleasantly, making me shiver. I curled my legs up against my chest, resting my head on my knees to protect my chest from the chill. This movement alone took great effort to accomplish, and it happened slowly. Even as I did this, the cold became more prominent, making me whimper. I closed my eyes, trying to tune out these invasive sensations, and forced my lazy tongue to speak.

"I want to sleep..."

She sounded so defeated, it was pitiable. Even a man like Omentus had compassion, and a large part of him wanted to let her sleep, but he crossed the room to her table nonetheless. He laid a hand on her shoulder. It was warm, and gentle. "You made me promise, Leonna," he said. He touched the glyph beneath her body with his other hand, abjuring its magic. The faerie girl's natural astral energies reblossomed in her. Omentus took a warm sheet from the counter nearby and laid it over the girl, covering her body. "It's time to get up... we have much that needs to be done."

The apothecary took a tiny bottle out of the pack on his hip, and set it beside the faerie. "Drink this, it will make you feel better," he told her. Next, he crossed the room, and began to work on the armor again - touching it up, brushing the edges and rechecking the stitches. "Your clothes are in the basket on the right of the table," the seromancer said. "Let me know when you're feeling more awake." He paused for a moment. Letting his humanity show, he asked her, "Would you like some water?"

Spider noticed his approach and shot blobby webs at him. Takai forced Khaz’s body to keep from dodging it. The mass struck them and they toppled over the walkway edge. The shadows around them suddenly ripped all the goo away and caught Takai in his fall. He felt as magic stirred the air and twisted the surroundings. She had managed to cast another spell, but that mattered little. She would be dead soon. Just as she finished her spell, he sent his shadows up to tear into her. They also set him back on his feet on the walkway, to watch as the shadows tore her limbs off. Very strong shells these demons had, but his shadows never seemed to have issues with tearing any kind of material apart for him.

As a burst assaulted her underside, the spider stumbled, dropping gems she seemed to have been grasping. They had been enhancing her magic all this time, from what Takai could gather. His shadows scooped these up for him and dropped them in his outstretched hand. He tucked these away for safe keeping.

Takai looked up just to see the spider vanish from sight. A teleportation. She was on the other side of the room now. Takai was about to sigh, how troublesome this was to have to chase the b**** around the room. But then a man was left in her place. The tall man’s presence dispelled Takai’s shadows from all around them, and for the first time since they had come to this dark hole in the mountain, Takai’s eyes widened. His lungs closed in on themselves. Fear squeezed his heart and throat closed.

Tall, pale, and blank white eyes gazing back at him.

That was all he could see of the man’s features anymore. Everything else faded out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in.

A man. Tall, pale, featureless white eyes, and a face void of life. A face that hung limply on a head of white hair. Black clothes draped on his tall and thin body and a strange rod of silver in his hand that hung limply at his side. Men with black skin and white hair in his background.

Father’s head.

It fell from his shoulders. On the ground. His green eyes, green like Leita’s, stared at him. Now vacant. Empty like the pale empty man, who seemed to spread his void around him with every step. Sucking everything in through his white eyes.

His mother screamed out. “TORI!”

Light. Shouts of pain from the strange men. His mother telling him to run. Only then had he torn his eyes away from his father’s. Grabbing Leita’s arm, he tugged, almost dragging her for she had been sobbing too hard to move at first. No thoughts. His head was empty and his body simply moved. He heard the men chasing after them. One of them grabbed Leita. She screamed. He grabbed onto the man’s arm, like a leech. And soon the man let go and fell to the ground. He yelled for Leita to run. She hesitated. He screamed for her to run again. She turned and ran. The other men grabbed him, he grabbed them back. Soon they were yelling commands, saying to not let him touch them, as both men fell to the ground unconscious.

Mother. He had to go back and help mother. He didn’t want her to become like father. Empty. He ran past the men, the shadows around them leapt up and wrapped around their limbs, entangling their legs. He ran back to where mother was still fighting the men.

But the white man caught him. He grabbed him by his wrists, not letting him touch him. He flailed his legs at him, for the man had lifted him into the air. His short legs daggled. He kicked at the man’s chest. The man didn’t react.

“NO! No, don’t hurt him!” his mother had cried out. “Please, if you let him go, I will not fight. Take me, leave my boy. Please, please …”

And then she screamed. The black men surrounding her. Consuming her. They were laughing, jeering. And she was screaming, screaming.

He had killed her.

Takai collapsed to his knees. Mother screaming in his head. Wailing, wailing. Flashes of what the drow did her penetrated his thoughts. And he fainted at that, leaving only Khaz behind to whimper on the ground, hands clasped to his ears, nails digging into his own flesh.

He couldn’t breathe. He just kept inhaling and inhaling, hyperventilating on the ground before the man. It was going to kill him, but he didn’t really mind. He wanted him to. He wanted him to make him empty too. To making him nothing. Like his father. Would it be quick like that? Or would it be horrible and long like with mother?

And Leita. What about Leita?

Leita would be alone. She would have no family anymore.

No, it had been a promise. Never in words, but it had been a promise he made to her.

Khaz remembered standing on the railing of the balcony looking down. A light warm breeze combed through his hair and breathed against his skin. The sky was all blood and fire in the sun set of the desert. He stared at it for a time and then he looked down at the ground, at his fate. So far away, but it would catch him soon.

He felt her more than heard her approach. Leita stood in the balcony entrance staring through strands of silver hair with emerald-green eyes, still red from the crying. She walked quietly toward him, and more tears leaked out her tired weary eyes and trickled down her pale skin. It was so quiet. It seemed as if the whole house was dead. As if all the feelings of before died with Sori. Now it was only them and the wind.

More tears dripped off her chin.

She reached a hand out. It was steady despite the yearning that filled her eyes with such desperation. She reached up to him, not taking her eyes away from his. He stared at her, never glancing at her hand.

“Please …” she whispered. “Don’t leave me here. I can’t d-do it alone. I can’t …” Her voice shook even if her hand didn’t. “I need you … S-so i-if you have to go … take me with you …”

Khaz stared at her and finally at her hand.

He could use it either to come down or pull her up with him.

He twisted his foot around on the railing so that he faced her. Tears finally broke the surface and glistened in his eyes, vision blurring. He took her hand and stepped down, pulling her into a hug. Leita clutched him back, and they both fell to their knees, crying.

It was cold, ice surrounded him and the pale man in a ring. The memory sent a strange calmness through him, tears still trickling down his face. His breath puffed out before him in a silver mist. He was breathing.

Ren and Rontu. He couldn’t just let them die either. They were all each other had. He felt the gems in his pocket against his leg. He stood, his hand sinking into his pocket to grasp a gem. He sprinted to the edge and chucked it toward the dragon with all his might and cried out as loud as his throat and lungs could permit.

“REN! TAKE IT!”

Takai would not wake up. So as he turned to face the pale man again, his body shook. His lungs were closing in on him again. He didn’t dare look the man in the eyes a second time. It would only send him back. Takai was not here to fight for him, so what could he do against this white demon?


Shadow and ice and spikes of stone all twisted and formed around Ren. But even where the cold spikes jabbed against his feet, white fire sprouted from where the pain blossomed in his body. He heard Khaz’s voice clearly as he shouted. His great clawed hand reached out a grasped the tiny stone flung to him by his companion. He didn’t even seem to need to think about it anymore. As he crashed the gem it also dissolved, hot bubbling power ignited in his chest and erupted through his mouth—almost forcing its way. It had to get out. It came out white and burning several times hotter than before, turning the webs that remained in him into ash. The white flames in his wounds and around his body burned higher.

The fire that spouted out his mouth bursting and licked all around the spider below him. His claw still gripping the thing’s limb, his other hand swiped in with the fire to rip its abdomen open.


The only thing about fighting the dead was that it did not require as much finesse. They weren’t graceful things themselves. But the tentacles and pinchers might make up for that which they lacked. Rontu did not charge into the three zombies. In fact, he ran from them. Sprinting, his eyes scanned around, looking for the priestess. He didn’t want to fall into any trap she could muster. He didn’t want to let the minions distract him from her. If he charged right in …

His search wasn’t going well, and the dead men were following shortly after him. Just because they were dead didn’t mean they were slow. But then he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He swung his arming sword with all the strength that he could muster into the first zombie, the only one that hadn’t been altered. It ran right into his sword due to his sudden stop and the fact that it couldn’t slow itself in time. His blade sliced straight through his gut, chopping him in half.

Just as the dead drow fell to pieces onto the ground, the body exploded. Rontu had already been turning to run. He remembered this spell too. He had timed it in attempt the blast would also hit the other two, but they had stopped running before the third. It had been a ploy. She knew what he would do. The blast knocked him tumbling forward, scorching the back of him and singeing his hair.

Matters got worse again, when suddenly the chamber seemed to shudder and twist all around him. It twisted and elongated, a thick gloom setting all around him that made his body feel it was stuck in mud. Stalagmites jabbed out from all around. He forced himself to stand. He looked back to find this gloom seemed to slow the other two down as well.

However, he was then stabbed in the bicep by the damn woman from before, who laughed an incantation in his ear. Lips rubbing against his earlobe. He felt his energy drain. He felt more exhausted. The gloom seemed to weigh on him more. She had ran off through it again, moving as if it were normal flat ground before Rontu could run after her. A small vial with a needle fell to the ground at his feet and smashed open, splattering his blood on his boots.

Yet again the chamber altered itself. Ice grew and coated everything like sharp and spiky fungus and mold. Rontu was forced to avoid the great spikes of ice that jutted out from the ground all over with what strength and mobility he had left. He forced his legs with all his strength but it felt like when one tried to run in their dreams, like their limbs were too heavy to move.

The whole area had twisted and morphed from what could have been reality into something more like a nightmare. Everything went from bad to worse. The situation spun out of control faster and faster. He didn’t have time to think, just react. Don’t think. Just act. And maybe somehow he’d scramble his way through this utter mess.

EDIT: OoC: I've found another theme song for mine and Navi's characters. Pain, by Jimmy Eat World. I know, more poppy than the other one, but I love Jimmy Eat World and this song rocks.

My whole body involuntarily shuddered as I felt my missing energy return. For a moment, just the tiniest one, I was comforted by the rush of strength.

Then I realized something was terribly wrong.

It was more than the fact that I had a clear head to think with, that I suddenly had the strength to move. There was something about the energy I felt building in my chest, rushing through my body... it... it was different. I could feel that the heat was different, softer. It was gentle and peaceable, silent... dark...

But that was impossible. Impossible. Darkness was not part of me, my flame was. That warm, burning flame that protected me, that lived inside of me. It did not feel like this. It was stronger, hotter, angry...

Where had the demon gone? I was certain, absolutely certain that it was out there somewhere. This darkness flooding inside of me-- I wanted it out! I hated it, I hated its softness, its reassuring whispers that led innocents into evil paths. Even as I felt it within me, I tried to force it out, tried to make it stop, but stay it did. So used was I to fighting it, to banishing it away with my light. Ever since I had entered this mountain, that was all I had tried to do, to keep it away from me. Why... why could I no longer fight it off? I did not want it, I did not want to be part of it...

I cringed again, pulling the sheet tighter against me, forgetting all of the words of Omentus, thinking only of this energy that had gone wrong inside of me. I tried to will my flame back into my hands, my chest, but nothing happened. Nothing happened. I concentrated harder, tensing my body, drawing upon my strength, but again...

No! No, this was impossible! My flame was still there! It had to be! This was just a bad dream, a trick of the mind. No one could take it, not the demon, not the creature within me that I so loathed and relied upon. It was my only true companion, the only thing I understood, the only thing that had ever remained in my solitude. It could not be gone.

But it was. I could not feel it any longer. As the loathsome darkness came upon me, I felt a new energy, a new sensation that tingled beneath my skin. This soft energy, this dark aura... it now sat where my flame had once been, as if it had somehow defeated my flame. It was there in every inch of me, coursing invasively through my blood, urging me to release this new, gentle energy.

"No!" Though weak, my voice was shrill, forceful. No longer was I tired, but my strength was nothing. Fear was overtaking me, making my eyes water, my body quake. I could not believe this. For the very first time since my very exsistance, I could not feel that flame. It felt as if my heart had been ripped out and replaced with a block of ice. Such a thing... surely, such a thing could not be true!

My eyes turned pleadingly to the only other sentient thing in the room, begging, imploring. This demon man, yes, I knew him now. I knew of the previous cruelties he had performed, but this... surely, he had more mercy than this! To leave me without the one thing I could rely upon, the one thing I knew...

"Please... my flame... give it back..."

OoC: Yay for dark evilness!

Leonna was scared again. Like when she had woken up without her powers. Omentus looked at her; she seemed to be searching herself for something, and not finding it. Blinking, the surgeon continued to watch her, and gauge her reactions. She protested weakly and shook. Omentus noticed the warning signs of shock setting in, and rushed to her side at once. He wrapped her up closer in the thick sheet, and rubbed her shoulders for her, trying to bring warmth back into her core without offending her sense of personal space.

The faerie woman looked up at him and pleaded for her flame. Clearly, she was referring to the fiery energy she'd produced in the crystal chamber. Omentus had no way to guess her age, but it was certain that she'd lived with that flame for her entire life. He frowned at her and looked her in the eyes. He was compassionate for her loss, but was still trying to determined exactly what changes had taken place. Logically, her flame should have still been there, he thought, although it is possible that the goddesses' blood has overwhelmed her ability to use it. She retains much of her previous natural warmth, however. He pressed his lips into a line as he searched for her answer. "It's still there," he said at last.

The girl shook her head, and pushed at him. "No," she told him.

"Yes," he said. "It is still there." She shook again, and started to push harder. He didn't fight back, and took a step away from the woman. Before she could protest again, he did his best to reassure her. "Your flame is within you. It's only a little different now. It must be frightening, but it's alright. It's not just fire, there are other things, gentler things brought to the fore, and worse things hid deeper still. You can still wield flame, Leonna, but it is a muscle you must relearn to use, no doubt like others you've newly gained."

"No... No..." I shook my head, reapeating the only word that seemed to make sense. "I do not want this... my flame... I want it back..." These new things Omentus spoke of, they frightened me. I did not want new things. Already, I struggled to control the old, to live with the old... that was what I knew. Why... why had he taken it from me?

"Give it back!" I cried, the overwhelming fright turning to anger. I glared at the man now, the man that regarded me with empathy in his dark eyes, those calculating teal eyes. Yes, he had done this to me, I was sure of it. What I did not know was how... or why. If he had malicious intents, why was he trying to comfort me? Why was he trying to tell me that it was alright that my singular companion I had known all my life was gone?

No, no. It was not alright. The demon was gone, gone. What had he left in the place of it? A dark monster? A new monster that now lived in me, that belonged to darkness itself? This thing... he had called it gentle, but he could not feel it. He could not feel the emptiness, the recession of strength as my flame was supressed. He could not feel the absense of the demon.

"Give it BACK!" My voice rose in pitch, in volume. I felt a rush of warmth as the anger flooded through me, its insatible demands screaming to be met. That was something the demon would have wanted. However twisted the desire, it did not strike me as such in the moment, for it brought me comfort. I needed that demon, I needed its strength. I did not care if it was beyond mortal powers to bring it back. Omentus would. I would make him.

I came at the dark man without another thought, my hands reaching like claws for him. I envisioned a terrible fate for him, something that would truly reveal the monstrosity within...

What actually happened was quite different. As I leaned off of the table, I lost my balance and fell off, unable to find the strength and stability to catch myself. Rather than stepping back, than fleeing for his awful life, Omentus actually stepped forward, trying to offer me aid as I toppled onto the rocky ground. I was enraged as he tried to hold me, trying to steady me, and with livid fists, I began mindlessly beating at him, not caring where on earth I struck.

"GIVE IT BACK!" My throat burned now, weak and dry, but I continued shouting, as if it could truly return what I had lost. I found with further frustration that my blows lacked any kind of force, frantic as they were. I was still weak, my body tired from this change Omentus had caused. What strength it had offered had only been momentary, a brief flash of energy before my body became confused. It was only moments more before I finally gave up, too tired to fight, to be angry. The tears soon followed, falling to the floor in tiny, crystal droplets. My whole body sagged, my fit having tired itself out, and I was reduced to simply crying the quiet sobs that continued to mourn for the demon.

OoC: You know... there is a magic word that would help this craziness...

It was difficult for him to cope with what he was seeing. He had made a promise to help her with what she needed, in exchange for what he might need to fix the error he'd made to himself. Also, the changes he'd made to the faerie would go far in his efforts to find the deific blood key. On the other hand, however, her suffering was not necessary. He could just cut back the dose on the spider, or give it a switch that she could use when she needed to. Both of those things would cost resources, and Omentus didn't even have the mana to perform most of the seromancies again. That meant that if he tried these things, he'd have to do it through mundane surgery, and that would put her life in danger. Heart surgery itself was bad, but removing two spiders would make the task insurmountable. Perhaps if were a better surgeon...

"I can't, Leonna," he said. "I can't put it back the way it was before. The changes I made, they can't be undone right now. I'm sorry." She continued to sob, and feebly struck out at him every few moments. He didn't care. She'd bruised his face a time or two in her hysterics, and nearly made him choke when she hit his throat, but it wasn't that bad. He figured that it was best for her to get it out, anyway. At one point, she hit the port on his chest. His eyes twitched, following her hand, which was bruising rapidly. He grabbed her hand, quickly but gently. "Tinsu mara fael," he murmured. The bruise moved, sliding directly from her hand to the back of his, before he let it go.

He waited for another minute, and then set her back on the table. He grabbed her clothing from the basket beside it, and lay them next to her. Without saying a word, he went to sit back down at the counter where he'd been working, and took out an empty blood spider and some tools from the hip pack that he'd set on the counter. He began to tinker, waiting for Leonna to come to her senses. After a few minutes had gone by, she hadn't yet. She won't be over her loss so soon, he surmised. Not without a little help.

He took the well of Esmoiress's blood out of his cloak, and drew about a quarter of it from the bottle. "Leonna." he said. His voice was louder, more clear. "You need to get over your fears, Leonna. And believe me when I tell you that it isn't gone. You just need to learn it again, and we need to learn what new things you're capable of. I have some places to start and..." She wasn't really listening. He'd half gotten her attention, but she was still focused crying about her loss, and feeling sorry for herself. It touched at his patience.

"This isn't helping Khaz," he snapped. "Get up." He immediately regretted saying it, but he supposed it might be the only way to bring her back into lucidity, so he couldn't let himself feel too horrible about it.

I had almost been content to let myself to fall into despair. The tears made it easier, made me feel better to let the pain out rather than keeping it in, which I had done for so long. It had been so easy to pretend like I could not feel anymore, that I could resist the humanity within me that always constrained me to feel emotion. Such is one of the benefits of living in solitude. I could convince myself that humans simply did not exisit, and in so doing see my own exsistence as sensible, for it could not be different from that which was not there. The pain of love, the fire of hate... such things simply did not appeal to my mind. If it went on long enough, I could even pretend like such things did not exist, that I was too far removed from the world to feel such ardent emotions...

But it was false. No matter how far one goes, no matter where or who they are, it will find them. In thoughts, in the actions of others... slowly, slowly it will eat upon them, like maggots upon the flesh. They will start to feel, start to wonder, start to worry, and before even a fleeting moment has gone by, they realize the truth. To feel is to live, and thus in living, one can never escape the sensations of a world that is forever spinning in a countless number of directions.

At the moment, my mind was spinning in the chaos of emotion that was tearing through me. This change had been a shock in every regard. I had only one other recollection of crying so hard, and at that time, I had also lost something precious. Something I would never see again. Such losses... they hurt so much. It was a pain that went deeper than the blatant soreness of my chest, deep into my heart, stabbing into what was already sore. I had not asked for this, I had not desired this... so why? Why was it happening to me?

"This isn't helping Khaz. Get up."

Omentus' steely voice pierced through my weeping, stabbing me with a pain so exquisitely sharp that it made me gasp. It was not the blatant order, nor its callous tone that caused this. It was that name, that horrible, wonderful name.

Khaz...

That was why I was here, was it not? That was why I had followed Omentus against all sensibility, because I had believed that he would help. He had told me that I was not strong enough to help... all of them had. Ren had thought me weak from the beginning, Khaz thought me too feeble to know the truth behind his plastered smile, and Rontu had thought me so inefficient that he had not trusted me enough to speak of his plans in the crystal chamber. I had tried so hard to be useful, to protect them, but all I had managed to do was get myself stolen away by a demon. If Omentus had not arrived, I was not even sure if I would still be alive.

Would... would all of that really change?

This was now my only hope, and it had demanded everything of me. If Khaz could have been granted saftey with my life, I would have given it eagerly. If Rontu could have been protected, I would have sold my soul without a second thought. Even Ren... if Ren could have been preserved, I would gladly sacrifice an arm, a limb, whatever it took. Without all of these, I could still be satisfied, knowing I had done something good, something a good, human person would have done, and they would be free to live their lives as they should. In that, I would have found peace.

But none of these would suffice. They did not need any of these things. They needed a monster, one that had been so deformed that it could not even recognize itself. They needed it to live, to fight with even greater power than it had previously had. For that, they desired the one thing I would have hesitated to give, the one thing I thought I was entitled to have. They would have to take my flame, its familiarity, its comfort, its companionship, and in its place put the thing I feared the most, a darkness that could never be escaped from, for it exsisted within myself.

To give up after the price had unwillingly been paid... that was true foolishness. I could not feel anger towards the demon that had deformed me, for he was trying to preserve the life of my companions. The deed was done, it could not be reversed, and I had to face it. If I stayed here wallowing in my own misery, everything would be for naught. As long as Khaz and the others were alive, there was still hope...

"Yes," I finally murmured, sitting up again. My face was still wet with tears, but I paid them no heed. I forced my shaking limbs back into my rough clothing, refusing to think of the unpleasantness of the situation. Omentus was the only one who could help me now. It was him that would preserve the life of my companions. While I still lacked the strength of spirit to look upon his cold countanence, I kept my body still as I sat upon the table, silently and forcefully giving him my attention.

I could not allow my selfish emotions to interfere any more.

Feeling that he'd given Leonna long enough to slip into her clothes, the apothecary swiveled around on his stool to look at her. The stool didn't actually have a swivel, so it was a little awkward-looking, perhaps even a bit comical. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. He decided there was no best way to go about it. "I made the armor for you. It's there on the table," he said, pointing toward the jerkin. "It should fit right, but if it doesn't, then let me know and I'll tailor it for you. There's a vellum map beside it, too. It's blank for now, but just set your hand on it, and think of the place you want to see a map for. As soon as you're ready, we'll get started on learning your new abilities."

He turned around to work on the spider he'd been tinkering with before, this time producing a strip of leather from the pile of spare materials he and Vamet had collected since coming to the stone room. "As I was saying earlier, I already have a few ideas of what you might be capable of, so we'll start there and work our way out." He took the well of Isalie's blood out of his cloak and drew a portion of it into a new syringe, equal in volume to the amount of Esmoiress's blood that was in the other syringe. Without bothering to wait for her, he blinked once, turning his eyes to a straight black color. He took the glove of dark hands out his cloak, and then slipped it over his right hand.

A pair of cold, black hands appeared nearby him and flew about the room, touching each of the circles and sigils that he'd scribed into the room. Those same arcane symbols were the only sources of light in the room, making it an already somber place. As the hands touched each symbol, however, the light went out, and soon left the stone laboratory in total darkness. Omentus did not seem to notice, and merely kept working on the device in front of him.

I was not sure how I ought to feel about the matter-of-fact manner in which Omentus now addressed me. In some regards, I was grateful for it, the way in which it distracted from somber thoughts and focused on logical things, but it was also somewhat painful. The fact that I would never be the same did not appear to bother the demon man, and he spoke as if all was normal. I should not have expected more-- he was being particularly civil for a demon to begin with. Knowing that it was futile to fight or argue while Khaz and the others were still in danger, I silently obeyed him, moving to the map and strange piece of clothing, or armor as it were.

Under normal circumstances, I never would have accepted such a thing. Ever since I had left my family years ago, I had taken charge over crafting my own clothing, and thus it was a particularly personal thing to me. The dimensions of one's body, the manner in which the cloth hung upon it... such information I preferred to keep to myself. There was also the fact that Omentus had awful armor himself-- a terrible, hideous flat beast-- and I could feel that this other armor of his was also alive even before I touched it. Unlike his armor, however, this piece did not seem to be quite as animated, much more plant-like and still. When I touched it, the tough, leathery fabric felt slightly warm, and when I was sure it would not suddenly sprout a face or start squirming about my body, I gained courage enough to strap into it.

In all truth, the jerkin was not all that bothersome. What did trouble me had less to do with the actual garment and more to do with my normal preferences. Unlike my usual clothes, the jerkin was tighter and quite a bit more form fitting, settling snugly against my torso. Normally, such a thing ought to be terribly uncomfortable, as it covered my back, but I soon saw that Omentus had already foreseen such a thing. There were two slits in the back where I was sure my wings ought to go, but the sudden realization that I may or may not still have my wings trailed my thoughts away from the armor.

My flame was supressed, but my wings... I could still feel them. The reason I simply had not noticed them before was because they felt much less irritable being held in. Oh, the urge to let them out was still there, a sensation one might feel when a boot is too tight against the foot, but it was not a prominent sensation. As my energy had become calmer, so had they.

Desiring to see how much of my wings were intact, I decided to let them slip out. While it was certainly something I would expect Omentus to notice, and I was still nervous to reveal such things even to him, I decided that it was best that I simply let them out. How else would I know if they could still be of use?

I felt the insect-like limbs strech out just as the light in the room suddenly began to go out, and I realized that I had failed to notice what Omentus had been doing. This, however, was only a momentary distraction, for I found that a light, greenish blue glow was emanating from me, and that... that could only mean...

"What have you done?!" I squeaked, straining my neck as I tried to glance at back at my wings. From what I could see, they had become much larger, much more colorful, somehow having transformed into the wings of a butterfly. They also felt different, picking up the chill of the air with much more sensitivity than my skin. This sensation was spread much wider than I was used to, and I felt the muscles in my back stretch harder, stronger due to the larger amount of flesh my wings had grown. They were just so... so very... well... large. I was too stunned by the change to even be upset.

Whipping my head back to the demon, I was shocked yet again. He had not changed in any remarkable way; what had changed was my ability to see him. Far too quickly, far too well, my sight had somehow adjusted to the perfect darkness, as if all the light in the room had not just dissapeared. I could still see Omentus perfectly, black eyes and all. His cool gaze, as usual, offered no comfort at all, and was still fixed on the metal object in his hands. I could only guess that he was thinking of the next step that would lead to more brusque tests and answers. It bothered me that he had done something without seeming to fully understand its effects, but I was not in a particularly good position to complain...

Omentus paused, looking over Leonna with his mouth half open. He blinked once, turning his eyes from solid black to slitted teal. For a moment or two, he was lost in some inscrutable thought. Without glancing to it, he set down the metal device in his hand on the counter, and walked over to Leonna. She looked to him like she meant to take a step back reflexively, but had steeled herself against it. When he got there, the apothecary looked over the faerie's wings appraisingly, then looked her in the eyes. "Fascinating," he said, "you have the goddess's wings... and you can still see me, despite the only light in the room coming from your wings." His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, "Like daylight, I imagine."

As he turned away from her, he commented, "They're beautiful," offhandedly. He sat back down at the counter and attached a metal ring to one side of the spider apparatus. The black hands moved about the room again, relighting the various runes so that they bathed the stone room in something equivalent to the light of an overcast daytime sky. As soon as the hands were done, he took off the glove and put it away in his cloak. Then, he removed the nekode from the back of his wrist and hand and set it down on the counter beside him. He traced a geometric circle onto the counter with the ink from a soft-nibbed quill, set the nekode inside the circle, and then took a few pieces of wood, iron, brass and leather from the pile of spare materials on the counter and laid them beside the nekode. He retrieved a syringe barrel from the hip pack on the counter and set it inside the circle, as well. Finally, he traced his fingers around the outside of the circle, and whispered some words.

All at once, the lines and arcs and sigils of the circle lit up with a soft white light, and the assorted articles inside it came alive with movement. Some pieces tore away from the nekode's harness, the syringe barrel melted and whirled itself into a globe, and the metals twisted, flattened and scrunched into new shapes. The wood and leather likewise gained new forms, and the nekode's blade simply floated and turned about in the air, above the rest of the playful dance of materials and changes.

"Could you do me a favor, please, Leonna?" the seromancer asked distractedly. "Could you try to summon your flame at the empty tabletop in front of you? If it doesn't work at first, then just try a little harder, or whatever you do to make a larger, hotter flame. If it still doesn't work, we'll go from there."